by K C West
“I apologize for keeping you waiting,” she said. “The truth is I overslept.” Without waiting for a response from me, she offered her hand. “We finally meet.”
“Doctor Curtis.” Her hand was soft and smooth. I wondered just how much actual digging she did or was willing to do. Was I saddled with a theoretical archaeologist?
“Call me PJ, this doctor stuff is such a drag, don’t you think?”
“I’m proud of my doctorate.” My tone was testy. “But, you may call me Kim. By the way, I ordered fruit cups for an appetizer. I hope that’s …”
“No problem.” PJ picked up her spoon. She continued talking while concentrating on her fruit.
“What an exhausting afternoon. Sandy and I didn’t plan on spending so much time together.”
I shot her a stern look. Fortunately, she wasn’t watching me.
“Gawd, I was so sore … I just had to jump in the tub when I got back to the inn.”
“Really, there’s no need to explain.” My imagination was filling in the blanks. Sandy was no match for this woman. She had been around the block more times than there were blocks to go around.
PJ, still playing with her fruit, continued. “The Jacuzzi made me sleepy. You know how that is. Anyway, I slipped into bed for a few minutes, long enough to rejuvenate before coming here, I thought, but the next thing I knew-“
“Doctor Curtis.”
She looked up, surprised, I think, at my tone. “Yes?”
“Further explanations aren’t necessary.” I cleared my throat. “What you do on your own time is your business.”
“Yes, of course, but I don’t plan to make a habit of…”
“I most certainly hope not.”
“… being late for dinners and appointments.”
“That, too.” I was being disagreeable. While I had no love lost for Doctor Curtis, she was a fellow archaeologist and for that reason alone, I should treat her with the respect her credentials demanded. Besides, I was a civilized being, subject to polite interaction with others. All I knew of P. J. Curtis, the person, I gleaned from headlines scanned at supermarket checkout lines, hardly a fair evaluation of the woman behind the archaeologist.
“You know,” she said, waving her spoon in the air, “I think Sandy was really impressed with my skill. He was amazed that I had so much experience in—”
“My gawd, woman!” I choked on a piece of bread.
“Doctor Blair?” PJ looked at me with some concern. “Are you okay?”
“I just swallowed wrong.” I dug into my pocket for a tissue.
We finished our fruit cup in silence, each of us sizing up the other much like boxers stepping into the ring.
When the waitress came with the dinner menu, I ordered my usual, a steak medium well. I caught PJ’s raised eyebrow.
“You were about to say?”
“You’re not concerned about animal fat and cholesterol?”
“I rely on my work to keep me healthy.” PJ bit her lower lip, then ordered a Grilled Chicken Salad with low fat dressing on the side.
I changed the subject. “I trust you had a comfortable flight.”
“Well, there weren’t any cashews.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Father had eaten all the cashews.”
I shook my head.
“I like cashews. Stacie should have seen to it that the supply was replenished before my flight.”
“Perhaps Stacie had more important things to do than worry about cashews.”
“It’s her job to make sure Father and I are comfortable when we travel.”
Why, you spoiled little… I bit my tongue, afraid I would say something out loud that I would regret.
We paused when our entree arrived. I was hungry after a long day at the site. My steak looked good, as did the baked potato just waiting to be smothered with sour cream and chives. When I bit into the meat it was so tender it melted in my mouth. I watched as PJ drizzled a scant teaspoon or two of dressing onto her salad.
“Tell me, Doctor Curtis, PJ, why do you want to work here with me? Are you interested in the Lost Tribe?”
“Your work intrigues me.”
“How familiar are you with what I’m doing?”
“I’ve read all you’ve written and published on the subject. You think the legend is based in fact and you want to prove it. I know your search has taken you from Greece to South America and now here.” PJ paused to chew a mouthful of salad. “You must think you’re on to something.”
“What makes you think so?”
The waitress stopped at our table to make sure everything was okay. I complimented her on the steak and asked her to bring a fresh pot of tea.
“I think you’re on to something because you’ve cloaked this part of your search in secrecy.” PJ dabbed her mouth with her napkin. Her table manners were impeccable. “You’re either on to something or you’ve recognized failure and you want to hide it from the world.” Her smile was challenging.
“Doctor Curtis…”
“It’s PJ, remember, and I was kidding. I believe you’re on to something big. I’d like to be part of it.”
“You can be as long as you believe in the project and are willing to give your all to it.” I took a deep breath. Was I making a big mistake by accepting the high and mighty Doctor Curtis as a member of my team? And what had she done to me personally to trigger such animosity toward her? Despite all the negative press she had received, I knew she was well versed in her chosen profession and she appeared to know enough about my project to speak about it intelligently.
“I read your paper on the use of forensics in archaeology. It was very good.”
“Thank you.” PJ smiled, pleased, I think, with the compliment. “I’m surprised you’ve read anything of mine.”
“I admire good work no matter whose it is.” That was uncalled for.
“You do know that Sandy was supposed to return to the site after meeting you today.”
“You were supposed to meet me.”
