13. Marnie #2
When she’s finished speaking, the small, white circular tag attached to the creature becomes glaringly obvious.
It’s attached to the left side of the shell just above the abdomen, close to where her hand has a secure grip on his shell.
Not too close to his legs to impede his mobility, but unmistakable enough for anyone who might catch him.
She moves an arm below his abdomen and he wraps his legs around her forearm, perching like a parrot. “You can touch him. He’s very friendly.”
Cautiously, I reach my hand out toward Walter and one of his legs tickles my fingers. I can’t help but smile. She places Walter back in the water and he crawls across the sand between us, circling a few times before heading out into the deep.
With Walter gone, I now get a full view of this woman’s beauty.
She looks like she’s lived on the beach her entire life. Light blonde hair and pale blue eyes made even brighter with the sun glowing off her tanned skin, reminding me of a mermaid doll I played with as a child.
She stands to her full height, drying her hands on her polo shirt, and I notice that she is slightly taller than me, but only by an inch or two.
“How do you keep him from getting lost at sea, so to speak?”
“I don’t,” she grins and turns to start heading back to shore. “Walter is a free horseshoe crab. My research doesn’t interfere with anything he wants to do, and I don’t do anything to prevent him from going where he wants.”
“Then how does he know to keep coming back?” I ask, trailing right behind.
“This is protected land, and so are all surrounding waters, so they know it’s safe to breed and feed here.
This isn’t where Walter hatched, so he doesn’t return out of familiarity, but we’ve sort of formed a bond over the years.
It’s like he knows when I’m here and he comes to find me and say hello.
I keep track of him year-round, and he rarely comes to this cove when I’m not here.
I like to think he’s checking up on me.”
I’ve heard of the significance of human-animal bonds, but I’ve never seen one with a wild animal up close until today.
When we reach the sand, she turns to me. “Can I ask a favor?”
I’m intrigued by the mysterious request, given she just met me. “Sure,” I respond with enthusiasm.
She points behind me. “Would you help me untangle that net? The kids always get so excited by what we catch that they forget to clean up, and my poor equipment suffers,” she laughs.
On the edge of the shore, there’s a pile of fishing net twisted together so messily that it’s hard to tell where to begin.
Once we manage to get it untangled, I watch as she begins neatly folding the net, paying careful attention to how she creases certain parts to prevent it from tangling again.
After it’s folded to roughly the size of a pizza box, she continues picking up the discarded supplies from the group of children.
A dozen shovels with matching pail sets, some hand-held net scoops, and a small plastic tank with a few critters left inside—two clams, a small, shiny minnow, and an aquatic hermit crab.
She carefully opens the lid and gently places them back into the water.
“Thanks for your help with the net. I usually do it alone and it takes three times as long. I’m Linny.” She holds out her hand to me.
I accept it eagerly, admiring how her perfectly manicured nails haven’t chipped while entertaining the kids. “I’m Marnie.”
“Are you from around here?”
It’s a relief that she doesn’t automatically assume I’m not. Most everyone on this island takes one look at me and knows I’m not one of them. I love how refreshing it is to start off with a truly clean slate between us.
“No, I’m working here for the summer. You?”
“Same, but I’m also from the island. I grew up here and moved away for college, but I recently secured more funding for my research and the team at Felix Neck were kind enough to host me this summer.
Good for ‘business’ and all that,” she says with a laugh, stuffing the rest of the equipment into a large tote. “How are you liking the island so far?”
“It’s really nice, but coming here was a little nerve-wracking since I found out about this job at the last minute.”
She nods in understanding. “I get that. That’s how I felt when I moved here as a kid. I don’t do well with change, and my parents uprooted my entire life to move here for my mom’s job. Luckily, I made a few friends right away and the island started feeling like home after that.”
“My job is keeping me busy, so I haven’t had a lot of time to do other things. So far, my interactions have been mainly coworkers and an older gentleman who owns a coffee shop that I’ve been frequenting on my way to work.”
“Art?”
“Yeah! Though, I suppose everyone on the island knows him.”
“Oh yeah, he’s an island favorite. Voted best coffee shop on the island, like, twenty times.”
That checks out. I’ve stuck with my usual pumpkin spice latte, but I haven’t heard a single person complain about anything on the menu.
Plus, the theming and attention to detail goes above and beyond what you typically get at a coffee shop.
Art has worked hard to make all customers feel welcome.
Another reason why I will happily continue to stop there.
“What are your plans for the rest of this weekend? I’m hosting game night on Monday with my friends, and it would be nice to not be the only girl for once.”
I think on it for a moment. In this short span of time, we’ve really hit it off and she’s been so kind that I don’t want to say no. Maybe one evening won’t kill me, especially since I got so much done today. Gwen would be proud of me for meeting some new people while I’m here.
“Count me in.”
“Amazing! It’s BYOB—Bring Your Own Board . . . game. I know it’s not the proper acronym, but BYOBG is not as catchy. It also works for Bring Your Own Beverage if you want something other than Sam Adams. I’ll have some snacks, too. We do an appetizer to start and then another between each game.”
My face drops slightly. “I didn’t bring any board games with me this summer.” Come to think of it, I don’t think I even own any board games.
“What about a deck of cards?” she offers. “There are hundreds of different games one can play with a deck of cards.”
“There might be one at the cottage I’m staying at. If not, I can run to the store and grab one.”
“Wonderful.” She smiles, reaching for her phone. “Give me your number. I’ll text you the details.”
I take the phone and enter my number before handing it back. She types out a quick text with her address and what time to arrive.
My phone buzzes from my back pocket. I pull it out to confirm it’s from her. “Got it. See you Monday.”
“See ya,” she waves before turning around to gather the rest of her belongings and head up the same path the children went.
Excitement swells in my chest at the prospect of making a new friend.
I wade through the water back to the stretch of beach where my towel and bag are laid out and pack up, setting off in search of a deck of cards.