by Sandra Hill
“Yeah?” He smiled at her, and the hand resting on the back of her chair caressed her bare shoulder.
He was clean-shaven and must have had a haircut today, though his hair had been short to begin with. There was the faint scent of some woodsy aftershave the barber must have used. Nice, not overpowering. He wore a white golf shirt with the logo “Coronado Country Club,” tucked into the narrow waistband of crease-pleated khakis. On his feet were loafers minus socks.
They had both been like teenagers readying themselves for a big date, Claire realized. She liked the fact that he had made an attempt to please her with his appearance, and she suspected he felt the same way about her.
“Maybe we better head back if we’re to make the first shift at the cavern,” she suggested. “We can stop by my house for a change of clothes.”
Caleb shook his head. “Famosa took the first shift, and LeDeux will take over around two o’clock when he gets back from a date. We can take the full shift tomorrow night.”
“Does that mean I’m going to get a chance to test this kiss-proof lipstick?”
“Kiss-proof, huh? You should never issue a challenge to a Navy SEAL, baby. Not even a former Navy SEAL. We take our challenges seriously.” He grinned at her.
She grinned back at him. “I can only hope.”
Later, Claire decided that she should write a letter of complaint to the manufacturer, or maybe not. The lipstick hadn’t even lasted the ten-mile drive back to her cabin. But it was hard to think about complaints when an interested man was standing before her, as naked and beautiful as that statue of David, wearing nothing but a barbed-wire tattoo on his upper arm. And did she mention interested?
Even later than that, Caleb left the bed and came back with an artist’s brush that must have come from her desk, and a plastic Tupperware-style container.
“What is that?”
“Church spread. It’s a ungodly mix of syrup, marshmallow, and peanut butter.”
“Does it taste good?”
“Heavenly.”
“It’s awfully thick.”
With a wicked gleam in his eyes, he left, and she could hear the microwave turn on and zap the container for a few seconds. When he came back, he said, “Now I get to connect the dots . . . uh, freckles.”
“You’re going to paint my body with something from church.”
“It’s from my mother, not the church.”
“Oh, that makes it better.”
“You’ll like it. Believe me. But man oh man, I don’t have any freckles, so I guess you won’t be able to reciprocate.” He batted his eyelashes at her.
“Tsk-tsk-tsk! You should never issue a challenge to . . .” She repeated his words back at him—“. . . a redheaded PhD who’s a little bit crazy.”
He tilted his head to the side in question, more than interested now.
“I could play tic-tac-toe . . . on your belly. Or I could paint barber-pole stripes if I could only find a pole. Or I could . . .”
Chapter 13
We are fam-i-ly . . . sort of . . .
Caleb was standing in Jonas’s back yard, Noah riding on his shoulders, Fanny clutching his knees, and Sarah tugging on his hand to come see her pet goat. Meanwhile, his ear was pressed to his cell phone as he tried to carry on a conversation with his boss.
“Are you sure you don’t need me to come back there?” Ronnie asked.
“No, you’ve got plenty to do there, and everything is under control here now. No more vandalism. All the equipment back in place. We expect to dive tomorrow, if all goes well.” He made a motion to Sarah to hold on till he was off the phone. And he removed Noah’s forefinger from inside one of his nostrils.
“I know you, Caleb. You’re probably blaming yourself for the trouble.”
“Of course I am. The Amish wouldn’t have been drawn into this if it weren’t for me. Ouch!”
“What’s wrong?”
“My niece is trying to crawl up my leg, and she grabbed the wrong leg for leverage.”
Ronnie laughed.
“Did I tell you the area newspapers picked up on the police report and have been hovering here, waiting for some momentous treasure discovery?”
“That’s more of a problem than the vandalism, I would think.”
“Yep, but I’ve appeased them by promising an exclusive story if they stay off the property for now.”
“And that worked?”
“So far.”
