Chapter Eleven
I’ve gota clipboard in front of me, double-checking all of the things this Molly lady has asked me to do before she lands. I picked up the truck a few hours ago, the volunteer team is assembled and standing by, and we have a forklift ready to move the portable tank from the plane to the truck when the plane lands. We also have a standby tank truck filled with backup saltwater, just in case there is any trouble.
Alright, there is no way I’m screwing up this gig. I smile to myself as I look around at the entire ordeal I orchestrated for the bossy woman. She couldn’t possibly complain about this, could she? We watch as the large cargo plane rolls down the airstrip, parking in the allotted space, before lowering the door of the cargo bay.
A tiny woman with shoulder-length brown hair and golden-tanned skin, emerges from the back of the plane, shielding her eyes, a backpack slung over her back. I smile at her, leaning against the front of the truck, as she walks toward me. The closer she gets, the more I realize how pretty she is, in a natural, no-make-up kind of way. She stops a foot in front of me and sticks her hand out in front of her, waiting for me to take it with mine.
“Hi, I’m Molly Thatcher; you must be Cap… I mean Mr. Heyes.” I take her small hand in mine, and she shakes it–much harder than a woman of her size should be capable of –before pulling it away and wiping it down her overalls.
I try not to laugh at her reaction to my touch as I respond, “Hi, Miss Thatcher, call me Coop.” I mumble something else under my breath, hoping she can’t hear my words. “Or in other words, your slave for the next three weeks.”
She scoffs as she looks me up and down, taking me in. I stand taller as she gives me a once-over. “I guess you’ll do,” she replies, before adding, “as my servant.” She chuckles as she spins on her heels, walking away from me.
Oh no, she didn’t. I follow after her, about to reply with a barb of my own, and am cut off as she begins bossing everyone around.
“I need you to…,” she begins, pointing at workers and shouting off orders.
“Excuse me, Miss Thatcher.” I’m about to give her my two cents about the people she is ordering about, but she doesn’t let me start as she cuts me off again.
“It”s just Molly; you don’t need to keep calling me Miss Thatcher.” She continues to point to people as she gives more directions, the volunteers scramble with looks of confusion on their faces.
“Okay, guys. Everyone, just stop for a second,” I shout, turning to Molly as I do. She has her eyes squinted at me, and she is biting her lip, her face turning a little red. I grab her arm and gently move her to the sidelines and out of the way.
“Look, Molly, these people are volunteers. They aren’t your employees, and they have names. So, before you start freaking everyone out, maybe you should start off with your name and learn theirs before you roll out your orders.” There, that was nice. See, Dad, I can be civil. I smile to myself again. I am so good at this.
She rolls her eyes at me and takes a deep breath in through her nose before she speaks. “I’m not sure how to say this to you, Coop, but that sea turtle in there has been on a plane for the last few hours. Not really something a sea turtle is supposed to be doing, if ya know what I mean. But no, you probably don’t. So let me explain things to you very slowly. We have a limited amount of time to get her back to the ocean,” she says, holding up her two fingers, pinching them together before her face as she continues to speak. “Otherwise, the turtle I have spent the last five years of my life rehabilitating is going to die. Comprendo? So, let me do my job, and you can just sit there like the pretty man that you are until I need your help. Okay?” She turns around and quickly makes her way back over to where the volunteers have gathered.
In the name of all that is… Gah. I clench my hands at my sides and close my eyes, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, until I feel the aggravation disappear. She does have a point though; we do need to get that turtle back in the water. Also, did she just on the fly mention that I’m pretty? I’m not sure if she meant it in that way, but I’ll take it. I move a few tentative steps in her direction and keep walking until I am standing directly behind her.
“Hey, everyone, my name is Molly, and I work for the NOAA. Today we will be releasing one of my favorite loggerhead sea turtles, Gertrude, back into the ocean. Time is critical, so although I would love to get to know each and every one of you, we just don’t have time. So, if I don’t call you by your name, please try not to be offended. Let’s go release a turtle.” Everyone cheers as Molly begins divvying out duties again. I fold my arms across my chest as I stand behind her, waiting for her to tell me what to do, and she glances back, flinching as she notices me standing there.
I scratch my face and look up to the sky, waiting for her to say something to me as I stand there. An apology perhaps? “Well, what are you just standing there for? Go get that guy on the forklift so we can get this turtle moving.” I roll my eyes at her and head for the forklift, ready to give the guy his orders from the general.
“Okay,people, let”s load up and get this turtle to the ocean.” Molly sure has a lot of energy, that is for sure. “Who’s driving the truck?” She asks, looking around for who knows what.
“Well, I drove it here, so I just figured I would keep driving it.” I shrug my shoulders, and Molly shakes her head, and I can see it on her face. She is about to reject my ability to drive the turtle to her final destination. “Molly, I am a pilot, remember? I know how to be gentle.” She worries her lip between her teeth, and an odd sensation comes over me as I watch her contemplate her decision. She really is a cute little thing. I shake those thoughts from my head as quickly as they appear.
“Fine, but if you go over a bump the teeniest bit fast, I promise that I will take you out.” She runs her finger across her throat in a slicing motion, and I try to swallow, my mouth feeling suddenly dry.
