Although she hadn’t really been worried about the other cavers, she was always relieved when she saw them. Being responsible for groups of students varying in age from eighteen to twenty-four, plus some dedicated amateur cavers, was rather like being a parent. It aged her in subtle ways.
The first one out into the hot afternoon sun was Maggie O’Mara, a tall graduate student who had the body of a showgirl and a mind like a steel trap. Above ground, Joy envied the girl her height and stunning curves. Below ground, Maggie frequently and loudly envied Joy’s lithe, petite grace. Maggie should have been an undergraduate, but she had skipped grades when she was younger. As a result, at barely twenty years old, she was a grad student in the university.
Maggie turned off her light, took off her helmet, and shook out chin-length auburn hair that curled wildly from the humid cave air. Her smile flashed in her muddy face.
“Hey, Davy, looking good!” she called, giving him a laughing once-over glance.
Davy paused in the act of pulling mesh underwear over his thick, powerful legs. He leered comically at Maggie’s muddy, clothes-wrapped body. “Better than you, babe.”
“Stick around,” she said, reaching for the mud-plastered zipper. “It’ll get hot.”
The three other cavers behind her called out encouragement that no one took seriously. By the time Maggie stripped to muddy underwear, no one was watching. They were all too tired and dirty and chilled to be eager for anything but a hot shower, hotter coffee, and dry clothes.
Davy gave the redhead a brotherly swat on her rear as she went past him. She swatted him right back, yawned, and turned to Joy.
“I wish you’d been down there,” Maggie said. “For once I was the smallest one in the group, so I had to try that new passage we found on the second level.”
“Did it go?” Joy asked.
As she spoke, excitement suddenly animated her delicate features. She didn’t notice Davy’s quick look or the admiration in his eyes.
Maggie did. It had bothered her when she had first joined the cavers a month ago. Then she realized that a lot of men admired Joy and she treated them all the same, like first cousins or brothers or friends. Even Davy didn’t turn her head, and as far as Maggie was concerned, Davy was an impressive hunk of male—brains and brawn both.
If it wasn’t for Kati, Maggie would have sworn that the beautiful Dr. Anderson didn’t know why God had put men on earth.
“The passage was awful,” Maggie said. “I got stuck and Fish had to jerk me out. I stripped, greased up with mud, and tried it again.” She shrugged. “No luck. I don’t think even you would fit.”
Despite her disappointment, Joy said warmly. “Okay. Thanks for giving it all you had.”
“What I needed was a little less to give,” Maggie said wryly, but she smiled, pleased by Joy’s approval.
Joy looked at the compact, muddy man who was just now coming down the trail. Jim Fisher, or Fish as his friends called him, was an amateur caver and full-time mechanic who arranged his work schedule so that he could give every spare moment to Lost River Cave. Without him Joy would have spent a lot less time underground and a lot more above, waiting for repairmen.
“That old passage was a real pig,” Fish drawled. “By the time I shucked Maggie out of there, I thought she was gonna be mashed down smaller than you. Try it if you like, Dr. Joyce, but I’m telling you, that lead don’t go worth a damn.”
She nodded and turned back to Maggie. “Thanks anyway. I’ll take the next squeeze.”
The girl grinned and slapped the lush line of her hip. “No problem, Dr. Joyce. Keeps me trim. After a month of cave crawling, I’ve never been in better shape.”
That brought a chorus of remarks from the last two cavers, both of whom were male grad students with excellent vision, quick tongues, and only a few days left before they had to leave the cave.
Maggie paid no attention to their comments. She had five older brothers, which meant that male teasing didn’t ruffle her one bit. She added her coveralls and long underwear to the growing pile in the Toyota. When everyone was down to shirts and mesh underwear, or underwear alone, they packed themselves and the rest of their mud-encrusted gear in the Land Cruiser and took off for Cottonwood Wells.
“That poor washing machine is going to have a real workout,” Davy said, pulling on a long-sleeved undershirt.
