Page 20 of Bewitched By the Siren
“I’d probably cry, too,” I say, and she looks over at me with a grateful expression.
We walk up the steps to the front door of the center, and I pick up the pace so I reach the door before her. Pulling it open, I step aside so she can enter first, and she gives me a small nod in thanks. Hali leads me over to a reception desk where a dark-haired woman sits, typing at a computer. When she looks up and sees us, she smiles.
“Good morning, Hali. I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”
“Susannah, this is Brendan. Is it okay if I give him a quick tour?”
“Of course,” Susannah says, looking up at me with a warm smile. “Nice to meet you, Brendan.”
I offer her a hand, and she takes it as I say, “Nice to meet you, too.”
“You guys can go on back,” she says, releasing my hand. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Susannah,” Hali says, then looks at me. “You ready?”
“Absolutely,” I say.
She smiles and leads me through a door into a cavernous room filled with big round tanks. I follow her down a few steps to the main floor where she stops beside the first tank. Stepping up to it, I look inside to see a giant turtle swimming around.
“This is Jimmy Buffet,” Hali says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “He was found, injured, ten years ago. We think he got hit by a boat. See how his shell is deformed?”
I nod, unable to miss the large sunken area in the middle of his shell. “Does it hurt?”
“I’m sure it hurt when it happened, but not so much, anymore. The problem is, the deformity left him with an air pocket inside his shell. That black box on top is actually a weight to help him submerge. It’s attached with an epoxy, but it doesn’t last forever. We have to reattach it every few months, which means he can never be released into the wild. Once the weight falls off, he can only float at the surface and wouldn’t be able to feed himself.”
“That’s so sad,” I say, my brow furrowing as I watch Jimmy dart across his little pool.
“It is,” she says, “but Jimmy has a good life here. He’s our mascot, of sorts, and when we hold tours, he teaches people about the dangers of boats to sea creatures.”
I follow Hali to the next tank, where she stops and smiles down at a turtle that looks perfectly healthy to my untrained eyes. When I move in beside her, she looks up at me with a smile.
“This is Roxy. She came in with an intestinal blockage after she swallowed part of a plastic grocery bag. The team got her all fixed up with a mixture of fiber and vegetable oil, she passed the plastic, and she’s due to be released next week.”
“I’d love to see that,” I say.
Hali looks a bit startled, then covers it with a soft smile and a nod. It’s obvious she doesn’t expect me to still be here for the Roxy’s release. Hell, I don’t even know if I’ll still be here, despite our conversation this morning about going to the festival together. It depends on Julius and whether or not I can come through for him this weekend. But if I am still here, I’m definitely going to try to witness Roxy’s release.
As Hali leads me around to show me the rest of the patients at the center and explains what she does, I can feel her passion for the work emanating from her. This isn’t something she does just to make herself feel better. She has a real love for these animals and wants to make their world a better place.
A new respect for her blooms inside me. She’s selfless and generous when it comes to this place and the work they do. Her warm heart shines through her words as she speaks, and I find myself just watching her. Soaking in her glow.
By the time we finish the tour and head out, I feel like I know Hali Weston a lot better than I did when I woke up this morning.
And I can tell by her posture that she feels a new level of comfort with me, too.
“Do you want to grab something to eat? Or do you need to get back home?” I ask, hoping she’ll say yes.
There’s a hiccup in her stride when I ask, then she settles back into a steady rhythm, saying, “I should get back to check on my mom. She’s…not well.”
“Okay, I understand,” I say, swallowing the probing questions I really want to ask.
“She has muscular dystrophy,” she offers, and my head jerks in her direction. She shakes her head at my alarm. “It’s a long, progressive disease. She’s lost the use of her legs, so she needs help with everything. That’s why I sing atMemaw’s.The money helps pay for part-time in-home health care, and I take care of her the rest of the time. I’m saving up, because soon, she’ll need a full-time nurse.”
“God, Hali. I’m sorry,” is all I can think to say.
But the wheels are spinning in my head, and suddenly, Hali’s refusal to entertain a record deal that’ll be certain to take her away from this place makes perfect sense. It’s not just that she doesn’t want to leave. Shecan’t.
Shit.