I salute her with my hand, and she crosses her eyes at me before making her way to the other driver, who has her crate of belongings. She gives him directions to the Coralberry Cottages before making her way to the other side of the truck I am in. So, I guess we are driving together. Just great. Might as well start the worst three weeks of my life now.
We arrivedat the beach twenty minutes later, with only a few curses under my breath at the backseat driver sitting in the passenger seat across from me. Whoever has to live with this woman probably wants to strangle her multiple times a day. I know I do, and I have only been around her for less than an hour. I drive the truck onto the beach, going as slowly as possible, and as soon as we reach the place Molly has motioned to, I turn off the truck and we jump out. We all move quickly and remove the turtle from the tank, getting soaked in the process by the turtle, who no longer wants to be confined, and set her down on the sand. Molly grabs her backpack and does a few tests as we hold the turtle in place before she gives us the thumbs up to let go.
I watch as she crouches down beside the turtle. “Bye, Gertrude. It’s time to go, my sweet friend. Please be careful on your journey, and go make some cute little babies.” She rubs the turtle on the shell and kisses the top of her little head. Gertrude turns toward the water, and Molly pulls out her Go-Pro and records as Gertrude walks toward the waves, a few tears running down her cheeks as she watches her disappear under the water. I am stuck staring at Molly, watching the tears roll down her pink cheeks. Trying to evade the emotions she has coming off of her in droves.
Turning around, she claps her hands together, jolting me out of my trance as everyone else joins in applause, including the beachgoers who have decided to watch from where the volunteers have taped off the beach. “We did it, you guys!” She goes around high-fiving all of the volunteers, and when she gets to me, she raises her hand, and like the dummy I am, I go in for the clap, but she moves her hand out of the way, causing me to high-five the air instead. Real nice.
Everyone begins to disperse, so I turn around, making my way back to the truck so I can return it, when I feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s Molly, with her hand raised in the air.
“Just kidding, Coop, give me a five.” She smiles up at me, and I raise my hand, waiting for the rejection that is sure to come. I feel a slap against my hand, and I smile back at her before she speaks again.
“Now, my humble servant, let”s go unload my crate.” She skips away and jumps into the truck, reaching over to honk the horn. Yup. This is definitely going to be the worst week of my life. I jump into the truck and turn the keys as she cranks the radio on, turning the station until Noah Kahan is playing over the speakers. At least she likes good music.
We returnthe rental truck swapping it for mine, and pull up to the Coralberry Cottages as another truck sitting in the empty parking lot honks its horn. Must be the driver delivering Molly’s stuff.
We open our doors, and I watch as Molly stretches her arms up into the air, her crop top under her overalls riding up and showing a little bit of skin. I pull my eyes away and make my way over to the truck with Molly, ignoring whatever pull of attraction it is that I just felt.
The truck driver throws open the rolling door, and we crack open the lid of the crate, revealing all kinds of equipment inside. I try not to groan as Molly grabs her luggage from the crate and signals for me to follow her with some of the gadgets from inside.
Lucky for me, she rented the cottage nearest the parking lot, so we don’t have to walk very far. She opens the door to a cozy little two-bedroom cottage, dressed up to look like a tropical beach home, and sighs to herself, setting her bag down on the bed as I stand there with my arms full of heavy equipment.
“Uh, pardon me, ‘ma’am’, but where do you want this stuff to go?” I say, sarcasm lacing my voice. Scoffing at me, she waves her hand toward the other room.
“Just stick it in there. I’ll organize it all later.” We make our way outside again, and I can tell she’s tired. Her shoulders are slumped, and she’s dragging her feet across the pavement. I suck in a breath and try to remember my dad’s words as I speak.
“I can grab the rest; if you want to go take a load off. You’re probably pretty beat.” I motion with my thumb toward the cottage behind us.
“What are you trying to say, Coop? That I can’t cut it? That I’m too ‘girly’ to help out?” She throws air quotes up in the air. “Well, I will have you know that I can. And I will.” She marches off toward the truck, grabbing boxes from the crate and making her way back toward the cottage, avoiding my eyes as she passes me by.
“Um.., okay,” I say to myself as I grab another load from the crate before heading back the way I came. I think this woman might really have a few screws loose in that head of hers.
We finish unloading the truck, and the driver leaves as we drop off our last load of equipment. I have barely put the last box down when Molly pipes up. “I need you to be here, ready to go at 5 a.m. tomorrow morning, so you can fly me to the island to check out the nesting sites.” She gives me a forced smile as I grumble quietly to myself.
“I really don’t like morning people,” I say under my breath as I head for the door.
“Well, that is just a shame, Coop, because for the next three weeks, you are going to have to pretend to be a morning person,” she says brightly. I turn to respond to her and the door slams in my face.
“Stupid morning people, stupid turtles, stupid Dad, stupid King, stupid Georgie…,”I continue with my stupid tirade all the way to my truck before getting in and slamming the door.
I start to drive off, noticing the backpack on the seat next to me. Turning around, I park the truck, not bothering to shut off the engine, before jogging the backpack to the door. I knock on it and hold it out to Molly, who is standing there brushing her teeth. “Stupid backpack,” is all I can say before heading back to the truck.