Lennon dips his head, nudging my leg.

“No, I can’t take you to karaoke with me. I’m sorry. But you know what I should do?”

He lifts up his front flipper again and gives it a hasty shake like he did before.

“Exactly,” I say. “I should go early and spend a few hours righting karmic wrongs. Rewarding people, punishing people … Maybe that would make me feel better. I mean, surely, all the justice I’ve doled out so far hasn’t ended up being complicated. Most people deserve what they get. Right?”

In response, Lennon scoots closer to me and drops his head onto my thigh.

I inhale sharply and go very still. My heart was already going to burst when he waved at me, now I think it might have happened. It feels like warm gooey joy is flooding through my whole body.

“Okay, scratch the performance-duo idea,” I mutter. “You can be my therapy sea lion. I’ll get you a license, okay?”

I start petting the top of his head again and he rolls onto his side, almost like he’s snuggling.

“Aw, man. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” I shake my head a little sadly. “But I really hope this doesn’t permanently mess you up for life in the ocean.”

“So you are concerned?”

I startle, and only Lennon’s head on my leg keeps me from lurching to my feet.

Dr. Jindal is standing outside Lennon’s enclosure, watching us, her arms crossed over her chest.

THIRTY-ONE

Panic jolts through me—could I get fired for this? Do they fire volunteers? “I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I know we’re not supposed to interact with them. But…” But I couldn’t help it? But this cute little face was irresistible? But he is kind of my sea lion, so …

The words die on my tongue. I have no worthy excuse.

I should probably get up. Not just because sitting feels a bit disrespectful or because to stay motionless might suggest I’m not that sorry for breaking the rules—which I guess I’m not, really, even though I think I should be.

Plus, my backside is starting to hurt and there’s dampness seeping in through my jeans. But Lennon still has his head on my lap, so I stay put.

“It’s all right, Prudence,” says Dr. Jindal. “I won’t tell on you. I know how easy it is to get attached, especially to the ones you helped rescue.”

Despite her kindness, I still feel chastised.

“Besides,” she continues, “with Lennon here, it isn’t going to make a difference.”

I frown, petting Lennon’s back again. I feel his muscles relax under my touch. “What do you mean?”

“You haven’t read his chart?”

“No,” I answer, glancing at the wall, though from here I can’t see the clipboard that holds Lennon’s medical information, from how much he weighs to the types of treatments he’s received. The reports are pretty dry reading, so after the first couple of days at the center I stopped perusing them. “Why?”

Dr. Jindal sets down a stack of mail that I hadn’t noticed her carrying. She unhooks Lennon’s chart from the little peg, then unlatches the gate and lets herself in.

Lennon lifts his head. Probably hoping for a snack.

“He has an eye infection,” says Dr. Jindal, crouching beside us.

I look into his eyes. Sweet, soft, intelligent eyes, still glazed, still cloudy. And now I can see a hint of yellowish goop in the inner corner of one eye.

“He’s entirely blind in his left eye,” says the vet, “and the infection has spread to the right eye now, too.”

My heart convulses. “Is it painful?”

“Not at this stage. But there isn’t much we can do. He’s eventually going to go entirely blind.”

“But if he’s blind, how will he hunt? How will he survive?”

She gives me a sympathetic look. “He won’t. Not out there.”

Understanding spreads through me. Lennon can never go back to the ocean.

As if bored with our conversation, Lennon gets up suddenly, turns, and waddles back to his blanket.

Using the wall for purchase, I climb back to my feet. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“We’ll do our best to care for him and make him comfortable, like with any of our patients. And when the time is right, he’ll be sent off to a new home.”

“A zoo.”

“Perhaps. There are also aquariums and sanctuaries. Rosa has a lot of good connections. She’ll find the best place for him.” She places a hand on my shoulder. “You still saved his life. It’s just going to be a different life than he’s known before.”

I nod. “Thanks, Dr. Jindal. But saving him was kind of a group effort.”

“They always are,” she says, laughing. “And you’ve been here for a month now, Prudence. You can call me Opal.”

Have I really been here for an entire month? It’s gone by so fast.

