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Captive Angel
By Jerry Smith iUniverse
Copyright © 2008 Gerald E. Smith
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-595-31315-0
CHAPTER 1
"I'm going to the Florida Keys to help Uncle John!" Becky screamed at the top of her lungs. The sixteen-year-old slammed the bedroom door and locked it. She pulled a suitcase out of the closet and started packing. "I can work with his dolphins."
"Open this door," her mother demanded. "Just who do you think you are, talking to me that way?" She rattled the door knob. "Wait until your father gets home, Rebecca!"
"Daddy's never home," Becky yelled back. "He's always at work."
"He's on the way home now. Wait until he sees this report card," her mother continued. "You'll have to go to summer school."
"I don't have to go to summer school. Or didn't you notice? I passed everything!"
"Don't be so smart-alecky," cautioned Mrs. Russell. "You're grounded for the whole summer." The sound of her footsteps echoed resolutely down the hall.
Silence flooded the air.
Becky waited a few minutes, and then peeked out of the bedroom door to be sure her mother was gone. She opened her cell phone and made a long distance call.
Her younger cousin answered. "Hello."
"Alison, it's me, Becky," she said, picking at her black nail polish. "How are things at the Institute for Dolphins Studies?"
"There's a lot of work, and Dad is running out of money, but other than that, great!"
"How many dolphins do you have now?" Becky asked with interest.
"Five."
"Listen, Alison," Becky said quietly. "I'm coming to Florida."
"When will you get here?" Alison asked.
"I don't know, like tomorrow, maybe."
"Will you be flying into Marathon Airport or should Dad pick you up in Key West?"
Becky cleared her throat. "I don't have a flight, at least not yet."
"Is everything all right?" Alison asked. "You sound a little weird."
"I feel like I'm in jail," Becky said angrily. "They don't let me do anything here. Mom just grounded me for the summer."
"That's too bad," Alison said sympathetically. "But if you're grounded, how can you come to Florida?"
"I haven't figured that out yet," Becky said, twirling the tips of her strawberry-blond hair that had been dyed pink in a moment of rebellion. "Maybe I'll thumb a ride or something."
"What else is going on? I hear you quit the swim team."
"Coach Malinowski is a jerk," Becky replied. "He tried to make me do some extra practice laps, so I told him to kiss my you know what. Coach is in charge of hiring lifeguards for the summer so I won't be working at the pool either."
"How'd you do in school this quarter?"
Becky lied. "I made honor roll again."
"What about your boyfriend?" Alison's voice invited Becky to tell all.
"Buck and I broke up about a month ago."
"Sorry. What happened?"
"Nothing happened. It's okay."
"How's your friend, Samantha? What's she doing this summer?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen her lately."
"Sounds like you're in for a crummy summer," Alison noted.
There was a pounding on the bedroom door. It was Becky's father. "Open up!"
Becky sighed into the telephone. "I've got to go, but I'll see you soon," she promised. "I just have to work out some details." She clicked off the phone, slid the suitcase under her bed, and opened the door.
Steven Russell, Esquire stood in the doorway, all six feet, three inches of him. He was dressed in an expensive charcoal three-piece suit, and his stock of white hair was neatly trimmed. Mr. Russell glared at Becky with steely eyes.
"Did you have a nice day in court, Daddy?" Becky asked sarcastically.
"No, actually, I didn't," Mr. Russell complained. "Nothing went right, nothing at all."
There was no need to avoid the inevitable. "Look, Daddy, if you've got something to say, just say it. I've got stuff to do."
He held up the report card in his hand. "Would you care to explain these grades?"
"What's to explain? I passed."
Mr. Russell was exasperated. "Look at this! The first two marking periods you were on the high honor roll. You barely passed most of your classes during the second half of the year. It doesn't make sense."
"I'll do better starting in September," Becky said, trying to pacify her father. "Don't bug me, okay?"
"Rebecca, how could you let this happen?" Mr. Russell frowned. "Your mother and I are so disappointed. I suppose you were too busy running around with that hoodlum boyfriend of yours."
Becky turned away from her father.
"We can't let you do this to us or yourself," Mr. Russell asserted. "This is for your own good, but you are not to leave this house except to go to your summer job."
"I don't have a summer job," Becky retorted. "And I'm not sticking around this prison all summer!"
"You can come downtown and do some filing for the firm. There's plenty of it." Mr. Russell handed the report card to Becky. "You can start tomorrow."
After Becky was alone, she opened the bottom drawer of her dresser. She took out a wad of cash and counted it. Next, she placed a toll-free call to the airline. "I'd like to make a reservation, please, Boston to Marathon, Florida."
CHAPTER 2
Becky was one of seven passengers aboard the Cessna 402 C aircraft when the shuttle flight out of Miami touched down in the Florida Keys. She was flabbergasted to see Uncle John and Alison waiting when she entered the small, modern terminal in Marathon.
