by K C West
“You know, Doc, I didn’t provoke it … her coming on to me—”
“I know you didn’t, so don’t worry about it. If it hadn’t been you, it would’ve been someone else. That seems to be PJ’s way and it’s going to get her in deep trouble one of these days.”
“Yeah, I know, but she’s so beautiful.”
“Just remember, Sandy, that the most beautiful of Nature’s creatures are sometimes the most deadly.”
“I got it, Doc. And hey, I’ll call you if anything comes up.”
“Good enough.”
As soon as I got back to the motor home, I tried to reach Fritz Green, but was told that he was out and could not be reached. I picked up the phone to call Frederick Curtis, but changed my mind. PJ could explain to him why she was no longer part of my team.
I spent the rest of the day catching up on paper work. So much had been shoved aside in order to take care of more urgent matters.
When I arrived at the site the following morning, PJ wasn’t there. I called her later on the cell phone and told her to return to the site the next morning, that she wasn’t off the job yet.
Chapter Seven
I was in the motor home that evening, having just finished a microwavable frozen dinner when the phone rang. It was Sandy. “Hey, Doc, we’ve got trouble.”
“What now?”
“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Stephen what’s-his-face was being interviewed on the six o’clock news. He talked about not wanting his fiancee involved with this project, that it was some off the wall operation led by some kooky Amazon wannabe.”
I sat with the telephone to my ear. The anger started with a sickening ache in my stomach. It spread outward and upward until I felt its heat in my cheeks and I became momentarily dizzy, consumed by the fight or flight syndrome. Flight was out so I needed to fight, to strike out, but for the moment, all I could do was seethe.
“Doc, you okay?”
“Yes, Sandy, I’m here, but I’m not okay.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
“No. I need to be alone to think.”
When Sandy hung up, I threw the telephone into the corner. “Damn you, PJ.”
Pup whined and backed away. “It’s okay, fella. I’m not mad with you.” I dropped to the floor beside him. “We’re still together, but it looks as though our life’s work just hit the manure pile.”
I pushed the remote button to turn on the motel television with the telephone still to my ear, its cord stretched to the limit. Damn it! Why can’t motels have cordless phones? I guess people would only steal them.
“Oh m’gawd, Sandy, it’s Stephen. Why is he talking to Fritz Green?”
“You tell me.”
I listened as my fiance belittled the project and Kim, making her sound like a raving lunatic. “Oh Sandy, how can he say those things about her?”
“I figured you’d know what he’s up to.”
“Believe me, I have no idea. Poor Kim … she doesn’t deserve all this.”
“Doc’s not too happy.”
“She has seen this interview?”
“Yeah, I called her before I called you.”
“Oh, Gawd. Thank you for warning me, Sandy. And listen, about what happened between us—”
“PJ, we have more serious problems right now.”
“I know we do, but I really need to talk to you.”
“Okay, we’ll find a time. Listen I gotta go, but I had Mike bring the minivan to the inn. The keys are at the front desk. You’ll need wheels to come back to work.”
“How do you know I’m still on the payroll? Oh right. You talked to Kim. Was she really angry?”
“More quiet than angry.”
“That’s it then. I’m history. She’ll never want my sorry butt on site now.”
“PJ, don’t assume anything about Doctor Blair. I’ve learned from experience that she demands a lot, but she’s fair. As long as you work up to your professional potential, she’s very forgiving.”
“Thanks, I think.”
I paced the room. What kind of a woman are you, Curtis? Crying on the shoulder of a student. You’re supposed to be Kim’s assistant for gawd’s sake. Act like it.
The telephone rang.
“Doctor Curtis.” Her tone was cool, professional.
“Doctor Blair, I uh…”
“I need to see you at my place at once. Can you find your way out here?”
“Well, it was dark and I wasn’t exactly … I think …”
“But you’re sober now.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll be there.”
Pup growled when I tapped on Kim’s door.
C’mon ya monstrous beast…tear through that screen and sink your teeth into my neck. Put me out of my misery.
Kim silenced him with a word and let me in.
My boss wore a black tee shirt and khaki cargo pants. Her damp hair released a faint scent of herbal shampoo. I remembered it from my recent shower … mango something or other. Images of violent retching and painful headaches flashed through my mind, filling me with despair. I searched Kim’s face for a clue to her inner thoughts, but her expression was unfathomable. Creases still etched the corners of her dark eyes, but her lips and jaw were rigid with a composure that seemed unnatural. It made a chill skip along my spine. I remembered wondering how it would feel to have those dark eyes boring into my soul. Now I was about to find out.
Oh, Gawd … I do not want to be here.
“Tea?” She asked as I settled on the edge of the sofa.
“Uh…okay, thanks.” Well, at least she’s acting civilized toward me.
She drew two mugs from the cupboard, then turned her back to put fresh water into the kettle and heat it on the stove.
Take a deep breath. Stay calm. Get those nerves under control. Your voice will be strong … you will not panic.
