Emerald Coast Affairs

By Kristin McGuff

Two tiny secrets could unravel life as she knew it. How hard will she work to discover the truth?

Oakley Ray has more dolphins for friends than humans. Her serene life on the Emerald Coast of Florida takes a turn when her father dies unexpectedly and she discovers, at his funeral, that he might not be her real father. As Oakley

• Language: English
• Publisher: McGuff and Stuff
• Release date: Mar 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798218168995

Book preview

Emerald Coast Affairs

Kristin Daryl

Copyright © 2023 by Kristin Daryl

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

For the boys

But mostly for the girls

Also by Kristin Daryl

Be Good

Trigger Warning:

This novel deals with strong subject matter, including rape, that may be unpleasant for some.

Chapter one

Oakley is at a different kind of Sunday dinner. The sun is setting, visible in fragments through the tall pine trees on the edge of the lawn. Her gaze wanders to the window in her grandparents’ kitchen but sees nothing, her vision blinking through periods of daydream and hazy emptiness. Her copper hair clings to her shoulders in the Florida humidity. Despite the heat, she shivers and clinches the coffee mug in her hand to feel its warmth seeping into her chest.

Women come and go carrying casseroles to place in the too-full refrigerator. Each one is the same. They bend over the fridge, adjust the contents to squeeze in their dish, then stop and give her the same pitying look, head tilted to the side, eyes squinted and brows creased, mouth pulled up into a half-smile.

Dead. Just like that. One minute, Brian Ray was in the garage bent over his ‘69 Camaro like he had been every afternoon for decades, and then he was gone. Sudden cardiac arrest. When the phone rang, Oakley was expecting Grandma Ray to remind her to come to Sunday dinner. The words traveled through wires but misfired somewhere between the soft delivery and the devastating blow. Her father was dead.

Her grandmother glides into the room and embraces her. Linda, not Grandma Ray whose house they are in. She melts into Linda's arms as if she could live inside of the hug.

After a time, Linda pulls back and smiles at Oakley, rubbing her arms in a comforting gesture. Are you going to be okay?

I don’t know, Linda, Oakley responds.

Linda? Isn’t she your grandmother, honey? one of the refrigerator ladies asks. She might possibly be a third cousin, but Oakley isn’t sure.

You do not want to go there, Oakley says.

I will never be called a grandmother, Linda looks scandalized. Don’t you blaspheme like that again.

The refrigerator lady lets out a sound somewhere between a giggle and a cry and shuffles out of the room.

I’m going to go, Linda says. If you need me, I’m always just a ring away.

Oakley nods, hugs her again, and watches her retreat through the back door and down the rotting, wooden steps of the small porch before she disappears around the edge of the house. The knot in her chest winds tighter.

Oakley continues to gaze out the window as the lingering hues of purple and pink fade to indigo in the sky and fewer and fewer guests remain in her grandparents’ home. In the corner of the yard sits the forlorn swing set of her childhood. The metal poles are rusted, and grass has grown over the sandy spot where her feet once scuffed the ground. She watches as the six-year-old version of herself soars through the air with glee as her father pushes her. She can almost hear her giggles intertwined with his robust laughter. Oakley struggles to breathe. She closes her eyes and forces herself to let air in then out. In then out.

Laughter rings out from the other room, sonorous and out of place in a house of mourning. Oakley jolts out of her haze, sets her mug down on the oval dining table, and follows the sound to a brood of black-clothed women gathered in the living room. She watches, listening from the shadows of the hallway as Aunt Suzie, her father’s sister, entertains the others. There is a row of empty Blue Moon bottles and half-eaten oranges on the coffee table in front of them.

It was all very sketchy, her aunt was saying. I kept telling them that the dates didn’t add up, but no one would listen. Mom just told me to drop it and let Brian be happy. But I couldn’t stand it. One day I was with Pam. You remember my friend Pam, right? She moved to Tennessee years ago with a man she met online. Anyways, I was telling Pam all about it, and she asked me what hospital Debbie was going to for her check-ups.

