Chain Lightning (11 page)

Mandy yanked the sheet up to her chin, closed her eyes and forced herself to think about something other than the vision Sutter had made standing in the office wearing nothing but a diver’s brief swimsuit. She had expected to have trouble sleeping, but she didn’t. The distant sound of the surf breaking on the reef unraveled her.

By the time Sutter came to the tent Mandy was deeply asleep, the sheet had been kicked aside, and she was lying in a pose of graceful abandon that made Sutter’s whole body clench around a fierce shaft of desire. A long time later he fell asleep cursing women in general and his meddling aunt in particular.

For the next three days Mandy and Sutter managed to avoid each other. They spoke not at all. If one of them was eating at the cafeteria, the other was not. If one was awake, the other was asleep. If one was diving, the other was reading…and growing ever more restless.

Reading about the miraculous, intricate reef complex that lay within her reach made Mandy yearn to dive once more. In graduate school she had specialized in the ecology of coral reefs, working long hours with laboratory and computer simulations of reef conditions. But before now she had never had the opportunity to dive along a coral reef, to physically experience the gemlike beauty that stared up at her from the pages of the glossy books.

And now she was too cowardly to take advantage of the opportunity that lay within her grasp.

If I don’t get my tail out of this tent I’ll never be able to look myself in the mirror again. It should be about low tide, so I won’t drown walking along the beach or even wading a little bit in the lagoon.

The bracing self-lecture brought Mandy to her feet. It also helped her to know that anyone who was going to dive had already gone long before and was now drifting down the reefs outer wall. In short, Sutter wouldn’t be able to witness her fear. She slathered herself with sunscreen, rolled the bottle into the all-purpose towel that had come with the tent and went outside, determination in every line of her body.

There was just enough breeze that morning to ruffle the she-oaks’ intricate, fine-leaved foliage and to give texture to the surface of the sea. As she had every day, Mandy went to the beach edge of the small grove, dropped her towel in the shade and stood staring out over the water that both tantalized and frightened her.

As always, the lagoon was exquisite. In its most shallow parts there was no color to the water, simply a polished, transparent surface that transformed sunshine into shimmering ripples of silver light. Farther out in the lagoon the water took on an aquamarine glow while still retaining its utter transparency. Here and there tiny pockets of deeper water shaded into pale emerald. Beyond the boundary of the lagoon the reef complex fell away into sapphire depths so pure they had to be experienced to be believed.

As Mandy looked out to the unbridled sea beyond the reef, she realized that her heart was pounding as though she had been running. She dragged her glance away from the open ocean’s dangerous beauty and concentrated on the small white beach in front of her. As always, the composition of the ground came as a surprise. Though she understood intellectually that coral islands were different from the normal variety, Lady Elliot’s lack of dirt or ordinary rocks was still new, still arresting. It was the same for the sparse vegetation. The island had no languid palms dipping down to white sand lagoons, or glorious bursts of jungle flowers, or fern-covered canyons filled with mist and silence. There was a flat island surface made up of the sun-bleached remains of billions of tiny corals, a few salt-tolerant plants and the small, dark green casuarina trees, which the Australians called she-oaks. The beach was the same composition as the land. The coarse sand wasn’t ground-up rock at all but the wave-pummeled remains of once-living corals, corals that had been torn by storm and tide from the Great Barrier Reef itself.

Concentrating only on what was directly beneath her feet, Mandy edged closer to the water. Because the camp was on the lagoon side of the island, there were no waves breaking along the shore to threaten her. The full force of the Pacific combers hit the outer wall of the reef at the far side of the lagoon, perhaps a quarter-mile distant from the beach. The meeting of upthrust reef and sea was marked by a wide ribbon of flashing white water. The lagoon itself was serene, its crystalline presence untroubled by anything but the random stirring of the breeze.

At low tide the entire lagoon was reassuringly shallow. In fact, it was so shallow and so transparent that the water itself was nearly invisible. All across the lagoon to the outer reef beyond, blunt coral formations rose just above the surface of the water. Because the coral organisms couldn’t live in air, the surface of the reef rose no more than a few inches beyond the reach of the low tide. Varieties of coral grew in profusion, looking like dark, many-hued shadows beneath the sheen of pure water.

