Gray's Domain: Purgatorium Series, Book Two (6 page)

It stung and the salt water burned. She kicked and pushed away from them, angry and shocked that they would physically harm her for the sake of the exercise, but she found no resistance as the men quickly swam, with flippers on their feet and oxygen on their backs (beneath plastic dorsal fins), down deep and out of sight.

When Daphne emerged, coughing and choking, and without her scarf, which she’d lost in the chaos, she saw what had scattered the sharks. Brock and her father had jumped in. Both men swam toward her, her father floundering and getting nowhere, Brock reaching her in a matter of minutes. The life buoy landed a few feet away.

“What are you doing?” Daphne asked over the shouts from the boat.

“Just grab on to this buoy and don’t let go.”

“What about my dad?” Blood pooled around them, and now she was afraid she’d attract real sharks.

The boat dragged her and Brock away from where the dorsal fins had reappeared near the sea lions. Daphne craned her neck to look at her father barely holding his head above water.

“Something’s wrong,” she said.

She let go of the buoy, which was towing them in the opposite direction of her father, to swim to his aid. Brock grabbed her before she’d gotten very far.

“Take the buoy. I’ll get your father.”

Brock kept his eyes on the sharks, which were moving in from ten yards away.

“But…”

“Dammit, Daphne.
I’m faster than you are.” His brows were bent, his eyes fixed on her father.

She scrambled for the buoy and watched Brock swim free-style toward her dad as the boat towed her to safety. Once she was on deck, the boat headed for Brock, who swam sidestroke with an arm around her father’s chest. Gregory dropped the buoy over and they all helped Joe aboard.

It wasn’t until both Brock and her father were on the deck and a towel had been pressed against the bleeding gash in her leg that Daphne noticed her mother. She was retching over the opposite side of the boat. As Daphne went to her, Sharon wiped her mouth with the back of an arm and fell to her knees in a heap, clinging to the rail. She was whiter than a ghost and trembling, teeth chattering, tears streaming down her cheeks. Daphne knelt next to her.

“We’re okay,” Daphne said. “No one’s hurt, Mama.”

Sharon nodded and didn’t speak, apparently unable to. She reached a quivering hand out to touch Daphne’s cheek.

Daphne held her mother’s clammy hand to her cheek and gave her a faint smile, feeling horrible about what she’d just put her through. Before she could say another word, her mother leaned over the side of the boat, which slowly headed for the pier, and was sick again.

Daphne, flooded with guilt, rubbed her mother’s back with one hand as she pressed the towel against her wound with the other. This wasn’t right. How had she ever justified tormenting the people she loved most? She glanced around at the others, who were watching her closely, as though they suspected what she was thinking.

“How’s your leg?” Jim asked.

Sharon’s eyes widened. “What happened to your leg, Honey? Let me see.”

Daphne lifted the towel. A two-inch gash, not very deep, was just below her knee on the back side of her calf. Blood and water mixed together and dripped down her skin. She returned the towel and said, “It’s nothing. It wasn’t even…”

“Looks like a pectoral got ya,” Jim said.

“A what?”
Daphne asked.

“The shark finned you,” Jim said. “We’re lucky he didn’t bite.”

Sharon Janus fell on her bottom, looking woozy.

“Mama!
Don’t listen to him! It was…”

“Doesn’t look too bad,” Cam interrupted. “Let me help you put pressure on it.” Cam moved up beside her and held the towel firmly against her leg. He shook his head, willing her to keep her mouth shut, but Daphne turned from him to her mother’s frail form, like a wet sock, beside her.
Cam grabbed her arms and added, “And here, take my hat so your head doesn’t burn.”

Her mother put her face in her hands and wept. “Why did we ever send you to this
place!”

Daphne fitted the cap with a shaky hand. Her pulse was off the charts as she licked her lips and said, “Mama,
it’s okay. This wasn’t real; it was just...”

The boat suddenly swerved to the right, causing people to lose their balance and tumble to the deck with shrieks of surprise.

Cam moved even closer to Daphne and whispered at her ear, “Don’t do it. You’ll ruin everything.” His eyes were urgent, almost fearful.

“My apologies!” the captain shouted.
“Everyone okay? Joe?”

Daphne glanced across the deck for her father and saw him lying on his back on a bench clutching his chest.

“Oh my God!” she cried, hurrying to his side where Brock bent over him. “Is he okay?”

“He’s having chest pains,” Brock replied. “I think they started in the water.”

Daphne crouched beside her father, putting a hand on his chest. “Daddy? You alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, not getting up. “Just give me a minute to catch my breath.”

Daphne could no longer stand what she’d done.

Soon her mother was there, too. “Joe? What’s wrong?”

“We need to get him to a doctor!” Daphne said.

“
I’m
a doctor,” Mary Ellen said, joining Daphne and her mother at Joe’s side. “Jim, take us back to the resort.” She turned to Daphne’s mother. “Don’t worry, dear. He’ll be safe in my care.”

Daphne narrowed her eyes at the old woman. Was she really a doctor, or was she pretending? Why hadn’t Cam introduced her as a doctor? He had, after all, introduced Hortense’s colleague in behavioral psychology as Dr. Lee Reynolds. It seemed odd that, if Mary Ellen were also a doctor, that the title was never mentioned.

She watched on as Mary Ellen asked her father a series of questions, which the woman might have learned from a number of medical dramas on television.