“That’s what it was built for. Just hope Maggie remembers to hose everything off before she puts it in the machine this time. I’m out of filters until Fish goes into town again.”
Davy grinned. “Yeah, that was some mess, wasn’t it? First time I’ve ever seen Maggie blush.”
Joy gave him a sideways glance and silently hoped that he was finally noticing Maggie in the way she so obviously noticed him. Not that Maggie was embarrassing about her preference. She simply didn’t bother to hide the fact that she thought Davy Graham was one very attractive man.
Just as Joy had once let Gabriel Venture know that she found him exciting. Twenty was such a vulnerable time. You were a woman in the eyes of the world, you were eager to explore that world, and yet you were still a child in the eyes of your parents. Open as a child, fragile as a child . . .
Joy’s fingers tightened around her bootlaces until her knuckles ached. She had to stop thinking about Gabe. She knew all there was to know about love, despair, and Gabriel Venture.
But Lost River Cave remained to be explored.
She settled her helmet in place, checked the lights, and picked up her rucksack and ropes. “Ready?”
“Willing and able.”
As they approached the cave, Joy tried very hard not to remember the many times it had been Gabe by her side, Gabe who had explored beauty with her, Gabe who had tapped the heat and sensuality deep within her, Gabe who had taught her about love.
And betrayal.
Six
JOY SCRAMBLED UP THE LAST STEEP PITCH OF LOST RIVER Cave on her way to the desert night. Part of the uneven ground she stepped carefully over was made up of huge blocks of limestone that had once been the cave ceiling. Part of the ground was a trench through a thick layer of ancient bat guano that had been mined for fertilizer more than a century ago. Part of what she walked on was a slick flowstone deposit that covered both old guano and older limestone boulders. No matter which part of the trail she was on, it required attention and balance.
With muddy fingers she unclipped herself from the rope she’d used to steady herself on the slippery climb up and out of the entrance. Now she was surrounded by a soft, dry wind and the luminous shades of darkness that was desert night. The Milky Way swept overhead like a vast river of diamonds. Other stars sparkled in subtle colors and variations of silver. Like the cave below, the darkness overhead was a miracle of beauty.
Joy switched off her light, removed her helmet awkwardly because she was favoring her left arm, and shook her head. The air was cool, heady, crisp, like a fine white wine. She heard a noise behind her, turned, and saw a patch of light bobbing and glowing out of the cave’s mouth. There was a clear metallic sound as Davy unclipped himself from the rope, then the softer, slurred sounds as he hauled the rope up and wrapped it carefully.
“Ready, Dr. Joyce?” he asked, coming up behind her. He lifted his wrist into the cone of light from his helmet. “We’ll have to hurry to make it back on time.”
“Ready.” She bit back a groan as she pulled off her muddy gloves.
“Want me to drive? You banged up your arm pretty good on that slope.”
She hesitated. “If you don’t mind . . .”
“No problem.” He turned off his helmet light and resettled the heavy, muddy rope with a casual motion of his shoulder.
The thought of that heavy rope dragging on her bruised arm made Joy doubly glad that Davy was along. “Thanks. If I baby the arm tonight, I’ll be able to go caving tomorrow.”
For an instant she wished she had Davy’s abundant strength. Then she admitted it wasn’t her body that was worn out and dragging
, or even her sore arm. It was her mind. She’d been pushing frantically against the knowledge of Gabe’s return, acting like it was a tight passage she could put behind her if she just struggled long and hard enough. But all she’d done was wear herself out.
She rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead, leaving behind a dark streak. Cave mud was so fine that it worked into everything, even gloves and layers of clothing, like the damp chill that seeped into flesh and bone. The thought of the hot bath that was waiting for her made her groan again, this time in pleasure.
“Dr. Joyce?” Davy’s voice was deep and anxious.
“Just thinking of a hot bath.”
“Oh.” He chuckled and stretched until he towered against the starry sky. “Yeah, I know what you mean. No matter how many times I go down in that cave, it still tires me out.”
