Beneath the Surface

by Joya Fields

  “All we know,” the shorter policeman said, “is that Linda is alive.” He shot a compassionate look at Jeff. “I strongly suggest you do what you can to get him to the ER.”

  “Jeff?” she said again, laying a hand on his knee. “Linda’s going to need you when she gets to her room, so you need to be at your best. Let me take you downstairs, so the doctors can—”

  “She’s got to be okay, Brooke…she’s just got to be.” His gaze darted around the hall, as if looking for answers on the ceiling, the floor, every wall.

  Garrett cleared his throat, and she glanced at him. She’d forgotten about him. “You fellows done?” he asked, his glance sliding between the two uniformed policemen.

  The tall one nodded and handed Brooke his card. “When he, ah, collects himself, have him call me if he remembers anything else.”

  Garrett laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be across the room. Take as much time as you need.” Then to the policemen, he said, “Let me walk you to the elevator.”

  As he walked away, Brooke heard him start a new conversation with the policemen. “Where did they find him?”

  “Hanging onto a board from the boat, floating away from the vessel in the current,” one of the cops said. “He’s one lucky son of a bitch.”

  She refocused her attention on Jeff.

  “We got married, Brooke. Linda and me, we tied the knot.”

  Brooke’s eyebrows shot up. “Married? When?”

  He stared at the white tiles. “She didn’t want to tell anyone, not even you…yet…didn’t want to upset you…said we’d tell you in a few weeks.”

  She and Linda had been sharing secrets since they were freshmen in college. “Linda didn’t want to rub salt in my wound.” Tears stung Brooke’s eyes at her friend’s need to protect her.

  “Yeah,” Jeff said.

  Noticing his shivering, Brooke went to a cabinet along the wall and helped herself to a pale blue blanket. She wrapped it around him. “She’s young and strong. She’ll be just fine.” But in all honesty, Brooke didn’t know who she was trying to convince…Jeff…or herself.

  Then she noticed that one of Jeff’s cuts had begun to bleed. “You need stitches, kiddo,” she said. “Linda’s in good hands here. Let’s you ’n me head down to the ER so that when she sees you, she won’t worry about you.”

  But he’d tuned her out. He clutched the blanket tighter around himself and began to cry softly. “One minute we were planning our future and the next…” he swallowed hard, closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. “She’s just got to be okay.”

  Brooke gave in to the urge to wrap him in a comforting hug. It was obvious that he loved Linda, deeply.

  And because Brooke loved her, too, she finally let her tears flow freely.

  ****

  Garrett leaned against the wall by the elevator, watching Brooke. Her uplifted chin and strong shoulders impressed him. She’d been through a terrible ordeal today, and she looked ready to go into battle. She held her slender body tall. Her short blonde hair spiked in every compass direction. His gut told him that it probably wasn’t her usual look, but the wind and sea had styled her hair today. He wondered if she was usually so fair-skinned, or if the contrasting black smudges of smoke on her face made her appear pale.

  “Sir,” a red-headed nurse touched his sleeve gently. “Linda Yi is in her room. Room 310. No visitors yet, but your friend can wait for the doctor to come out.”

  “How’s she doing?” he asked.

  “The doctor will give you specifics, but she’s going to be fine, considering her injuries.”

  “Thanks,” he said, glad to have an excuse to cross the room and talk to the smudgy-faced blonde.

  Brooke stood as he approached, as if she instinctively knew he came with news.

  “Linda?” she asked.

  “Doing okay,” he said. “Room 310. We can only wait outside the room for now.”

  She nodded and laid a hand on the guy’s upper arm. “Officer Ciavello, this is Jeff Siebert.”

  “Please, call me Garrett.”

  They exchanged a handshake and then moved down the hallway to room 310 just as a doctor opened the sliding glass door to exit the room. He consulted his clipboard, then faced Garrett. “Mr. Siebert?”

  Garrett shook his head and put a palm on Jeff’s shoulder, “No, this is Mr. Siebert.”

