Legacy

By Megan McCormick

Legacy is the story of a teenage girl, Legacy Loving, who lives in an idyllic setting, a pristine island set just off the coast of Florida in the Gulf of Mexico. Idyllic, that is, until her sister mysteriously disappears, an oil rig explosion threatens the ecosystem of the island that she loves, and Legacy is suddenly challenged to determine just who she is, what she is made of, and what her purpose is in life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hillcrest Media Group
• Release date: Aug 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9781545600009

Book preview

Legacy

Legacy

Megan McCormick

Copyright © 2017 by Megan McCormick

MCP Books

2301 Lucien Way #415

Maitland, FL 32751

407.339.4217

www.MCPBooks.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

ISBN-13: 978-1-54560-000-9

LCCN: 2016918566

Distributed by Itasca Books

Printed in the United States of America

For the inhabitants of the J.N. Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuge, for the people who support them, and in memory of Patricia Boutin Edlefsen, for whom Sanibel Island was something of paradise.

Where Sun Meets Sea

Come along, Daedalus’ son,

for though your journey’s just begun

legend has

that

you’re the one.

Don’t mind the wind; don’t fear the weather

your waxen wings

will stay

together

as long as land remains

in sight.

No

need for caution!

Just take flight.

Though should you, son, fall out at sea,

another will bear your victory. Will raise you up,

will fight,

for thee.

Just wait!

A bright new day will dawn again,

and the sun will rest on

you, my friend,

at the place

where

sun meets sea.

1. Sun Day

Tell me again. Why did I join you?

Because it’s a great morning. You opted to come along, remember?

Squinting into the sun, I can just make out the slender silhouette at the front of the boat. Sea salt stings my face as the wind whips strands of sandy blonde across my line of vision. Dolphins are trailing us, playfully jumping the waves created by our wake.

If we go much farther we’ll hit the reef –

Don’t worry. They know when to drop off –

Yeah, but do you?

Sure enough, one by one the dolphins dive down and don’t return to the surface. The figure at the bow dissolves and reappears at the wheel, pushing me off to the side.

We’re pretty close.

The small boat lurches sideways, violently, spilling seawater into the bilge. I run to get a bucket from a storage compartment under blistering leather seats baking in the hot sun. Before I can, however, my shipmate cuts the gas; I trip as the engine sputters and the boat suddenly slows.

Thanks, really. I felt like eating floorboard. You’re crazy, you know that?

She flashes me that smile.

Define crazy.

And the image drifted from my sight. Still half asleep, wanting to remain lost in the happy memory, I kept my eyelids shut as I felt myself awakening to the lull of a gentle sea outside our beachfront condo, the familiar squawking of seagulls, and …

A boat engine? Was I imagining this? Did she get it restarted? No, not an engine.

A power saw!

Now fully awake, I dragged myself out of bed, went to the window, and raised the blinds. Immediately, the room was bathed in bright Florida sunshine. Wincing from the burst of light, I searched for the source that had deprived my alarm of its daily task. I didn’t have to look far. Next door, our neighbors were sawing two-by-fours. Apparently, they were going to spend the day constructing a wooden walkway out to the beach. I guess the old sand path would no longer suffice. I only hope the crabs had gotten word of their imminent exile. Realizing the sun was higher in the sky than I’d anticipated, I grabbed my phone to check the time.

11:25.

Eleven twenty-five? Oh no! I quickly threw on a shirt and pair of mesh shorts. First day on the job, and I was already going to be at least ten minutes late. Great first impression, Legacy.

No one was home as I tore through the condo scrambling for everything I’d need that day. My parents must have already left for their weekend workout at the rec center. During the week, my mom works part-time as an optometrist on the mainland, and my dad’s a lawyer at the firm he founded, Loving & Associates, over in Fort Myers. As I’m frequently the only person in the house, and the only Loving on the island, I’d been granted many privileges. But the way I see it, privilege is just a cute word for responsibility, a term adults twist to make it sound attractive.

I raced downstairs to locate my backpack and turn off the TV my parents had left on. As I did so, I overheard the day’s breaking news – some chatter about a tropical storm forming at the southern tip of Africa, followed by a story about problems a Louisiana oil company was experiencing with an offshore well. Just as I seized the remote to turn off the TV, the screen panned to the local broadcast, Live, from your top-ranked news station in all of Southwest Florida!

Sorry, Miss Misty. No time to listen today. Click!

Grabbing shoes I locked the door, walked quickly to where my bike was leaning against the wall outside, flipped the kickstand, tossed the tied-together laces over the left handlebar, and hopped on.

So sorry I’m late, Mr. Guapos, I rehearsed in my mind while pedaling, waving absentmindedly to the new crossing guard at the corner of Ocean Gulf Drive and Tarpon Tail Road. That being said, the sun was reflecting off the man’s glasses so I’m not quite sure he saw me. I promise to be more punctual, I murmured to myself. "You know I want this job, I really do."

