Winter's Tide (9 page)

“No, I can't leave! I have to stay here!” I turned away from Mom and again looked into Nick's watery eye.

“Is it all right if she stays?” Mom asked Dr. Leland.

“It's fine,” he said.

Mom squeezed my shoulder and looked at her watch. “All right. You need to head home in about thirty more minutes. You can find your way back?”

I nodded, and a minute or so later I heard the golf cart drive away.

Dr. Leland came and sat beside me by Nick's head with a clipboard. Every time Nick took a breath, he'd check the second hand on his watch and make a note. “Shallow breathing,” he said to Dr. Cohn.

“Why aren't you putting Nick back into the water?” I asked.

“Several reasons,” Dr. Leland said. “First of all, this is a short-finned pilot whale. This species lives fifty miles offshore. Also, they're a social species, they live in matriarchal groups. Just pushing a pilot whale back into the water here isn't going to do it any good. Here it would be out of its habitat, away from its pod.”

“So it can't live away from its family?”

“No, not alone like this,” Dr. Leland said. “We've also gotten a lot of signs that this animal isn't in good condition. It's emaciated; it's not very active. And look, we're able to touch and stroke it. Any time you can touch a wild animal, something is terribly wrong.”

My heart squeezed. I blinked.

Nick took another breath, and Dr. Leland looked at his watch and made another notation.

“Its breaths are shallow. Not deep the way we'd like it. Every minute that goes by, the whale's systems are breaking down.”

I could hardly talk. I felt rising panic. “But what can we do? We have to do something! We have to save him!”

“Sometimes you can't save them,” Dr. Leland said, looking at me kindly. “We'll stay here with it. We'll try and keep the scene very quiet and stress free for it. You're welcome to stay here with us.”

Nick took another breath, Dr. Leland checked his watch and made a note. I realized it had been awhile since Nick had moved his tail. I looked at his wrinkled eye again.

He blinked slowly. Dr. Leland sighed. A lump formed in my throat.

“Why don't you name animals?” I asked him, starting to understand.

“Because we want to try to remain objective,” he said, clearing his throat. “Wild animals aren't pets. We can't protect animals from what happens in the wild. We don't want to interfere. We just want to respect and learn about them.”

“But I'm not sorry I pushed him back in the water
today. I thought I was doing the right thing,” I whispered.

“Pushing him back in the water was like someone coming to an emergency room and the doctors sending them away, saying, ‘Heal thyself.' But it's okay. You didn't know. If we'd been here, we would have told you not to do it,” Dr. Leland said.

Nick drew a shallow breath. He gave a faint cry that made my throat ache. His tail twitched. Dr. Leland made a note of it.

Members of the stranding crew sat quietly around Nick now. No one was talking. Jeremy, sitting next to me, ran his hand down Nick's side gently.

The pounding of the surf behind me was harsh and endless, unstopping, and the wind buffeted my ears. Tears swelled in my eyes, streamed down my cheeks.

Nick drew one last breath.

A white bird flew over us.

And Nick stopped moving.

W
hen Lynn and I got back to Grammy's apartment, Jelly came bounding on his fat, little legs to the door, barking, but then, when he saw it was us, he moped back to Grammy's room. Then he crawled under Grammy's bed.

“Just look at that poor dog,” Lynn said.

Daddy sat at the kitchen counter, on the computer, catching up with work and listening to Jackson Browne on his iPod. As we were taking off our coats
and gloves, Jackson sang about being out walking and not doing much talking these days.

For some reason, those words made me think about how Daddy must feel with his mother sick. Lynn went and wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss on the forehead. He looked up. “Well?” he said. “Where's Diana? She knows we need to go to the hospital later.”

“I give you a kiss, and that's all you have to say?” said Lynn.

Daddy had been more impatient with all of us, especially Diana, since Grammy had gotten sick. But I was more impatient with her too.

“We still have plenty of time before visiting hours start,” Lynn said. “Diana was captivated by the situation with the whale, and I thought it was all right to let her stay.”

“I wish you had made her come back,” Daddy said. “I don't want her holding us up.”

“Norm, I'll make sure she doesn't,” Lynn said shortly, and then headed into the kitchen. Dishes clattered as she began to unload the dishwasher.

Daddy got up from the computer and started helping her, putting away the silverware. “We need to remember Grammy is the reason we're here.”

“I do! But we can't spend every minute at the hospital. They have visiting hours for a reason.”

“My family never paid attention to visiting hours,” Daddy said, shutting the silverware drawer. “We go there and we stay.”

“It's families like yours that drive the medical staff nuts.” Lynn slammed a cabinet door. “Your mother will get worn out with us sitting there 24/7.”

“How do you know how my mother feels?”

My heart started pounding. Was a fight starting? Daddy and Lynn didn't usually fight the way Daddy and Mama had. Memories of Daddy and Mama fighting started racing through my head. Blocking out the rise of their voices, I went back to my bedroom, shut the door, and found my sketchpad. I tried to work on my drawing of the conch shell arrangement. The light had changed since this morning, and the shadow beside the shells had grown and deepened. My mind kept jumping to different memories, and I couldn't concentrate.