I put my fork down carefully and deliberately before taking a deep breath. “I was supposed to have you met. I did that.”
“It would have been nice if you would have …”
“Doctor Curtis, we have approximately eight months of comfortable working temperatures. I want to accomplish as much as possible in that time. I intend no disrespect when I say that my time was better spent at the site than it would have been driving to the airport.” I picked up my fork and speared a piece of steak.
“Now, about Sandy, why did he not return to the site?”
“He couldn’t. It took us all afternoon to—”
“Please! Don’t give me any more details.” What am I doing? I’m asking her questions, but not allowing her to answer them. This was so unlike me, allowing my anger to get the better of me. What was it about this young woman that so infuriated me? After all, how she lived her life was her business. I wasn’t normally this judgmental. Sandy was an excellent student and very likable and perhaps I was being overly protective, but I didn’t want PJ to cause him any grief.
PJ chuckled. “In spite of wearing me out, it was a lot of fun. And I was able to show Sandy a few of the things I learned.”
I couldn’t believe the audacity of this woman. I wanted to slap the smile off her face. “Of all the nerve.” I threw down my napkin and started to rise, but thinking better of it, sat down again. “How could you take advantage of him that way?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t play innocent with me.” I was up again and leaning over the table. “You know damn well what I’m talking about.”
“I haven’t a clue.”
“I told you before what you do off site and on your own time is your business. If, however, you choose to prey on my students,” I wagged my finger in front of PJ’s face, “then it becomes my business.” I was making a scene and attracting the attention of other diners.
PJ’s face flushed; he
r green eyes flashed in anger. “My gawd! You think that I bedded your protege, is that what this is about?”
“You all but admitted …”
“I admitted nothing of the kind.” PJ tossed her wadded up napkin on the table and stood up. “I don’t give a shit who you are. I don’t have to sit here and listen to you accuse me of gawd knows what. You’re as dried up and brittle as this damn desert and I’m outta here.”
“But you said …”
PJ was not listening to anything else I might have to say. “I’m guilty. Case closed. Is that it? I know all about my reputation … I thought you’d at least give me a chance …” Her voice cracked. “Damn it, this time I’m innocent. Sandy has a minivan with a faulty transmission. We worked on it all afternoon and got it rebuilt. If you can’t trust him … or me, then…” She stopped in mid sentence, turned on her heel and left.
I glanced at the other diners who immediately found that their meals or table partners demanded their attention. “Shit.” I rubbed my eyes with my forefinger and thumb.
“Are you okay, Doctor Blair?” It was the hostess.
“Thank you, Betts, I’m fine.” I sighed. “It was just a little misunderstanding between colleagues.”
“Hey, I know how that goes. It’s sorta like me and my daughter, we’re always at loggerheads.”
“Thank God,” I inclined my head in the direction of the exit, “that she isn’t my daughter.”
“Who the HELL does she think she is?” I slammed the door, slipped off my sandals and threw them the length of the motel room. “Dried up old prune…Probably hasn’t had a good lay in months.”
My tank top and shorts sailed in the direction of the sandals. “Damn it!” I said to the mirror over the dresser. An irritated blonde in a white lace bra glared back at me. I paced the room in my underwear trying to control my outrage. “A shower … I need a long, hot, shower.”
Half an hour later, I toweled myself dry and wiped a circle through the steam-covered bathroom mirror. The skin on my face was already suffering the effects of the dry, Arizona heat. Jesus! Living like this is going to take a ton of moisturizer.
“Curtis, this is an all-time record for you.” I poured cream onto my palms and administered first aid to my parched face. “You’ve probably been kicked off this project before you even set foot on the site. And the irony of it is you weren’t guilty this time. You were screwed by your reputation for screwing.” I laughed, mirthlessly and wiped the excess fluid off my hands.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” I pulled on my terry cloth robe and began to blow dry my hair, using a low setting and a styling brush. My initial gestures were full of unresolved anger. I frowned and grimaced at my reflection as I worked.
As my hair dried, the tension in my body dissipated. “Negative thoughts, beget negative energy…and negative energy is self-destructive.” I snapped off the dryer and took a deep breath. “You’ve got so much going for you, woman. Why do you self-destruct when shit like this happens?”
I gazed at myself for several seconds. It had been months since I’d felt the need for a critical self-evaluation, but for some reason, it seemed necessary tonight.
You have a nice face, good cheekbones and clear, green eyes. You’re short, but your body has good muscle tone with firm abs and a flat stomach, thanks to all those sit-ups and crunches. There’s good definition in your arms and shoulders. Go ahead, flex your biceps, you know you want to. I pushed my sleeves back and grinned as the right bicep bulged.
Show off. You’ve got a decent brain and the ability to speak and write coherently… most of the time. Fortune Magazine considers you a hot prospect in the marriage arena. Conservatively speaking, you’re worth twenty or thirty million. You’re recognized in most of the best restaurants in Boston and several in New York. You could be anywhere in the world right now…with almost anybody. Why the hell do you need to be here, in this God-forsaken pile of detritus, with a crusty, old bitch who thinks you have the morals of an alley cat?
