Second Nature

Chapter 38

The procession reached the end of the dock at Willingham's Marina. No one had spoken a word. Newpod, an incorrigible chaser of seagulls, did not bark at the gulls swooping and crying overhead. Gen embraced each person in turn, and knelt and hugged the golden retriever. Lana began to softly sing We'll Meet Again in her smoky contralto voice: "We'll meet again. Don't know where, don't know when. But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day." 

Gen dropped the robe at her feet. She hesitated for an instant, then dived off the dock into the sun-gilded water with a crisp splash. She swam a few easy strokes toward the open sea. Haven's sobs deepened to noisy, sloppy wails. 

"Gen!" Cade dove in after her, wearing his clothes. He caught up to her and wrapped her in one arm, drawing her into a long kiss. Then their eyes met and hers were wet, sparkling mirrors. Red and yellow hibiscus circled her dark crown like a halo. 

"It's best this way," she whispered. "I don't know what my metamorphosis will bring, but I know I won't remain a dolphin for long. For all I know about the change that's coming, I could be dangerous to you. To the others. That would be much worse than this. I'm going away from true friends, to rejoin true friends-my pod." She forced a brave smile. "I love you, Hercules Cade Seaborne." 

Cade's throat was too tight to speak, so he only nodded and touched her heart with his fingertips. Her beautiful face blurred behind his tears. He closed his eyes and let her go. When he opened his eyes again, a trail of hibiscus blossoms floated in her wake. A moment later, a dorsal fin in silhouette knifed above the darkening headwaters of the bay, heading swiftly out to sea. 

Cade knew those violet eyes would haunt him all his life.  

Even so, he smiled. 

* * * 

Walking along the sun-bleached pier back to shore, Cade carried Haven in his arms. His hair and clothes were dripping wet, but he could feel her warm tears on his neck. He wanted to say something to comfort her, but his own heart felt too full to talk. He made low, soothing hums-it was the best he could do. Lana and Jimi strolled ahead, holding hands. 

Abruptly, Lana started walking in a jerky gait. Then Cade spotted Hank Townsend sitting in the shadowed cabin of his 1949 Chris-Craft cabin cruiser, Crafty. Oh, shit, how much had the old drunk seen? 

The wiry old man with the yellow-white Santa Claus beard wore gray coveralls streaked with engine oil. He held a can of brass polish in one hand and a rag in the other. Wind, sun, and sand had gouged wrinkles into his narrow face; a Band-Aid hid a patch of skin cancer on one cheekbone; spider veins webbed his bulbous nose. 

Hank stared with bloodshot eyes at Cade standing there sopping in his Hawaiian shirt and slacks. The old man's expression seemed unruffled by the oddity. An unlit cigar jutted from the corner of his mouth. Cade could smell alcohol on his breath from a dozen feet away, even with competition from the fishy water and the brass polish. 

"Great sunset, eh?" Cade broke into a grin. "We made a little ceremony this evening out of watching it." 

"Yep. I can see ya'll did." Hank set down the can and rag. "Tripod! Here, boy!" he called, and the dog scampered over and jumped down onto the deck of the pristine vintage boat. Hank squeezed the golden retriever's new leg, then looked up at Lana, his jaw hanging open. 

"Yeah, he looks just like Tripod, doesn't he?" Lana said. "That's Newpod. Our new pet." 

"Well, I'll be damned," Hank said. "Sure fooled me. Where's Tripod?"  

The dog barked, merrily, as if to say, "Here I am! Right here!" 

Oh, crap, Cade thought. Get with the act, boy. Help us get through this. 

"We, uh, had to have him put down," Lana said, looking pained. "Got into somebody's garbage. Salmonella. He went into convulsions." 

"Aw, Jesus. I'm awful sorry to hear that," Hank said. "I really loved that dog. He always had a tail wag and a howdy-do for me. Yessir. Shared my baloney with him one day, and he was my friend for life." He scratched behind the dog's floppy ears; its tail slapped the deck. 

Lana nodded. "It was tough on all of us." 

Haven had stopped crying; now she was holding her breath. 

"But this is Tripod's collar, right?" He bent down, squinting. "Hell, this is his tag." 

"We...uh, put it on Newpod for the time being," Lana said. "Tell you the truth, he hasn't had all his shots yet. The tag is just to make him look legit until he gets his own." 

Hank pet the dog and stared at Lana. "Don't take no offense at it, Miss Lana, but I ain't never seen you walk so fine. Just now. Strollin' like a queen, you was." 

She looked to Cade.  

"Oh, she's been doing some new rehab exercises up at the inn," he said. "An artificial limb company's got a videotape out-'How To Walk Easier and Better With Prosthetics.'" 

"Well, I'll be," Hank said. "Damn sure works!" 

"Thank you," Lana said. "That's awful kind of you to say that." She looked back to Haven and Cade. "Well, we've got to get back to the inn. Haven's got chores before bedtime. Nice running into you, Mr. Townsend." 

He nodded. "Same here." He tilted his chin at Jimi. "Hey, Doc. How's your dolphins?" 

"Just fine, research is coming right along," Jimi said. 

"What kinds of things they learnin' ya?" 

Lana took Jimi's hand and tugged him along. "Sorry, but we really do have to get back." She smiled at the old man. "Bye-bye." She walked away in an odd compromise between graceful and stiff. Cade and Haven followed close behind. 

Cade looked back over his shoulder and gave a whistle. "Newpod! C'mon boy!" Shit, he'd almost called the dog Tripod, out of habit. The retriever jumped onto the dock and caught up with the family group. 

As if at a signal, when they stepped onto the powdery sand and started up the hill, everybody let out a collective sigh. They walked on, not looking back, Lana in her mixed-up gait. 

Halfway up the hill, they heard Hank Townsend call out after them in his gruff whiskey voice. "Who was that pretty lil' gal ya'll come down here with?" he yelled. "I saw her dive into the bay. Where in hell'd she go?"