Friday's Harbor (26 page)

“You know, he actually got an interview with the Huffington Post,” Truman told her. “You’d have thought he’d won a Pulitzer. Apparently his exposé on the Friends of Animals of the Sea was picked up by the wire services and got quite a bit of play. Trina Beemer has become a persona non grata lately. I guess she didn’t get the organization’s go-ahead before she poisoned our boy.”

“Hey, they’re gone!” said Winslow, turning around in his chair and peering through the binoculars.

“Who?” said Ivy.

“The pod! The killer whales. I don’t see them anymore.”

“They’re probably following a school of fish,” Gabriel said.

“Okay, never mind the whales,” said Ivy, who had had several strong whiskey and sodas by then. “I want to propose a toast.”

“Go,” said Gabriel.

She raised her glass. “Here’s to the best people in the world. I’m honored to have you all under my roof and hope that good health, buoyancy, and wisdom follow you to the end of your days.”

“Amen,” said Gabriel.

“Hear, hear,” said Truman.

They ate until they were groaning. The conversations around the table were lively, fueled by good food, good wine, and good company. Only Libertine seemed withdrawn. Ivy tried to engage her, but she kept lapsing into a pensive silence. When she and Ivy were alone in the kitchen, loading dishes into the dishwasher, Ivy said to her irritably, “What’s with you, anyway? You’re way too quiet. It’s a holiday. Be festive, for god’s sake.”

“I’m sorry,” said Libertine. “I didn’t realize. I’ve been hearing something I can’t understand. Would it be rude if I go for a walk?”

“If it’ll cheer you up, by all means go. You’re lousy company anyway.”

“I think I’ll see if Winslow wants to come along. I might need some help.”

Then she walked into the living room without further explanation, and even Ivy knew enough to let it go.

T
HE GOOD WEATHER
window had slammed shut and a light mist was falling, so the two zipped up anoraks and, at Libertine’s suggestion, headed down to the little beach at the foot of Ivy’s property, which fronted a pocket-sized bay. The Sound was cold and crystal clear; Libertine could see a few tiny crabs scrabbling along the rocks, and small fish flitted back and forth under cover of a few fronds of kelp. But none of this was what she’d come for. She’d been hearing an animal in great distress since arriving this morning, and from the time the killer whale pod moved out of sight, it had gotten louder and louder.

“I need you to help me,” she told Winslow. “You know those whales you were watching? Something’s wrong with one of them. I don’t know what, but it’s a young animal, and it’s scared. We need to find it.”

“Really?” said Winslow. “How do you know that?”

“I just do. Does Ivy have a boat or something?”

“No,” said Winslow. “Dad says the whole family’s afraid of drowning. Isn’t that weird?”

“All right,” Libertine said, ignoring the added commentary. “It’s close—we should be able to see it if we look in the right place.”

Winslow quickly scanned the little bay. “There’s nothing here.”

“I know. That’s why we need to walk. I want to go around that little point. It looks like we can get there if we go up into the woods. Up and over. I think there’s another little inlet on the other side.”

Winslow went first, holding branches out of the way for Libertine.

“Thank you,” she said. “You’re just like your father—a gentleman.” She was silent for a minute. “You don’t feel anything, by any chance? In your head?”

“No. You do?”

“Yes,” said Libertine. “I’ve been feeling something young and in trouble ever since we got here. I think it’s in the water near here. And it’s so
afraid
!”

They broke through the trees and found themselves on the shore of another tiny inlet. This beach, like Ivy’s, was littered with bleached driftwood that looked, in Libertine’s feverish mind, like the bones of giants. Libertine grabbed Winslow’s sleeve. “Look!” she cried. “Oh, look.”

A tiny killer whale, no more than ten feet long, floated just off the shore.

“Is it dead?” said Winslow. But then the calf took a small, light breath.

“What’s the matter with it?” Winslow said. “Why didn’t it go with the rest of them? Do you think it’s lost?”

“I don’t know. No, I don’t think it’s lost, but there’s some reason why the pod abandoned it. We need to get Gabriel. I’ll stay here and try to keep it calm, if you’ll go back. Go!
Go!
”

Even Winslow could hear the calf’s keening, high and piercing. He turned around and ran.