And how I wanted it! For me, the opportunity to work at the wildlife refuge was about a lot more than a job. It was an opportunity to give something back to the island I love, where I’ve lived all sixteen years of my life. Isabel Island is a treasure – a place of pristine and uncrowded beaches, exotic vegetation, a multitude of animals, and beautiful sea shells … shells that wash up on shore in huge volumes, due to the island’s unique location and shrimp-like shape. To the North there are low-rise resorts and beach homes. To the South, an old abandoned lighthouse. To the East, a choppy bay and a long causeway linking civilization to sanctuary. And, to the West, there is the magnificent turquoise Gulf of Mexico. As for the center of this compass I’ve detailed, there is the wildlife refuge, the heart of our island paradise … with its forest, lagoon, and, of course, critters.

Hey, Legacy! I heard someone call from behind me. Wait up!

Uh oh, I thought, bringing my bike to a screeching halt right in front of Jack’s Grocery, a small general store where colorful parrots sat perched out-in-the-open next to racks of skim boards, boogie boards, inflatable dolphins and bright-green alligators. I didn’t have time for a conversation, but I knew the voice that had shouted my name, and it belonged to someone I kinda liked.

I turned around, and my heart skipped a beat. It was him, sure enough. I locked eyes with none other than Gabriel Antonio Guapos – the muscular, tan, dark-haired seventeen-year-old son of the manager for whom I would soon, fingers crossed, be working. Okay. For him, it’s worth being late. I squeezed my hand brake and came to a stop.

I knew it would happen, he shouted triumphantly, speeding up to where I sat crouched over the handlebars of my bike.

Sorry, Tony, I’m running late. It’s my first day at your dad’s refuge, I said. I’ve got to run. But seeing his excitement, and the breadth of his smile, I decided to linger just a moment longer. Nice golf cart you’re driving, though.

"Yeah, well, I’ve been looking for you. I just came from Sandy Shoals – the place where you’re supposed to be working right now! So let’s hurry. There’s something you’ve got to see, he said. His hazel-colored eyes were lit by a mischievous gleam. I’d give you a ride there, if you weren’t already biking."

Well, I guess I could leave my bike in the rack here at the store. Can you bring me back later, after work?

Yeah, sure! Let’s go!

I locked my bike to the rack in front of Jack’s. As soon as I’d finished, Tony grabbed my hand and pulled me into the golf cart.

All right. I laughed. But I’m driving, deal? Scootch over a bit, would you?

Deal. He grinned. Just don’t drive too crazy, okay?

Tony, you worry too much, I said, unlocking the brake and slamming down hard on the accelerator.

Look, it’s the McGreen’s, Tony said. Don’t hit them!

I got this, I said, waving a hello to the nice retired couple who were out for a late-morning stroll. Mr. and Mrs. McGreen waved back as I slowed to pass them. Then I sped back up again – just for fun.

Legacy, you need to chill out, you’re going to get us killed! Tony panted as I drove the golf cart a rapid 20 miles per hour – a speed at which golf carts should maybe not be driven. Cars tied down with sun-sport equipment whizzed past us in the opposite direction, headed to the beach no doubt.

Really, slow down! Tony said loudly. What are you trying to prove? This isn’t like you.

What do you mean by that? I asked, trying to sound offended. Although, as I turned to face him, I unintentionally turned the steering wheel as well.

Legacy! Tony shouted, grabbing the wheel and turning it hard in the opposite direction.

It was too late. We’d hurtled down a small hill and were headed toward marshland. I could hear twigs and branches snapping in the brush beneath us. I could feel it, too, as the golf cart shook violently and struggled to keep itself upright over the tree roots. A branch or two flew into our vehicle, one of which careened through the passenger side of the cart just inches from Tony’s face. Another branch with bright blue petals slipped onto the dashboard. Leaves were strewn everywhere, our golf cart was a mess, and Tony threw himself across my body to push the emergency brake down. We recovered about halfway down the slope.

Sorry, I mumbled, feeling embarrassed. At least we made up time?

"At least we made it here," Tony corrected, sternly. We were at the refuge. He offered his hand to me as I attempted to step out of the slightly lopsided golf cart. One of the front wheels was caught, stuck on a tree root.

Oops.

What did you want me to see? I asked.

One of our manatees is having a baby, Tony announced. His face caught the sun, shining from under his mop of dark hair – which turned into a slightly lighter shade of brown at the ends and curled out over his ears.

No way! I exclaimed.

There was a cluster of workers wading in the marsh at the bottom of the hill. It looked like Mr. Guapos, two refuge guides, and a slight, blonde-haired girl with a baseball cap masking her eyes. They were standing in the water, huddled over something I couldn’t quite see. Once I’d stepped off the golf cart, Tony jogged down to meet the group. I followed.

In a shallow area of the marsh, where the water was about three feet deep and crystal clear, lay a sleek gray manatee rising and falling with the gentle waves. It was sluggish, but … wait! Something appeared to be happening.

