by Kelly Risser
I woke at nine. Kim was still sound asleep. I went to the kitchen and was halfway through my second bowl of cereal before she stumbled in.
“Mornin’,” she mumbled.
“Hi, sunshine,” I teased. She had never been a morning person. “What can I get you? Orange juice? Cereal? Eggs?”
“Coffee?” The hopeful expression on her face was priceless. I checked the pot that my mom brewed. It was half full. Mom must have started it around six-thirty—she was an early riser—but it brewed into a thermos that kept it warm. I poured a cup and handed it to Kim.
“Let me know if you need it heated up.”
“Should be fine,” she said. “Still not drinking this stuff?”
“Can’t stand it,” I said. “I’ll take my Diet Coke any day.”
“In the morning?”
“Any time of day. Is that so wrong?” I placed a clean bowl and spoon on the table, figuring Kim would get around to the cereal soon enough. “We’ve got the rest of the morning and early afternoon to ourselves,” I said. “What do you want to do?”
She shrugged. “You live here. You tell me.”
“Do you want to see the lighthouse?”
“That’s one of the places you spotted your dad, right? So, it’s like the scene of the crime?” Her eyes lit up. She was getting into her detective role.
An hour later, we were bundled up and walking to the lighthouse. I would have driven us in Mom’s car, but Kim was all about the fresh air and nature. When we rounded the corner and it came into view, I heard Kim suck in her breath.
“Oh my god.” She put her hands to her mouth. “It’s beautiful. This is fantastic! I can’t wait to get a closer look.”
I followed Kim to the rocky shore, trying to see the lighthouse again with new eyes. The way it looked the first time I came here with Katie. The sky was muted gray and the wind bit our cheeks, but the lighthouse remained a pristine white monument—the calm against the wildness of the sea.
“Look!” Kim grabbed my arm and pointed to a jagged ledge. “Is that what I think it is?” I followed her gaze and saw a lone seal watching us from the rocks. I couldn’t be sure if it was the same one from my last visit, but it watched us with a combination of curiosity and caution.
“Yep. It’s a seal,” I said. “According to Evan, there is a small population of them living around Peggy’s Cove.”
“So you’ve seen one before?”
“Sure. I’ve seen one or two here or there. I’m never sure if it’s the same ones or not.”
“Have you ever gotten close to one?” She stepped toward the seal. I followed since she pulled my windbreaker in her deathlike grip.
“I’ve tried, but they dive into the ocean before I can get too close.”
“Oh.” She stopped. We were about ten yards away. While we watched, the seal nodded. I had the strangest feeling that it was listening and understood what we were saying. But that didn’t make sense. For one thing, it was an animal, and second, we were whispering.
Kim grabbed my sleeve again, tighter this time. “Can you see that? Is it nodding at us?”
“Nah,” I whispered back. “That’s not possible. It’s just nodding its head; it probably does that all the time.”
I didn’t take my eyes off the seal, and a second later, it winked at me, as if to say, “I’ll prove to you that I’m paying attention.” Then, it barked once and dove into the water. I stared at the vacant spot on the rocks. The seal winked at me. Was I losing my mind?
“Meara!” Kim squealed. “That seal just winked!”
Okay, so if I was losing my mind, then Kim was losing hers, too.
“You’re right,” I said slowly. “I think it did.”
“Why are seals winking at us?”
“Honestly, Kim, I haven’t the slightest idea.”