The rest of the evening was rough, with Tom struggling to get comfortable. The pain pills didn’t touch the sickening ache in his back, and when Goldie called Morty, he told her that unfortunately, the rate at which Tom was declining made it unlikely anything but morphine was going to make him comfortable. Goldie said Tom wanted to go out on the boat one more time and asked if Morty could recommend something for the pain that would allow him to remember and enjoy the experience before beginning to sedate him. Morty phoned in a stronger prescription and warned Goldie that after the boat ride, there probably wouldn’t be anymore outings.
Sharon slept on the sofa in the living room, waiting for Lucinda to arrive from Connecticut. Her flight was delayed, but Sharon stayed at the house while Tom and Ben went fishing, helping her mother clean Tom’s bedsheets, which he’d soaked with sweat the night before. They didn’t discuss Tom’s illness, but kept busy with mundane tasks, looking at the wall clock or their watch or phone every so often, counting down until Lucinda’s ferry arrived.
Goldie went down to the main office and cleared the reservations schedule for the next two weeks, telling guests there was a family emergency. She explained that someone would call them back in two weeks and offer them a discount if they wanted to reschedule, secretly hoping most of them wouldn’t since it meant a lot of work during a time the whole family would be grieving.
On the boat, Ben put down the anchor and unpacked the muffins and thermos of coffee Goldie had packed them. He poured a cup and extended it to Tom, who took it, not because he wanted to drink it. He’d lost the taste for it when he got sick, but the familiar feeling of the mug warming his hands on a dewy morning comforted him. Ben baited the hooks on two fishing poles and handed one to his father. They cast their lines and sat back in their seats, enjoying the hopeful feeling of what might bite on the other end. The sun warmed their shoulders, and a lone seabird flew overhead. “He’s got it all figured out, you know,” Tom said, nodding toward the sky. Ben smiled and said, “Wish I did.”
“You do, Ben. You know all you need to know when it’s said and done. You’ll figure out the minutiae along the way.”
“Is this the part where we have the talk, Dad?”
“Well, birds do it. Bees do it…”
“This isn’t funny, Dad.”
“Say that when you’re in my shoes, Benny. It is so funny. It’s hilarious that I won’t get to see you walk down the aisle someday, and that I won’t live to see who the next president is, and that I’ll never see your mother grow old. If that’s not the most ridiculous, hilarious, outrageous thing I’ve ever heard, I don’t know what is.”
“Mom will probably be glad you don’t see her get all wrinkly and have to wear orthopedic shoes,” Ben said, sniffling. “You know how vain she is.”
Tom laughed and agreed with his son. An hour later, despite catching five fish, the bucket was empty. Tom had suggested giving the fish the second chance at life that eluded him. “No death today, Ben,” he said, insisting Ben throw back the most gorgeous red snapper he’d ever had on his line. Ben agreed, and gently lowered the fish back into the sea, where he quickly disappeared under the water.
Ben lifted the anchor to go home, and while they were sailing back, he said, “Dad?” Tom adjusted the bill of his ball cap to block the sun from his eyes, and waited for Ben to say something. When he couldn’t get the words out, Tom said, “I know what you were going to say, and you’re right. Tiger Woods is an idiot to cheat on that wife of his. Give her some time to collect herself and then you take a chance with her. You can make her happier than that dope ever could.” Ben used his shirtsleeve to wipe his nose and eyes and said, “You’re right, Dad. That’s exactly what I was going to say.”
Back at the house, Ben helped Tom to a chair on the porch where he asked to sit down and wait for Lucinda’s taxi. Ben and Sharon offered to make a grocery run to pick up spareribs and corn for dinner. “I’ll get the ingredients to make your lemon brownies, Mom. They’re Lucinda’s favorite.” They got into Ben’s car and pulled out of the driveway. Goldie handed Tom an iced tea and sat down beside him. “Need anything?” she asked, smiling.
“Continue on with the story,” he said, taking a sip of tea.
It took six months for Tom and Goldie to fall in love, finish the renovations, and get married on the beach. When Tom lamented that none of their family came to the wedding, Goldie smiled, placed his hand on her belly, and said, “We weren’t alone. We had one witness.”
