Cara put the edge of the red bucket to the sand and gently tilted it. The four dark hatchlings scrambled out, flippers madly pushing as they began their trek across the sand. One of the hatchlings had a slight dent in its shell and was having a hard time of it. She doubted that poor fellow was going to make it far with all the hungry fish in the ocean. The other three were vigorous, racing to the surf.

Cara returned to stand beside her, watching the hatchlings.

Dora said, “I can’t believe I’ve never seen this before.”

“I can’t either. It happens every year,” she said with a smirk.

“How long have you been on the team?”

“Oh, I guess around five years now. I started out helping Mama when she got sick, and then I got hooked. I didn’t know my interest in sea turtles would become a lifelong passion.”

Passion. There was that word again, Dora thought. The thing that Harper was hoping to find. The thing Winifred told her wasn’t worth losing Cal over.

She followed the hatchlings close to the water’s edge.

“Keep your eyes on the hatchlings,” Cara told her. “When they reach the water, instinct kicks in and they dive. I never get tired of watching that immediate transition from scrambling hatchling to beautiful swimmer. Instinct is powerful.”

Dora silently urged the hatchlings on as they swam with all their might through the water; then an oncoming wave swept them up and sent them tumbling back to the beach like pebbles.

“Don’t move!” Cara called out to the onlookers. “There are turtles by your feet. Just stand still and let them crawl back.”

“That’s so sad,” Dora said mournfully. “They work so hard to get to the ocean, then they get tossed back. Can’t you help them? Pick them up and carry them to the water?”

Cara shook her head vigorously. “No, they need to make it on their own. Nature is an amazing teacher. We’ve learned that though it looks like the waves are hard on them, in fact the waves help orient the turtles in the right direction. They’ll swim for twenty-four to thirty-six hours to reach the Gulf Stream, where there are vast floats of sargassum weed. They act as nurseries for the hatchlings for the next ten years or so.” She paused. “Still, it’s estimated that only one in a thousand hatchlings survives to maturity. That’s why we’re here. Every hatchling counts. And though the number of nests along our coasts is still way down from back in the days my mama was tending turtles”—she paused to grin—“we’re trending upward again.”

“You sound like your mama.”

Cara smiled. “I’ll take that as the highest compliment.”

Dora looked out as another wave tossed two of the three hatchlings back to the shore. And once again, the hatchlings righted themselves and took off in their comical scramble for the sea. She followed one hatchling to the shoreline, feeling an attachment to this small turtle that she’d never seen before and would never see again. Was it her maternal instinct? This desire to nurture a young life? Like Cara said, instinct was powerful.

This time when the dive instinct kicked in, the hatchling dove deep and made it past the breakers. Dora felt her spirits soar as she stood ankle deep in the warm water, cheering on the hatchling until it dove again, disappearing. She continued watching the smooth surface of the water past the breakers.

There they were! Her breath hitched when she spotted two tiny heads emerge as the hatchlings took a breath.

She stood for a while longer just watching the waves roll in, picturing in her mind the turtles’ epic scramble home to the sea. Perhaps for her, too, getting tumbled and tossed around a bit had been a good thing, she thought to herself. With luck, eventually she’d right herself and start heading in the proper direction. She had to trust her instincts.

After all, she thought with a laugh, her odds had to be better than one in one thousand.

On her way back to Sea Breeze, Devlin’s truck pulled up alongside her and he fired off a wolf’s whistle.

Dora loved it, but she feigned annoyance. “Devlin Cassell, you’re embarrassing me.”

“Nice outfit,” he called out.

Dora blushed, thinking again how Devlin had seen her in her ratty gym shorts and T-shirt. She sauntered toward the truck and leaned against the open window. “Feels a lot cooler in here.”

“Hop in.”

“Can’t. Want to finish my walk.”

“Aw, come on. There’s something I want to show you. It’ll only take a minute. Hop in.”

Dora narrowed her eyes with speculation, but curiosity won her over and she trotted around the front of the truck to the passenger side and jumped in. Devlin floored it and the tires spit gravel as he took off toward Breach Inlet.

“You sure look cute walking out there,” he told her.

She deflected the compliment. “What do you want me to see?”

“Hold your horses. We’re almost there.” He pulled into the parking lot at Breach Inlet and swung open his door. “Come on. Hurry.”

Together they jogged along the path to the bridge that spanned the turbulent water between Sullivan’s Island and Isle of Palms. On the western side of the bridge lay Hamlin Creek, the wetlands, and the Intracoastal Waterway. On the eastern side, the water emptied out into the Atlantic Ocean. It was stunning to see how calm the water was on the western side, and how choppy and turbulent on the east. Devlin led her to the middle of the bridge, then they crossed the road to where they could overlook the creek. She stood beside him as cars passed from one island to the other. Suddenly he pointed.

“There! Look straight out, smack dab in the middle. See the dolphins?”

Dora raised her hand over her eyes and squinted. Then she saw them. One larger dolphin arcing in the water, then—she squealed with delight—she spotted the smaller dorsal fin of its baby.

“I see them. A mother and baby! They’re beautiful.”

Devlin was watching her, smiling at her reaction. “The mothers like to bring their young here to feed. See how turbulent that water is? There’s lots of fish in there and it’s easy hunting. I’ve heard tell mothers give birth to their young here, too, but I’ve never seen it.”

He peered out at the water. The sunlight glistened against the murky brown depths of the rough water. “Right beneath us! See?” he called out, pointing excitedly. “There’s another pair.”