Treasures Lost, Treasures Found

by Nora Roberts

  Even when he turned back to sea again Ky could see her, leaning back against the stern, absorbing what wind and water offered. In defense, he tried to picture her in a classroom, patiently explaining the intricacies of Don Juan or Henry IV. It didn’t help. He could only imagine her sitting behind him, soaking up sun and wind as if she’d been starved for it.

  Perhaps she had been. Though she didn’t know what direction Ky’s thoughts had taken, Kate realized she’d never been further away from the classroom or the demands she placed on herself there than she was at this moment. She was part teacher, there was no question of that, but she was also, no matter how she’d tried to banish it, part dreamer.

  With the sun and the wind on her skin, she was too exhilarated to be frightened by the knowledge, too content to worry. It was a wild, free sensation to experience again something known, loved, then lost.

  Perhaps…Perhaps it was too much like the one frenzied kiss she’d shared with Ky the night before, but she needed it. It might be a foolish need, even a dangerous one. Just once, only this once, she told herself, she wouldn’t question it.

  Steady, strong, she opened her eyes again. Now she could watch the sun toss its diamonds on the surface of the water. They rippled, enticing, enchanting. The fishing boat Ky had watched move away from the island before them was anchored, casting its nets. A purse seiner, she remembered. Ky had explained the wide, weighted net to her once and how it was often used to haul in menhaden.

  She wondered why he’d never chosen that life, where he could work and live on the water day after day. But not alone, she recalled with a ghost of a smile. Fishermen were their own community, on the sea and off it. It wasn’t often Ky chose to share himself or his time with anyone. There were times, like this one, when she understood that perfectly.

  Whether it was the freedom or the strength that was in her, Kate approached him without nerves. “It’s as beautiful as I remember.”

  He dreaded having her stand beside him again. Now, however, he discovered the tension at the base of his neck had eased. “It doesn’t change much.” Together they watched the gulls swoop around the fishing boat, hoping for easy pickings. “Fishing’s been good this year.”

  “Have you been doing much?”

  “Off and on.”

  “Clamming?”

  He had to smile when he remembered how she’d looked, jeans rolled up to her knees, bare feet full of sand as he’d taught her how to dig. “Yeah.”

  She, too, remembered, but her only memories were of warm days, warm nights. “I’ve often wondered what it’s like on the island in winter.”

  “Quiet.”

  She took the single careless answer with a nod. “I’ve often wondered why you preferred that.”

  He turned to her, measuring. “Have you?”

  Perhaps that had been a mistake. Since it had already been made, Kate shrugged. “It would be foolish of me to say I hadn’t thought of the island or you at all during the last four years. You’ve always made me curious.”

  He laughed. It was so typical of her to put things that way. “Because all your tidy questions weren’t answered. You think too much like a teacher, Kate.”

  “Isn’t life a multiple choice?” she countered. “Maybe two or three answers would fit, but only one’s ultimately right.”

  “No, only one’s ultimately wrong.” He saw her eyes take on that thoughtful, considering expression. She was, he knew, weighing the pros and cons of his statement. Whether she agreed or not, she’d consider all the angles. “You haven’t changed either,” he murmured.

  “I thought the same of you. We’re both wrong. Neither of us have stayed the same. That’s as it should be.” Kate looked away from him, further east, then gave a quick cry of pleasure. “Oh, look!” Without thinking, she put her hand on his arm, slender fingers gripping taut muscle. “Dolphins.”

  She watched them, a dozen, perhaps more, leap and dive in their musical pattern. Pleasure was touched with envy. To move like that, she thought, from water to air and back to water again. It was a freedom that might drive a man mad with the glory of it. But what a madness…

  “Fantastic, isn’t it?” she murmured. “To be part of the air and the sea. I’d nearly forgotten.”

  “How much?” Ky studied her profile until he could have etched the shape of it on the wind. “How much have you nearly forgotten?”

