Contents ( 45)
- ALSO BY AUDREY SCHULMAN
- THE DOLPHIN HOUSE
- ONE Tampa, Florida Feb. 1965
- TWO Aug. 1957 Ogunquit, Maine
- THREE May 1965
- FOUR March 1958 Orlando, Florida
- ARRIVAL
- FIVE June 4, 1965
- SIX June 4, 1965
- SEVEN June 5, 1965
- EIGHT June 6–10, 1965
- NINE June 11–16, 1965
- TEN June 17–26, 1965
- ELEVEN June 27–30, 1965
- TWELVE July 1–8, 1965
- THIRTEEN July 9–13, 1965
- FOURTEEN July 14, 1965
- LANGUAGE LESSONS
- FIFTEEN July 15–17, 1965
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN July 18–25, 1965
- EIGHTEEN July 26–Aug. 1, 1965
- NINETEEN Aug. 2–7, 1965
- TWENTY Aug. 8–15, 1965
- TWENTY-ONE Aug. 16, 1965
- TWENTY-TWO Aug. 17–30, 1965
- HOMEARIUM
- TWENTY-THREE Homearium, Day 1
- TWENTY-FOUR Homearium, Day 3
- TWENTY-FIVE Homearium, Days 4–7
- TWENTY-SIX Homearium, Week 2
- TWENTY-SEVEN Homearium, Week 3
- TWENTY-EIGHT Homearium, Week 4
- TWENTY-NINE Homearium, Week 5
- THIRTY Homearium, Weeks 6–8
- THIRTY-ONE Homearium, Weeks 9–11
- THIRTY-TWO Homearium, Week 12
- THIRTY-THREE Homearium, Week 13
- THIRTY-FOUR Homearium, Week 14
- THIRTY-FIVE Homearium, Week 15
- THIRTY-SIX Homearium, Week 16
- THIRTY-SEVEN Homearium, Week 18
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Worried that she had offended or hurt him or broken some type of social rule, she had pulled back, but he did not swim away. Instead he hung there, his eyes motionless. As though after a lifetime of eating raw fish, he had just tasted pesto.
So, she had reached out hesitantly and touched his side again. His eyes flickered. She had run one finger along a curve of muscle. His skin was like a baby’s. He allowed himself to drift closer, his body very still. She drew gentle Zs across his shoulder with one finger.
He had floated there, his eyes frozen and staring, his mouth slightly open.
Then abruptly he’d broken away and swum fast to the far side of the lagoon to recover from the intensity.
After this, each morning when she got in the water, he zipped over to her, greeting her first thing and wove around her like a cat until she touched his side again. Each morning for a few minutes she’d run her fingers over his sides and back.
* * *
The next morning, when Tibbet stepped out of the house, the end of the dock was under a half inch of water. He appeared confused and looked to the left and then the right, as though wondering if he’d somehow ended up at the wrong lagoon.
The dolphins were swimming in circles by the chute. Cora wasn’t sure what depth they would feel was enough, but she believed if the water rose maybe a half inch more, they could wiggle their way up the chute like G.I. Joes with flippers. Their bellies would be scraped up, but they could reach the sea.
Tibbet walked around the lagoon, staring at the water, trying to understand what had happened. The dolphins stuck their heads out, watching him.
When he got to the gate, he coughed in surprise and pulled it back up, notching it in place, the water beginning to drain away. He moved the gate up and down in its channel, pushing it into different notches and wiggling it around to see if it was loose at all, if the water or wind could knock it down.
This time, just to make sure, he slid a 30-pound rock under it to hold it up. His neck was corded as he shoved it into position.
Mother sank under the waves and lay on the bottom of the lagoon next to Bernie for the longest time, their flippers touching. When they rose to the surface and blew, their exhales were full and slow.
* * *
The next book Cora borrowed from the bookshelves was about predators. She chose it mostly because there were photos in it, the text not quite so dense. There was a whole chapter on how predators select potential prey, searching for an animal that looked sick or weak, one that would be easy to catch and pull down. There was a photo of a cheetah on a hill studying a herd of gazelles, its yellow eyes intent.