We were all silent for a moment and then Tammy spoke again. “Jack grew up here, in Mary Esther. He says when he was a boy, he and some of his buddies would come out to the beach at night and turn turtles on their backs. They can weigh up to four hundred pounds, you know, so it was a big deal to upend one. Or they would ride them. Now one of the things he does as a volunteer is talk to school kids, tell them how the turtles just can’t deal with what we’re doing to them and how they should never bother them. And Sophie’s on call for nesting watch. Millicent brought her out here one night and she was hooked.”

“That’s wonderful,” Frances said.

“It’s a drop in the bucket, but it’s a start.”

“The people on nesting watch,” Fred asked, “how do they know when to go to the beach? Or is someone there every night?”

“People call. There’s a Turtle Watch Hotline. The turtles tend to come in close to the beach during the late afternoon and rest until night, and people in boats spot them, or even helicopter pilots from Eglin Field. They’re good about calling. Volunteers walk the beaches every morning looking for nests and staking them, but it’s good if we can actually tag the female turtles. There are all kinds of studies being done on their migration patterns.”

The mention of Millicent had made me think of Blue Bay Ranch. “Do any turtles still nest on the bay beaches?” I asked.

“Sure,” Tammy said. “If it’s dark enough. That’s one of the things that bothered Millicent about Blue Bay. They’ve already lost their nesting spots over on the Niceville side of Choctawhatchee Bay to developments. That’s why she insisted on keeping part of the property as wilderness.” Tammy pointed. “Turn left up here, Fred. We have to go over the bridge.”

We went through the small resort town of Navarre Beach and soon were driving between high dunes that marked the National Seashore.

“How will we find them?” Fred asked.

“We’ll see the car. It’ll be no problem.”

And it wasn’t. On this deserted strip of beach, the Berliners’ Bronco was the only parked car. Fred pulled off the road and parked behind it.

“Okay,” Tammy said. “No lights. No talking. If the turtle is already laying her eggs, nothing we can do will disrupt her. But she may not be on the beach yet. So let’s be quiet.”

We got out of the car, shutting the doors as gently as possible, and followed Tammy over the dunes. The sand was so white, the moon gave a surprising amount of light. Fred reached over and took my hand. It was hard to remember in this setting how mad I was at him.