Debbie. Oakley’s mother.

Pam calls the hospital and pretends to be from Debbie’s insurance company! She asks them what the date of her first check was and when the baby was due and everything. They never questioned that Pam wasn’t really who she said she was. They told her everything she asked for! If you get Mom and Dad on the topic, they’ll just say she was born early, but she wasn’t. She actually came a week late! From the way the dates work out, Oakley was conceived at least a month before Brian and Debbie’s first date.

That is so messed up, the woman beside her aunt says. That girl was always so attached to Brian. If he isn’t her real daddy, then the whole thing just seems unscrupulous. No wonder that girl has never been in a relationship.

What are you saying? Oakley asks, emerging from the shadows to make her presence known. All three women straighten themselves and remove the laughter from their expressions. Aunt Suzie puts her bottle of beer with the others on the table.

I’m sorry, Suzie says, I didn’t realize you could hear us, Oakley. I shouldn’t have said any of that.

Are you saying that my father… isn’t...wasn’t… my father? Oakley leans on the doorframe to keep from falling to the carpet where she used to spread out her crayons and draw pictures of dolphins with her dad. They would have drawing contests and Grandma Ray would be the judge. Whoever had the best drawing, which was always Oakley, would win a homemade peanut butter cookie.

Maybe they had a pre-date to their actual date? You know, like some crazy one-night hookup and then they decided there was more to it, and they should try an actual date, one of the women says as she fidgets in the brown, stiff-backed chair. Oakley doesn’t recognize her.

Oakley thinks about her father. She thinks about how, in all their years together, she had always been his only girl. He had never brought a woman home or gone on dates. He was quiet. In some ways very detached from the world around them.

As if reading her thoughts, Aunt Suzie says, Brian wasn’t really that type of guy. The women fall silent as the accusation lingers in the air. There are other small groups both inside and outside of the house, consoling and conversing with each other in two and threes. Grandma Ray bustles about in the next room, cleaning up after the guests who have already paid their respects and gone home.

Maybe I’m wrong, Suzie says. Maybe I don’t remember it right, or Pam got the wrong information. It was all so long ago.

Oakley looks at her aunt. At fifty-seven, her jet-black hair is now salt-and-pepper, pulled back into what had started as a tight ponytail but now has several loose strands escaping. She thinks about her father, Brian, and his full head of matching dark hair. For the first time, Oakley looks in the copper mirror above the mantle and sees herself, a girl with brown hair who might not belong.

No, she argues out loud. No. Aunt Suzie has to be wrong.

Chapter two

A week after her father died of a heart attack, Oakley is surprised every morning to see the sun is still shining.

She lies in bed unmoving and ponders the way the world works. She thinks about the people all around, going to and from work, eating dinner with their loved ones. Tourists flock to the beach to build sandcastles and swim in the ocean. For everyone else, the sun rises, and they get up to see what the day holds.

They don’t feel the pang of loss in their chests that grasps and holds onto her. Someone else may look at the ocean, the calm waters resting in the Gulf Coast Bay, and see a great place to fish. When she looks out the window, through the palm fronds and dock posts where the gulls linger for a bite to eat, she sees her father sitting in his white, metal chair on the edge of the dock drinking his morning coffee like he did every morning. Oakley had not lived at home with her dad for several years, but since he died, she has been sleeping tucked under the sheets of her old bed. She wants to feel close to him.

It’s time to wake up, she hears him calling out to her from the kitchen. He might be gone, but his ghost is everywhere.

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As Oakley approaches the pool and grabs a fish to toss, Roxy and Hurley notice her. They speed up, swimming quickly to the side. Their heads emerge from the water, their mouths long and curved into permanent smiles. Roxy and Hurley both wave their left fins back and forth towards Oakley. She half-smiles and reaches into the water to give the girls the handshakes they are requesting.

I missed you too, ladies, Oakley says. She tosses the fish, but before Roxy and Hurley can turn to swim to it, Captain emerges from the corner of the pool and jumps up. He eats the fish and swims to Oakley. Sticking his head out of the water, he cries out a series of agitated clicks and whistles.