  “I’m Dr. Livingston. Linda’s doing well. Still unconscious. The MRI ruled out brain damage, so it’s not a coma. Head trauma—from the bump on her temple. Her brain is healing itself right now by keeping her mind inactive. Luckily, there were no internal injuries.”

  Jeff blinked and Garrett spotted a spark of awareness in his eyes. “She’s going to be okay?”

  The doctor nodded. “We’ll keep her here for a while, but it looks very good. Do you want to sit with her?”

  Jeff seemed taller suddenly. He straightened his slumping shoulders and stood rod-iron straight. Nodding several times, as if unable to stop the motion, he said, “Yes. I want to be with her.”

  Dr. Livingston cupped Jeff’s chin in his palm and narrowed his eyes. “Come with me first. Let’s take care of your cuts. Then you can see your wife.” He looked around before walking down the hall. “And only one visitor at a time.”

  Color crept back to Jeff’s face. “Brooke…stay here until I come back? In case she wakes up? I don’t want her to be alone.”

  Brooke smiled at him. “Of course.”

  Jeff glanced at Garrett, then back at her, and his eyes widened. “Linda’s parents! Will you call them? Tell them I’ll call later. They’re staying at a lakeside hotel in Nikko, Japan.” He turned without waiting for an answer and ran to catch up with the doctor. He sneezed again and glanced back. “Thanks,” he said.

  Brooke moved closer to the room and peeked inside. “Linda looks so damned fragile. She would hate that.” She faced Garrett. “You’re taking a boat back to the spot where Jeff and Linda found that box?”

  He nodded. “Tomorrow, with a deputy. My friend Diego. We’re off duty,” he said. “I was hoping Jeff could come with us. He gave the sheriff’s office divers the coordinates, but they couldn’t find anything.”

  She lifted her chin and spoke sharply, defending her friend, “Jeff got the coordinates right—he’s good at that kind of stuff. I was on the craft with them when they found the box, but I didn’t dive.” She dragged a hand through her hair and her voice lost some of its bite. “It’s possible the tropical storm currents moved that container. I’m an underwater archaeologist. I could help you come up with some plausible scenarios that might have shifted that box to a different spot.”

  Garrett nodded, mesmerized by her dolphin-gray eyes. She had a way of making everything around her disappear. Her eyes grew wide and she shoved her hands in her jeans’ pockets. He caught a whiff of lemon under all the soot and salt on her and resisted the impulse to lean closer.

  “I’m coming with you.” She kept her gaze fixed on his as if daring him to deny her. “There’s something I’ve been wondering. Is it possible that somebody might have been trying to stop my friends from finding that box today?”

  The thought of a human body, a red-head like his missing cousin, buried deep in the ocean, sobered him. “I think there’s a chance.”

  ****

  A half hour later, Brooke snapped the cell phone shut and crossed the sidewalk to where Garrett waited by the hospital doors. He’d given her privacy for the phone call, but now those powerful eyes locked into hers again as she closed the distance between them.

  “Thanks.” She handed his phone back, feeling her confusion build when her hand accidentally brushed his and her pulse went wild. Why was her body responding this way? Especially in light of the fact that her best friend lay unconscious in a hospital bed. Some friend she was.

  “Get in touch with Linda’s parents?” Garrett’s eyebrows knitted together. The afternoon breeze blew his white polo shirt against his chest, showing off a strong upper body.
<
br />   Brooke forced herself to look at his face. “Uh-huh. They’ll be on the next flight here. Probably won’t be here until this time tomorrow. Thanks for the cell phone. My phone—all my stuff—is still at the dock in my rental car.”

  He crossed his arms and studied her. “Not from around here?” he asked.

  “No, I’m on vacation. I’m supposed to head back to Baltimore tonight…get my classroom in order for the first day of school.”

  He nodded and raised a brow. “You need a ride to your car?”

  “Yeah, that’d be great.” She’d been so focused on Linda’s needs. Now, Linda had Jeff by her side, and her parents would be here soon. Brooke could focus on other things.

  She needed to get to the dock, get her rental car, go back to the hotel and make arrangements to extend her stay.

