Beach House Memories by Mary Alice Monroe

Author:Mary Alice Monroe [Monroe, Mary Alice]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2012-05-22T19:21:38+00:00

July 22, 1974

The 300-plus-pound loggerhead has a powerful shell over 3 feet in length. Although sea turtles cannot withdraw their heads into their shells, the adults are somewhat protected from predators by these great shells.

There is always the worry of gossip, especially in a small community. But the turtles have taught me to develop a hard shell against gossips, naysayers, or those who want me to fail.

Thirteen

Lovie couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept past six or got to bed before eleven with sand still in her eyes that no shower ever seemed to wash away. There was enough sand at the bottom of her shower stall for a sandbox. Turtle duty for July was round-the-clock; the turtles were kicking butt.

And Lovie couldn’t have been happier.

She and Russell spent so many hours together. They were comrades more than colleagues. He’d seen her sweaty and coated with sand with her arm shoulder-deep in a nest, scratched and bloodied by brush, her hair a tangled mess, even her teeth unbrushed.

She rolled out of her gravel driveway in her sporty new car and drove along Palm Boulevard, enjoying the soft growl of the engine, the breeze in her hair with the top down, and the easy pace of the morning. Her gaze wandered to check the ospreys’ nest on the platform that her pal Clay Cable had set up on Goat Island, just for her. Last year the nest had been marauded by a hungry great horned owl. It destroyed any eggs that were there, and the bereft parents flew off. For Lovie, it was hard to accept that nature was survival of the fittest. Or, as Clay had said, “Honey, the owl has to eat, too.” Ospreys were site loyal, however, and Lovie was relieved when the lovebirds returned in February to try again. Clay and Lovie were hopeful that the young osprey couple would have better luck this year. The two small heads she’d spied in the spring peeping over the rim of the nest were now as large as their parents’.

Cheered, she started to hum as she made her way down the boulevard. A young man was jogging along the creek, and farther on she passed an elderly couple on bicycles. She reached the beach to see that Russell had already arrived.

“Olivia!” he called out, raising his hand.

She smiled at his usual greeting and waved back. She never tired of him calling her name—Olivia. He was the only one who called her by her full name, and she loved the sound of it on his lips.

It was a textbook case. The tracks led high up to the dune where Lovie quickly found the broken vegetation, the thrown sand, and the push-off ridge the turtle made with her flippers. Russell was making her find the eggs more often now, and she was getting good at it.

“This brings the total nests for the island to sixty-six,” Russell said, wiping his hands on the small towel he carried in his backpack.

Lovie entered the information in the record book, brushing away the ubiquitous sand from the page.

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