Vince drove Daphne and her parents directly from the pier down to the main building. Mary Ellen and the others waited for Roger, whom Vince passed on the way down. Daphne escorted her parents to the second floor to the supposed infirmary, anxious to find evidence that it really was an infirmary. When she saw all the familiar paraphernalia—a reception desk and waiting area, an examination room with anatomical posters, a narrow table covered in paper, a desk with a rolling stool, tongue depressors, cotton balls, a scale, and even an ear checker, Daphne had to admit that if it were a suite full of props, it was convincing. She still wasn’t sure if she believed Mary Ellen was a doctor, but she did think someone there must be one, and it only made sense that an operation of this magnitude would have a resident physician and an infirmary.

Mary Ellen soon arrived with Brock and Cam trailing her. After an initial exam, she sent an assistant for an EKG machine and asked everyone but Joe to wait outside. The others went to shower and change, but Daphne and her mother sat in two chairs just outside of the examining room. Mary Ellen had cleaned and bandaged Daphne’s leg on the ride in, using the boat’s first aid kit. When they had arrived at the infirmary, she was given a bottle of antibiotics to prevent infection. Daphne had a towel wrapped around her, and she still had Cam’s cap on her head, but her clothes were still wet, and she trembled. Her mother had begged her to return to her room for a hot shower and change of clothes, promising an update as soon as she knew anything, but Daphne was afraid to leave her parents.

“Go back to your room,” her mother said again. “We’ll call as soon as we’re done here.”

Daphne had a better idea. She stood up, gave her mother a weak smile, and marched down the hallway toward room 200.

Daphne knocked on Hortense Gray’s office door, but did not wait for a response before opening it. She was shocked to see Arturo Gomez holding the doctor in his arms. They separated, the resort owner greeted Daphne, and then he excused himself as he hastened from the room.

“What can I do for you?” Hortense asked unapologetically as she stood behind her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Daphne remained standing, confused. Wasn’t Dr. Reynolds supposed to be in love with Hortense Gray? So Mr. Gomez was as well? “Is Mary Ellen really a doctor?”

Dr. Gray sighed. “No, but Philip Johnson is, and he’s pretending to be her nurse, so you can rest assured your father is getting proper care.”

“I don’t want to continue.”

“What?”

“I’m afraid for my mom and dad’s health. The shark attack was way too hard on them.”

Hortense smiled. “You don’t give them enough credit. From what I see on my screen, you father’s EKG is normal.”

“What screen?”

“I told you,” Hortense sat on her high-back chair. “I am aware of everything that happens on this island. I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Live-stream cameras?”

“That’s right. Perhaps I’ll show you.”

“Now?”

“Not now.
Soon.”

Tears of relief over her father’s normal EKG spilled from Daphne’s eyes. She wanted to sit down, but she didn’t want to get the green chenille chair wet.

Hortense interrupted Daphne’s thoughts. “I just received an email indicating that your father’s chest pains and palpitations were likely caused by a panic attack. There’s no evidence of heart trouble. He’s been given a mild sedative and told to take it easy tomorrow.”

“So no more games.”

“We’ll give him tomorrow off, but he’ll be fine after that.” Hortense crossed her arms. “Can you not appreciate the incredible progress the three of you have already made in your relationship? The therapy is working. There’s no reason to abort. Your father’s panic attacks are manageable, and his heart is fine. We’ll move on as planned.”

Daphne bit on her lower lip. The doctor spoke the truth. Progress had been made. Maybe Daphne should do as Cam had said and trust Hortense.

“Do you have any other questions or concerns, Daphne?”

She shook her head.
“No, ma’am. Thank you.” With that, Daphne left the room.

Back in her cabana, after a warm shower and a quick visit from her parents and Brock, Daphne snuggled under the covers, in her
pj’s, with her poetry journal, reflecting on the day. She had to admit that she and her parents had not interacted like they had today since before Kara’s death. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to think about those days, when they were a happy family. She missed Kara and Joey so much. She had missed her parents, too, but for the first time in two years, she felt like she was with them again—not just living in the same location, but together,
really
together in spirit.

She wrote:

This time when I reach for you,

I know that you are there.

I feel you smiling down on me,

I feel you everywhere.

She was about to drift off when she heard a soft rap at her door. She pulled the hoodie over her head, climbed from the covers, and peered through the window. It was Brock.

“Hey,” she said, opening the door.

“Hey. I couldn’t sleep. Can I stay here tonight?” He smelled clean in his t-shirt and basketball shorts, his hair neatly combed.

She gave him a radiant smile and said, “I’d like that.”

Chapter Six: Caught on Tape

The sun slanted through the front windows, creating two bright lines across the bed and Brock’s back. Daphne lifted her hand and reached toward the stripes of sunshine, making shadows on the comforter. Her legs were warm up against Brock, her toes tucked beneath his shin. He was lightly snoring on his stomach, his arms bent over his pillow above his head, his face turned toward her. She studied the tanned bicep, visible beneath the short-sleeved t-shirt. Then she looked at his dark lashes lying softly against his cheeks, his thin nose and his open, thick lips.

God, she loved him.

His lids fluttered open and his eyes met hers, which she widened with surprise before she pulled the covers over her head—her bald head. She had removed the hoodie during the night and had slept in a tank top. Why oh why hadn’t she put it back on as soon as she had awakened?

“What are you doing?” he
asked, his voice hoarse and low.

“Don’t look at me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.”

“You do realize you’re still beautiful, don’t you?”

She didn’t reply.

“Look at me,” he insisted.

She remained hidden.

He wrestled for the covers, and she resisted, fighting him.

“Stop!” she said. “I mean it.”

“Look at me, Daph.” He continued to wrestle with her. He straddled her and used both hands to wrench the covers out of her grip. “Will you stop? I love you. And you’re beautiful. There’s no reason to hide from me.”

She covered her face and cried. The morning had started off so
nicely, and now she lay beneath Brock, mortified. “Get off!”

“Look at me. Stop this nonsense. You’re making me mad.”