Hello to you too, Captain, Oakley says.

There are three bottlenose dolphins that engage with the public. Roxy and Hurley are mother and daughter. They interact well together, whistling and clicking as if having their own jaunty conversation. Roxy is overprotective of her offspring and doesn’t let her stray far. In the pool with them is Captain, a large male who weighs a thousand pounds and will get aggressive if he doesn’t get the first fish.

That is the most I’ve seen him do in a week, Devon says. There’s no doubt that I’m just the babysitter.

Oakley laughs. No, it’s not that bad. More like a stepfather.

They continue to work in silence, feeding the dolphins and prepping them for their next guest encounter with a family of five booked for thirty minutes from now.

According to her job at Gulf World, the allotment for grief is one week. After that, you need to return to work and get back to it. So here Oakley is, getting ready to supervise a Dolphin Encounter with her fellow Marine Mammal Trainer, Devon.

Oakley has been working with these dolphins for the last three years. They are her best mates and most constant companions. She knows by the tone of the whistles, clicks, and shrills what each dolphin is thinking and feeling as if she can understand their secret dolphin language.

Devon has been her partner for the last six months. Her partners tend to come and go. Before Devon, there was a man named Roger with arms covered in sleeves of tattoos. He stayed with her for three weeks before taking a job as a Scuba Instructor in Destin. Devon is one of her longest companions, and so far, he hasn’t shown any signs of leaving. He is ruggedly handsome with wind-blown blond hair, like he belongs on a surfboard rather than by the dolphin tank with her.

I’m sorry about your dad, Devon says after a while.

Me too, Oakley says.

My mom had a heart attack two years ago. She survived, but she’s had a rough time since then.

How old is your mom?

Sixty-five, he says.

Dad was fifty-five. Sudden cardiac death, they said. It’s so hard to believe that one minute… one minute he was working on stitching together leather seats in his garage and the next…we were supposed to get together that night for dinner. And now he’s just gone, Oakley says, surprising herself with tears.

Devon sees but pretends not to notice. He turns the other way, giving her the privacy of her sorrow. You two were close, huh?

Very, she says. Excuse me. She leaves him with the dolphins and makes her way to the faculty restrooms. She washes her face and leans against the wall to pull herself together. She feels embarrassed for having cried in front of Devon. She focuses on putting her grief aside before she has to entertain a couple and their young kids who paid a lot of money to kiss some dolphins. People come here to be happy. There is no such thing as sorrow on the Emerald Coast, only sunshine and serenity.

She jumps, alarmed, when the door opens, but it is only Bekah. Bekah pauses, taking in the sight of Oakley slumped and red-faced on the bathroom wall before she quickly covers the ground between them and wraps Oakley in a loving embrace.

You shouldn’t be here, Bekah says. She is wearing long khaki shorts and a green Hawaiian shirt with palm trees and tropical birds. Her standard uniform for working in the gift shop. It goes well with her bright red glasses. Her auburn hair is French braided like a schoolgirl’s.

Where else would I be? Oakley asks.

Plenty of places. The beach. The bay. Spending time with your grandparents. Painting. Getting busy in the backseat of a car.

Oakley laughs, wiping away the traces of her tears. She looks in the mirror and runs her finger along the bottom of her eyes to erase the leftover eyeliner that had smeared down her face like a sad clown. Who would I be in the backseat of a car with?

Devon. Most definitely Devon, Bekah says.

I’ve told you a million times, we are just friends, Oakley says. But thanks. I needed the laugh.

Bekah wipes one more smudge from Oakley’s face. Get out there, forget your woes, be charismatic with the toddlers, and after work I’ll take you out. My treat.

