Page 73 of Forgotten Path
“So Deke might not have dementia? He might have eaten too much bad fish?” Judy looked from Bodhi to Mirabelle.
Mirabelle met his eyes.
“Marnie’s father—the waitress from the diner. Joel’s notes indicate he’s showing symptoms of early dementia,” Bodhi supplied.
“It’s a possibility,” Mirabelle told her. “There are other conditions that could be related, too.”
“Like what?” Judy demanded.
Mirabell and Bodhi exchanged a look. They’d agreed beforehand not to bring up the prospect of cancer—or flesh-eating bacteria. Not yet. They needed to bring the community around to the idea that they might have health problems related to their diet without causing a panic.
“Asthma, chronic bronchitis, recurrent pneumonia,” Bodhi said.
“Seizure disorders, clumsiness—it’s a long list,” Mirabelle added.
“Is the whole Forgotten Coast as sick as we are?”
“We don’t know. We don’t think so. We think the chronic health problems are concentrated here for two reasons. One, Oyster Point, in particular, relies on recreational and amateur shellfish harvesters.”
“So? Fish is fish. Why should we pay a markup at the fish market when God put the food right here for us? Our food would be cleaner if we paid more for it?” The heat in her voice indicated that Bodhi needed to proceed with caution.
“Well, yes … and no. There’s nothing inherently wrong with eating shellfish that you’ve caught yourself or that a friend caught. But, commercial oyster farms are subject to oversight and regulations that nonprofessionals aren’t. So those oysters at the market have been stored under sterile conditions, and, when there’s a red tide, the oysters are tested to see whether they contain harmful concentrations of pathogens. That doesn’t happen with oysters that Louisa buys in her parking lot or clams that a neighbor collected for a clam bake.”
Judy frowned but nodded her understanding.
“You said there are two reasons we could be getting sick from our fish. One is that it’s locally harvested. What’s the second one?”
* * *
Brianna had slipped backinto the church unnoticed while Clara and Louisa, who’d closed the diner and come over to help, corralled Craig and Steffi to direct traffic at the end of the lot. Now she stood, rooted to the floor, in the hallway outside the nursery, trying to work up the nerve to knock on the door, go inside, and tell Bodhi King what she knew.
As she raised her fist to rap on the door, Judy Lowell’s quavering voice rose and floated out into the hall. “You said there are two reasons we could be getting sick from our fish. One is that it’s locally harvested. What’s the second one?”
She let out a huge whoosh of breath and pushed open the door.
“The second reason is that Gulf Paper Company has dumped chemicals in the bay and the estuary, which caused eutrophication.”
Three heads swiveled toward her in unison, and three sets of eyes bored into her as they reacted to the interruption and digested her announcement.
After a moment, Bodhi spoke. “What exactly is eutrophication?”
“It’s the disruption of the aquatic ecosystem through an overabundance of nutrients.”
“Say it again,” Judy told her. “In English, this time.”
She managed a nervous laugh. “So, plankton—algae and cyanobacteria—feed on nutrients that occur naturally in the water. When the water’s warmer, like in the summer, they grow faster. And when there are a lot of nutrients, especially phosphorus and nitrogen, they grow faster still. As they spread, they eventually turn into a toxic bloom. This process is eutrophication.”
Judy gave her a grave nod. “Thank you.”
“And you’re saying the paper company has dumped nitrates and phosphates into the water?” Dr. Owens asked.
“Yes.”
“How do you know this?”
“She’s the Chief Sustainability Officer at Gulf Paper,” Bodhi offered.
“Former,” Brianna clarified. “I’m the former CSO. Chad fired me this morning.”