  Kate turned her head, only then realizing just how close they stood. Unconsciously, she’d moved nearer to him when she’d seen the dolphins. Now she could see nothing but his face, inches from hers, feel nothing but the warm skin beneath her hand. His question, the depth of it, seemed to echo off the surface of the water to haunt her.

  She stepped back. The drop before her was very deep and torn with rip tides. “All that was necessary,” she said simply. “I’d like to look over my father’s charts. Did you bring them on board?”

  “Your briefcase is in the cabin.” His hands gripped the wheel tightly, as though he were fighting against a storm. Perhaps he was. “You should be able to find your way below.”

  Without answering, Kate walked around him to the short steep steps that led below decks.

  There were two narrow bunks with the spreads taut enough to bounce a coin if one was dropped. The galley just beyond would have all the essentials, she knew, in small, efficient scale. Everything would be in its place, as tidy as a monk’s cell.

  Kate could remember lying with Ky on one of the pristine bunks, flushed with passion while the boat swayed gently in the current and the music from his radio played jazz.

  She gripped the leather of her case as if the pain in her fingers would help fight off the memories. To fight everything off entirely was too much to expect, but the intensity eased. Carefully she unfolded one of her father’s charts and spread it on the bunk.

  Like everything her father had done, the chart was precise and without frills. Though it had certainly not been his field, Hardesty had drawn a chart any sailor would have trusted.

  It showed the coast of North Caroline, Pamlico Sound and the Outer Banks, from Manteo to Cape Lookout. As well as the lines of latitude and longitude, the chart also had the thin crisscrossing lines that marked depth.

  Seventy-six degrees north by thirty-five degrees east. From the markings, that was the area her father had decided the Liberty had gone down. That was southeast of Ocracoke by no more than a few miles. And the depth…Yes, she decided as she frowned over the chart, the depth would still be considered shallow diving. She and Ky would have the relative freedom of wet suits and tanks rather than the leaded boots and helmets required for deep-sea explorations.

  X marks the spot she thought, a bit giddy, but made herself fold the chart with the same care she’d used to open it. She felt the boat slow then heard the resounding silence when the engines shut off. A fresh tremor of anticipation went through her as she climbed the steps into the sunlight again.

  Ky was already checking the tanks though she knew he would have gone over all the equipment thoroughly before setting out. “We’ll go down here,” he said as he rose from his crouched position. “We’re about half a mile from the last place your father went in last summer.”

  In one easy motion he pulled off his shirt. Kate knew he was self aware, but he’d never been self-conscious. Ky had already stripped down to brief bikini trunks before she turned away for her own gear.

  If her heart was pounding, it was possible to tell herself it was in anticipation of the dive. If her throat was dry, she could almost believe it was nerves at the thought of giving herself to the sea again. His body was hard and brown and lean, but she was only concerned with his skill and his knowledge. And he, she told herself, was only concerned with his fee and his twenty-five percent of the find.

  She wore a snug tank suit under her shorts that clung to subtle curves and revealed long, slender legs that Ky knew were soft as water, strong as a runner’s. He began to pull on the thin rubber wet suit. They were here to look fo
r gold, to find a treasure that had been lost. Some treasures, he knew, could never be recovered.

  As he thought of it, Ky glanced up to see Kate draw the pins from her hair. It fell, soft and slow, over, then past her shoulders. If she’d shot a dart into his chest, she couldn’t have pierced his heart more accurately. Swearing under his breath, Ky lifted the first set of tanks.

  “We’ll go down for an hour today.”

  “But—”

  “An hour’s more than enough,” he interrupted without sparing her a glance. “You haven’t worn tanks in four years.”

  Kate slipped into the set he offered her, securing the straps until they were snug, but not tight. “I didn’t tell you that.”

  “No, but you’d sure as hell have told me if you had.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted when she remained silent. After attaching his own tanks, Ky climbed over the side onto the ladder. She could either argue, he figured, or she could follow.