She regarded her two approaching relatives. Uncle John, a well-nourished man of forty, was putting away his cell phone. His light-red hair was thinner than the last time Becky had seen him. Thirteen-year-old Alison's most distinctive features were her decidedly thicker collarlength red hair, and her freckled face.
Even though Becky's father and Uncle John were brothers, Becky marveled at the differences between the two men. Steven Russell was a high-paid lawyer who was constantly stressed out. Uncle John was this dolphin guy living on a meager budget, but loving it.
Alison was the first to speak. "We thought you ran away to join the circus."
Becky's surprise was hard to contain. "How did you know I'd be on this flight?"
"Your father called about nine o'clock this morning," Uncle John said. "He had a hunch you were headed here. After he made a few calls, we were able to track you down."
"Is that who you were just talking to?" she asked.
Uncle John nodded. "I had to let your folks know that you arrived safely. You had them worried."
"You said I could come anytime," Becky reminded him. "Here I am!"
Uncle John managed to coax the beat up Club Wagon to life on the third try in the airport parking lot. The van's interior was like a preheated oven.
"Doesn't this thing have AC?" Becky asked.
"Needs Freon," Uncle John answered, adjusting the blower.
"Needs a muffler too," Alison said, her voice rising above the rumbling noise.
The road sign said they were traveling southbound on Route 1, but Becky recalled reading somewhere that the Keys run more east-to-west than north-to-south. Key West is actually as far west as Cleveland, Ohio.
"Before you get too comfortable here," Uncle John said to Becky, "you'd better call home. I told your father you'd call once we got to the Institute."
"I can help with the dolphins," Becky offered. "Alison says there's a lot of work to be done."
Uncle John made a left-hand turn onto a sandy driveway. The inconspicuous sign on the property told Becky that she had arrived at the Institute for Dolphin Studies. "I'll show you where to put your bags," he said. "Then I'll show you to the telephone."
Becky dropped her luggage in the spare bedroom of the simple onestory house. She dreaded the thought of calling her parents, but she had to do it. "Can I see the dolphins first?"
"There's a cordless wall phone in the kitchen," said Uncle John. "Take it in the bedroom if you like. Alison and I will be out on the dock." He donned a Florida Marlins baseball cap and headed out the screen door.
Becky peered out the kitchen window. She could see the dolphins swimming in the lagoon. Becky punched in her home phone number.
Her mother answered on the first ring. "Becky, is that you?"
"Hello, Mom."
Mrs. Russell barked out a series of questions without giving Becky a chance to answer. "Where did you get the money? How long were you planning this? When are you coming home?"
Typical overreaction, Becky thought. "Mom, will you please relax?"
Mrs. Russell became more agitated. "Relax? How can you say that? You had us scared half to death!"
Mr. Russell's calmer voice came on the extension. "Why did you do this, Rebecca? We were so worried."
"I had to get away," Becky complained. "We argue too much. Nothing ever gets settled. I just got so tired of it."
"Don't you want to come home?" he asked.
Becky hesitated. "No, I don't want some stupid job filing papers in your office. I want to stay, at least for a few weeks. It's beautiful here, and Uncle John will let me stay."
"Do you want us to come and get you?" asked Mrs. Russell.
"That's the last thing I want" Becky said. "Can't you leave me alone for a while?"
There was a long pause. "Tell you what," said Mr. Russell. "Promise Uncle John that you'll work your fingers to the bone. He needs an extra pair of hands. That's for sure. If you agree to call home every other day, we'll see how it goes."
"Are you serious, Daddy?" Becky asked.
"Hold on there, my angel," Mr. Russell said. "You're not on vacation, and by no stretch are you out of trouble. But I have a feeling this may be worth a try."
"The visitor is back!" Alison's voice came through the open window.
Becky could tell from her cousin's urgent tone that something unusual must be going on. "I've got to go!"
"Wait!" her mother protested.
"I'll call later," Becky promised. "Bye."
Becky bolted out the door. The intense Florida heat and humidity did nothing to deter her from racing down the crushed coral path at breakneck speed.
When she reached the end of the walkway, Becky stopped short and observed the scene with alarm. A shark was swimming around the outside of the dolphins' sea pen. "What's it doing here?"
"It's a tiger shark," Alison announced. "It's feeding."
"Well, I hope it's not going to feed on the dolphins." Becky half smiled.
"The dolphins will be okay as long as they stay inside the pen and the shark stays outside," Uncle John said reassuringly. "If there's not enough food around, it will go someplace else."
"Shouldn't we shoo it away or something?" Becky asked, tying her hair into a ponytail.
"The best thing to do is leave it alone as long as it's not bothering anything," Uncle John said as the shark swam away. "You see?"
Alison placed her hands on her hips. "Are you leaving or staying?"
"I worked it out. I'm staying," Becky replied, "if that's okay with you, Uncle John."
"I was hoping you'd be staying," Uncle John said. "My reasons are purely selfish. I'm putting you to work."
"That's what I want, Uncle John."
"It's nothing as glamorous as training dolphins. I'm talking hard, physical work like painting the shed," he warned her.
"Whatever."