Their days passed quickly, checking guests in and out of the bungalows, playing cards on Tuesday nights with their new friends, Judy and Bill, and getting the nursery ready. One afternoon, when Tom didn’t return from his daily fishing excursion, Goldie called around to their friends and fellow business owners on the island. No one had heard from Tom, but a short thunderstorm rolled through, and Goldie couldn’t help but wonder if Tom had been in an accident on the water. She stood by the shoreline and waited for him, but an hour passed and still there was no sign of him.
It was growing dark and started raining again. She found herself alone on the beach, helpless, and imagining raising her unborn baby alone. She cried and prayed and hoped for a miracle, toggling between screaming at Tom if he came back and hugging him so hard she’d break one of his ribs. Finally, she saw something in the distance. It was mostly under the water, but something massive was sticking up and situated right behind Tom’s boat.
Squinting to make out the figure, she saw that it was pushing Tom’s boat toward shore! Was it a whale? No, she didn’t think so, but what, then? It was too big to be a turtle, yet that’s exactly what it looked like. As the boat reached the shore, Tom climbed out, dragged it safely into the sand, and hugged Goldie, who stood looking at the beast, dumbstruck. “Is that…?” she said, covering her mouth with her left hand, and pointing with her right.
“His name is Hercules.”
“Oh my goodness! He’s real?”
“Yes, and he saved my life.”
“Come closer,” she said, addressing the shadowy figure, who was mostly concealed under the water’s surface.
When the animal allowed itself to float to the top of the water, Goldie stepped back in surprise. It had to be the size of a cruise ship! “Good Lord,” she said, gasping. “I heard there was a giant sea turtle, but I thought it was a bunch of bologna.”
“I am real,” he said.
Goldie approached the turtle and reached out to touch him. When he didn’t recoil or bare his teeth, she could see that he was benevolent. She kissed his nose and thanked him for saving her husband. He smiled, which she wouldn’t have guessed a turtle could do, but figured all bets were off when she heard him speak plain English. “You will have a daughter,” Hercules said. “She’ll bring you great joy, but she’ll leave the island someday. Do not worry. She’ll be back.”
After he’d said those words, he turned and disappeared under the water. Goldie laughed, mostly in shock, and Tom took her by the shoulders and made her promise to never tell their friends or anyone they didn’t trust wholeheartedly about the incident. “They’ll string us up and burn us at the stake, thinking we’re witches or something,” he said. Goldie sighed and said, “Tom, you worry way too much. Besides, we have bigger fish to fry. My water just broke.”
Lucinda had a suitcase in each hand and made her way to the porch. She tried to conceal the shock in her eyes when she saw her father looking so gaunt. She didn’t do a very good job, because Tom said, “It’s okay, honey. A while back, I got chewing gum stuck in my hair and they said the best way to get it out was cancer. He took off his ball cap and revealed a shiny bald head. “See?” He said. “No more gum! It worked!”
Lucinda swallowed hard and ascended the porch steps. She hugged her mother, and then her father, who felt like he was made of uncooked spaghetti. She feared if she squeezed too hard, his bones would break under her hands. “Aw, come on,” he said. “That was a good joke, as far as jokes go.”
“Dad, I think we should fly you back to Stamford. Peter knows an oncologist there who can…”
“No.”
“But Dad…”
“Goldie, can you give Lucinda and me a minute, sweetheart?”
Goldie nodded and said she’d go start the cheddar biscuits for dinner. Once she disappeared into the house, Tom motioned for Lucinda to take a seat. He told her what Morty said about the cancer being everywhere. When Lucinda tried to argue that Morty was a small-town island doctor, and that there were award-winning specialists in Stamford and New York, Tom held up a hand.
He told Lucinda he’d reconciled with the news. “I saw it coming,” he said. “I pretended to have hope, especially when your mother was around. But no one who loses over fifty pounds in two months really thinks they’re going to come out the other side okay. I’m not dumb.”
Lucinda searched her father’s face and saw that he was telling the truth. He was alert, rational, and of sound mind, even if he looked exhausted. He lowered his voice and told Lucinda he needed to tell her something before her brother and sister got back.