The Reef

and if you don’t pull out of this, you won’t get to spend the first coin.”
    A nurse parted the curtain, a gentle reminder that the time was up.
    “It’d be a real shame if you didn’t get to enjoy some of that fame and fortune you’ve always wanted, Buck. You keep that in mind. They’re tossing me out of here, but I’ll be back.”
    In the corridor, Tate paced, as much from nerves as the need to keep herself awake. The moment she saw Matthew come through the doors, she hurried over.
    “Did he wake up at all?”
    “No.”
    Taking his hand, Tate struggled with her own fears. “The doctor said he wouldn’t. I suppose we were all hoping otherwise. Mom and Dad are going to take a shift now.” When he started to shake his head, she squeezed his fingers impatiently. “Matthew, listen to me. We’re all a part of this. And I think he’s going to need all of us, so we may as well start now. You and I are going to the hotel. We’re going to get a meal, and we’re going to sleep for a few hours.”
    As she spoke, she drew him down the corridor. Aftersending her parents a bolstering smile, she steered Matthew toward the elevators.
    “We’re all going to lean on each other, Matthew. That’s the way it works.”
    “There has to be something I can do.”
    “You’re doing it,” she said gently. “We’ll be back soon. You just need to rest a little. So do I.”
    He looked at her then. Her skin was so pale it seemed he could pass his hand through it. Smudges of exhaustion bruised her eyes. He hadn’t been thinking of her, he realized. Nor had he considered that she might have needed to lean on him.
    “You need sleep.”
    “I could use a couple of hours.” Keeping her hand on his, she stepped into the elevator car, pushed the button for the lobby. “Then we’ll come back. You can sit with Buck again until he wakes up.”
    “Yeah.” Matthew stared blankly at the descending numbers. “Until he wakes up.”
    Outside, the wind kicked at the rain, swept through palm fronds. The cab bumped along the narrow, deserted streets, its tires sluicing at puddles. It was like driving through someone else’s dream—the dark, the huddle of unfamiliar buildings shifting in the glare of headlights, the monotonous squeak of the wipers across the windshield.
    Matthew fished Caribbean bills from his wallet as Tate climbed out. In seconds, the rain plastered her hair to her head.
    “Dad gave me the room keys,” she began. “It’s not the Ritz.” She tried another smile as they entered the tiny lobby crowded with wicker chairs and leafy plants. “But it’s close to the hospital. We’re on the second floor.”
    They took the steps with Tate jingling the keys nervously in her hand. “This is your room. Dad said we were right next door.” She looked down at the keys, studied the number. “Matthew, can I come in with you? I don’t want to be by myself.” She shifted her gaze to his. “I know it’s stupid, but—”
    “It’s okay. Come on.” He took the key from her, unlocked the door.
    There was a bed with a spread of brightly colored orange and red flowers, a small dresser. The lamp’s shade was askew. Marla had brought him a kit from the boat, and had left it neatly at the foot of the bed. Matthew switched on the lamp. Its glow was yellowed by the crooked shade. Rain beat against the window in angry fists.
    “It’s not much,” Tate murmured. Compelled, she reached out to straighten the lampshade, as if the little homemaker’s gesture would make the room less sad.
    “Not what you’re used to, I guess.” Matthew strode into the adjoining bath and came out with a thin towel the size of a place mat. “Dry your hair.”
    “Thanks. I know you need to sleep. I should probably leave you alone.”
    He sat on the side of the bed, concentrated on removing his shoes. “You can sleep in here if you want. You don’t have to worry about anything.”
    “I wouldn’t be worried.”
    “You should.” On a sigh, he rose and, taking the towel, rubbed it briskly over her hair himself. “But you don’t have to. Take off your shoes, and stretch out.”
    “You’ll lie down with me?”
    He glanced over as she sat and fumbled tiredly with the laces of her sneakers. He knew he could have her—one touch, one word. He could lose himself and all of this misery in her. She would be soft, and willing, and sweet.
    And he would hate himself.
    Saying nothing, he turned down the spread. He stretched out on the sheet,