***
The gray ribbon along the horizon told Griff it was 0500. Dejectedly, he stopped at an unmarked beach above Par-ham and climbed out of his car. His eyes burned from lack of sleep. Taking the binoculars, he rested his elbows wearily against the top of his car to steady his hands. He swept the length of the deserted beach, looking, always looking. With light came the awful realization that Dana probably had drowned. He had kept in contact with the Coast Guard and Dana’s friends on a hourly basis via the handset. The CG hadn’t spotted Dana, although they’d widened the search as far as twenty miles off the island. Storm Gallagher had refueled and was now making a low pass close to the beach for a thirty-mile stretch of the island, saying that if Dana had survived, she would be closer to shore. The words from the seasoned Coast Guard pilot gave Griff renewed hope.
His mouth coated with bitterness, Griff felt a heaviness in his heart that threatened to crush him. Tears squeezed into his eyes, and he pulled the binoculars aside, letting the moisture run freely down the stubble of his cheeks. Griff hadn’t been able to cry over the divorce. He hadn’t cried at Toby’s funeral. Now the stinging, burning sensation gathered momentum, and a sob, like a fist pushing up through his chest, tore out of his mouth. Griff laid his head in his arms, and allowed the punishing sobs to continue. His shoulders shook. Like an injured animal, he surrendered to the glut of emotions he’d tried so long and hard to suppress.
The harsh sounds were absorbed into the peace of the beach parking lot. How long he stood there crying, Griff didn’t know. Nor did he care. Finally, the storm within him abated, and he lifted his head, blinking away the remnants of the tears. Inside, he felt cleaner, less pressured. His mother had always told him it was good to be able to cry, but the military saw it as a weakness, so he’d stopped doing it long ago.
The sharp pain left in his heart was for Dana. Miserably, Griff looked out toward the beach. He blinked once. His heart thudded heavily in his chest. Was he seeing things? The gray light must be playing tricks on his watery eyes.
Lifting the binoculars, Griff saw a dark lump of something in the shallows. It could be a huge pile of kelp washed ashore. Or an old log that had come to rest after a long journey across the ocean. The light was still too weak to make out any details. Quickly, he jumped into his car and jammed his foot down on the accelerator. Hope warred with dread. Griff had predicted Dana would come ashore somewhere in the area of Parham Beach. Whatever had washed ashore was a mile from that point. Could it be? Oh, God, please, let it be Dana! Let it be her…. Let her be alive…
The screech of brakes biting into the asphalt of the parking lot filled the early-morning air. His hands shaking, Griff scrambled out, leaving the door open and sprinting toward the dark shape in the water. It hadn’t moved. If it were kelp, or a log, it should move back and forth with the tide. Taking huge strides, his heels sinking deeply into the sand, Griff quickly covered the distance. In his hand he carried the beach towel—just in case.
Squinting, Griff saw the darkened shape begin to take form. His heart soared. It was Dana! She lay on her back in the shallows, Vickie sitting beside her, huddled close for warmth. Griff wished for more light. As he slowed, splashing into the ankle-deep water toward them, he saw the stark exhaustion on Dana’s unconscious features. Her eyes were closed, one arm around the girl.
“Dana…” he whispered, crouching in the water. Her hair was stiff and plastered around her skull. As he placed his fingers against her neck, his breath suspended. He waited, trying to feel a pulse at the carotid artery point. There! A faint, weak pulse. Griff hauled Dana upright and cradled her against his body. Her head lolled against his jaw, and Griff became alarmed. Her flesh was cold. Cold as ice. She was shaking so badly that he automatically placed his other arm around Vickie.
“It’s going to be all right,” he said quaveringly, holding them, pressing both of them against his chest. Neither answered. Pulling away, Griff quickly assessed Vickie, who rested against him with her eyes closed. She was in good shape by comparison. He had to get them out of the water and up on the beach.
“Can you stand, Vickie?”
“I—I think so….”
Gently Griff lifted Dana into his arms. She was completely unconscious, little more than a feather in his arms. “Follow me,” he told Vickie hoarsely, waiting for her to grip his pant leg to help herself stand.