You don’t have to do that, Oakley says. She knows that Bekah only makes minimum wage, barely enough to cover her part of the rent on the apartment they share together. Oakley lived at home with her father all through her college years at the extension of the University of Florida just across the bridge. She studied to be a marine biologist. She meant for this job to just be a summer internship, but she fell in love with the dolphins and never left. She met Bekah, and the two of them instantly became friends. Still, she never would have moved out of her father’s house if he hadn’t insisted that it was time for her to branch out into the world. She loved his old house overlooking the dock and the water. It was where she had really connected with the ocean for the first time.

Sure I do. I bet you didn’t even eat yesterday. You haven’t been home in days.

Oakley thinks back over the last several days. She had stayed wrapped inside the covers of her childhood bed all day, barely leaving her old room. As long as she stayed there, she could pretend that he was just down the hall. He was in another room or welding something for work or busy planning his next car project. Before that had been the funeral, and the gathering, and her aunt. No, I haven’t eaten much.

Settled. Dolphin smooches. Prep some food. Clean some tanks. Pretend to not be in love with Devon. Then margaritas.

What would I do without you, Bekah? Oakley asks.

Be detestably sober, Bekah says. She leans in and gives Oakley one more hug. You okay?

No, but I’m good enough to get back out there, Oakley says. I don’t want Captain to bite anybody.

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The rest of her shift passes uneventfully. Her dolphin pals keep her busy. They have a full schedule with an hour-long guest encounter followed by two dolphin shows. Devon keeps topics light in the few moments they are alone. He makes sure to avoid any conversation that might be difficult for Oakley to navigate.

Bekah is waiting for her in the parking lot when she leaves for the day. Bekah gets off work when the park closes at three, but Oakley and Devon stay and make sure the animals are properly cared for. It is nearly six when Oakley leaves. Bekah has changed out of her tacky Hawaiian getup and is now wearing a pink tank and shorts.

Oakley wears a wetsuit all day long by the tanks, so she changes into shorts and a V-neck tee before leaving the park. She smells like fish and feels like someone ran over her after her long day back, but she promised Bekah she would eat with her, so she doesn’t protest when she sees her waiting. They get in the car and head out onto Front Beach Road.

August is a busy month for tourists, so they are in back-to-back traffic instantly. It gives Oakley time to decompress from the day. Intuitively, Bekah turns on the radio to some obscure rock song and sings along. Oakley watches as they pass condo after condo, large, bulky structures that block the only thing worth seeing. She shuts her eyes and leans back in the passenger seat of Bekah’s old Chevy Blazer.

When Oakley opens her eyes, she finds that they have pulled into a burger joint off Thomas Drive. Little touristy, don’t you think? Oakley asks, looking at the full parking lot.

Sometimes it’s fun to pretend like you’re one of them, Bekah says. Plus, they have these really awesome alcoholic milkshakes. They are terrible and delicious.

I’m convinced, Oakley says. She follows Bekah inside where they sit at a booth and order from a tiny girl with a black apron around her waist. Oakley is surprised by how young the girl looks.

Are they getting younger or are we just getting older? she asks Bekah after the waitress leaves the table.

You’re only thirty. It’s the best age to be these days anyways. Still young enough to party but old enough to effectively manage your 401k, Bekah says, shrugging. I haven’t seen you in days, Oaks. I hope you’ve been showering. She makes a show of looking closely at Oakley’s hair. You don’t want to get dreads. Although, I guess if you do want dreads, you can become one of the girls that hangs out at Fish Head’s Surf Shop all the time.

I wouldn’t know where to start, Oakley says. I’ve never surfed a day in my life.

I think that’s sacrilege, all things considered. For real, though, I can tell you need to release all your woes, or you might explode.

Oakley sighs and turns away, watching the young waitress now at the bar flirting with a man. She is leaning her upper body towards him and twirling a lock of hair in her fingers. It reminds Oakley of what Aunt Suzie said at the gathering. What was her mother like, she wonders. Is it possible…?

The worst thing about the last several days, other than losing my father, was learning about the possibility that he wasn’t even my dad in the first place.

Bekah sits up straight up in her booth. What? Brian Ray, the man you idolize to the point of ridiculousness, no offense, might not have even been your dad? Do tell.