Stunning, I heard someone beside me whisper. Looking more closely, I noticed what appeared to be a little growth on her pinkish underbelly. Swirls of murky red had clouded the water, but it seemed the growth was growing larger and larger. The manatee was giving birth!

I took a deep breath, watching the growth extend and expand out until it had fully detached itself from the body of the manatee. The swirls of red subsided as two grayish sea cows – one large, and one very small – lay calmly, huddled side-by-side in the sudden stillness of the water.

Wow, I said in a hushed tone.

Mr. Guapos shuffled over to his son and clapped him on the shoulder. You know, manatees are one of the most special treasures of Florida.

I caught Tony’s eye. Although he was still upset with me, I could tell he was pleased.

As we continued to watch, marveling at what we’d just witnessed, the mother stirred, and with her calf in tow, the two began to depart. What a special moment. I was glad it was one I had shared with Tony.

Legacy, it’s great to see you, Mr. Guapos turned, facing me. Are you ready to begin work? I think you’ll find your experience here to be very rewarding.

I nodded. Yes. Thank you, Mr. Guapos. I’m really looking forward to working at the refuge. I’m sorry for being late. After running into Tony, I guess –

Ah. He smiled. "My son. I think you may be as interested in him as in this refuge. Sí?"

I felt myself flush. His teasing struck a raw nerve. And just as a cloud eclipsed the sun, momentarily robbing the happy gathering of its previous glow, I think Mr. Guapos saw a different kind of shadow cross my face. Surely, he knew.

Legacy, I’m kidding. Of course I know the real reason you’re here, and why this refuge means so much to you. I meant no offense. He smiled kindly. Here, follow me, he beckoned, more sensitively. I have something to discuss with you.

Struggling to maintain my composure, I nodded, not daring to speak. Maybe I had accepted this position too soon …

I walked alongside Mr. Guapos, down a sandy path through the thick vegetation of the refuge, to a flimsy, single-room trailer. We mounted wooden steps to go inside. It was Mr. Guapos’ office. We called it headquarters.

As an employee at Sandy Shoals Wildlife Refuge you will have many privileges, but with privileges come responsibilities. Please, take a seat, he offered politely.

Here we go again with responsibilities, I thought, as I slumped into the cushioned chair before his desk.

You know the habitat on this island is a beautiful thing, the squat, well-built man continued, pulling at his graying mustache as he spoke. He then grabbed a little crystal ball from his desk and began juggling it in the palm of his hand. But it is also incredibly fragile, and must be taken care of very carefully … in order to maintain the equilibrium.

At this point, Mr. Guapos stopped and raised the shimmering sphere so I could see. Barely distinguishable lines and creases ran down its length to form a blotchy pattern of indistinct shapes. It was then I realized the figures were continents, and that tiny crystal globe, the earth. Crystal he insisted upon tossing back and forth despite its obvious frailty. Why was this upsetting me?

Here at Sandy Shoals, we try to protect that fragile equilibrium – for the manatees, the dolphins, the alligators, the raccoons, the rabbits, the osprey, the pelicans, the turtles, the snakes, the spoonbills, and for ourselves. Not to mention for all the marshland vegetation that the animals depend upon.

He paused.

Legacy? Are you ok?

I nodded, staring at an ant scurrying along the edge where carpet meets wall. There’s no escaping, is there, little guy?

Great. Well, I’ll get right to it then. Legacy, as a bright young woman concerned about the environment, who is now employed at a sanctuary for wildlife, it is your responsibility to continue the work of preserving this ecosystem. In far too many places, people have placed more importance on economic prosperity than on sustainability. They have taken from the land without concern for conservation, for maintaining nature’s delicate balance. But, as you know, all species depend on each other for survival. If we forget that … well, one day we’ll regret it.

I felt myself flush again, but this time it was worse. I felt nauseous. You think I need to be reminded? I wanted to cry out. You think, after all that I’ve lost, I don’t treasure nature … treasure life? Again, I chose silence. I knew it was the only way I could maintain my composure and make it out of this uncomfortable conversation.

I’m pleased to have you on board, Legacy, he said, wrapping up. "Starting with this refuge, it’s your turn to make a difference. Your turn now …" he repeated, letting the words dangle in the air.

Mr. Guapos then handed me a beige vest with the Sandy Shoals insignia on the front. Holding the vest at arm’s length, I avoided looking at him directly, having been so emotionally thrown off guard.

You’d like me to start now, then? I asked.

Can’t think of a better time than the present, he responded.

Hours later, as I reflected on Mr. Guapos’ introductory remarks, I realized that they were entirely routine. He had probably given that same speech a dozen times to new employees. It just hit me the wrong way. Nevertheless, I was glad to be working at the park. After work, I surveyed its eight-mile perimeter, biking along narrow gravel paths separating thick brush from tidal marshland. After spotting three alligators and two chipmunks, and narrowly avoiding a raccoon trundling across my path, I came up to the observation tower