Authors: Christy Barritt
I had to focus, take my mind off my discomfort.
“Those were good times. But it’s like they say . . .” My words began to fade as drowsiness overtook me.
“What do they say?” Riley asked.
What was I trying to say? I could hardly remember. “They say . . . all good things . . . must come to . . .”
“Gabby, are you okay?”
I couldn’t answer. I knew the stark reality I was facing.
Hypothermia was setting in.
CHAPTER 16
“Gabby
, I need you to stay with me,” Riley said, a knot forming between his eyebrows.
“I’m numb. And cold. So cold.” I felt like I was swimming in ice water. In the Arctic. After eating a popsicle.
My mind wanted to go to a happy place. A beach. In the Caribbean. With no clouds or breeze. Just searing UV rays burning my skin.
“Hold on to the kayak.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me up higher, trying to get my upper extremities out of the water.
“It’s no use.” My words were a chattering mess. My body felt like it had taken on a mind of its own, and I had no control.
“Only a little bit farther. The Bible is full of stories that take place on or near the water. Think about Peter walking on water. If he did that through faith, then we can get to that island.”
“He lost faith and sank.”
“At least he stepped out. You’ve got this, Gabby.”
But did I have it? I wasn’t so sure.
That’s when my foot hit something.
A shark? No, not a shark. This was something solid. Big. Expansive.
Land.
We’d reached land!
“Riley . . . the water . . . I can touch bottom.”
We’d arrived just in time. The water was shallow for quite a ways until we reached the beach, but at least the end was in sight. I was already dreaming about a hot shower and coffee and . . . warmth. Just warmth. That was all I wanted.
Before I could say anything else, Riley swooped me into his arms. “I’ve got you from here, Gabby.”
“You . . . don’t . . . have to. I can . . . make it.” But my words didn’t sound believable, not even to my own ears.
“Let me help.”
His chest felt solid beneath me. But I didn’t have time to think about that, though. I had to concentrate on survival right now. My teeth chattered even more as the cold air hit my wet skin. My body trembled as it fought to get warm. Riley had to be cold. But he pushed through. He was my hero . . . again.
How many times had he saved my life now? I’d lost count.
“The kayak,” I managed to say as he slogged through the water. “We should keep it for . . . evidence. The police might want . . . to see it.”
“All I care about right now is getting you to safety. That trumps solving this mystery.”
I held on to Riley and let him take charge. I was just grateful he was with me because I wasn’t sure I would have been able to make it any farther. All of my She-Ra was fading.
My mind swam. I couldn’t feel my hands. All I could hear was the slosh of water.
Finally, we reached the shore. The real shore. The sand.
And I knew I was going to be okay.
***
I finished putting on some dry clothes and sat on my bed for a moment to decompress. I’d taken a long, hot shower then pulled on three shirts and four pairs of socks. I wanted to regain normal function, but I found myself climbing under the covers instead.
I just couldn’t get warm.
Dr. Turner had wanted to take me to the hospital, but I’d insisted I would be fine. I hoped I was right.
Coffee and soup had been left on my nightstand. Blaine was probably responsible. She waited in the other room in case I needed her, but I didn’t feel like talking to her now.
My hands were still trembling as I picked up the coffee and attempted to take a sip. It was no use. My hands wouldn’t function the way I wanted.
Before I forgot, I grabbed my wet jeans. I reached into the pocket and pulled out the note I’d found from Anna.
What a soggy mess. The layers stuck together. The ink was smeared.
It was worthless.
Despite that, I tried to unfold it to let it dry. It was no use right now, though. With my hands shaking the way they were, I’d only end up doing more damage to the paper.
I frowned and placed the note in my suitcase—the dresser might be a better choice, but my pearls had disappeared from that location. This note had been my one solid piece of evidence, and now it was ruined.
Just as I put it away, someone knocked at the door. Before I could even say, “Come in,” the door opened and Farrah stepped inside.
I couldn’t even tell she’d been out on the water. She smelled clean, with a gentle perfume wafting around her as well as the scent of fresh shampoo.