I left the bathroom and padded barefoot to the bed, the question echoing in my brain. Why is it so important? Why here? Why now?
A soft inner voice supplied the answer. The timing is right. You saw the opportunity to work with Kim Blair. You know she can further your career credibility, so you went for it. Robert Frost spoke of a road less traveled, maybe you’re at that point in your life when it’s time to take the hard path … prove you can do the work and jettison those harmful relationships from the past.
I chuckled. Geez! Is that all? I thought it might be something important.
An unusual colored light filtered into the room through a crack in the drapes. I investigated, and though I couldn’t see the setting sun from my east-facing window, I could see its light reflecting off several wispy clouds and painting the face of Superstition Mountain in rosy hues. It glowed as if on fire. How mystical and haunting those rocks looked. The vision was captivating.
Shit! The place is already casting a spell on me.
Are you out there somewhere, Amazons? I know Kim Blair thinks you are and she’s determined to find you. I think I want to help her.
I sighed and turned back toward the bed. Okay. What am I going to do about tomorrow? I have to show up on the project. Crusty’s not going to have the satisfaction of running me off so easily. There are just a couple of problems. I don’t know how to get to the site and I don’t have any transportation.
“Sandy!” I said, snapping my finger. That sweet fellow had given me his phone number. Maybe he’d be willing to help me find the site. I dug around in my purse for the scrap of paper with his number on it and gave him a call. His friendly voice calmed my anxiety and uncertainty.
“Hey, PJ. Whadda ya know? I was just wondering how your dinner went with Doc Blair.”
“It was quite an experience, let me tell you.”
He laughed. “I’m sure. Doc Blair is one amazing woman.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing…Listen, Sandy, I wonder if you could help me out.”
I didn’t have to go into the helpless female act. He was more than willing to pick me up along with two other workers in the newly repaired minivan. “Wait for us in the lobby,” he said.
“What time should I be ready?”
“Five thirty should be about right.”
“Gawd, won’t it still be dark out then?”
“Well, yeah, but we gotta hike a few miles from the trailhead to the campsite. Now that we have the van, we can load it with supplies and carry them in with us. The Jeep couldn’t hold all that much with the guys in it.”
“Great. Well, I’ll see ya bright and early then. Thanks again, Sandy.”
“No problem PJ. Sleep tight.”
I hung up the phone and groaned. I don’t do mornings very well. This just might kill me.
I changed into my faded blue scrub suit. Stretching out on the bed, I contemplated my next move. Tomorrow was going to be a challenge. Would PJ show up at the site? What would I say to her or her father about this? And what would Sandy think? PJ would probably tell him what had happened. How could I have been so judgmental and insensitive? I put on my glasses and opened a half read mystery novel, but soon fell into a fitful sleep.
I was relieved, when I awakened in tears from another one of those strange dreams, to find myself safely inside my motor home. What is going on with me, I wondered? Pup fixed his yellow eyes on mine as if reading my thoughts. “I wish you could talk to me.” I hugged him. “I’m sure in your wisdom, there is an answer for me.”
The motor home did not allow for much pacing, but pace I did, a dozen steps forward to the cockpit, a dozen back to the foot of my bed. When my activity failed to quiet my mind, I went to the bathroom, drank a glass of water, and returned to bed, where I laid awake for the rest of the night.
Chapter Four
Rays of sunshine slanted through the canyon walls of the Superstitions,
bathing patches of rock in yellow and gold. By the time we had trudged from the trailhead to the camp, carrying our load of supplies, Sandy, Mike, Donny and I were old friends.
We paused to catch our breath and observe the other graduate students working at the current grid site. I located Doctor Blair at the center of the activity and felt my stomach flip flop. Why was I so uptight? Kim and a young blonde-haired woman were engaged in animated conversation as they peered down at something in the dirt. The other students huddled around them, listening and gesturing.
“Something wrong, PJ?” Sandy had noticed my hesitation.
I smiled. “I’m getting used to the surroundings. I don’t want to barge in on everybody while Doctor Blair is lecturing.”
“Oh, Doc won’t mind. She’s very informal about things as long as we do our jobs.”
I bit my lower lip. “To be honest with you, I’m not sure she wants me here. We parted on less than friendly terms last night.”
Sandy’s brow wrinkled, but he didn’t ask for details. As we watched Kim and the students, Mike and Donny walked around us with their load of supplies. Sandy shifted his weight and coughed. “Do you want me to go first and smooth the way a bit?”
“No…really. I can do it. Just give me a minute.”
He shrugged and moved forward with the guys.
Kim, in her natural habitat, was the consummate professor. The angry and irritated woman that I saw last night was gone. A contented, relaxed woman, dressed in cargo pants and long-sleeved work shirt, had taken her place. She chatted with her students and smiled often, making her face appear at least a decade younger. I noticed her lean, powerful build. Working long days in the outdoors had overcome a lack of good dietary habits and rewarded her with a fit body. She was taller than I remembered, but then, she’d been seated during most of our ill-fated meal.