“Listen, we’ve recovered a few of the stolen statues we were searching for. Once we find the rest, I can be back there to help.”
“Well, don’t rush. Your help is welcome, of course, but I can handle it myself.”
“I have every confidence in you, Caleb. Maybe Jake and I will make it back by the time Tante Lulu holds her big party a week from Saturday.”
Caleb groaned. “That woman is going to be the death of me yet.”
“By the way, Jake and I might have an announcement to make at that party.”
“You’re getting married again,” he guessed.
“Nope. Well, I’m not ruling it out ever, but it’s something else. Anyhow, I have a call on the other line. Call me tomorrow after the dive.”
“Am I the woman who’s going to be the death of you?” Claire asked, coming up beside him and peeling Fanny off his thigh. Together the four of them walked toward the shed where the goat was penned.
“No, Tante Lulu.”
Claire was in total agreement. Tante Lulu had been bugging her about monograms on pillowcases this morning.
A silver Corvette pulled into the lane beside the house, and all three kids scampered off. It was the nurse, Laura Jones, who always brought something interesting for the kids. Smart lady!
Jonas came out of one of his greenhouses then, walked over to them, and did a double take as he noticed that Laura had arrived.
“Ach, what am I going to do with that woman?” he asked Caleb.
“You need to ask?”
Claire laughed and walked away to introduce herself to Laura.
“You know what I mean. Nothing I say discourages her.”
“She’s got the hots for you, all right.”
Jonas put his face in his hands for a second, then confided, “She touched me last night.”
“Huh?”
“First she kissed me; then she touched my . . . uh, privates.”
Caleb bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud. “Didn’t anyone ever touch you there before?”
“Of course Mary did, but we was married.”
“So, you don’t believe in premarital . . . touching?”
“Stop making fun, Caleb. This is serious. Jah, touching would be okay if we was gonna get married.”
“And you’re not?”
“Caleb! I’m Plain.”
“And she’s not.”
They both glanced toward the house, where Claire and Laura were talking animatedly as they set a picnic table on the back patio. Laura wore cutoff jeans, a tight blue T-shirt, and sandals. Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail. Big gold hoops dangled from her ears. Even from this distance he could see her red lipstick. Definitely not Plain.
“Suppose she suddenly showed up here one day dressed Plain. Would you feel differently?”
Jonas’s jaw dropped as he imagined that prospect. “Maybe.”
“You like her,” Caleb accused.
“Jah, I do, but I’m not used ta a woman makin’ the moves.”
“Take a little brotherly advice?” he asked.
Tentatively, Jonas nodded.
“A woman making the moves is not a bad thing. It can be very, very good.”
“You’re not helping at all.” Jonas sighed deeply and began to walk toward the house. You would have thought he was a prisoner going to his execution.
Caleb stood there smiling. Watching Jonas talk to Laura. Watching the kids giggle with Claire, who appeared to be teaching them to dance to music from a tape player that Lizzie had just brought
from the house.
Caleb realized in that instant that he was happy. Just to be alive. Just to be here. Just to be with his newfound family.
Just to be with Claire.
It was the pits . . .
Caleb and Famosa dropped down slowly into the still water of the pit. This would be a bounce dive first time out, quick in and out, just to get the measure of things.
“Take it slow,” he said into the mike inside his breathing mask. “Whatever we do, we can’t stir that silt at the bottom or we’ll be here forever.”
“Got it. Man, it’s dark in here.”
Caleb agreed. They both had a lot of experience diving, but mostly in the ocean or clear fresh waters. Here, now that they were beyond the range of the lighting cables at the top, they could see only as far as their headlamps and flashlights shone, which wasn’t far. It was an eerie, otherworldly scene. Totally silent. Totally black.
Finally, just before they reached the bottom, he and Famosa grabbed on to the sides, attempting to keep their feet from sinking into the bottom, not just because of the mud they might stir, but because there could be stalagmites sticking up. These could cause physical harm, even sever air hoses. “I’ll go left, you go right. Scope things out,” he suggested.