  To clear his mask, he spat into it, rubbed, then reached down to rinse it in salt water. Pulling it over his eyes and nose, Ky dropped into the sea. It took less than ten seconds before Kate plunged into the water beside him. He paused a moment, to make certain she didn’t flounder or forget to breathe, then he headed for greater depth.

  No, she wouldn’t forget to breathe, but the first breath was almost a sigh as her body submerged. It was as thrilling to her as it had been the first time, this incredible ability to stay beneath the ocean’s surface and breathe air.

  Kate looked up to see the sun spearing through the water, and held out a hand to watch the watery light play on her skin. She could have stayed there, she realized, just reveling in it. But with a curl of her body and a kick, she followed Ky into depth and dimness.

  Ky saw a school of menhaden and wondered if they’d end up in the net of the fishing boat he’d watched that morning. When the fish swerved in a mass and rushed past him, he turned to Kate again. She’d been right when she’d told him she knew what to do. She swam as cleanly and as competently as ever.

  He expected her to ask him how he intended to look for the Liberty, what plan he’d outlined. When she hadn’t, Ky had figured it was for one of two reasons. Either she didn’t want to have any in-depth conversation with him at the moment, or she’d already reasoned it out for herself. It seemed more likely to be the latter, as her mind was also as clean and competent as ever.

  The most logical method of searching seemed to be a semi-circular route around Hardesty’s previous dives. Slowly and methodically, they would widen the circle. If Hardesty had been right, they’d find the Liberty eventually. If he’d been wrong…they’d have spent the summer treasure hunting.

  Though the tanks on her back reminded Kate not to take the weightless freedom for granted, she thought she could stay down forever. She wanted to touch—the water, the sea grass, the soft, sandy bottom. Reaching out toward a school of bluefish she watched them scatter defensively then regroup. She knew there were times when, as a diver moved through the dim, liquid world, he could forget the need for the sun. Perhaps Ky had been right in limiting the dive. She had to be careful not to take what she found again for granted.

  The flattened disklike shape caught Ky’s attention. Automatically, he reached for Kate’s arm to stop her forward progress. The stingray that scuttled along the bottom looking for tasty crustaceans might be amusing to watch, but it was deadly. He gauged this one to be as long as he was tall with a tail as sharp and cruel as a razor. They’d give it a wide berth.

  Seeing the ray reminded Kate that the sea wasn’t all beauty and dreams. It was also pain and death. Even as she watched, the stingray struck out with its whiplike tail and caught a small, hapless bluefish. Once, then twice. It was nature, it was life. But she turned away. Through the protective masks, her eyes met Ky’s.

  She expected to see derision for an obvious weakness, or worse, amusement. She saw neither. His eyes were gentle, as they were very rarely. Lifting a hand, he ran his knuckles down her cheek, as he’d done years before when he’d chosen to offer comfort or affection. She felt the warmth, it reflected in her eyes. Then, as quickly as the moment had come, it was over. Turning, Ky swam away, gesturing for her to follow.

  He couldn’t afford to be distracted by those glimpses of vulnerability, those flashes of sweetness. They had already done him in once. Top priority was the job they’d set out to do. Whatever other plans he had, Ky intended to be in full control. When the time was right, he’d have his fill of Kate. That he promised himself. He’d take exactly what he felt she owed him. But she wouldn’t touch his emotions again. When he took her to bed, it would be with cold calculation.

  That was something else he promised himself.

  Though they found no sign of the Liberty, Kysaw wreckage from other ships—pieces of metal, rusted, covered with barnacles. They might have been from a sub or a battleship from World War II. The sea absorbed what remained in her.

  He was tempted to swim further out, but knew it would take twenty minutes to return to the boat. Circling around, he headed back, overlapping, double-checking the area they’d just covered.

  Not quite a needle in a haystack, Ky mused, but close. Two centuries of storms and currents and sea quakes. Even if they had the exact location where the Liberty had sunk, rather than the last known location, it took calculation and guesswork, then luck to narrow the field down to a radius of twenty miles.