Once on the beach, he laid Dana back down on her side and covered her upper body with the towel. Vickie fell beside her, starting to sob, her small arms around Dana.
“I’m going to get the blanket from the car, Vickie. I’ll be right back for both of you. Understand?” Griff crouched down, his hand on the girl’s shaking shoulder. Anxiously he stared at Dana. Her teeth were chattering, her limbs jerking spasmodically. She was in deep shock.
“Y-yes….”
Griff left, running as fast as he could through the thick, dry sand. Grabbing the blanket, he hurried back to them. Tucking the blanket around Dana, he devoted the rest of his attention to Vickie. Gently crooning to the little girl, Griff extricated her from Dana’s side. Lifting her into his arms, he wrapped the thick beach towel around her and carried her toward the car, trying to assure the child that she was safe. Vickie only sighed and rested her head wearily against his chest.
Once at the car, Griff placed Vickie in the driver’s seat and ran back out to where Dana lay unmoving. Fear made his hands shake as he reached down and gently eased her into the shelter of his arms. She was like boneless putty.
“Easy, easy,” Griff coaxed, pressing her tightly against him. Searching her face, he realized her eyes barely opened. Did she know it was him? How could she? How many hours had she been swimming? Griff wrapped Dana in the warm, thick blanket.
“I’m going to take you to the nearest hospital, Dana. Do you understand me?” He was frightened at how cold her flesh had become. Hypothermia was a real possibility. “God, I thought I’d lost you, Dana….” And he choked up, unable to say anything further as he lifted her. Time was of the essence. His left arm ached like hell beneath her weight, but he didn’t care if he broke the finger all over again.
As Griff hurriedly started his trek back to the Corvette with her, his alarm turned to panic. The blanket had slipped away from her thigh. The light was improving, and he could see huge, long red welts crisscrossing her leg. Jellyfish? Griff had never seen so many stings on a person before. His fear paralleled his admiration for Dana’s raw courage and indefatigable strength. His arms tightening around her, he pressed her closely against him, wanting to share his body heat with her.
“Dammit, Dana, you’ve got to hang on,” he told her in low gasps as he jogged toward the car. “You’re safe now. Vickie’s going to make it. Fight back, sweetheart. Fight back for both of us….”
It had to be one of her hallucinations. Dana emerged momentarily from the numbness and cold surrounding her to hear Griff’s low, urgent voice. She felt weightless, as if someone were carrying her. Impossible. Had she drowned? Or was she still fighting to keep her head above water? It was simply too much to lift her weighted lids. Griff. How badly she wanted to make it to shore to see him again. All her anger toward him had been used up. All her hope had gradually been stolen away by the chilly ocean. Where was Vickie? Dana stirred, moving her fingers, feeling her flesh stretch in protest. Pain reared up her arm as she tried to find Vickie.
“Don’t fight me, Dana.”
Who? Dana felt her cheek pressed against something warm and solid. It wasn’t water. Where was she? Was she really dying and imagining that Griff was holding her? Dana didn’t even have the strength to cry out his name any longer. The ocean had swallowed her cries of anguish, her cries for help.
“Relax. Relax, sweetheart.”
Unable to find the necessary spark of strength, Dana stopped trying to locate Vickie.
Griff gently placed Dana in the passenger side of the car. Vickie was sitting up, looking at him with huge eyes. He came around the car and gave her wh
at he hoped was a smile.
“Where’s Mommy?” she whispered.
Taking the girl into his arms, he shut the door. “I’m going to call her right now, honey. My name is Griff, and I know yours is Vickie.” He wrapped the towel around the child, and kept her tucked beneath his arm.
Dana heard a man’s voice again. It had an emotional tone. How could it be Griff? She was still at sea, trying to reach the shore that was so close and yet so far away.
The calls to the hospital, to Maggie and the Coast Guard station had been made. Griff drove his car down the Santa Rosa Island highway as fast as possible. Vickie was content to sit in his lap, snuggled deeply in his arms, seeking his warmth. Worriedly, he glanced over at Dana, who was unconscious, her head tipped back against the seat, her lips parted. Griff tried to quell his mounting panic. As he neared the hospital emergency entrance, the light had improved enough to show some of the torture Dana had endured. Long red welts covered her slender, lovely throat. Her flesh was a blue gray, a telltale sign of hypothermia. Everywhere were jellyfish stings, her flesh swollen around the marks. Was Dana allergic to them? If she was, she could die from the venom alone, much less the physical hell she’d endured in endless hours at sea.