Oakley decides not to take offense at how excited Bekah seems to be. She knows she lives for the drama, whether real or fictional.

Aunt Suzie was talking to some women at the gathering. They had been drinking. Suzie said that the dates didn’t line up. My parents’ first date, and when I was born were only eight months apart.

So you were a preemie. No big deal. The waitress returns with burgers and shakes. Bekah takes a large bite out of her burger and teriyaki sauce oozes down her chin.

Apparently Suzie’s friend Pam called the doctor’s office and pretended to be the insurance company. I wasn’t a preemie. I was born a week late.

Dude, Aunt Suzie and Pam have some balls. Isn’t that illegal?

Probably some kind of fraud, Oakley says. She takes a bite of her simple cheeseburger. It is well-seasoned. The fry she has next is even better.

Sucks that you get all this information and now there’s no one left to ask. You can’t go to your dad and be like, what’s up with this? Bekah says.

Oakley puts down her burger. Even though she has barely eaten over the last several days and this meal is delicious, she no longer has the stomach for it. She takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment, eyes closed. When she releases her breath, she trembles with tears she doesn’t want to shed.

Sorry, that was too much, Bekah says.

It’s okay, Oakley says. I’m going to have to toughen up.

After a pause, Bekah speaks. This one time when I was little, my turtle died. I know it’s shit that I’m comparing this to a turtle, but just listen. My four-year-old self was devastated. Like I didn’t want to go play at the playground. Totally destroyed. And my Baba, my grandma, told me that sadness is like the sea around an island. Sometimes, the sea is calm and gently brushes against your toes. Other times, it rages and rises and consumes the whole land. No one can control how high the tide rises, and it never fully goes away. I was four and had no clue what she was talking about. But when she died five years later, that was all I could think about. Me and Baba and the turtle whose name I don’t even remember. And even though I was only nine, I fully understood what she meant.

Oakley stares at Bekah in amazement. I think that’s the most you’ve ever shared with me about your childhood.

Yeah, sorry. It’s this shake, she says, slurping up the last of the alcohol and chocolate syrup. And your eyes. You are fully morose. And you need to either drink your own shake or pass it over.

Oakley laughs and passes her shake to Bekah.

I think your next step needs to be an interrogation. Shine that light in Aunt Suzie’s face and get some more details. Or your grandma. Someone who was around back then and knows what was going on. Whoever you think will give you the details without harsher methods of torture.

Not a bad idea, Oakley says. Maybe just a phone call first, though. We’ll save the dark, shady stuff for later.

Suit yourself. Are you coming back to the apartment tonight? Bekah asks.

No, not yet. I need to stay at Dad’s for a while longer. I need to sort through his things and decide what stays and what goes. Eventually, I’ll have to talk to realtors and get it on the market.

You could totally bequeath me that ’69 Camaro. I would be more than willing to take that off your hands.

Bekah doesn’t know that Oakley’s dad died in the garage crumpled over the hood of that Camaro. She might let Bekah have it just to never have to look at it again. She blinks away the gruesome image, and jokes instead. What would you do with a Camaro when you’ve already got a classic sitting right there in the parking lot? she says, pointing out the window to the Blazer.

You’re right, Bekah says, finishing the last of the second shake. I could never get rid of my faithful steed. That you now need to drive. Let’s go.

Oakley takes the driver seat and navigates back to Gulf World. Bekah assures her that she is now safe to make it the mile and a half back to their apartment on Back Beach Road. They say goodbye, and Oakley drives her own car back to her father’s house on the bay.

Chapter three

DEBBIE

1989

Music drifted from the boom box plugged into the bathroom wall as Debbie fixed her hair, blowing and crimping. Simply Red belted lyrics about never never never knowing them if you don't already. The summer heat did not wilt with the passing sun. Heat and humidity were a staple of her beach life. She was going to pull her blonde hair back into a scrunchy as soon as she got to work, but that didn't stop her from spending an hour making sure it looked just right.

Debbie, you’re going to be late for work if you don’t go soon, Linda called