“I hear you need to see a doctor,” Farrah told me, setting a bag on the floor and pulling a chair closer to me.
“I do.”
“I can help.” She reached into her bag.
Was that a medical bag?
I stared at her a moment, feeling a bit speechless and perplexed. “You’re a doctor?”
She shrugged and pulled a penlight out. “A pediatrician, but that doesn’t really matter right now. How are you feeling? I heard you had quite the ordeal out there.”
“We did. Who would have thought there was a hole in our kayak? Thankfully, we made good time before the boat started to sink.”
“You’d think someone would check them out first,” Farrah said with a frown and a shake of her head.
I got a good look at her. She had fine lines around her mouth and eyes. Maybe she was in her early fifties. Her gold jewelry and Ralph Lauren sweater gave her a certain finesse.
I remembered the way she stormed off before kayaking began. “Well, I’m glad you two made it in safely. No problems?”
“I gave up. Leroy came and picked us up.”
So that’s where he’d been going when he’d hurried past.
Farrah shone the light in my eyes. “You’re very unfortunate, you know.”
Had she said
unfortunate
? Yes. She had. “Why’s that?”
“Because Jim and Ginger were supposed to have your kayak.”
My back muscles tightened. “How do you know that?”
“I saw Jim switching the name cards before we got there.”
Really? Why would he do that? Had he known the kayak was sabotaged?
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Farrah continued.
I studied her a moment. A doctor? She hadn’t struck me as the type, and I wasn’t sure why exactly. I supposed it was because most people who were doctors and went through that much schooling didn’t end their careers after getting married.
The mystery of Farrah Griffith deepened.
I paused as she listened to my heartbeat. “Why did you give up your career? You must miss it some. I mean, you have your doctor bag with you.”
“I suppose I like to use my medical training whenever I can. It keeps my mind sharper.”
“So why did you give it up then?” I repeated.
She shrugged again. “It’s what the wives of men like Atticus Griffith do.”
Now
that
was an intriguing statement. “Why?”
“The men consider it more of a symbol of their success if their wives experience lives of luxury. Atticus was charming and swept me off my feet. All that changed after we got married. I think there are other reasons men like Atticus act the way they do, but no one wants to admit it.”
“Like what?”
“It traps us.” She frowned and leaned back. “If the husband makes all the money, then it makes it hard for the women to leave. The men can cheat—and they usually do—and the women are powerless to do anything about it. We’ve been groomed to fully depend on them.”
“That sounds horrible. I’m not recommending that you leave him, but you do have a career to fall back on. You don’t have to be treated that way.”
“Life as the wife of a powerful man is complicated. It’s a subculture within itself. All my social circles are connected with him. If I left him, I’d essentially be starting over. If you don’t conform, you’re shunned.”
I was trying to understand. I really was. I mean, I’d watched
The Real Housewives
series. I knew how messed up people could be. “I know this is nosy, but neither you nor your husband seem to want to be here,” I started. “So why are you putting yourself through this?”
Conversations could be the best way to find out information. I’d learned—sometimes the hard way—that people skills were essential in investigations.
She turned off her light and placed it back in her bag. “You’re right. That is nosy. Truth be told, we promised my parents we would go through this program. My mom is dying of cancer, and this was her request. We’re here, but we’re going through the motions, I suppose. Neither of us really wants to work things out. We’ve already drawn up the divorce papers.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
She shrugged. “It is what it is. At least my mom will think she’s done some good. She knows Dr. Turner personally, so we couldn’t even fake coming here. She checks in with him. Of course, he can’t say anything specifically about me or Atticus, but my mom always manages to get information out of him. If we didn’t show up, she’d find out.”
I nodded. “So, are the rest of the women here in the same boat you are?”
She twisted her lips in thought. “I shouldn’t do that. My doctor says it will give me more wrinkles.” She neutralized her expression. “Anyway, I don’t know what to say. You’re acting like this is a surprise to you. I thought your husband was some hotshot lawyer. You must understand.”