Griff brought the Corvette to a screeching halt at the emergency entrance. To his relief, two gurneys and several nurses and doctors were waiting for them. He saw Veronica Tandy, her hands pressed to her mouth as he handed Vickie out of the car to one of the waiting medical teams.
“Get to Dana,” he ordered the other team hoarsely. “She’s in shock and unconscious.”
Griff stood helplessly by, watching the quick actions of the medical people. His heart leaped when the doctor with sandy-colored hair barked at his team to take Dana to ICU.
As he hurriedly followed them in, one nurse turned and held her hand out.
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant Turcotte, you can’t come with us.”
“But—”
“We’ll take good care of her.”
Frustration thrummed through Griff. “But she needs me!”
With a sad smile, the tall nurse said, “Of course, she does. But give Dr. Falk the time he needs. She appears anaphylactic and hypothermic. It will take at least an hour before we’ll know anything. In the meantime, why don’t you go to the third-floor ICU waiting room? We’ll be in touch with you as soon as is humanly possible.”
***
Angry and concerned, Griff paced the waiting room endlessly. Maggie and Molly arrived fifteen minutes later and he explained the situation. An hour went by. And then another. He badgered the nurse on the floor, trying to eke out some information on Dana’s condition. Finally, toward the end of the second hour, an ICU nurse by the name of Bannister intercepted his pacing.
“Lieutenant Turcotte?”
Griff’s head snapped up from its position against his chest. “Yes?”
“You brought Dana Coulter in. Is that correct?”
He studied the older woman. She had a pinched face, looking painfully prim and proper. “Yes, I did.”
“Dr. Falk has her stabilized.”
Griff saw Maggie and Molly come up beside him. “When may we see her?”
“Are any of you related to the patient?”
Frowning, Griff said, “No.” He looked at the women. Both shook their heads.
“But we’re Dana’s closest friends,” Molly pleaded.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Falk can only release information about Ms. Coulter’s condition to her family.”
Griff’s anger got the better of him. “That’s a bunch of bull! Dana’s condition is my business, Ms. Bannister!”
Her brows dipped. “Her mother has been notified, I understand. Unless you’re a member of the family, I can’t allow you to see her.”
Glancing quickly at the two women standing tensely beside him, Griff made a decision. In a low voice he snarled, “I’m her fiance.” Dana would need someone when she woke up. He wanted to be there for her. Would her friends dispute his lie?
Maggie’s eyes narrowed on him, speculative and assessing. Molly’s widened with shock and her mouth dropped open. Griff gave a bare shake of his head.
“Well… uh, I’ll have to tell Dr. Falk that. He’ll have to decide.”
“Do that.” Griff stood, his hands tense on his hips as he watched the nurse walk back toward the ICU doors.
Maggie stepped up to him as soon as the nurse disappeared. “You aren’t her fiance.”
Griff felt heat crawling up his neck and into his face. He held her challenging green gaze. “No. But how else was one of us going to get in there to see how she is?”
Molly gripped Maggie’s arm. “It’s a good idea. Let him do it. I’m sure Dana will forgive him.”
Griff sincerely hoped so. He saw Maggie’s face soften. Molly’s eyes were filled with understanding. What loyal friends Dana had. “Thanks,” he whispered.
Minutes later, Falk came out. His face lined with worry, he managed a slight nod.
“I understand you’re Ms. Coulter’s fiance?”
“That’s correct, Doctor. Tell me what the hell’s going on. It’s been two hours! How is she?”
Falk motioned him to sit down, but Griff refused. So did the women.
“She’s hypothermic, Lieutenant. That means her temperature dropped below a survival level. When that happens, the body’s organs hoard what heat is left. That’s what has taken so long. We’ve had to slowly bring her back to a normal body-temperature level. Luckily, she’s young and strong.”
