Spring Break Secret by Holly Rayner
Louisa
“All right, I have to drive some supplies back to the conservation center,” Louisa said, pulling open the door of her car. “I can drop you off at your beach rental on the way there.”
Tom still didn’t want the day to end, so he had a different suggestion. “Could I come and see the center, instead?”
Louisa seemed surprised, but more than willing. “Sure thing!”
The La Vega Sea Turtle Conservation Center was a tall cinderblock building down by the docks, with murals of sea life painted on the outer walls. Louisa opened her trunk and gathered an armful of leftover brochures, as well as some of the tape and poles they had used the day before to protect the turtle nest. Tom leaned in and grabbed the rest, hauling an armful of stuff in through the center’s doors. Louisa hadn’t expected him to help out, but was continually and pleasantly surprised by Tom’s chivalry and sweetness.
“Hi, Ellen!” Louisa yelled. “I’m returning extra supplies from yesterday.”
Ellen appeared, her sleeve soaking wet and her glasses misted over. “Hey, Squid! I was just checking on the shrimp tanks.” She saw Tom standing behind Louisa with his arms piled high. “And you must be Tom! I saw you at the beach cleanup today but didn’t get a chance to introduce myself.”
Louisa felt herself blush. Ellen was making it very obvious that Louisa had talked to her about Tom, and she had used the silly childhood nickname in front of him.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Tom said, stepping forward and shifting the load in his arms to shake Ellen’s hand. As he did so, Ellen gave Louisa a very significant look, her eyebrows raised. She was clearly impressed at Tom’s gentlemanly manners and helpfulness.
“Is Louisa going to show you around the center?” Ellen asked. “She’s great at giving tours.”
“We’ll just put this in the storage closet,” Louisa said, ready to get away from Ellen’s seemingly all-knowing gaze. “Tom has to get back to his friends, I’m sure.”
“Actually, I’d love a tour.” Tom turned to Louisa, eagerness in his sparkling blue eyes. “Can we?”
There was no way Louisa could say no to that face. “Absolutely,” she said.
To her credit, Ellen just gave Louisa a wink and disappeared into her office.
After they had deposited all the extra brochures and cordoning supplies in the storage closet, Louisa took Tom back out into the center’s main room. “This is our welcome area,” she explained, gesturing at the various museum-like displays on the walls. “Elementary school classes visit us sometimes, and we teach them about turtles and environmental conservation. Tourists can come in here too, and we sell them postcards and take donations.”
Tom wandered around, taking in all the displays. When he made his way to a large fossilized turtle shell mounted on the wall, he turned back toward Louisa. “Can I touch it?”
She shrugged. “We don’t let the little kids touch it, but sure, go ahead. It’ll just feel like a rock, though.”
“Cool,” Tom whispered, running a hand over the stone.
“Here, come into the back with me. I’ll show you the stuff that the general public doesn’t get to see.”
Louisa pushed open a door that said STAFF ONLY. Tom followed her, and soon they were both standing in a large room with a concrete floor. It was full of huge plastic buckets, glass aquarium tanks, and metal shelves housing various containers.
“Whoa,” Tom said, taking in the sight. “What is this?”
“We do a lot of wildlife rescue,” Louisa explained. “If a turtle is caught in a net, or if someone finds an octopus stranded at low tide, they bring them here. We take care of them until they’re ready to be released. We also sometimes capture wild specimens so we can study them and understand the current health of the ecosystems. They only stay here for a week or so, and then we put them back where we found them.”
Tom wandered over and stood close to a tank full of flashing silver fish that darted back and forth.
“Those are baby bluefish,” Louisa said, joining him beside the tank. “We scoop up a few during hatching season just to make sure they’re developing okay. If a bunch of them have malformed fins, or are missing eyes, we know there’s some kind of chemical causing problems in the water.”
“Are these ones okay?”
“Mostly.” Louisa pointed at one of the fish, which was swimming more slowly and erratically than the others. “That one has a funky tail, but we’re not sure whether that’s a natural genetic defect or the result of environmental factors. Ellen wants to catch a few more bucketfuls just to see.”
“Do they have names?”
Louisa laughed. “No, but I guess you could name them if you want.”
Tom thought for a moment, watching the fish. “Jason, Kevin, and Nick.”
“Are those your friends?” Louisa asked. “The ones you were playing volleyball with on the beach?”
“Yep.” Tom grinned. “I’m going to tell them I named some fish after them.”
“Well, there are more than three bluefin in there. Are they all named Jason, Kevin, and Nick?”
“They can share.” Tom chuckled.
Louisa laughed. “Well, if you do want to meet someone with a name, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Leatherback.”
“Hm?” Clearly curious, Tom followed Louisa through a doorway into a smaller room with high windows. It was dominated by a massive pool with a loud pump filter on one end.
“This is Mr. Leatherback,” Louisa said, pointing to the pool’s inhabitant. A gigantic sea turtle was making lazy loops, occasionally pausing to simply drift in the water. “He lives here full-time. He was injured by a boat as a baby—see that big dent in his shell?”
“Does it hurt him?” Tom asked, leaning over the edge of the pool with a concerned look on his face.
“Ellen says it doesn’t really. On days when he seems a bit slowed down, we put some turtle painkillers in his treats. But he’s not fast enough to catch prey in the wild, so we can’t return him. He’s our ambassador buddy.”
“I think I recognize him from the pictures on the brochure.”
“That’s right. It’s his face on our logo, too. He’s a good boy.” Louisa checked the whiteboard on the wall, where Ellen kept track of Mr. Leatherback’s medicines, feedings, water quality, and other information. “It looks like he’s already eaten his lunch today, but we could feed him some treats if you want.”
Tom’s eyes lit up at that, and Louisa wondered if this was how she looked to other people—the spark of passion that led to her nickname.
Louisa opened the old mini-fridge that held Mr. Leatherback’s food and found a small container of fresh squid.
“Here,” she said, handing the container to Tom. “You can use tongs, or just put it in the water with your hands—but be careful, he can’t always tell the difference between a finger and a snack.”
“Ew,” Tom said, but he was laughing as he picked up one of the slippery squids.
“Great,” Louisa coached, grabbing one of the squids herself. “Now just set it in the water, and he’ll come over and get it.”
Sure enough, Mr. Leatherback swam at his fastest pace, which was still quite slow for a sea turtle, over to the edge of the pool. With a quick slurping motion, he sucked the entire squid into his mouth, looking up at Tom and Louisa expectantly.
“He wants more,” Tom said, so Louisa handed him another squid.
“Can we pet him?” Tom asked, watching Mr. Leatherback float near them awaiting more treats.
“If you go slowly, like this.” Louisa showed Tom how to run a hand over the ridged back of the turtle’s shell. Tom followed her movements, his expression rapt with awe.
“Incredible,” Tom murmured as he stroked the turtle. “I’ve never touched a sea turtle before.”
Together, they watched as the sea turtle tilted his head upwards, looking at them with keen, focused eyes. Louisa often wondered what it was like to be a sea turtle, how much they understood about the world around them, whether they felt stress or joy or fell in love.
Today, she found herself wondering what it must be like to feel Tom’s hands, caressing her the way he was touching the turtle.
They stayed there, connecting with the silent creature, until the turtle decided he was done being petted. Once Mr. Leatherback figured out that there were no more squids to be had, he let himself drift away from the two humans.
“All right,” Tom said, standing up and wiping a hand on his pants. “I probably should be getting back to my guys.”