Travis passed it over, and Cesare carefully worked the feeding tube into Freckles’ mouth. He attempted to soothe the seal as much as he could, eventually able to work the tube down the pup’s throat once Freckles relaxed his jaw further.
“Alright,” Cesare grunted. “Start the funnel.”
Travis poured the milkshake into the funnel, and the two men watched as the contents passed through the tube and into Freckles.
“How long do you guys typically do this with new seals?” Cesare grunted as Freckles attempted to thrash again.
Travis shrugged. “Until they can eat fish. We used to keep them longer, until they were fully recovered, but then Sabrina’s parents died and without Fred there wasn’t anyone certified to do medical care. He and Nickie would take turns around the clock with feeding, and there were more volunteers, so it was a lot easier to get everyone taken care of.”
Cesare froze. “Her parents worked here?” He grunted.
Travis cocked his head in disbelief. “They owned this place. Now Sabrina does. But the donations can barely cover the property taxes, much less the operational costs. We had to start sending most of the rescues to the science center. That’s where Freckles will go on Monday.”
Cesare nodded thoughtfully, easing the feeding tube from Freckles’ mouth. He took a large step backward as soon as he was able to free the seal pup from its towel restraint. “How much are we looking at?” He asked Travis as he moved to exit the pen.
“How much?” Travis repeated. “How much money do we need?” His brows furrowed.
Cesare nodded silently.
“Fifty thousand easily.” Travis answered. “But even if we had fifty thousand, we would still need a vet and more volunteers, or Sabrina would still be stuck doing most of the work by herself.” Travis answered.
Cesare nodded again, listening silently.
“We get tourists here all summer long.” Travis said after a moment. “They come to Maine to take a break from life. Sometimes they even take a break from being themselves. It’s not unusual for someone to take a vacation and want to volunteer or give back to a community that they are visiting.”
Travis gave Cesare an evaluating look. “You seem like the kind of guy who goes after what he wants, and I respect the game. But you’re going to go home in a few weeks, and Sabrina will still be here. Walter and I will still be here. Maine Marine Rescue and all of its history will still be here.”
Travis continued, either ignoring or completely missing the daggers that Cesare was staring his way. “Again, you’re more than welcome. And we appreciate all of the help. We really do,but I’ve known Sabrina for over a decade and if you leave her worse than how you found her, I will put your work number in every truck stop bathroom stall from here to Canada, with the wordscall for a good time. I will give that number to every Jehovah’s Witness and Scientologist that Google can provide. And I will use your email to register for every single clickbait, junk mail, phishing trap imaginable.”
Cesare eyed Travis with a begrudging and slightly bemused appreciation. “You realize you’re admitting premeditation to a lawyer, right?” He asked.
Travis nodded, nonplussed. “I am. And you’re trying to fuck my friend.” He shrugged his shoulders. “And if you fuck herover, anything I may or may not do will be absolutely nothing compared to what happens when Marie gets her hands on you, much less Walter.”
Cesare nodded again. “Noted.”
Travis inclined his head slightly. “Good. I’ve got to run, but there’s some good coffee stashed in the kitchen if you want some. Bottom drawer to the left of the sink.”
Cesare took the olive branch for what it was and gave another nod of appreciation. “Thanks, man.”
Travis grunted, leaving through the front door and locking it behind him. A moment later, a loud clinking noise suddenly ricocheted through the room. Upon closer inspection, Cesare discovered that the doorknob had fallen out of the door and onto the floor in pieces.
Cesare cursed under his breath, and bent down to pick the pieces up, examining the large hole now in the front door. He tested the deadbolt, which seemed to work but was also visiblyloose. Daylight brightly shone through the hole left behind from the missing doorknob. This was unacceptable.
Shaking his head, Cesare checked the rest of the doors and windows and made a list that grew steadily longer.
As he quietly checked the door to the back office where Sabrina lay asleep, Cesare paused at the sight of a series of children’s height measurements scrawled into the door frame. A variety of pens and colors had been used over the years, as measurements for both Sabrina and Brooke were recorded higher and higher, eventually capping out at Sabrina’s current height. Brooke, apparently, was an inch shorter.
Cesare felt a sudden tightness in his chest as he crouched down to trace over the very first measurements for Sabrina, standing once upon a time at 31.7 inches.
Crouching at the threshold of the old doorway, his fingers brushed the same wood that Sabrina’s parents had painstakingly scrawled measurements on. Suddenly, Cesare felt an unexplainable warmth on his right shoulder; just for a moment.
Cesare wasn’t prone to believing in ghosts, but he did believe in the unexplained, and Cesare could have sworn he'd just felt Fred Hamilton's hand on his shoulder.
Cesare had no way to explain it, and he had no intention of trying. He swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat and quietly crossed himself out of respect for Sabrina’s father. Cesare stood back up on what now felt like sacred ground and looked back at Sabrina’s sleeping form in the office.
Cesare made a promise in that moment to Fred Hamilton, wherever he was, that he would be good to this man’s daughter. Cesare felt an unexplainable wave of gratitude for the care andlove that Sabrina had clearly been given when her parents had been alive, and made a silent promise that Sabrina would be loved and provided for once again.
Cesare crossed himself once more before quietly leaving the room, clearing his throat in an attempt to get rid of what felt like his heart in his throat. Damn feelings.