The corals’ incredible variations in shape fascinated Mandy. She edged closer, trying to get close enough to identify some of the many different species of coral. It was almost impossible to do from a distance; the corals often grew together, branching and intertwining until the original, distinctive shape was lost. Those corals closest to the beach were the most distorted, often dead, for constant exposure to sun with each change of tide killed the delicate organisms that built the reef.

Mandy shaded her eyes against the brilliant reflections and watched wistfully while several people walked and waded across the barely submerged inner reef toward the far boundary of the lagoon, where white water foamed and swirled over the outer reef. The people wore brief swim-suits and sneakers and carried stout reef sticks for testing the footing before trusting their weight to the sometimes-deceptive coral formations.

/
could do that. The water is ankle-deep in most places
and barely above the knees in the rest. I could go out there and see at least a few of the extraordinary corals I’ve only known from books. And it’s day, not night; warm, not cold. Surely I can do it.

Can’t I?

Taking a deep breath, Mandy edged closer to the water. There was no point at which she could say that land stopped and the coral formations began. The island was itself coral from top to bottom. The interior of all reefs plus the dry areas above the waves were all composed of dead coral. The rest, the exterior of the reef that was washed by the ocean, was alive, billions of tiny plants and animals growing and breathing, building and rebuilding, reproducing and dying, leaving their microscopic skeletons behind; and in the process, creating the most massive structure ever built on earth by any living creature. Man’s biggest cities paled in comparison to the vast, interlocking complexity of the Great Barrier Reef.

And a small fragment of that wondrous creation lay right at Mandy’s feet.

At first she wasn’t able to force herself to surrender more than her toes to the lagoon. The water itself was so warm that it barely registered on her senses. The thongs she wore protected the soles of her feet but tended to come off at the least excuse. If she was really going reef walking, she should be wearing sturdy sneakers. As it was, if she went into water that was more than ankle-deep, she would quickly find herself barefoot. That would be foolish. For all its beauty, coral was hardly defenseless. A few varieties were poisonous. Most of them could cut or abrade unwary, unprotected feet.

Moving slowly, Mandy paralleled the narrow margin where lagoon met beach, never getting in over the top of her feet, ignoring the too-rapid beating of her heart. She looked only at the area just around her toes, where the water was more shallow than the baths she had forced herself to endure in the past months.

As she concentrated on identifying the larger bits and pieces of coral debris scattered about, her heartbeat settled into more normal rhythms. For minutes at a time she forgot she was within reach of the deadly sea, closer than she had been at any time since her husband had died and she had finally drowned, only to wake up in agony in the bottom of a small, wave-tossed boat that smelled of dead fish.

“G’day. Are you the Yank that slept longer than Rip van Winkle?“

Mandy’s head snapped up. Standing in front of her was a boy of about eight and his younger sister, who looked perhaps five. Both of the children were wiry, fit, tanned all over. Their swimsuits were the barest concession to modesty.

“Er, yes, I guess I am. My name is Mandy.“

“I’m Clint and this runty little Sheila is my sister Di. Mum’s diving. Pop’s over in the shade asleep.“

Di stuck out her tongue and took a poke at her brother’s ribs. He fended her off with the ease of long practice. Mandy looked beyond the children, toward the fragile shade of the she-oaks fringing the beach. She caught a glimpse of a scarlet towel and a muscular body wearing little more than a deep tan. Like the children, the man had a thick mop of sun-and-salt-cured chestnut hair. Unlike the children, he was content to laze away the hours until the divers returned.

Mandy looked from the sleeping man to the lagoon. Though shallow, it was still deep enough in places for small children to get into big trouble, especially as the tide had turned and was slowly reclaiming the beach.

“Do you swim?“ she asked.

Clint looked at Mandy as though she had just climbed out of a flying saucer.

“Too right we do! What do you think we are, Dubbos?“

Mandy suppressed a smile and decided that, for now, discretion would be the superior part of her valor; she wouldn’t ask what a Dubbo was.

