Always the Last to Know(105)

The tidal river was just too shallow, and getting more so every minute. Honey—I’d named her now—seemed to be getting tired. Her breathing wasn’t as loud or frequent, and her efforts weren’t as strong. The tide was going out too fast for my plan.

“Okay,” I said after maybe an hour had passed. I was panting myself, my jeans wet and sandy, making my skin feel raw. I got another bucket of water and dumped it over Honey, then considered the tarp. If I could roll her onto it without hurting her, I could drag her closer to the Sound. It was better than nothing. I didn’t know if the rain was hurting her skin, or if it was good for her, or if she was hungry and I should’ve brought that envelope of tuna in my cupboard to feed her.

I spread out the tarp next to her and knelt, putting my hands on her. If I rolled her, would it hurt her fin? I tucked it against her and looked in her eye. “I hope this won’t hurt you, Honey,” I said. “I just want to get you back to your family, okay? Okay. So on three, we’ll roll. One, two . . . three.”

She was heavy, but she rolled over pretty easily onto her back, and I managed to tuck her other fin so it wouldn’t get hurt, and rolled her the rest of the way. She lay on her stomach, but now on the tarp. “You okay, Honey?”

She didn’t answer, just blew hard. No more squeaks.

I went to the front of the tarp and started dragging it. God! She was heavy! I had to walk backward, and after a few steps, I tripped and landed flat on my ass in the wet sand. Got up and started trying again. She wasn’t even trying to flap her tail fin anymore. “Please don’t die, Honey,” I said. “I’m giving it my best here.”

I had never been this soaked. Even my raincoat was soaked through, and I was sweaty and clammy and shaking with exhaustion, but we’d come this far, Honey and I. I wasn’t going to leave her now.

“Sadie! Hey!” Noah, his hair whipping across his face, was standing on the hill my house perched on.

“Oh, thank God,” I said.

He ran toward me. “What are you doing?”

“Just saving a dolphin. You know.”

“Did you call anyone?”

“I tried. No cell service out here, and my car’s blocked in.”

“Yeah, I saw. No service in town, either. I tried calling you to see if you were okay, then came out to check.” He bent down to look at my new friend. “Have you named her?”

He knew me well. He really did.

“Honey.”

“Yes, dear?”

“No, that’s her name.” I smiled at him. Noah, flirting with me over a baby dolphin. God! The feels! “Think we can pull her to the water? She’s getting tired, and the tide is going out.”

“Let’s go.”

It was a good quarter mile to the Sound. I talked almost nonstop to my little dolphin friend, telling her to be brave, be strong, relax and enjoy the ride. It was tough going, and Noah and I both fell once or twice more (fine, I fell twice, and he stumbled). By the time we reached the ocean, I could barely stand, I was so tired.

“Okay, Honey, let’s go,” Noah said.

We pulled her into the water, and my faithful L.L.Bean boots filled up immediately, the fleece lining acting like a sponge. The water was bitingly cold and stung my raw skin.

Honey didn’t seem to rouse much. Flapped a little, but didn’t make it off the tarp.

“Let’s take her in a little deeper,” I said. I put my hand on Honey’s back. “Come on, sweetie. You can do it.” We were knee-deep now, then thigh deep. She flapped once, and the tarp slid out from under her.

She sank.

“No! Come on, Honey! Up you go!” I reached in and pulled her up so she could breathe. “Here, baby. Just sit a minute. Get your bearings.”

“She might be sick, Sadie,” Noah said.

“She’s not.” Stupid of me to say, but I didn’t want her to be. My throat tightened with tears. All this to watch my little friend drown? No.

I took her out a few more feet, now waist deep in the ocean, the waves slapping me, sliding over Honey’s blowhole, soaking my sweater. “Maybe you can run back to your truck and drive into town and get some help,” I said, my teeth starting to chatter.

“I’m not leaving you in the ocean by yourself. With a dolphin. It’s not even fifty degrees today, Special.”

“Well . . . maybe if we swim her out a little more, she’ll catch on.”

Noah looked dubious.

“Please?” I added. “You’re a father. She’s a baby. Doesn’t this inspire your paternal instincts?”

He shook his head, smiling a little. “Sure. Okay.” We took her out a little more, and her tail moved. I was up to my shoulders now. She wasn’t sinking, but we were holding her up, and let me tell you, a baby dolphin is not a tiny thing.

“Any other ideas?” Noah asked. A wave slapped me in the face, and I choked. “Pretty soon we’ll be dead, so think of something.”

I couldn’t help a sputtering laugh.

And then, like magic, like proof of God, a full-grown dolphin leaped out of the water right in front of us, and I screamed a little as it splashed down. Honey began squeaking and wriggling, and then, just like that, she gave a flip of her powerful tail and swam toward her mother (I thought it was her mother, anyway). She was a dark shape in the water, and then she was gone.