  It’d probably take months to get a new appointment with Dr. Merrick. The new, skin-like prosthetic cover would have to wait. Dr. Merrick promised a more realistic look for her prosthesis.

  “Okay, a lift back to your car.” Garrett walked to the curb and bent to retrieve a helmet from a motorcycle. He turned and held out the helmet.

  She backed up two steps. “I…I can’t ride a motorcycle.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Never been on one? You’ll be fine.”

  She shook her head and glared at the bike. “No. I mean…you don’t understand. I can’t.”

  He stepped toward her. “It’s easy. Nothing to it.”

  She looked from the bike to his face and then put her hands on her hips. “I can’t ride a motorcycle because I only have half my left leg. I have a prosthetic.”

  His eyebrows rose again and he nodded, smiling as he looked at her jean-covered legs. “I thought I noticed something bulky at your knee.”

  Not the way she expected him to react.

  “Listen.” He dropped the helmet to his side and glanced around the parking lot. “I have a pickup truck too. I can drive the bike home, get the pickup, and be back in twenty minutes.” He stepped closer and held out the helmet again. “I promise you’ll be fine on the bike, though.”

  She searched his eyes for the usual…pity, discomfort…but found only friendliness. And honesty.

  She’d never ridden a motorcycle in her life and she’d only known Garrett for an hour. Yet, somehow it felt right. Being around him made her feel something else too, as she stood close, but she shoved that thought to the back of her mind.

  She exhaled, took the helmet and slipped it on her head.

  He smiled, a flash of white teeth, and helped her adjust the strap. His face was so near that she could feel his breath on her cheek. She swallowed hard and forced the flutters in her stomach to calm.

  He turned, swung his leg over the bike, and started the engine. “Sit behind me…wrap both arms around my waist and relax,” he hollered over the engine. “I’ll go slowly.”

  She glanced at the motorcycle, chewed at her bottom lip, and then looked at his strong body. She could do this.

  With clenched hands, she walked to the right side of the bike. Standing on her right leg—her strong leg—she swung her other leg over the seat and slid her body close to his. She held her hands on the sides of his waist, but he pulled them forward, resting them around his tight abdomen. It was more comfortable, but it also forced her to smash her body against his back. The intimacy of the position made her heart flop again. She inhaled his sawdust scent and relaxed against him.

  She squeezed tighter when they took off. The bike moved steadily forward, perfectly balanced and almost comfortable. She thought she’d feel unsteady, but she felt safe.

  Garrett maneuvered a turn and she held her breath, squeezing her eyes shut. She pressed against him and her body followed his motion. He hollered, “Okay?”

  She nodded. Her helmet rested against his back and shoulder. He probably wouldn’t hear her, but would feel her head go up and down. She thought about giving a “thumbs up” in front of him, but she didn’t dare let go.

  She lifted her head, feeling safe enough to let go of him just a little so she could look around. They whipped through the afternoon breeze, creating their own wind, and without the confines of a car around her, the vivid scenery stood out. Brooke let go of some of her stress, for the moment anyway, and drank in her surroundings. Statuesque palm trees swayed in unison in the late afternoon breeze. Stately houses gleamed flamingo pink and canary yellow against the background of the bay and the bluish-gray sky above it.

  Garrett steered the bike to the parking lot by the Bait Shack and turned off the engine. She was glad to finally be back at her rental car, but couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed as she released her grip on his waist and leaned back. She could feel his eyes on her when she took off the helmet, tempting her to do some kind of head shake as the helmet slid off—like something in a shampoo commercial. Too bad she’d lopped off almost all her blonde hair just two weeks ago.

  Garrett climbed off the bike and glanced around the small parking lot. “That your rental?” He shaded his eyes with his hand and nodded toward her tan compact rental car.

  “That’s it,” she nodded, following his glance. She gazed at the ocean where Linda and Jeff’s boat had blown up. She blinked against the bright afternoon sun and noticed how the rays made the ocean surface sparkle like jewels.

  As an underwater archaeologist, she knew a lot about what went on beneath that beautiful surface, and she always yearned for more. She missed being under that water, exploring. But swimming had lost its magic ever since she’d lost her parents. These days she taught high school girls about archaeology, but she didn’t pursue the underwater excavations.