"It's dirty work like cleaning fish. Can you handle it?"
"No problem," Becky assured him.
"All right," Uncle John said. "In that case, I think it's time for you to meet the pod. A good way to tell one dolphin from another is by the dorsal fin. Notch has the most easily recognizable dorsal fin of all the dolphins here."
"It looks like someone sliced part of it away," Becky said, noticing the v-shaped cut. "I guess that's why you call him Notch."
"Look," said Alison, pointing to another dolphin. "See how her dorsal fin comes to a point. That's Amy."
"She is the oldest dolphin here," Uncle John said, holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. "She's in her late thirties."
Alison added, "Another way to identify Amy is by the pinkish-white color on her snout and underside. As dolphins get older, they get more of that coloring."
"Like the way people get gray hair?" Becky asked.
"That's a good way to think of it," Uncle John said.
"Hey, Dad," Alison said. "I bet Becky will really like Tucker."
Becky was suspicious of her wisecracking cousin. "Why is that?"
Uncle John laughed. "He's a Bostonian like you. Tucker came here from your local aquarium. You two were once neighbors."
"No kidding. How did he get here, Uncle John?"
"Some dolphins don't adapt well to change, like some people. Tucker came from the open ocean to a cement tank at the aquarium. He stopped eating and developed ulcers. The management of the aquarium thought he would do better in natural seawater, so they asked me to take him. He's in his early twenties."
Becky moved closer to the water. "How's he doing now?"
Uncle John wiped some sweat off his brow. "Much better," he said.
"And he thinks he's quite the stud muffin," Alison joked. "Tucker and Miss Angel have been dating." She made quotation marks with her fingers.
"It's not like they go to a drive-in movie, and then get a burger and Coke afterward," said Uncle John. "They more or less hang out together, if you get my meaning."
Alison added, "It's more like they go to a 'dive-in movie.' Get it?"
Becky's thoughts drifted to her own dating experiences. She'd gone out with an eighteen-year-old guy by the name of Tom Buck. Everyone called him Buck, including Becky. Buck was on the wild side. He had several traffic citations to his name. The relationship didn't last very long, but Becky still got a far-away look when she remembered how exciting it was to be around him.
Alison waved her hand in front of Becky's eyes. "Is anyone home? It's a play on words. I do that sometimes."
Becky returned to reality. "Drive-in, dive-in, I get it. I think there used to be a drive-in near our house back home. They tore it down and built a mall."
"I remember the place," said Uncle John. He continued with the dolphin introductions. "Next, we have Dana, a nine-year-old juvenile. She loves playing with hula-hoops, balls or any other kind of water toy. Dana always swims by the dock from left to right because she's missing one eye."
"Oh," said Becky. "That's so she can see us standing here."
"That's right. A dolphin's eyes are on the side. Dolphins don't quite see straight ahead the way humans do."
Becky counted on her fingers. "So we've got Notch, Amy, Dana, Tucker, and Miss Angel. You didn't tell me much about Miss Angel. What's her story?"
"Dad likes saving the best for last," Alison said.
"Never favor one dolphin over another," Uncle John cautioned, but as he spoke, it was obvious Miss Angel was special to him. "Angel is now an estimated ten years old," he said. "She was found as a baby stranded on a beach near Sarasota with a dead mature dolphin, probably her mother. This is an exceptionally trainable animal."
"Dolphins have different personalities," Alison said. "We call it 'dolphinality.'"
Uncle John pointed off to the left. "That area is their sanctuary. The dolphins are not forced to interact with us. They may go to the sanctuary, and return when and if they so choose."
Becky understood the concept of having a sanctuary. She'd often retreated to her room to listen to music or read. Dolphins must need a little space too.
The sound of a car horn caused everyone to turn their attention in the direction of the driveway. The driver was a petite woman wearing granny-style sunglasses.
"Who is that?" Becky asked.
Alison tried to sound overly formal. "That's Dr. Margaret Hanson, but I'm sure you can call her Maggie."
Maggie stepped out of the car. She was wearing cut-off jeans, and the top part of a bikini swimsuit.
"Come on," Uncle John said. "I'd like Maggie and Becky to meet."
The woman removed her sunglasses. Her movements were easy and fluid. Cascading chestnut hair fell below her shoulders, and there was sincerity in her expressive brown eyes.
Uncle John was beaming as he greeted the woman. "Maggie, I know you remember my daughter, Alison."
Maggie's voice matched her features, soft and delicate. "Of course, I do. Alison, how are you?"
Alison mumbled. "Hello."
"This is my brother's daughter," Uncle John said. "Becky is visiting us from Massachusetts."
"That's wonderful!" Maggie said enthusiastically. "How long will you be staying?"
"Nice to meet you, Dr. Hanson," Becky said. "I'll be around for a while, I guess."
"Please call me Maggie."
Becky felt the poke of Alison's elbow in her ribs. "Are you a medical doctor?"
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Captive Angel by Jerry Smith. Copyright © 2008 Gerald E. Smith. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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