They piled everything in back of the Jeep, adding another coating of dirt to the vehicle. After the absolute blackness of Lost River Cave, the night around them was alive with light—stars of every intensity, the brilliance of the rising moon, and the warm yellow glow of the headlights.
When they drove into Cottonwood Wells it, too, was alive with golden light. Mantles burned incandescently inside lanterns, sending rich yellow illumination spilling out from the cabins.
Davy parked in back of Joy’s cottage and looked around. “Generator’s down again. There goes your bath, unless the solar unit is enough.”
Joy sighed. “Poor Fish. He swears that second generator we got from the army was old when his great-granddaddy drove a mule team into New Mexico.”
“That’s not all he swears.”
She almost laughed. The mechanic’s creative profanity was a matter of envy among the other cavers.
“If cussing will make it go,” she said, “then Fish—”
The rest of her words were lost beneath the ripping snarl of the generator coming to life. White light flickered, faded, then caught and held, flooding Cottonwood Wells with an electrical sunrise. The sound of the generator went up and down raggedly before settling into a steady noise that was somewhere between a purr and a growl. The sound diminished even more as Fish shut the door to the generator’s shed.
Davy laughed. “Fish must have cussed it something special. Hasn’t sounded that good since I got here two years ago.”
“At least I’ll be able to recharge the headlight batteries,” Joy said. She had a carbide helmet lamp for emergencies, but she preferred the clean electrical headlamps in the virgin cave. “Not to mention keeping your energy-sucking computers going and having a mechanical slave to wash the clothes for us.”
“Amen.” Davy had drawn the short straw on the washboard often enough to dread it.
Together they carried their equipment to Joy’s screened-in back porch, which was half as big as the cabin itself. She flipped on the light and began fighting with the muddy zipper of her coveralls. She had tried using buttoned coveralls, but Gotcha Passage had a way of twisting off even the most carefully shielded buttons.
The zipper didn’t budge.
Joy swore under her breath.
“Stuck?” Davy asked.
“Stuck.”
“Hang on.” His reply was muffled, because he was peeling out of everything but his normal underwear.
She didn’t really notice the brawny, mud-streaked, nearly naked perfection of Davy’s body. The only thing she felt when she looked at him was hope that his strong, blunt fingers would have better success than hers had with the stubborn zipper.
“Let’s have a look,” he said, turning her into the light. He frowned as he bent over the zipper. “Mud.”
Joy’s answer was a cross between a snarl and a laugh. “Davy, you have a gift for—”
“Restating the obvious,” he cut in, finishing the sentence before she could. “Yeah, I know. Comes with being a cartographer, I guess.”
With one huge hand he held the collar of her coveralls. With the other he grasped the small zipper tongue and tugged. His muddy fingers slipped. He tried again. Slipped again. He started talking to the zipper the way Fish talked to the generators.
Neither of them noticed the man walking up through the darkness beneath the cottonwoods toward the cottage.
Seven
SILENTLY GABE WALKED UP TO THE BACK PORCH OF THE cottage a master of cursing called “Fish” had directed him toward. According to what the laconic yet fluently profane mechanic had told Gabe, Dr. Anderson was just coming back from several hours in Lost River Cave, last cabin on the left. That and “Pleasedtameetcha” had been the mechanic’s only comment when Gabe had driven up and spoken to the first person he spotted. It wasn’t that Fish was unfriendly; obviously his whole mind was concentrated on cussing the generator back to life.
It had worked, too.
From the yard all Gabe could see inside the screened porch was the silhouette of a huge, nearly naked man. He assumed that it was Dr. Anderson, director of exploration, Lost River Cave. The bare porch bulb cast a harsh glare over the man, emphasizing his height and powerful build.
Gabe decided that the heavily muscled Dr. Anderson would be an asset to any shot-putting or weight-lifting competition. Young and handsome, too. With a rather cynical smile, Gabe pictured the response of Dr. Anderson’s female students to their muscular professor.