I found my mind wandering, disconnecting from the fact that I was here to be chewed out, and focused on Kim’s movement within the confines of her kitchenette. In preparing the tea, she wasted no energy, took no unnecessary steps or turns. The whole task resembled a graceful, flowing dance, one that emphasized her long legs and powerful shoulders and arms. I watched her hands as she poured boiling water into a teapot, added tea bags, selected sugar, milk and spoons, and put everything on a tray with the mugs.
Why hadn’t I ever noticed how expressive her hands were? So tanned, and strong, devoid of jewelry, with tapered fingers that ended in short, neatly trimmed, unpolished nails. I remembered our first handshake. She had a firm, calloused grip from working long hours at countless dig sites in pursuit of her lifelong obsession.
Now, thanks to you, she’d been labeled a fraud, a pseudo-archaeologist in front of a vast audience of television viewers.
A lump formed in my throat. My eyes filled with tears.
Oh, Gawd. You will not cry in front of her.
Kim gave me a brief glance as she handed me a mug of Earl Grey. “Two sugars and a splash of milk. I believe I got that right.”
“Yes, thank you,” I whispered.
“Now then.” Kim took a sip and I followed suit, almost choking.
For the love of God, will you yell at me. Rant. Rave. Scream. Curse me. I deserve all that and more.
She just sat and sipped her tea, thinking, her eyes revealing a quiet resignation.
“You’ve seen the interview.” Her comment was more statement than question.
I cleared my throat. “Yes.”
“And it was your fiance?”
I stared at the floor. “Yes.”
“When was the last time you spoke with him?”
“The day I arrived … No … I called him the day after that. So it would have been early September. I had no idea he felt so-“
“Did you and he talk about the project on that occasion?”
“Well.” I searched my brain. “I think I might have told him … on the flight to Phoenix … about looking for Amazons.” Kim made a no
ise in her throat, almost a groan. “But I told him it was Top Secret…” My voice wavered.
Curtis, that has got to be the lamest excuse you have ever used. You’re an asshole! Tears trickled down my cheeks and I sniffed into my mug. Shit, that’s perfect. Now you’re a blubbering asshole.
“So he chose to discuss my project with the media?”
I kept my eyes focused on my tea. “Apparently.”
She sighed. Seconds passed in slow, deliberate motion. “Do you love him, PJ?”
“What?” I stared at her, confused.
She shrugged and returned the tray to the kitchenette, keeping her back to me. “I was curious to know how someone who cares about you and, I assume, you care about, could do something like this.”
“I honestly don’t know how to answer that.”
She looked back at me. “You don’t know if you love him?”
“I thought I did, once. My father wanted me to … that is, he and Stephen wanted me …”
I shook my head and drank the last of my tea. “Doctor Blair … Kim … I am so terribly sorry. I would do anything to change my part in all of this. I know it’s compromised the secrecy of the project. I know what was said in the interview hurt you deeply.”
Kim returned to the seat facing me. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment and stared at me, deliberating. Then her eyes seemed to refocus at a point somewhere over my left shoulder. Her head nodded once. “You know, I think we need to dig a test trench closer to the canyon wall.”
“The canyon wall? We? After all I’ve done, you still want me involved?”
“Your professional credentials are impeccable, PJ. It’s your personal behavior that needs attention.”
I gave a shaky laugh. “That’s an understatement.”
She picked up the cordless phone and handed it to me. I noticed a scratch on one edge and a chip missing from the end with the mouthpiece.
“You can start your behavior modification right now.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re going to call your father … and tell him the whole story.”
“No, Kim … I can’t… Please don’t make—”
“I believe you just said that you would do anything to change your part in all of this.”
“But …” I sniffed and swiped at my eyes. “I’d sooner run naked through a field of Jumping Cholla.”
“Ouch!” A ghost of a smile flickered across her face. Brown eyes glinted, held my gaze, and made a connection. In that moment, I realized Kim had made a decision about my future worthiness. Maybe she had been in my shoes at some point in her life. Maybe something in my demeanor had triggered a sympathetic response. I don’t know … it didn’t matter. She had found a reason to believe I was capable in spite of myself. Sandy had been right … Doc Blair was a fair person, treating me better than I ever deserved.
We would start fresh.
But first, I had to make a phone call.
When I finally reached Father, he was already in Arizona, somewhere on the road between Phoenix and Apache Junction. I should not have been surprised. Frederick Lane Curtis prided himself on searching out problems before they could escalate and destroying them. Once again, I appeared to be the problem. He told us he wanted to meet and plan strategy. Kim accepted this news better than I, but then, she was the brave one.
I handed the phone back to Kim and pointed to the damaged parts. “What happened here?”
She winked. “Oh, a little behavior modification of my own.”
Chapter Eight
Pup growled when the black Mercedes pulled up next to my motor home. I put him in the bedroom. “Stay.” I patted his muscular shoulders and closed the door.
I was back at the window in time to see the uniformed chauffeur jump out and open the car’s rear door and stand at attention as Frederick Curtis stepped out. Where’s the red carpet? I thought, wondering if Frederick Curtis ever drove himself anywhere.
PJ’s father was a rather handsome, sixty something, with thick, white wavy hair. His complexion was that of a man who spent much of his time in the Board Room. Although thick of stature, he was not fat and his expensive, lightweight suit showed him to be in fine shape for his years.