I understand now why she wasn’t upset with me. If Lennon is going to a zoo, he’ll be surrounded by humans all the time, everything from zookeepers to rowdy children. The more acclimated he can become to the presence of humans, the better.

“Don’t worry about him,” she adds. “He’s a fighter. I can tell.” She gives me a look, and I have a feeling she feels this way about every animal that comes in here, no matter how bad off they are. “And this does all come with a silver lining.”

“It’s okay for me to visit with him,” I say.

She pauses, and then chuckles. “Yes, actually. Two silver linings, then.” She lets herself out of the gate.

I follow behind her, confused. “What’s the other one?”

“Lennon isn’t the only animal we have that can’t be released. We’re going to introduce him to Luna this evening. If they get along, we’re hoping that we can find a permanent home that will take them both.”

I brighten, immediately relieved to think of Lennon having a friend that will stay with him when he leaves the center. “Why wouldn’t they get along?”

She shrugs. “Just like with humans, some animals just … rub each other the wrong way. But they can also grow on each other with time. If the sparks don’t fly tonight, we’ll keep trying. We’ll have to see what happens.”

I latch the gate and Lennon glances up briefly before flopping over onto his side. “Rest up, buddy,” I whisper to him. “Sounds like you’ve got a hot date tonight.”

Opal snickers. “You volunteers and your matchmaking.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. Lennon and Luna … it has a nice ring to it.”

“I confess, when they told me what you’d named him, that was the first thing I thought.” She smiles, then gathers up the stack of bills and catalogs. “They’re out prepping a pool that the two of them will hopefully be sharing soon. I know you’re probably off the clock, but you could stay and watch the meeting if you wanted to.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

With a nod, Dr. Jin—er, Opal—heads off toward the stairs. I turn back to the enclosure and watch Lennon for a few more minutes. I want to believe that he looks content, even in this tiny cubicle, which is nothing compared with the pool he’ll be given wherever he ends up in. I know it will never be the same as the open ocean, but I have to believe he’ll be okay.

I hope Rosa finds someplace that isn’t too far away, so I can maybe go visit him from time to time. I wonder, when I do, whether he’ll remember me.

“I’ll always remember you,” I whisper.

His back flipper kicks out a few times, and I hope he’s having a good dream.

I’m about to turn away when a slip of yellow paper catches my eye. I crane my head. An envelope has fallen down into the pen.

I open the gate as quietly as I can so as not to disturb Lennon and grab the envelope. It must have fallen from the stack of mail that Opal was carrying.

I flip it over.

The card wasn’t sent to us. Rather, the center is the return address. This card was supposed to be mailed to …

My heart leaps into my throat.

Grace Livingstone

612 Carousel Blvd.

The address, however, has been crossed out with a thin red marker. Beside it, someone at the postal service stamped the card: DECEASED: RETURN TO SENDER.

Livingstone. Could Grace Livingstone be Maya’s grandmother? But if so, what connection does she have to the center?

I’m peeling open the envelope before I know what I’m doing. Inside is a white card with a watercolor print of a sea turtle on the front, and words in flourishing script: Thank You.

I open the card and recognize Rosa’s handwriting, which I’ve seen plenty on the weekly schedules.

Dear Mrs. Livingstone,

It’s occurred to me that in all the years in which you’ve been a dedicated supporter of our center, I have never personally expressed my gratitude. We’ve received your most recent donation, and I want to tell you how your monthly contributions have made an enormous impact on our ability to rescue and care for our patients.

Per your recent note, I am so saddened to hear about your declining health, just as I am incredibly honored to hear that you’ve thought to include our center in your will. I promise that you and your generosity will not be forgotten, and that we at the Fortuna Beach Sea Animal Rescue Center will do our best to honor your legacy by being careful stewards of such a gift.

Thank you, thank you—

Yours most sincerely,

Rosa Erickson

I read through the letter three times. Recent donation. Monthly contributions. Honor your legacy.

Deceased.

I tuck the card back into the envelope, dazed. Though I can’t know it for sure, I have no doubt that Grace Livingstone is—or, was—Maya’s grandmother. And the fact that she gave money to the center every month …

It’s too coincidental.

It’s a sign.

A sign from the universe.