Chapter Thirteen #2
One dolphin had swum off. Only one was here now. It swam toward his paddleboard, close enough for him to get a good look at its glossy and sleek gray skin in the sunlight. It dove again, but not before he saw the crisscrossing of pale scars across the glistening body.
His heart raced. He paddled closer to Carson. “It’s her! “Delphine. I saw the scars.”
Carson wiped tears from her face and nodded. She wasn’t able to speak.
A moment later the dolphin emerged close to Carson’s paddleboard. Atticus watched in silent awe as the dolphin leaned to its side parallel to the board, her beautiful almond-shaped eyes studying the woman on the board.
“Delphine!” Carson exclaimed, looking back into the dolphin’s eyes. “It’s me.”
Suddenly the dolphin made a high-pitched whistle and dove. A second later she emerged, leaping high into the air and splashing noisily back into the sea.
Carson laughed loudly and raised both arms into the air. “Woohoo!” she shouted, and turned to Atticus, her eyes shining. “She recognized me!”
Atticus’s fist pumped the air, as though he’d leaped with the dolphin. Something about this creature forged a feeling of kinship. He didn’t remember the last time he’d felt such joy.
Delphine swam rapidly back to Carson’s paddleboard, then made two tight circles around it, eyeing her. Atticus tried not to interfere, staying low on his board. He felt privileged to witness this extraordinary bond between wild dolphin and human.
Delphine emerged beside Carson’s board, her dark eyes eager. Expectant.
Carson lowered on the board to bring her face close to Delphine’s.
She was careful to keep her hands on the board.
For several minutes she sat quietly as she rocked, then slowly she stretched out on the board onto her belly.
She gazed eye to eye with Delphine. It seemed to Atticus that the dolphin was studying her, as well.
“Poor baby,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
Delphine merely looked serenely back at her seemingly without judgment.
Other than the faded scars, Delphine appeared healthy. And fat, he thought with a smile.
“So, you’re having a baby,” Carson said to Delphine. “I guess we were both pregnant last summer. Only you kept your baby. Good for you.”
Atticus pursed his lips and shifted his weight on his board. He hadn’t known that Carson and Blake had lost a baby.
Delphine started making staccato nasal noises and hitting the water with her rostrum.
Carson turned her head to him. “She doesn’t understand why I don’t pet her.” Carson’s expression showed she clearly ached for the contact. “She’s my best friend. She helped me through some of my worst moments.” Carson reached out her hand. Then stopped midair. “No. I mustn’t touch her. She’s wild.”
But Delphine had other plans. She rose in the water to deliberately bump her rostrum against Carson’s hand.
Carson laughed despite herself. “I didn’t do it. She did!”
Atticus didn’t know much about dolphin interactions, but it seemed to him Carson was splitting hairs.
He watched uneasily as the dolphin swam slowly past Carson’s unmoving hand projected out over the water, swam so close the dolphin’s skin glided across the hand.
Atticus had to admit he was jealous. He would love to feel the dolphin’s rubbery skin against his palm, but again, this was a wild dolphin, and even he knew it wasn’t good.
Carson withdrew her hand. For a minute she stared at its emptiness.
Then she tucked her arms under her head.
At first the dolphin seemed piqued. She splashed the water with her rostrum and made several nasal eh eh eh calls.
Then the dolphin made a shallow dive to push a wave of water with her tail directly at the board.
Carson leaned back against the deluge and laughed, coughing with surprise.
“Delphine is pitching a hissy fit!” she called to Atticus.
“She sure is. But you know what’s best for her.”
Carson stared at him, hard. Then she nodded in agreement. Slowly, she rose to her feet. A slump-shouldered surrender was in her movements. It was, he knew, a moment of reckoning for her.
She looked at Delphine. “Go on and join your friend.” Carson stretched out her arm and pointed to the harbor. “Go on now. Go feed your baby.”
Delphine flipped water into the air with her rostrum.
Carson pointed again and said more firmly, “Go.”
Delphine backed away in the water, then dove, disappearing in the depths. Carson and Atticus scanned the still water. A few minutes later they spotted Delphine much farther off, swimming with speed toward the second dolphin.
“We should get back,” Carson called to him. “Make good our escape. I don’t want Delphine to follow me back to the dock.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Once again Atticus put his back to the work, stroking hard to gain speed against the current. He was out of shape, he realized with chagrin. Sweat formed at his brow but he didn’t slow down. They both knew that Delphine could effortlessly cross this distance in no time at all.