I stood aside while he greeted his daughter. “I hope you are well,” he said, in a manner that was rather formal, I thought. A mild level of tension resonated between them. It was my understanding, albeit through hearsay, that they had been estranged since the death of PJ’s mother. I couldn’t make any judgments without knowing both sides of the story.
“Yes, Father, thank you.”
“Doctor Blair.” He shook my hand with the same amount of familiarity he had shown his daughter.
I offered tea. PJ nodded, but he declined. For a moment, I thought I detected disappointment in her expression. She sighed and sat down on the far end of the sofa.
“Well, I’m going to make some for PJ and me, so if you change your mind—”
He pulled a PDA from his attache case and tapped in some data. “We need to get down to business.”
“Quite so.” I put down the kettle, directed him to the other end of the sofa, and cleared the swiveled passenger seat of books and papers to make room for me to sit.
“We have a problem,” Curtis said, looking first at me, then at PJ.
I nodded. “One we need to get a handle on right away.”
“Father, it’s my fault. If I hadn’t—”
I silenced PJ with a stern look. “As near as I can tell,” I said, crossing my leg, ankle over knee, “Stephen Cresswell has a problem with me and this project.”
“But if I hadn’t—”
Again, I interrupted PJ. “You had nothing whatsoever to do with what Cresswell told Fritz Green.”
Curtis looked at me, frowning. “Stephen Cresswell is my daughter’s fiance. She has to be involved.”
His way of speaking as if PJ wasn’t present irritated me. In fact, I was annoyed by his whole attitude toward his daughter. Was it possible that her rebellious lifestyle was fed by his rejection, or did his rejection stem from her behavior over the years? Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Curtis had always been fair in business dealings with me, but right now, I tended to sympathize with PJ and make allowances for her rebellious nature, though I dare not show it.
“If you remember,” I directed my remarks to Curtis, “Green was the reporter who caused us so much trouble when I first arrived. His methods are those of a tabloid predator and I can’t imagine what he and Cresswell have in common.”
Curtis turned to PJ. “Have you and Stephen had a falling out?”
“No, Father, I haven’t spoken to him in a while. I thought he was still in South America.” She glanced at me, perhaps wondering if I would interrupt again. I kept still. This was treacherous ground. I depended on Frederick Curtis for funding, but his daughter was my assistant … it was necessary that I tread a fine line.
“I told him when I was coming here,” PJ said, “that I’d be working with Doctor Blair, and I may have mentioned Amazons, so if there is any blame to be placed it should be with—”
“Stephen Cresswell and Fritz Green,” I was getting good at interrupting at just the right moment. “I can’t imagine what Cresswell’s gaining by talking to Green.”
“I’ll talk to Stephen.” Curtis stood up. PJ and I followed suit, effectively ending our meeting. “I’m going to double your on-site security, Doctor Blair, then I’m going to talk to the powers-that-be at the TV station. They’re going to have to understand that this project is off limits. In return for their cooperation, I’ll guarantee them an exclusive when and if you find anything significant.”
“Not if, but when.” PJ’s words were soft, but emphatic.
I smiled. Curtis acted as if he hadn’t heard her.
“Fritz Green won’t be bothering you again.”
“Thank you, Frederick. I appreciate your help.”
“Just protecting my interests.” Curtis turned to
PJ. “Priscilla, you’ll have to settle things with Stephen.”
“Father, I’m sorry but I can’t continue my relationship with Stephen any longer. He has no regard for my career … what I want to do with my life—”
Her father waved his hand, silencing her. “Do whatever you have to do. I just don’t want to have to fix this problem again.”
Curtis turned, shook my hand, then left.
I stood at the door, watching as the chauffeur opened the door and Curtis got in the car without so much as a backward glance. I could not tell because of the limo’s darkened windows, whether or not he looked my way again. After waiting for the Mercedes to leave, I turned to find PJ sitting on the sofa in tears. “What’s this about?”
“You didn’t let me tell him my part in this fiasco.”
“He didn’t need to know.”
I hated seeing so little outward affection between father and daughter and could not believe he was so callous with her. The person sitting on my sofa was no longer a self assured, scientific woman of the world. She was a little girl in tears because her daddy had dismissed her again. How many times had he done this to her? I swallowed hard as memories of my own past flooded to the foreground of my mind. I pushed them away, refusing to allow them into my life again. I sat down beside PJ, put my arm around her, and held her while she buried her head in my shoulder and cried.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Somewhat embarrassed, I pulled away from the familiarity of the moment.
“Tomorrow will be a busy day. First thing we need to do is to protect the present grid with tarps and finish the field notes on it. Then, we’re moving closer to the wall. We’ll leave the site early and gather here to examine the survey maps and aerial photos and formulate a plan of action. I’ll order pizza for everyone.”
“Thank you for giving me another chance. You won’t regret it, I promise.” She looked at me through red-rimmed eyes.
“I expect you to treat this project as your own. Make it come first in your life. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I do.” She wiped her eyes. “You can count on me.”
“I hope so.”
I watched PJ leave, knowing that despite her failings, she was a good person. Given half a chance she would go places. I’d see to it that she had that chance.