“Dana was in the water for twelve hours,” Griff said, afraid of what else Falk might say. “When I got her out of the surf, she was unconscious. Is she awake now?”
“Not yet. That’s part of hypothermia. The brain shuts down all but the most vital of systems in order to sustain organ life. I’m more concerned about the jellyfish venom in her bloodstream at this point.”
“Is she allergic to it?” Maggie barged in, her hands on her hips, upset.
“If she wasn’t, she is now. I’ve got her on anaphylactic drugs, combating her body’s reaction to the venom. Her breathing is depressed, and we’re monitoring her closely.”
Griff’s throat constricted. “You mean she could suffocate?”
Falk barely nodded his head. “It’s possible.”
Terror ate at Griff. “Well… how long before we know anything?”
“The next six hours will be the most critical.”
“Oh, dear,” Molly whispered, pressing her fingertips against her throat.
“Then I want to be with her,” Griff said. “I don’t want her going through this alone.”
“She’s unconscious.”
“Dana will know I’m there.” Griff dared the doctor to dispute his growling rejoinder. He took a huge risk. “I want a chair brought into her room. I’ll stay there with her.”
With a shrug, Falk slowly got to his feet. “She won’t know you’re there, Lieutenant. You’d be wiser to go home and get some sleep and call me in six hours.”
Griff nearly cursed the doctor’s lack of sensitivity. Instead, in a low voice, he stated, “I’ll stay, Doctor. Just get me a chair, and I’ll sit next to Dana’s bed and hold her hand. She’ll know I’m there.”
“Whatever you want, Lieutenant.”
“Wait. Couldn’t Maggie or Molly stay with her, too? They’re her best friends,” Griff argued.
Falk shook his head. “Sorry, it’s against hospital rules.”
“Bastard,” Maggie murmured softly under her breath when the doctor was out of earshot. She gave Griff a black look. “And you’d better treat her right or you’ll answer to us.”
Griff managed a strained smile. “Dana’s in good hands.”
Grudgingly, Maggie stepped aside so he could pass. “We’re going to stick around, Lieutenant.”
“Fine. Let me get situated in there with Dana, and then I’ll come out and give you a report.”
“Thank you,” Molly whispered, tears in her eyes.
He gave a jerky nod. “Yeah, I know.” He was the bastard who’d made her life miserable.
***
The beeps and sighs of the equipment kept Griff on edge. Rubbing his burning, bloodshot eyes, he looked at his watch. It was eight o’clock, Saturday morning. His hand tightened protectively over Dana’s limp fingers. Slowly, her skin was beginning to fill out again, losing its saltwater wrinkles. His gaze moved up her long, sculptured throat to her face. At least she’d lost that blue-gray pallor. For that, he was grateful. But in the past three hours, she hadn’t regained consciousness, and that worried him. Was she simply sleeping? Or was she in a coma? No one could tell him for sure.
Stroking her thin fingers, he stared down at her. Dana was so small. Everything about her appeared fragile—from her heart-shaped face to her small, aristocratic nose and delicate lips. They had bathed her earlier, and her salt-stiffened black hair now lay slightly curled and clean around her skull. Griff thought she had the most beautifully shaped head. He didn’t stop himself from gently running his hand across her thick, silky hair.
“Dana, it’s Griff. Do you hear me? I know you can.” His hand tightened around hers. “Listen to me. You’re going to pull through this. I’m not going to let you go. You’re safe now. And so is Vickie. She’s gone home with her mother—” A lump formed in Griffs throat, and he halted, swallowing hard as he absorbed her serene features. “Sweetheart, you’re something special. I don’t know how you did it, being out there in that ocean for twelve hellish hours. I knew you wouldn’t give up. I knew you wouldn’t….”
The door to Dana’s room quietly opened and closed. Griff looked over. It was Nurse Bannister.
“Lieutenant, Mrs. Coulter is on the phone at the desk, long-distance. She just got done talking to Dr. Falk. She’d like to speak to you.”
Heat fled up into Griff’s face. Dana’s mother. Hesitantly he rose. “Okay…” Reluctantly, he released Dana’s hand and halted a few steps from her bed.
No Quarter Given (SSE 667) Page 13