  She forced her thoughts back to the present and realized Garrett was staring at her, a concerned look on his face.

  “Well, I’d better get going. I have a lot of phone calls to make.” Brooke glanced at her still-damp jeans. “And I desperately need a shower.” She had to call Sister Margaret Phillips—her principal—to arrange for a long-term substitute. Sister Margaret wouldn’t be very happy that Brooke would miss the start of the school year. But Linda needed Brooke’s help.

  Linda—the one person who’d stood by Brooke when she’d lost her parents, driven her to doctor appointments, psychiatrist appointments, physical therapy…and refused to baby her. Linda—who offered a strong shoulder to cry on no matter what time of day or night. Brooke would sure as hell be there for Linda.

  “Where are you staying?” Garrett bent to hook the helmet into place on his bike.

  “Ocean View Motel.” She used the key fob to unlock the car and hoped the motel still had a vacancy, since she’d checked out already.

  He cleared his throat, shuffling his foot in the sandy pebbled lot. When he lifted his gaze to meet hers, she couldn’t bring herself to break the stare.

  He reached out to rub his thumb along her chin. “You gonna be okay? You had a rough day.”

  Okay? She nibbled at her bottom lip. His touch sent shivers down her spine, and his concern for her twisted her gut in a very pleasant way. The sawdust scent on his skin made her want to close the short distance between them.

  She ran a hand through her newly-shortened locks and tried to smooth the prickly ends that stood up on her head. Her wind-blown, salt-encrusted, helmet-smashed hairdo felt frighteningly grunge.

  “I’m fine.” She managed a shaky smile.

  His gaze dropped to her lips, and for a split second she thought he might kiss her. It scared her to think she would gladly let him. Slowly, he moved his gaze to meet her eyes.

  She cleared her throat. “Really, I’m fine.”

  He nodded and slid his hand into his jeans pocket. He pulled out a battered leather wallet, opened it and held out a card.

  Her fingers brushed against his as she took the card.

  Garrett narrowed his eyes and studied her. “I’m worried. If Linda and Jeff’s vessel was targeted because of the metal box you all found the other day, you could be in danger, too.”

 
“It could have been an accident.”

  “I have my own theory.” He glanced around the deserted parking lot and crossed his arms. “In fact, you could skip the motel, stay at my place.”

  Brooke’s cheeks heated as the blush rolled up her face. An image of him stepping out of a shower, dripping wet, only a towel around his taut waist flashed through her mind and her face heated. “Uh, that—that’s very nice of you. I’ll be okay at the motel.”

  He held her gaze for a moment longer. “Call me if you need anything. Otherwise, I’ll pick you up at ten o’clock tomorrow—in my pick-up truck—and we’ll search the water.”

  Brooke smiled at him. As attractive as Garrett was, she had to keep her focus on getting Linda and Jeff better. And if she got lucky, get a new leg prosthesis too.

  But at this moment, she savored the fact that being with Garrett made her feel as if the day hadn’t been full of only bad happenings.

  ****

  Now that he didn’t have a passenger on the back to worry about, Garrett gunned his engine, pressing the Harley to go faster along North Seventh Street.

  He’d left the helmet hooked behind the seat so he could feel the way the wind snapped across his face and through his hair. Cleansing, liberating, and stupidly dangerous. A nice distraction from reality for a few minutes.

  The sky was fading from pinkish-orange to twilight blue-gray and reminded him of Brooke’s eyes. He shook his head. What had he been thinking? He couldn’t believe he’d invited her to stay at his house. The invitation had slipped out before he’d had time to think. She probably thought he was trying to make a move on her.

  He turned onto North Daytona Avenue and pictured those eyes gazing up at him as he lay on top of her, visualized how her face would crinkle with that slow, reluctant smile of hers. But maybe she didn’t always have a reluctant smile…maybe she held back on her smile today because she’d had one hell of a bad day.

  A passing driver’s horn made him realize he’d swerved a little too close to the middle of the road. He forced himself to concentrate on driving.