“Gotcha.”
First, Caleb dropped a weighted measuring string into the silt. Damn! There was six feet of mud at the bottom and nothing resembling treasure sticking out that he could see. Unless they got lucky on a first try scouring the bottom, it would be almost impossible to find the pearls, or anything else down there. Even so, he worked himself around the circular walls of the room, soon meeting up with Famosa.
The Cuban motioned for him to follow. He went about fifteen feet before stopping and making hand signals.
Caleb put his hand where Famosa indicated and felt the current coming through a slight crack. He nodded his understanding, and without further instruction, they both retraced their movements around the circular pit, seeking a place where water might be escaping. Because sure as hell, if water was coming in, it had to be going out. Otherwise, this pit would be overflowing into the room on the other side of the hole. It took them more than a half hour and almost all the air in their tanks before they found what they were searching for. The crack was wider than the other side. Shining a light inside the crack, it opened wider and wider, like a funnel. It was hard to tell for sure—what they needed was a snake light—but there might be another chamber on the other side, which could be really exciting.
They had decisions to make about how to proceed.
He gave the signal, and both he and Famosa began to rise to the top. When they got there, everyone was full of questions, but he waved them off, telling them they would meet in fifteen minutes in the library, where they could use the survey maps to discuss what they’d seen.
While he stood in the twilight zone near the entrance, taking off his diving gear, he kept an eye out for Sparky. If that snake wasn’t careful, it was going to be living at the bottom of the black lagoon.
“Hey, Claire,” he yelled.
She had been going back to the house with the rest of the gang. Turning, she raised her brows at him.
“C’mere a minute.”
Her brows went even higher, this time in a “You’ve got to be kidding” manner. She probably thought he wanted a quickie, considering the way they’d been going at each other like jackrabbits the past few days. If only! Or her hackles were on red alert because he’d crooked his finger at her, bringing them back to square one of that “beg” challenge he’d issued to her in the beginning. It was amazing the things a guy said that came back to bite him in the butt. Oh, well. “Please.”
She waited for him to catch up with her, of course.
“I was wondering,” he started, hating what he was about to ask, “could you call that semi-fiancé of yours?”
Saints above! . . .
Tante Lulu sat in a corner chair of the library, sipping a cup of thick Cajun coffee, watching the drama unfold in front of her. Things were going just the way she liked.
“I don’t understand exactly how you could pump water from the one pit into another,” Claire remarked as she studied the rough sketches Caleb and Adam had made after their dive this morning.
“Chamber, honey. Chamber,” Caleb corrected her with a squeeze of her shoulder.
Honey, huh? The two of them probably didn’t even realize how they addressed each other. Or how they managed to touch each other in passing. And when they looked at each other, whoo-ee, the thunderbolt was a-sizzlin’. Reminded her of her nephews and her niece when they was just about to wave the white flag of surrender.
Tante Lulu only hoped that they would get together before she had to head back to Louisiana. An old Cajun lady like herself could stay away from the bayou for only so long before the yearnin’ came over her for swamp sounds. Besides, her fam’ly needed her. They allus did.
Tee-John glanced her way, saw the direction of her stare, and pumped an arm in the air with a triumphant “Yes!,” attributing the progress between Caleb and Claire to her good work. But she knew better. St. Jude did all the hard work.
And by the way, Jude, what’s up with Mark and Lily? They’s farther apart than ever.
She thought she heard the familiar voice in her head say, Give me time. I can only handle one hopeless case at a time.
I’m gettin’ old. I don’t have that much time.
And the voice replied, You think you’re old! Hah!
Oh, and don’t forget about Jonas. He needs a woman fer those precious chillun of his.
I’m workin’ on it, I’m workin’ on it. Even God wasn’t so impatient when He took one of Adam’s ribs.
Just then a new man walked into the library.