My cheeks flushed. I’d forgotten my cover. How could I have done that? I was just so fascinated by what she was saying.
“He is. We just . . . we believe that marriage is a partnership not a power play.”
“Then hang on to him. Because, where I’m from, being a successful man means having control over your wife.” She shook her head. “I’ve said too much.”
I squeezed her arm. “Isn’t that why you’re here? So you can talk about these things?”
“Talking doesn’t always change mind-sets, Gabby.” She leaned back, seeming to come to her senses and putting on her ice-queen persona again. “You look like you’re going to be fine.”
“Did everyone else return?”
“I’m not sure. Angelina and Bo were arguing so much that they were practically going in circles. Ginger was letting Jim do all the paddling, so I’m not sure if they went faster or slower.”
I thanked her before she headed downstairs. She sure had given me a lot to think about.
But the main thought lingering in my mind was that Farrah had been a doctor. That meant she would have extensive knowledge of prescription medications. Could she have had something to do with Anna’s death?
CHAPTER 17
Dr. Turner
approached Riley and me during dinner. I almost hated to not give my full attention to my grilled tuna, arugula, and risotto. Steve lacked many things—like a good personality—but he was a great cook.
Dr. Turner took a seat across from us, his arms resting on the table and his parakeet-yellow cardigan spotless. “I’ve been very concerned since I heard what happened. How are you?”
I shrugged, stealing a glance at Riley. “Hanging in. Still shaken.”
“I want you to know that your safety is of utmost importance to us,” he continued. “We’re looking into what happened.”
“When you say ‘we’re,’ who do you mean?” I asked.
“Leroy,” Dr. Turner responded. “He’s an experienced boatman, and he’s working security for us.”
I nodded, not really satisfied with his answer.
“You know there was a hole in the bottom of the boat. We’d been reassured the equipment was all checked over,” Riley said. “Frankly, Dr. Turner, I’m a little concerned.”
“Is something strange going on here on the island?” I asked. “I’m getting a bad vibe.”
Something shifted in Dr. Turner’s gaze. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought the question made him nervous. “No, I want to assure you that there is not. Unfortunately, a lot of couples who come here are in a bad place emotionally. That can lead to some poor choices. Our sessions have a tendency to bring a lot of emotions to the surface.”
“So that’s why the woman died last weekend?” I asked.
Dr. Turner frowned and leaned closer. “She was already depressed, and she’d had a particularly painful session with her husband that evening. She seemed okay when she went to bed, though. No one expected her to sneak out and end her life.”
“So you don’t think the kayak incident is related?” Riley asked.
Dr. Turner’s jaw went slack with confusion. “No. Why would it be? The kayak was an accident. Anna’s death was a suicide.”
I nodded slowly, trying to let his explanation sink in. He seemed to sense my hesitance.
He lowered his voice. “To be honest, I’ve been very concerned. With God’s guidance, I want to help people heal. I don’t want to make people hurt any more than they already do. Things like this can shut down my entire program. That’s the last thing I want. God led me to start this couples retreat. As it says in Proverbs, ‘In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.’”
“I didn’t realize it was Christian based,” I said.
“It’s not overtly Christian. But the principles and foundation are all there. I take the Bible very seriously, as I do my calling.”
“We appreciate that,” Riley said. He reached over and grabbed my hand. “Faith is the only thing that will get us through this rough patch.”
I swallowed hard, reminding myself he was just playing a role. Nothing more.
***
“Men and women have very specific roles to play in a marriage,” Dr. Turner said, pacing in front of the group during our evening session.
We were back in the Therapy Lounge. The lights were low again, classical musical played softly, and the couch where Riley and I sat seemed more and more comfortable as I became accustomed to Dr. Turner’s methods.
At least I knew the basic principles of this program were grounded in a biblical foundation. That made me feel a little better.
