Always the Last to Know by Kristan Higgins Page 0,131

Noah, his hair whipping across his face, was standing on the hill my house perched on.

“Oh, thank God,” I said.

He ran toward me. “What are you doing?”

“Just saving a dolphin. You know.”

“Did you call anyone?”

“I tried. No cell service out here, and my car’s blocked in.”

“Yeah, I saw. No service in town, either. I tried calling you to see if you were okay, then came out to check.” He bent down to look at my new friend. “Have you named her?”

He knew me well. He really did.

“Honey.”

“Yes, dear?”

“No, that’s her name.” I smiled at him. Noah, flirting with me over a baby dolphin. God! The feels! “Think we can pull her to the water? She’s getting tired, and the tide is going out.”

“Let’s go.”

It was a good quarter mile to the Sound. I talked almost nonstop to my little dolphin friend, telling her to be brave, be strong, relax and enjoy the ride. It was tough going, and Noah and I both fell once or twice more (fine, I fell twice, and he stumbled). By the time we reached the ocean, I could barely stand, I was so tired.

“Okay, Honey, let’s go,” Noah said.

We pulled her into the water, and my faithful L.L.Bean boots filled up immediately, the fleece lining acting like a sponge. The water was bitingly cold and stung my raw skin.

Honey didn’t seem to rouse much. Flapped a little, but didn’t make it off the tarp.

“Let’s take her in a little deeper,” I said. I put my hand on Honey’s back. “Come on, sweetie. You can do it.” We were knee-deep now, then thigh deep. She flapped once, and the tarp slid out from under her.

She sank.

“No! Come on, Honey! Up you go!” I reached in and pulled her up so she could breathe. “Here, baby. Just sit a minute. Get your bearings.”

“She might be sick, Sadie,” Noah said.

“She’s not.” Stupid of me to say, but I didn’t want her to be. My throat tightened with tears. All this to watch my little friend drown? No.

I took her out a few more feet, now waist deep in the ocean, the waves slapping me, sliding over Honey’s blowhole, soaking my sweater. “Maybe you can run back to your truck and drive into town and get some help,” I said, my teeth starting to chatter.

“I’m not leaving you in the ocean by yourself. With a dolphin. It’s not even fifty degrees today, Special.”

“Well . . . maybe if we swim her out a little more, she’ll catch on.”

Noah looked dubious.

“Please?” I added. “You’re a father. She’s a baby. Doesn’t this inspire your paternal instincts?”

He shook his head, smiling a little. “Sure. Okay.” We took her out a little more, and her tail moved. I was up to my shoulders now. She wasn’t sinking, but we were holding her up, and let me tell you, a baby dolphin is not a tiny thing.

“Any other ideas?” Noah asked. A wave slapped me in the face, and I choked. “Pretty soon we’ll be dead, so think of something.”

I couldn’t help a sputtering laugh.

And then, like magic, like proof of God, a full-grown dolphin leaped out of the water right in front of us, and I screamed a little as it splashed down. Honey began squeaking and wriggling, and then, just like that, she gave a flip of her powerful tail and swam toward her mother (I thought it was her mother, anyway). She was a dark shape in the water, and then she was gone.

“Yes! Way to go, Honey!” Noah said.

But I felt suddenly . . . bereft. That was it? After two hours together?

It wasn’t. In a glorious whoosh of water that pulled around my legs, Honey and her mama circled us, once, then twice, and for one beautiful second, we could hear their clicking and squeaking.

Then they were ten feet away, surfacing for air side by side, then twenty, and then they disappeared, indiscernible from the choppy waves in the darkening sea.

“They thanked you,” Noah said, wonder in his voice. “Now that doesn’t happen every day.”

I was crying with the beauty of it. Wrapped my arms around Noah and sobbed, then kissed him full on the mouth, tasting the salt of my tears and the ocean.

“Okay, dolphin girl,” he said, pushing my wet hair off my face. “Let’s get you home.”

* * *

— —

Because God obviously approved of my efforts, the power came on five minutes after we got back to the house. Pepper greeted us ecstatically, and I