It had been sad and scary out there watching the crew with the whale. I didn't know why they hadn't tried to push the whale back into the water. The longer I'd stayed, the harder it was to listen to the whale's breathing as it got shallower and shallower. I was glad we'd left. But why had the whale stranded itself? I still didn't understand.

I checked my phone. Colleen had texted to tell
me that Andy (“Panda Eyes”) had texted her. When I read that, in the middle of all that was happening with my family, I felt like texting back, “Who cares?” But I didn't. I knew she was excited, so I texted back, “Great!” And Noah had texted me again. He had started telling me that he understood about having a sick grandparent and about what happened when he'd gone to Richmond for his grandfather's heart bypass surgery. He said his whole family had slept in the waiting room, because his grandfather wasn't allowed to have visitors the first day.

Daddy and Lynn's voices had stopped. Light was starting to fade now. I hoped Diana got back soon.

Lynn had actually just put on her coat to go look for Diana when she walked in the door. The minute I saw Diana's face I knew.

“Did it …?”

She sat down on the couch and began to bawl. Big, heaving, heartbreaking sobs. I couldn't help it. I started to cry too.

“I'm sorry, Diana.” Lynn went over and rubbed her shaking shoulders. Her coat was halfway wet again and her jeans were covered with wet sand.

“Sometimes those things just happen, sweetie,” Lynn said. “Nature can be harsh.”

“Jeremy said we helped him have a good death,” Diana cried. “They're going to examine the body to see if they can find out what was wrong. Dr. Leland said I can call tomorrow to find out.”

Diana curled in her mother's arms, crying. I wiped tears from my own cheeks. I thought about the meaning of those words, “a good death.” I didn't know what that meant.

On the way over to the hospital, we were quiet. A pall hung over us. When we got into Grammy's room and gathered around her bed, she immediately asked what was wrong.

“You girls look like you've been crying,” she said. I thought she was sitting up a little straighter and had a bit more color in her face. We told her what had happened to the whale.

“I kept wondering why they didn't put Nick back in the water,” Diana said.

“I'm so sorry that happened,” Grammy said. “We really become so attached to animals, don't we? I don't know what I'd do if something happened to Jelly. I just wish I could see him,” she said. “I worry about him. He's used to being with me.”

“He's doing fine, Mom,” Daddy assured her.

“He doesn't like me,” Diana told Grammy. “I've never had a dog not like me. It hurts my feelings. I know you said for me to take care of him, but I can't, because he won't have anything to do with me.”

“Isn't that the funniest thing?” Grammy said. “I would have never guessed that.”

“I'm taking care of him for you, Angela,” Lynn said. “We took him out on the beach today. But he does miss you. Every time someone comes to the door, Jelly runs to greet them, thinking it's you. Then he's so disappointed that it's not.”

“I talk to him all the time,” said Grammy. She pulled the covers up around her tighter. “He's a good listener.”

An attendant passed in the hallway, pushing a cart stacked with trays of food. The smell of turkey and yeast rolls floated into the room.

“I wish I could have something to eat,” said Grammy.

“I'm afraid you'll have to wait on that,” Daddy said. “It shouldn't be too much longer.”

Dr. Claiborne stopped in. She looked at Grammy's chart, then looked at Grammy and smiled. “Good news!” she said. “The pancreatitis is clearing up.”

“Yay!” Lynn and Daddy said.

I felt relief wash over me like a shower of warm water. “So Grammy is going to be okay?” I blurted out.

Dr. Claiborne grinned. “You've been pretty anxious,
haven't you? Well, we're encouraged by your grandmother's progress.” She turned toward Grammy. “What I'd like to do is schedule you for gallbladder surgery three days from now.”

“Three days?”

“While the pancreas is quiet, yes. To get it over with. We have a window of opportunity we should take advantage of.”

“What does the surgery involve?” Daddy asked.

Dr. Claiborne described the way the surgeon would make three small incisions in Grammy's abdomen and insert a surgical device that would extract the gallbladder.

“The surgeon will come by tomorrow morning to talk with you about it.”

Lynn patted Grammy's arm. “I had a patient who had that done just a few weeks ago. She went home from the hospital the next day,” she assured Grammy.

Before we left, I gave Grammy a big hug. Her arms, wrapped around me, felt light but substantial. I skipped across the room and did a twirl on the way out the door.

Everything was going to be okay!

While we were in the elevator I suddenly remembered my prayer, asking God please not to let Grammy die. Now she was better. Had God answered my
prayer? Goosebumps prickled the back of my neck. Maybe God had. I felt a lightness, like warm sun shining on my face, and a sense of peace traveled through my whole body.

“How about we go out to eat?” Daddy said as we climbed into the car. “To celebrate Grammy's progress.”

“Yay!” I said.

“Great idea,” said Lynn.

Diana didn't say anything.