Then Dr. Anderson moved and Gabe saw the outline of a much smaller person still encased in caving gear. Illumination washed over the petite form, revealing short, pale blond hair and delicate features.
Gabe’s body clenched like he’d just taken a kick in his gut. Even as he told himself that it was impossible, that he was hallucinating, It can’t be Joy! he was reaching for the screen door. He let it bang shut behind him and glared at the nearly naked young giant who was tugging unsuccessfully at Joy’s zipper.
“I’ll take care of her,” Gabe said.
It wasn’t an offer. It was a command.
Davy took one look at the man who had appeared out of the night and instinctively backed away from Joy.
Her head snapped up when she heard the voice from her memories. She felt every bit of blood drain from her face as the father of her daughter walked toward her out of the night, his expression dark, unreadable. All she could think was, I was supposed to have a week to get ready before I had to see him. Damn it, it’s not fair. I need that week. I don’t want him to see me like this. Tired, dirty, off balance.
Vulnerable.
Even as the frantic thoughts stabbed at her, Joy all but laughed out loud at herself. Life never turned out the way you expected it to, and certainly life made no promises about being fair along the way. Surely she should have learned that lesson after Gabe’s seduction, her pregnancy, and the helicopter crash that had killed her parents and left her floundering alone in a situation she’d never imagined in her worst nightmares.
She’d survived a lot in the past. She could survive one more unpleasant surprise. She had to. There was no other choice.
No matter what, she had to protect Kati.
Automatically Joy used the survival lessons she’d learned at such great cost in the past. She simply put away the storm of conflicting thoughts/emotions/memories and concentrated on the single instant she lived in. Now. All that mattered was now.
Later she would sort through the tangled mess that passed for her rational, reasoning mind. For now it was enough that she control herself, reveal nothing, and protect her vulnerable core—the ability to love that had barely survived her twentieth year.
Joy turned away from the hands reaching for her, hands she once had kissed in passion and still remembered in her dreams.
“That’s not necessary, Mr. Venture.” She reached for a bottle of liquid soap that she kept over the washing machine. “I can take care of myself.”
Gabe froze. Listening. Staring. The voice was the same one that spoke softly in his memories and whispered through his dreams.
The same, yet different.
Where emotion once had shimmered and
enriched her voice to the point of music, there now was only neutrality and precision.
Her eyes were the same, a luminous gray, haunting in their clarity. Yet her eyes were also different. She had learned to draw veils over their beautiful transparency, shutting out the world.
Shutting out him.
Or perhaps they were shadows rather than veils, a legacy of disappointment and loss.
“Joy.” His voice was soft, urgent.
She stiffened as though someone had slapped her. Gabe was the only one who had ever called her Joy. It had started the first time she’d met him. She’d been laughing at something a caver had said. She was still laughing when she turned at her father’s call and went to meet Gabe.
He’d looked at her for a long moment and said, With that smile, I can’t call you Joyce. Hello, Joy. I’m Gabe Venture.
“My name,” she said distinctly to Gabe, “is Dr. Joyce Anderson.”
Gabe was shocked into silence. When he’d known her, she was Smith-Anderson and not a doctor. Automatically he glanced at her left hand. Even muddy as it was, there was no sign of a wedding band. But then, maybe she didn’t wear rings while she was caving.
Joy turned her back on the light to conceal the tremor of her hand as she squeezed liquid soap onto the zipper.
“Davy, go take the first shower before you get chilled.” The words were like Joy’s voice, careful and very controlled. She tugged experimentally at the zipper’s metal tongue. Nothing gave. “Just be sure there’s enough hot water left for me or the next time you’re stuck in Gotcha I’ll leave you there.”
Hearing the odd tension in Joy’s voice, Davy hesitated.
The zipper came halfway down before the tab slipped from Joy’s soapy fingers.
With the lightning quickness she had almost forgotten, Gabe picked up where she had left off. The zipper opened obediently beneath his dry, steady hand.
She bit back what she wanted to say and spoke quietly. “Thank you.”
This Time Love Page 6
