Below The Surface. Karen Harper

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СКАЧАТЬ a career—a cause—of her own that would really help other people, something that mattered more than her committees, however philanthropic their purposes and however much they helped promote Ben’s career. Then she could look beyond these very luxurious four walls and the messes her boys made. A stay-at-home mom who didn’t want to stay at home, that was her.

      The moment Amelia closed the garage door and went into the house, she heard her message-waiting beeper. Maybe the day had been changed for the Clear the Gulf Commission meeting tomorrow. At least her membership on that had made Bree and Daria admit she was good for something, though it was Florida Congressman Josh Austin who had suggested them for oversight of the sea grass and marine life report.

      “You have one messages,” the recorded voice told her when she pressed the play button. With all the world’s modern technology, why couldn’t they teach a digital chip good grammar? Heaven knows, her laptop underlined every darn spelling and grammar error she made in the numerous letters to the editor she wrote.

      “This important message is for Amelia Devon Westcott,” the recorded woman’s voice said. Amelia’s stomach went into free fall. She never used her maiden name. “One of our E.R. doctors mentioned you’re on our fund-raising guild committee here at the hospital, so that’s how we traced you. Mrs. Westcott, I’m calling because your sister—we believe it is Briana Devon…”

      Briana, Amelia thought. Not Daria?

      “…has been brought by emergency squad to Naples Hospital from an accident out in the gulf, and we’re hoping you could come into the E.R. to identify her and be with her.”

      Bree! Bree? An accident? Identify her? Were they trying to break the news to her that Bree was dead? It couldn’t be—couldn’t be Bree!

      The voice went on, “We have been informed that she lives with another sister, but no one at Briana and Daria Devon’s place of employment and residence knows where Daria is, so we have been unable to reach her.”

      As if she were speaking to a real woman, Amelia whispered, “I’ve never been able to reach either of them, no matter how hard—how desperately—I tried.”

      Cole paced the E.R. waiting room like an expectant father. He knew he looked like hell, still in soaked shorts, sopping shoes that squeaked when he walked and a borrowed windbreaker that was so small he couldn’t even zip it. The distractions of people in trouble here unnerved him, too: a distraught mother with a kid who’d swallowed a quarter; a young man in terrible pain evidently waiting to be admitted to pass a kidney stone; elderly people who looked like death warmed over. The place was packed, but at least they’d taken Briana back through the swinging doors into the depths of curtained alcoves right away. He’d already bugged the triage nurse more than once. Why didn’t they come tell him something?

      This sent him back to the terrible night of his dad’s sudden heart attack. He’d known his father was dead, but he’d called an ambulance. Rather than pronounce him dead at home, they’d done CPR and rushed him to the E.R. in Sarasota, only to tell Cole what he already knew. But Briana had to be all right. She was strong to have lasted out in that brutal gulf, evidently swimming with sharks, too. Cole had practically forced his way into the E.R. vehicle, but they’d shut him out here.

      Shut out—the story of his life since his divorce last year from Jillian. He hadn’t realized until she cut him off from their friends—or those he thought were their friends, but were really hers—that he’d given up too much of his own world for hers. It hadn’t helped his client list to have his social contacts shrink like that. At least it had given him an excuse to quit playing country club games. But what he’d learned most from the biggest mistake of his life was that, after two years of their marriage, Jillian had not really been an integral part of him. He just didn’t miss her. He felt sad and bad their marriage had failed, but he didn’t feel her loss. Strangely, he’d feel worse if Briana were lost, and he’d only spent one lunch months ago and then this horrible day with her.

      He was surprised to see Amelia Westcott, a woman he served with on the Clear the Gulf Commission, rush in the double glass doors and head for the triage nurse at the front desk.

      “You called and told me to come right in,” Amelia said. She was out of breath, but her voice carried clearly. “I’m Briana Devon’s sister. But is her other sister, her twin Daria, here yet?”

      Cole went over. “Amelia, I didn’t know you were Briana’s sister—I mean I don’t know why I would—but I’m the one who found her half-drowned on the beach at Keewadin Island and brought her in—”

      “Half-drowned? I’ll bet she was with Daria. She’s always with Daria on some sea search, some underwater mission. I can’t believe they were out in that storm.”

      Though he could tell she was concerned, she spoke with an undercurrent of bitterness. The older he got, the more he saw family problems everywhere, though most simmered just below the surface of people’s daily lives. He used to think his messed-up family was unique, but now he knew it was almost normal.

      The triage nurse was on the phone, checking on Briana’s status. Finally, some answers, Cole thought. He stuck tight to Amelia while she folded her arms and seemed to collapse within herself. She was a good-looking woman, a platinum blonde with every hair in place and icy blue eyes, in contrast to Briana’s natural auburn hair and gray-green eyes. Even now, Amelia looked perfectly put together, with makeup worthy of a photo shoot, while the few times he’d seen the twins around they’d seemed windblown and often wet—a sexy combination. Amelia was obviously older than the twins and, he guessed, uptight by nature as well as from the situation. Rather than taking a deep breath, even when he urged her to, Amelia narrowed her eyes and breathed out through flared nostrils as if she were a bull waiting to charge. That reminded him about the bull sharks, but he decided not to spring that on her, at least not yet.

      It wasn’t long before a thin, balding doctor came out and went straight for Amelia. The man—his badge said Dr. Micah Hawkins—flipped through papers on his clipboard and asked, “Mrs. Westcott, you are next of kin for Briana Devon?”

      Cole felt his knees go weak. Had Briana died? She couldn’t have died!

      “Yes, her sister—one of them,” Amelia said as the doctor gestured her to walk with him. Cole kept right up.

      “She swallowed a lot of water, but worse, we believe she’s been struck by lightning while in the gulf and that can lead to complications. And you are?” Dr. Hawkins asked, squinting at Cole.

      “Cole DeRoca, the friend who found her and brought her in. I gave her mouth-to-mouth and got her breathing again. She’s going to be all right?”

      “You are to be commended, Mr. DeRoca—you probably saved her life. If Mrs. Westcott doesn’t mind, you can come along. We’ll need to run a battery of tests, call in a neuropsychologist. She keeps slipping in and out of consciousness and asking for Daria.”

      “Oh, she would,” Amelia said. “But, you mean Daria hasn’t been found?”

      “That’s her twin sister. Briana was evidently out in a boat with her,” Cole explained to the doctor. “But Briana must have fallen in.”

      “Dear God, Daria can’t be missing—out there, too,” Amelia cried, gripping Dr. Hawkins’s wrist. “Doctor, call in whatever specialists you need. I’m not sure about Briana’s insurance, but I’ll take care of all that.”

      Cole’s dislike for Amelia softened a bit. But when she said nothing else, as he followed the two of them СКАЧАТЬ