“Del!” Claire walked up to the guy, who was about forty and bald, but in a sexy-bald kind of way. He was short but built like a brick outhouse, as they used to say in the old days. “I’m so glad you could come.” Then Claire gave Del, who must be the geologist, a big hug.
Del squeezed Claire in return and said, “Hey, babe.”
Which caused Caleb’s face to slam-dunk into his Navy SEAL special forces I’m-gonna-kill-ya-if-ya-touch-my-woman type of expression. He did everything but growl.
“Everyone, I want you to meet my good friend Delbert Finley.”
He smiled and said, “Just call me Del.”
Claire linked her arm with the newcomer and introduced each of the others in the room, including her.
And yep, that was a growl she heard from Caleb now. He looked as if he’d swallowed a gallon of pea soup.
A sudden thought came to Tante Lulu, and she slapped her leg with glee. “Jude, ya did it again.”
And then arrived the green-eyed monster . . .
Caleb took an instant dislike to Delbert “Just call me Del” Finley.
He was short for a man, about five-eight, and probably on steroids, or else he pumped iron for a living. Okay, he probably got a lot of upper-body exercise, working with rocks and stuff, which required mountain climbing, he supposed. He acted as if the rest of them were dimwits as he explained, slow as molasses, the rock formations of the cavern and what they would have to do to pump the mud and silt out of the chamber. Mostly Caleb didn’t like the way the jerk watched Claire. Good friend, my ass!
Caleb walked around the library table, edged LeDeux aside with his hip, and stood next to Claire, looping an arm over her shoulder. “So, give us the short stack, Finley. Where do we get the pump? How heavy is it? Do we need special equipment to lower the pump to the bottom? Will its operation be affected by a crapload of mud?”
Del stared pointedly at Caleb’s arm. Claire stared pointedly at his arm, too, but at least she left it there. It would have been a bit embarrassing—okay, mortifying—if she’d removed it with disdain.
“I’ll have to go down with you to better assess the situation,” Del said.
“Are you certified for cave diving?” Caleb asked.
&nbs
p; “Of course,” he replied, as if that went without saying.
“Do you have a wet suit and breathing gear with you?”
“Of course,” he said again.
Of course, Caleb mimicked in his head. You pompous little shit, you! You and Boner oughta get along great. He heard a chuckle on his other side.
It was LeDeux. At first he thought he might have spoken aloud, but then, exchanging a glance with LeDeux, as well as Mark and Famosa, he realized they shared his view of the little shit new guy.
Two hours later, though, he had to concede that Finley knew what he was doing both above ground and underwater in a cavern. He dove well, he took all the safety precautions, he knew precisely where to go to find the ingress and egress cracks just from having studied their rough sketches, and he pointed out several places where the tips of stalagmites could be seen sticking out of the mud, something he and Famosa had missed first time around.
Caleb still didn’t like him, though.
They were both breathing hard when they stood in the relatively bright twilight zone of the cavern entrance a short time later, removing their gear.
“Thanks, Baldy,” he said.
“No problem, Rambo,” Finley replied.
“I appreciate your help, but stay away from Claire.” Where did that brain blip come from?
“I beg your pardon. I didn’t see your name tattooed on her forehead.”
“It’s on her butt.” Could I be any more crude—or delusional?
“Are you engaged?”
“Hell, no!” Well, I asked for that.
“Then back off, bozo. The field is wide open.”
Caleb had no chance to challenge that statement, because the rest of the gang came up and surrounded them. He did wonder at his pathetic possessiveness over a woman he barely knew and would probably/hopefully soon forget.
“I can rent a pump for you today, delivered tomorrow,” Finley said, thankfully recognizing the need for a change of subject in front of Claire and the rest of the team. “We’ll need to rig a harness and use a winch to lower it slowly to the bottom. Then we’ll thread tubing through that crack to the other chamber.”
“There’s definitely another chamber?” Famosa asked.
Finley nodded.