  Ky believed in luck much the same way he imagined Hardesty had believed in calculation. Perhaps with a mixture of the two, he and Kate would find what was left of the Liberty.

  Glancing over, he watched Kate gliding beside him. She was looking everywhere at once, but Ky didn’t think her mind was on treasure or sunken ships. She was, as she’d been that summer before, completely enchanted with the sea and the life it held. He wondered if she still remembered all the information she’d demanded of him before the first dive. What about the physiological adjustments to the body? How was the CO2 absorbed? What about the change in external pressure?

  Ky felt a flash of humor as they started to ascend. He was dead sure Kate remembered every answer he’d given her, right down to the decimal point in pounds of pressure per square inch.

  The sun caught her as she rose toward the surface, slowly. It shone around and through her hair, giving her an ethereal appearance as she swam straight up, legs kicking gently, face tilted toward sun and surface. If there were mermaids, Ky knew they’d look as she did—slim, long, with pale loose hair free in the water. A man could only hold onto a mermaid if he accepted the world she lived in as his own. Reaching out, he caught the tip of her hair in his fingers just before they broke the surface together.

  Kate came up laughing, letting her mouthpiece fall and pushing her mask up. “Oh, it’s wonderful! Just as I remembered.” Treading water, she laughed again and Ky realized it was a sound he hadn’t heard in four years. But he remembered it exactly.

  “You looked like you wanted to play more than you wanted to look for sunken ships.” He grinned at her, enjoying her pleasure and the ease of a smile he’d never expected to see again.

  “I did.” Almost reluctant, she reached out for the ladder to climb on board. “I never expected to find anything the first time down, and it was so wonderful just to dive again.” She stripped off her tanks then checked the valves herself before she set them down. “Whenever I go down I begin to believe I don’t need the sun anymore. Then when I come up it’s warmer and brighter than I remember.”

  With the adrenaline still flowing, she peeled off her flippers, then her mask, to stand, face lifted toward the sun.

  “There’s nothing else exactly like it.”

  “Skin diving.” Ky tugged down the zipper of his wet suit. “I tried some in Tahiti last year. It’s incredible being in that clear water with no equipment but a mask and flippers, and your own lungs.”

  “Tahiti?” Surprised and interested, Kate looked back as Ky stripped off the wet suit. “You went ther
e?”

  “Couple of weeks late last year.” He dropped the wet suit in the big plastic can he used for storing equipment before rinsing.

  “Because of your affection for islands?”

  “And grass skirts.”

  The laughter bubbled out again. “I’m sure you’d look great in one.”

  He’d forgotten just how quick she could be when she relaxed. Because the gesture appealed, Ky reached over and gave her hair a quick tug. “I wish I’d taken snapshots.” Turning, he jogged down the steps into the cabin.

  “Too busy ogling the natives to put them on film for posterity?” Kate called out as she dropped down on the narrow bench on the starboard side.

  “Something like that. And of course trying to pretend I didn’t notice the natives ogling me.”

  She grinned. “People in grass skirts,” she began then let out a muffled shout as he tossed a peach in her direction. Catching it cleanly, Kate smiled at him before she bit into the fruit.

  “Still have good reflexes,” Ky commented as he came up the last step.

  “Especially when I’m hungry.” She touched her tongue to her palm where juice dribbled. “I couldn’t eat this morning, I was too keyed up.”

  He held out one of two bottles of cold soda he’d taken from the refrigerator. “About the dive?”

  “That and…” Kate broke off, surprised that she was talking to him as if it had been four years before.

  “And?” Ky prompted. Though his tone was casual, his gaze had sharpened.

  Aware of it, Kate rose, turning away to look back over the stern. She saw nothing there but sky and water. “It was the morning,” she murmured. “The way the sun came up over the water. All that color.” She shook her head and water dripped from the ends of her hair onto the deck. “I haven’t watched a sunrise in a very long time.”

  Making himself relax again, Ky leaned back, biting into his own peach as he watched her. “Why?”