“I’d like for you to turn to your spouse and tell them what your expectations are for them,” Dr. Turner continued. “I know this may seem strange, but it’s good to be able to get these notions out in the open instead of just living them out in the subtext of our lives. Expectations can be healthy. So turn to your spouse right now and chat. I’ll give you a few minutes.”
I pulled a burgundy, tasseled pillow over my chest and hugged it for a moment as I turned toward Riley. That familiar awkwardness flopped around in my gut again. How were we supposed to talk about this exactly? It just seemed weird.
Besides, even though we’d bonded earlier—you know, when we’d almost died—I was starting to feel the urge to run and get away from this place. To get away from Riley, specifically. I’d started warming up to him again and setting him on that platform in my mind, the one where he could do no harm.
The truth of the matter was that he’d done too much harm. He’d broken my heart, which was on the mend. The last thing I needed was for it to be crushed again. I didn’t want to be set back any further than I already was.
“Who wants to start?” Riley’s arm was stretched across the back of the couch, and he leaned back casually, as if he were watching his favorite movie.
I wanted to see some sweat or something to let me know this was as stressful for him as it was for me. I was obviously going to be disappointed.
“You start,” I said a little too quickly.
He shrugged and nodded, both slowly and uncertainly. “Okay, my expectations of our marriage. I expect commitment, I suppose. Friendship and support are always good. I expect you to have my back, even when you don’t want to.”
“That’s it?”
He nodded. “That’s it. Your turn.”
“I expect for you not to break my heart.” The words flowed from a place of truth, and I couldn’t seem to stop them. “I expect you to be there for me through thick and thin. I expect you to choose me over your family.”
Something flashed in his eyes. Surprise. Concern. A call to action. “Gabby—”
“I see you’re both getting down to the nitty-gritty.” Dr. Turner stood above us, nodding approvingly. “Good. Honesty is very important in relationships. Sometimes, the things that couples bring up during this session are formed because of past resentment caused by their spouse. That’s what I’d like for you to talk about next. Gabby, why don’t you start off that conversation. Continue from what you were just saying.”
I scowled. I didn’t want to talk about any of this. But it was obvious that Dr. Turner was paying attention, so it would be hard to avoid.
My shoulders felt stiff and my lungs wooden. “I think you’re supposed to protect your spouse and do your best not to hurt her. Because hurting the person you love should never be on the agenda. You fight to make sure that doesn’t happen because that’s what it means to love someone.”
Something soft yet painful glimmered in Riley’s gaze. “But sometimes you have to choose the lesser of two evils. Maybe you think your loved one has hurt you on purpose. But maybe they’re just trying to protect you from something that could be even more devastating.”
“What’s that mean?” My voice rose in pitch, and my words flew out. My emotions were getting the best of me. I was supposed to be acting, but I knew I wasn’t.
“It means that I know God has a calling on your life, and I’d never want to come between you and your purpose.”
“Why would it have to be one or the other?” Exasperation tinged my voice now. All this cryptic code talk was making me crazy.
“Gabby—”
Dr. Turner paced away then addressed the group. “Now that we’ve talked about expectations, I’d like to get practical. Tell your spouse one way they can put an action to the expectation. What does that expectation look like when lived out in your everyday life?”
I hugged my pillow even tighter as my jaw clenched. “You go first.”
What was I even doing here? I’d told myself I would keep my distance. Maybe this
was
my way of keeping my distance. I had to bring up the hard stuff. I knew it would put a wall between us. Bringing these things to the surface was the best way to keep me from getting too close to Riley.
Riley rubbed his jaw a moment, suddenly not looking so laid-back. “What my expectation looks like: Being patient. Not rushing me. Trusting my decisions.”
His answers hadn’t required that much thought. Maybe he’d already had these things on his mind? I wasn’t sure.
“Your turn,” he said.
“Staying when you want to run. Not trying to be a martyr. Not giving mixed signals.”
The two of us stared at each other for a moment.
Just then, Ginger stood and ran out of the room in tears.
What was going on? At least her drama had taken the attention off of me.
Sometimes that was all a girl could ask for, especially when her heart was on the line.