38
Cade and Gen and the others strolled down Stanton Hill toward the dock. Newpod seemed to sense the weight of the downhearted procession. The dog stuck close to Gen, his brown eyes as sad as a doe's. They had waited until evening, when the setting sun turns the sky and bay into a symphony of colors. "We'll make it a ceremony," Gen had told Haven. "We'll dress up, it'll be beautiful."
Some ceremony, Cade thought. They couldn't give Gen a single gift or memento to take with her, for what can a dolphin carry? Jimi had suggested clipping a radio transmitter to her dorsal fin, so they could find her again, but she'd talked him out of it, explaining that Eberhard would also be able to track her down that way.
Haven had braided yellow and red hibiscus blossoms into Gen's long, dark hair. At Haven's insistence, Cade wore flowers in his hair, too; so did Lana and Jimi, even Newpod. Gen was nude beneath a white terrycloth bathrobe. Lana wore an ankle-length cotton dress to hide her miracle legs. Haven wore a pastel blue Easter dress and white straw bonnet with pink ribbons. Jimi wore a charcoal gray suit with a royal blue shirt and tie that matched his eyes; Cade wore yellow linen slacks and his best Hawaiian shirt with a necklace of white puka shells. Everyone except Lana went barefoot.
Cade held Gen's right hand, Haven held the other. Gen looked so pretty it hurt, so Cade kept his eyes fixed ahead, gazing out over the expanse of the bay.
Would he ever encounter her again, swimming and leaping with her dolphin pod? Should he just let her go and never even try to find her? He hated to think how much he was going to miss her. The pain was already gnawing the edges of his heart; he tried to steer his mind away from it, focus on the moment: holding her slender hand, graceful fingers entwined in his.
When Cade was ten his father had died; stolen away from him forever, just like that. The following year, his mother died; same rip-off, same grief and anger, but not just multiplied by two to account for the second loss-multiplied by infinity. So at nine, Cade began a rebellion against his damaged life and the snoring God who didn't give a fuck what the boy wanted or needed. If life was going to hurt him, he'd see what he could do to hurt it back.
Cade had fought at school. He had fought after school. He had fought on the beach, at the basketball court, on the football field, in the church yard. He had fought in his nightmares and in his daydreams. Finally, a county judge cut Cade a major break and allowed the seventeen-year-old to join the Navy instead of sticking him in juvenile detention for assault and battery (those two jerks should never have mocked his sister's awkward gait).
In the Navy, Cade trained as a SEAL commando, and went to the Persian Gulf in 1990 to fight an actual war. He had killed four Iraqi soldiers: one with a rifle bullet, from long range; two with a grenade, from shouting distance; and one with his bare hands, pressed up close, panting hard in the other's face, like lovers. He had watched a teen-aged Iraqi soldier die after a rocket attack, clutching his spilled intestines in his lap like slippery pink balloons. He had heard enemy soldiers burn to death inside their underground bunker, screams echoing around the walls like shrieks of bats in a cavern. And somewhere in the blast-oven heat of the Kuwaiti desert, with oil fields blazing like flares from Hell, Cade's anger had finally burned itself out.
There and then, he had made up his mind never to hate anyone or anything, especially not life itself, for he very much wanted to live, to redeem himself, make his life worthwhile.
Then, on the month-long voyage home from the Persian Gulf, he got shipmate Anna Rodriguez pregnant. Not the best start at being his new, responsible self. Anna had no use for a baby and wanted to abort the fetus. But Cade had talked her into having the baby and letting him raise the child alone, with absolutely no claims attached to her. Anna gave birth to a girl at the Pensacola Naval Hospital, handed over the newborn to Cade, and the following day took off to parts unknown with one of his SEAL buddies.
So at twenty years old, Cade had returned to Cool Bay Inn with an infant daughter and a humbled ego. He apologized from the bottom of his heart to Lana for being a terror during his younger years. She had welcomed him back with joyful arms, like the prodigal son, and had fallen in love with the baby at first sight. Cade took up running a dive boat in the winters and working some of his father's old salvage claims in the summers. In his spare time, he helped maintain the inn, and had learned to be a skilled handyman.
He loved his life on Cool Bay. He loved being Lana's brother and Haven's father. He loved helping with Jimi's dolphin research. He did not find himself falling in love with the women he fell into bed with over the years, but life was good. Lust was good.
Until Gen.
He looked out across the bay, squinting against the glare of the gold coin of sun. The orange clouds in the west spread their jibs in the offshore breeze and raced across the horizon.
In his sadness, Cade wondered if he could make love with a dolphin. Jimi had said that some humans had managed. Was that sick? Was that love? Hell, he'd be a dolphin if Gen could turn him into one. He'd do anything not to lose her.
But it was the same as with the loss of his parents. He was powerless again. His wishes and the workings of the universe did not jibe. He could thrash around like the angry boy who had smashed his fists into every jeering face, but another private war would not budge the stars, the meshing gears, the gods-whatever the hell it was that ran the show-one inch in his favor.
He felt trapped in a closed box. The box held the sun in daytime and the moon at night-a very big box, a huge box-but in the end, just a box. How do you get out of the box? How do you feel free? Death? Was that the only release from this box? You just had to grin and hunch inside it, embrace the limits, until the very end?
Dammit. He was feeling that old, familiar bitterness again, heavy and sickening in his veins, like poison. And, oh yes, here it came; he well-remembered the feeling that oozed through his heart now-that he was not valid, not good enough or important enough for his prayers to be heard, for his wishes to come true. That's how the eleven-year-old Cade had felt when he'd learned that his mother had died. His soul didn't count.
Oh, to hell with this self-indulgent horseshit. I'm not that hurt little boy any longer. Gen is leaving, and Lana and Haven are saying good-bye to her, too. We're losing the Inn. They need me to be strong, and I can be strong. Yes, I can. I can be a man.
In that instant, by willpower, his mind made a U-turn. With a deeper courage than he had used to parachute into the sea at night on commando raids, he took a breath and he smiled. Just that much. A full breath and a smile. No grandiose philosophy or answer to the riddle of it all. A few facial muscles curling his lips upward in the natural gesture of happiness. It was unreasonable to act happy at a time like this. But nobody claimed happiness was reasonable. It was a genuine smile, and he found to his relief that he felt real joy along with his sorrow. And yes, the box did have an outlet-the portal was his own heart. His smile broadened at the insight.
Haven's little shoulders shook with quiet sobs. Jimi looked miserable; the poor guy had never gotten the chance to ask Gen his questions about dolphin language and society.
But when Cade glanced at Lana, she was smiling, too, tears streaming down her face. Their eyes met and he suddenly realized that she had been worrying about him. In the midst of her own crisis, losing the inn, saying farewell to the person who had restored her legs, Lana had been concerned about how he was going to take it. Now she was smiling gratefully because she saw that he was going to make it through with his courage intact, and not retreat into hating the world. Seeing how much Lana loved him sent the tears flooding from his eyes, while his smile deepened.
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?"