W
HILE
W
INSLOW WAS
gone Libertine tried to soothe the animal, but it had gone beyond her reach, just as Friday had so many months ago. She stayed at the water’s edge anyway, trying to send soothing energy until Gabriel, Neva, and Winslow appeared at last, followed by Truman, Ivy, and Johnson Johnson. Gabriel climbed down out of the woods and sat on a weather-smoothed driftwood log.

“For heaven’s sake,” Ivy cried after a few minutes. “Aren’t you going to do something?”

“I am doing something,” Gabriel snapped. “I’m watching.”

“It’s so
small,
” Libertine said.

“You’re comparing it to Friday. He’s a full-grown male; this animal’s probably a year old, plus or minus. So of course it’s small.”

“Why is it here?” Ivy asked.

“Could be lots of reasons. Maybe it’s injured. Maybe it’s sick. Maybe it has a parasite load that’s killing it.”

“It’s been abandoned,” Libertine said.

“Obviously,” Gabriel said. “What we need to know is why. I need to take a closer look before we lose the light.” He turned to Ivy. “Do you think the Whale Museum has wet suits, fins, and snorkels we can borrow?”

“I’m sure they do. I’ll call the executive director.”

“See if we can get three sets of everything, one for Neva, one for Libertine, and one for me. Make sure he understands it’s an emergency,” Gabriel said, “because we may need people to help. And a small boat and fishing net long enough to stretch across the mouth of the inlet.”

“Aye-aye, cap’n,” said Ivy.

Then Libertine overheard Truman whisper to Winslow, “Go with her, okay? Make sure she doesn’t slip or fall or anything.”

“Is she drunk?”

“No. Well, yes, but she seems functional. Just stay with her. If she has to go into town to pick things up, come get me. I don’t want her driving.”

“No kidding,” said Winslow.

A
N HOUR LATER
the three were suited up and ready to get in the water. The island was small and Ivy well-known; people came out of the woodwork to see if they could help, until a small crowd had gathered behind the band of driftwood.

With a mask, snorkel, and fins, Gabriel swam slowly and quietly toward the calf. It regarded him with darting, panicky eyes but stayed put as he circled, examining its skin and pectoral flippers and flukes—and there he found the problem. Most of its left fluke and a part of its right one were gone. The injury looked like it was a day or two old; his guess was that it had probably been caught in a boat propeller. The severity of the wound would have made it almost impossible to keep up with the pod.

He reached out and touched the animal lightly on the back, and when it flinched he whispered, “It’s going to be okay,” and returned to the beach to explain the problem.

“Is it a boy? Girl? How old do you think it is?” Neva asked.

“I don’t know if it’s male or female, but it’s a year old, plus or minus.”

“So what’ll happen to it?” asked Ivy.

“Here? Death,” said Gabriel. “Especially because it’s still young and probably hasn’t mastered eating on his own. Mom may still be nursing it, if she isn’t pregnant again.”

He and Neva locked eyes. “Could we?” she asked.

“Maybe,” Gabriel said. “We’ll need a permit, but I think I can get that pushed through tomorrow. And we’ll need to run bloods and a blowhole swab. And fecal, if we can get it.”

“What are you talking about?” said Ivy, looking from one to the other.

“That’s all doable, isn’t it?” said Neva.

“Will someone tell me
what the hell is going on
?” Ivy cried.

Gabriel turned to her. “If the calf’s in good enough shape, we might be able to bring him to the zoo.”

Ivy drew in a quick breath. “You mean to live with Friday?”

“Maybe—
maybe
. With the injury he has, he’s certainly not releasable.”

“Oh, man!” said Ivy. “Oh man, oh man, oh man.”

“Don’t get ahead of things,” Gabriel cautioned. “We have to keep it alive first. Do you know anyone at the urgent care here?”

“I know everyone,” said Ivy.

“Then see if they have a lab that can analyze some samples—and if they can, ask them to give you lab supplies—tonight, even if it means they have to bring someone in. You’d be willing to pay for that, right?”

“Hah!” Ivy said. “In a heartbeat.” She turned to Truman and said, “Come with me. You’re going to be driving. I damned near went into a ditch on the way to the museum.”

“I told Winslow to make sure you didn’t drive.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s why I made him stay home.”