“Right,“ she said in her best Australian accent, making it sound like “roight.“ She smiled at Clint. “That was my silly question for the day. Your turn.“

Long, flaxen eyelashes descended in a blink. Suddenly Clint smiled in comprehension. “Fair dinkum! You’re not a blind Freddy after all. Want to feed the fish?“

“I don’t know. Do I?“

Clint blinked again, then shook his head and smiled widely at the same time. “Let’s get the bread.“

Wondering what she had gotten herself into, Mandy followed Clint and the silent Di to the dining room. The door was closed, but the crusts and heels of bread leftover from breakfast had been put in a bowl outside the door. Clint grabbed the lot and distributed it almost evenly among the three of them. As soon as he turned his back to lead the way to the Fish Pond, Mandy slipped Di a few extra crusts and was rewarded with a shy, thousand-watt smile.

Despite its name, the Fish Pond wasn’t a pond. It was simply a thirty-by-twenty-foot gap in the coral formations that otherwise carpeted the lagoon. At low tide the pool was only a few feet deep, which meant that the coral formations around the edge acted as a natural cage, confining whatever fish hadn’t escaped before the tide fell. Visitors to Lady Elliot Island had gradually tamed the resident fish, feeding them crumbs, teaching the quick, wary little beggars to eat from a person’s outstretched fingers.

Clint and Di waded out until they were waist-deep. Holding the bread aloft in one hand, feeding crumbs with the other, the children were soon the focus of a rippling, twisting blur of small fish. Mandy inched forward until the water came to midcalf. As she came down on a hidden bulb of coral, she lost one sandal and her balance at the same time. She nearly panicked. Pieces of bread went flying in all directions as her arms windmilled. Only the delighted laughter of the children as they fed fish kept Mandy from screaming her fear of falling in the water. Trembling, she backed up a few steps, leaving her rainbow-hued sandal behind.

Don’t be ridiculous!
she raged at herself as she stood on dry ground once more.
Even if you had fallen facedown you couldn’t have drowned unless you were too stupid to brace your arms and keep your head above water. For God’s sake, it wasn’t even up to your knees! Now get back down there and pick up your sandal before you cut your foot.

Mandy looked at the cheerful sandal lying in ten inches of water. She thought of bending down, putting her hand into the water, picking up the sandal and returning triumphantly to dry land.

Breath locked in her throat as her heart tried to hammer free of her body.

/
can’t.

Coward!

All right! I’m a coward! So what else is new?

Clenching her hands together, Mandy watched the tanned, laughing children stand waist-deep in the transparent lagoon while fish swirled around them like wind-driven silver leaves. Her dropped, forgotten crusts of bread absorbed water and then settled soddenly to the bottom of the lagoon only a few inches from the beach. Her body motionless, her fingers interlocked to keep them from trembling, Mandy stood, seeing nothing but the dark sea of her nightmares, hearing nothing but her own silent screams of terror.

Behind Mandy voices called back and forth from the direction of the dive shed. Carrying air tanks and wet suits, divers strode toward their tents, laughing and describing the wonders of the reef beyond as they walked. Mandy didn’t hear. She was wrapped too tightly within her waking nightmare.

Sutter saw Mandy from a distance as he carried his equipment to the tent. He stopped suddenly, caught by something in her stance. As he watched, he realized that she was unnaturally still, the way she had been on the flight to the island, too terrified to move. No matter how carefully he looked, he could see no reason for her fear, yet there could be no doubt that she was afraid.

With a muttered curse Sutter turned off the path and headed toward the lagoon, which was only a few yards away. When he was within reach of Mandy he stopped. A single look at her deathly pallor and her white-knuckled grip on herself told him that she was once again in the grip of intense fear. But of what? There wasn’t a plane in sight. All he could see was the Townehome kids feeding the lagoon fish.

Sutter spotted the bright colors of what looked like a rainbow beach thong dropped in the shallow water. He looked at Mandy’s feet and realized that she was missing one sandal. Just when he was about to chew her out for risking an infection from a coral cut, Clint turned around and spotted Mandy.