Mamaw hurried to her side and Carson at last released her tears.

“Come inside and get some dry clothes on. You’re soaked to the skin.”

“I can’t leave Delphine,” she replied, shivering, her eyes glued to the veterinarian at Delphine’s side.

Harper ran from the house to the end of the dock carrying a towel. Mamaw took it and wrapped the towel around Carson’s shoulders, gently rubbing them, getting the circulation going.

Harper stood helplessly at their sides, a pained expression on her face.

Carson kept her gaze on the team in the water, as the veterinarian, his assistant, and Blake maneuvered the blue stretcher under Delphine. It came up along the dolphin’s sides to hold her steady. Then the vet pulled out his pack full of supplies and at last started cutting away the deeply entangled lines. Carson couldn’t see much between the trio of broad backs huddled around the dolphin. When it looked like they were finished, the vet was talking intently to Blake. Carson didn’t like the way he was shaking his head.

Lucille came from the house carrying a tray with biscuits and cheese. Dora was behind her with a thermos and Styrofoam cups. Lucille set the tray on the edge of the dock, took the thermos and poured out a cup, added plenty of sugar, then handed it to Carson. “You drink this, hear?”

Carson took the cup gratefully. It tasted sweet and hot. The liquid scorched a welcome heat into her bloodstream. Her fingers were wrinkled like prunes around the warmth of the cup. The heat seemed to seep right into her bones.

“Carson!” Blake called.

She dropped the towel, handed the cup to Lucille, and ran back into the water.

“We’re going to carry her up to the truck. Can you take a side?”

“Of course. But now that she’s loose, can’t you just let her go?” Carson asked.

“No,” the veterinarian replied abruptly. “These injuries need medical attention. Okay, on the count of three.”

Each of the four grabbed a handle of the flexible stretcher. Then, on the count, they synchronized their movements and gently lifted the stretcher. Carson’s muscles shook as she determinedly kept her side of the stretcher level, step by step. At the water’s edge Harper and Dora each grabbed a side to assist on the agonizingly long trip up the steep slope to the truck, then up the metal ramp to lay the dolphin in a special transport carrier.

Carson slumped back, exhausted, as once again, she was ignored. The men huddled over Delphine, Blake and the other man working in tandem as the vet treated her. Carson walked down the ramp to Mamaw and huddled under her towel, waiting. After a short while, the vet got back on his cell phone. Blake jumped down from the truck.

Carson walked toward Blake, who was wringing out the bottom of his shirt. Behind her, Lucille brought the tray filled with steaming black coffee and food. She held the tray up to Blake and he took a cup, gratefully. Lucille proceeded to the truck and offered the same to the other men.

“How is she?” Carson asked Blake.

Blake’s eyes narrowed over the rim of his cup as he sipped. He shook his head. “Not good. We prefer to treat and release a dolphin after we get the wire off, but there are too many injuries. And there’s that damn hook. It’s in deep. She needs to go to a hospital.”

“Oh, no.” Carson felt the news like ice water in her veins.

“And that’s not even the worst part. Now, the remaining requirements have to be met.”

“And those are?” Carson asked, feeling her stomach tighten.

“It’s complicated,” he began, shifting his weight to lean against the truck. “First we need to find a facility that has space. He’s on the phone now. It looks good for an availability in Florida, either Sarasota or the Panhandle.”

“Why Florida?” Carson asked. “Isn’t there someplace closer? What about your facility?”

Mamaw came up beside her to listen.

“Only dead animals come to our place,” he said ruefully, and took another sip of coffee.

Carson’s knees went weak.

“Lord help us,” Mamaw murmured, patting Carson’s back reassuringly.

Blake continued. “South Carolina doesn’t have a dolphin rehabilitation center.” He swiped a lock of dripping hair from his face. “Which brings us to our next requirement. We have to transport her to the facility. Unless a military or USGS chopper is approved and available, which is unlikely, the animal would normally have to be transported in a truck. With the water-to-water time in between here and anywhere in Florida being ten to twelve hours plus . . . the vet doesn’t think she’ll make it. Sometimes we’re lucky and get a donor, like FedEx, to fly a dolphin in.” He blew out a stream of air.

Carson felt a new chill enter her body. “What if you can’t do all this? What if she can’t be relocated . . .”

Blake’s eyes looked pained. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“No!” Carson cried. “You can’t.”

Blake turned his head to look out at the sea.

“Will any plane do?” Mamaw asked.

Blake swung his head back to answer Mamaw. “As long as it can fit a wet transport.”

“Hold on a bit, hear? I may know someone.” Mamaw patted Carson’s arm, then went marching with purpose back into the house. Lucille promptly followed her.

Carson and Blake didn’t talk anymore. Blake turned and went back into the truck to confer with his colleagues.

Harper and Dora came to Carson’s side and guided her to the dock. Her legs felt weak and her guilt and worry mingled to make her feel she could collapse in a corner somewhere and cry. But she wouldn’t leave Delphine. She sat on the edge of the dock wrapped in a towel and kept vigil while the NOAA team worked on Delphine and made more phone calls.

It seemed a long while before Mamaw came back out. She walked briskly, carrying a sheet of white paper that flapped in the air beside her. Carson jumped to her feet to meet her.

“I have a plane,” she announced with pride. “A jet, actually.”

“What?” Blake said with surprise. He turned to call out to the others, “Hey! We’ve got a plane!” He hurried to meet Mamaw. “What’ve you got, Mrs. Muir?”

“I called in a favor,” she replied, her eyes shining with satisfaction at having succeeded. “My old friend Gaillard has a jet he uses for business. He’s a true gentleman and right neighborly. He didn’t hesitate one moment when I told him our situation. Nobody loves our coastline better than he does and he won’t have this poor dolphin die on his watch. Here’s the information,” she told Blake, handing him the paper. “Just call that number. Gill said the plane’s ready when you are.”