Reunion Beach Elin Hilderbrand (best selling autobiographies .TXT) 📖

Elinor hurried to grab hold of the red bucket and delivered it to Ting. She gently placed the hatchling into it. Beside the nest, Caroline lay flat on the sand, her long arm scooping out handfuls of sand and empty eggshells. Ting and Maeve counted them, and all the while, Betts photographed the hatchling running in continuous circles around the bottom of the bucket.

“Eighty-one eggs,” Ting called out.

“Five eggs did not develop.” Maeve rested back on her heels.

The team looked at her expectantly.

Elinor checked her records. “We know there were eighty-six eggs in the nest because we relocated it due to it being below the high-tide line. Minus the five.” She scribbled on her report then looked at the team with pleasure. “That gives us a very respectable ninety-four percent rate for this nest. That’s a good one. Now, let’s release this baby.” She turned to Maeve. “Do you want to do the honors?”

“Why don’t you do it?” Maeve offered. “It’s your turn.”

Elinor met Maeve’s eyes and saw the commiseration shining there. Maeve was the only one on the team who knew how important today was. How she could use a little bolstering of spirit. She nodded gratefully and bent to pick up the red bucket.

“Come on, little one. Let’s set you on your journey.”

It was a perfect morning for a release. The waves lapped the shoreline serenely and the outgoing tide would help pull the young hatchling into the welcoming sea. She waited until the team gathered near, along with a lucky couple who just happened to be walking by. They were positively giddy, their phones out taking pictures. Timing was everything, Elinor thought with a smile.

And now, it was time for this hatchling to take its chances with fate. The team gathered near the water’s edge. The rising sun cast a rosy gleam across the sea. With the dawn came the seagulls, calling out their raucous laugh. Elinor searched the sky to make certain none of those marauders were near to scoop up her one precious hatchling.

Elinore crouched low onto the sand and looked down into the red bucket. The lone hatchling scrambled around the rim, unceasingly following its instinct to move forward in search of the sea. So small. So helpless.

She heard the cry of a seagull and in her mind, she heard again the wail of a newborn.

Maeve bent close and asked quietly, “You okay?”

Elinor blinked then gave a shaky smile and nodded. “I was just giving this turtle a chance to exercise its limbs a bit.”

“Everyone’s waiting.”

“Yes, good,” Elinor replied, her focus returning. “Save your energy,” she told the turtle. “You’re going to need it. You have a long swim ahead of you to reach the Gulf.”

Looking up she saw the team fanned out across the beach, all eyes on her. Elinor slowly tilted the bucket and watched the hatchling scramble out to the sand. Once on terra firma, the hatchling’s flippers madly propelled the tiny turtle forward, across the uneven sand, around footprints, shells, and bits of sea grass. At last it reached the shoreline and got its first taste of salt water. A gentle wave swept up and washed over the hatchling, sending it tumbling back with the force of it. Elinor watched the beauty of instinct at play as the turtle’s flippers switched from crawl to swim, and in that precious instant, the turtle was at home in the sea. It had found its home.

Elinor stepped closer, following the wave as it carried the tiny hatchling back into its embrace. She could barely see the three-inch turtle in the shallow water. She felt an inexpressible connection to this hatchling, this newborn that she had released from the womb of sand. She thought again of the child she’d released to the world, hoping—believing—that she would find the right home. She didn’t want to lose sight of it and followed the hatchling deeper into the warm late-summer waters of the Atlantic. The waves pushed against her, caressing her ankles, then her calves, soaking her pants. She kept her eyes peeled on the tiny turtle swimming madly—seemingly joyously—on its way.

Elinor could go no further. She stood, arms limp at her sides, her gaze locked on the little brown speck in the sea. The moment a sea turtle dove deep and disappeared was emotional for her. Of course, she wanted the turtle to swim off, as nature intended. Yet today, the slender bond she felt with this hatchling tugged hard, drawing her with it to a time and place she had not traveled to in many years.

“Good-bye, sweet baby,” she whispered as tears slid down her cheek.

Elinor heard again the piercing cry of the seagull. Instinctively she looked up, directly into the fiery ball of the sun. She closed her eyes and she was back in the hospital, forty years earlier, staring up at the white glare of a metal hospital lamp.

“One more push,” the doctor had ordered.

Elinor’s legs were up in the brutally cold metal stirrups. Her body was doubled up and sweat dripped down her face.

“I . . . I can’t. . . .” she cried.

A nurse, large and full breasted, quickly stepped behind her and slipped strong arms around her, hoisting her up in support.

“You can do this, Missy. Just one more good one. You’ve done a real good job. We’re almost there. Ready? On the count of three. One, two, three!”

Elinor felt another wave of a contraction building and an overpowering urge to push welling up. On the count she tightened her eyes, grit her teeth, and bore down. It felt like her body was being torn open, but she kept pushing. A guttural sound came from her that she didn’t recognize.

“I’ve got the head. Keep going.” The doctor’s urging spurred her on.

She bore down again, straining and screaming with abandon. She felt her legs shake and dots swim before her eyes when, almost as a surprise, there was a sudden gush of release. She fell back against the nurse, panting yet feeling