I
VY BELIEVED THAT
every now and then, and usually when you least expected it, the universe looked out for its own. In the rapidly fading light, with the help of a Boston Whaler, Gabriel and Neva stretched a fishing net so the calf was contained for the night. Once it was in place they waded out and hydrated it with tubing, lubricant, and a funnel Ivy had found for them along with lab materials and the promise that a tech would stand by to analyze the samples as soon as they were brought in the next morning. Gabriel reached the Washington State Department of Fish and Wildlife guy in charge of permitting, with whom he’d worked for decades tagging seals and sea lions. He promised he’d push the paperwork through the next day, as long as a zoo representative was available to sign off. He also promised to loan them the transport gear, provided that Gabriel would vouch for the fact that it would come back promptly.

Having done all they could until daybreak, they each took turns checking on the calf throughout the evening, listening in the darkness for his breathing. Finally Gabriel sent everyone to bed, stressing that the next day was likely to be long and punishing.

But instead of going to her room, Ivy poured freshly brewed coffee and a generous measure of Bushmills Irish Whiskey into a thermos, pulled on a heavy sweater—the nights were cold here even in the height of summer—and tugged a windproof anorak over that. Then she stuck Julio Iglesias and an inflatable cushion into a canvas bag and, sweating fiercely, emerged from the house just a few minutes shy of midnight.

The sky had cleared, and a full moon lit up the band of bleached driftwood on the beach. She struggled her way to the next-door bay, where she could make out the calf’s silhouetted dorsal fin, motionless in the moonlight. She froze until she heard its pneumatic exhale and inhale. Then she blew up the inflatable cushion, set Julio Iglesias on his feet, and lowered herself onto a driftwood log. There she listened to the calf breathe, all the way until morning; if it died in the night, at least someone would have borne witness to its passing. When first light came and it was still alive, she struggled to her feet, stuffed the empty thermos, Julio Iglesias, and her deflating cushion into the canvas bag, and climbed up to the house prepared to fix breakfast and brew up a large pot of coffee strong enough to strip paint.

The household was already stirring when she came in. Gabriel had found eggs, cheese, bacon, and scallions in the refrigerator and was cooking; Winslow was manning the toaster; and Truman had found and brewed coffee and was getting glasses and orange juice out on the table. Neva was making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in case they didn’t have time to stop for lunch later, and Libertine had run Johnson Johnson to the ferry, since he had promised his wait-staff he’d be back at the Oat Maiden by three o’clock that afternoon. Ivy told Gabriel that the calf had had an uneventful night, at least from the sounds of his breathing.

“That was some dumb move, going alone,” he chastised her. “You could have broken an ankle out there, and no one would have known until morning.”

“Now, see?” she agreed. “That’s exactly what I thought.”

“So?” said Gabriel.

“I decided not to listen.”

B
Y THE END
of breakfast, they’d all agreed to name the calf, a male, San Juan—Juan, for short—to commemorate the place where they’d found him. They spent the rest of the morning preparing the stretcher and transport box that Gabriel’s Department of Fish and Wildlife contact had ferried over on the back of a small flatbed truck, and loading up the calf. Truman, with Gabriel, drove the truck onto the 12:10 ferry.

As Gabriel had laid out for them on San Juan Island before they’d left, they would acclimatize the calf in an above-ground, circular fiberglass pool in the zoo’s holding area, which had once been used to house waterfowl while their exhibit was being upgraded. Neva now offered to take the overnight shift, but Gabriel wanted to be there to monitor the calf through the night.

A
T FOUR ON
the nose the next morning, Neva, already wearing a wet suit, arrived at the pool and climbed in with two Dunkin’ Donuts to-go cups of coffee held high.

“You’re an angel,” Gabriel said.

“If I were an angel, I’d have brought donuts, too. I ran out of money.” She pushed her way through the four-foot-deep water until she’d come alongside Gabriel. Though it wasn’t quite as cold as Friday’s pool, she still shuddered.

Gabriel set his coffee cup on a little deck on one side of the pool, beside a length of flexible tubing, funnel, and two gallons of water. “I want to hydrate him before I go.” With Neva’s help, Gabriel gaped the calf’s mouth with a dowel as thick as a broomstick and fed the lubricated tubing down his throat and into his stomach without difficulty. In less than five minutes they’d poured two gallons of fresh water and electrolytes down his throat.

“Good,” Gabriel said. “We’ll feed him in an hour or so.”