We went to one of Grammy's favorite fish restaurants in Morehead City, a place Daddy and I almost always went when we were here with Grammy, but Diana and Lynn hadn't ever been to.

“This restaurant started in the 1930s as a fresh fish market. Pretty soon the owners installed a few stools for people to eat, and now it's one of the biggest seafood restaurants around,” Daddy said.

In the waiting room, black-and-white photographs from decades ago covered the walls. There were two big rooms, each lined with long wooden tables. They served all kinds of fried seafood, hush puppies, and coleslaw, and they had a gift shop with their famous saltwater taffy in the front. Through the window beside our table, we could see boats moored to the dock outside. Even though it was dark, an occasional boat with lights went by.

The server brought a basket of steaming hush puppies. It seemed that visiting the hospital had left us starved. We grabbed for them. Before I knew it, I had eaten three.

“I wish Grammy could be here with us,” Daddy said. “She loves this place!”

“She can't even eat real food yet,” I said.

Diana, quiet, watched a boat with lights slide by, creating shifting flashes on the choppy dark water as it passed. I knew she was thinking about the whale.

“We'll bring her next time,” Lynn said. “Meanwhile, here's a toast to Grammy's health!”

We toasted with our water glasses.

After all the worry over Grammy, we all felt tired and giddy. I ordered a fried-shrimp basket, which is what I always got when we went there. Diana didn't feel like eating anything but a salad. Daddy and Lynn split a broiled flounder platter. When our food came, we ate like we hadn't eaten in days.

When we arrived back at Grammy's apartment, Jelly didn't come to the door to greet us. Calling him, we headed down the hall to Grammy's bedroom and found him wedged under the bed with his nose nestled between his front paws, his brown eyes glinting with distrust there in the dark.

“Jelly, what are you doing under there?” Lynn said, peeking under the bed skirt. She sat back on her heels. “Do you think dogs can get depressed?”

“Of course,” Diana said.

“I guess so,” I said.

“Oh, come on,” said Daddy.

Later that night, Diana and I lay in the twin beds with the lights off. She had been terribly quiet since the whale died. I was so happy about Grammy that I felt forgiving toward Diana for how she had acted and felt like opening up to her again.

“Are you okay?” I asked. A band of light from the living room outlined the door, and we could hear the rise and fall of Daddy and Lynn's voices as they discussed how long we could stay after Grammy got home from the hospital. Lynn was worried about taking too many days off work.

“Have you seen many things die?” Diana asked.

“No,” I said honestly. “Have you?”

“One time, when I was about eight, I was out in the yard of our old house, and I heard these birds making a really loud racket. They were dive-bombing one of the bushes beside the house. It was all kinds of birds—robins and bluebirds and brown ones and one with a black head. They were all squawking and flying at this bush.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah. So I went over to the bush to see what was there, and I saw a black snake curled around a bird's nest with baby birds in it. It was eating the baby birds.”

I gasped. “That's awful!”

“I know. I got so scared. It was kind of dark in the bush, and I could just barely see the outline of the snake. Meanwhile the birds kept flying around, dive-bombing the snake and squawking at it. I thought,
Those birds are so small compared to the snake, but they're attacking it. And I'm so much bigger than the snake
. I went inside and got a broom and tried to sweep the snake out of the bush, but it was wrapped too tightly around the branches.”

“I can't believe you tried to sweep that snake out of the bush! What if the snake had bitten you, Diana? I would have gotten out of there as fast as I could.”

“But I thought I should try to be as brave as the birds. They were trying to fight the snake. Then Mom came out and made me put the broom away and go inside. The next day I saw the empty nest, and I cried for like an hour, I was so mad. Those poor little baby birds. Sometimes I have dreams about that scene.”

I shuddered. “I would too. That sounds horrible.”

“Seeing Nick die today was like that. A scene I won't ever forget. I felt so helpless. The way his breathing just got shallower and shallower, and then it stopped,
and he stopped moving. I don't understand why he stranded himself, I don't understand why he died. I don't know. It makes me think that the world is a terrible place when things like that can happen. I mean, how could God let Nick die? How could God let those baby birds die?”

I didn't know how to answer Diana's question. “I don't know, Diana. But with the baby birds … Isn't it like a miracle that the birds all banded together to fight the snake, even though they were so much smaller? And with Nick … you and the other people were around Nick to comfort him when he died. Like Jeremy said, he had a good death.”

Diana was quiet for a minute. “Oh,” she finally said. “You're saying that the bad things happening inspired other living things to help.”

“Yeah, I guess. And I guess I think of that as being where God comes in.”

She was silent for a minute or so. She turned over in her bed to face me, pulling her covers to her chin. “That guy Jeremy, the high school kid, came and sat with me and talked to me for a while after it happened. He tried to comfort me. He was nice.”

“He did seem nice,” I said. “Cool red hair.”

I wanted, then, to talk to Diana about praying for Grammy not to die, and wondering if God had answered
my prayer. But I didn't say anything. She probably wouldn't believe me. She would probably say Grammy just got better because of the doctors. Maybe it was just something that I had to search my heart about.