A Double Wedding

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A Double Wedding Page 10

by Patricia Knoll


  She stopped, clicking her tongue in irritation when she realized she'd forgotten to buy a bag of crushed ice. A quick glance at the clock told her she could make it to the corner convenience store and back before Dan arrived. Grabbing her keys and purse, she ran out the door.

  At the store, she purchased the ice and hopped back in her car only to discover that it wouldn't start. When she turned the key, she heard a faint grinding sound, then nothing. A dead battery. Silvey slumped in the seat and pressed her forehead against the steering wheel. Of all the rotten luck.

  There wasn't time for her to call a tow truck and wait for it. Dan was due at her house in a few minutes, and he would have no idea where she was. She would have to walk, and hope the ice didn't melt by the time she got home.

  She went back into the store and got the manager's permission to leave the car there until Monday. He helped her push it around to the side of the building and assured her it would be all right. Silvey thanked him and gave her car a disgruntled look as she picked up the dripping bag of ice, locked the car, and started home. It served her right for buying a car that was more flash than substance.

  She had gone only a couple of blocks when a car pulled up alongside her and someone called out. Hot and irate, with dampness from the ice spreading over her shirt, she ignored the driver who she was sure was trying to pick her up for no good purpose. When he shouted again, she turned to give him a piece of her mind. She found herself frowning at John Ramos.

  "Hey," he said. "Need a ride?"

  In other circumstances, Silvey would have turned him down. She was still miffed at the way he had taken her to the Vargas' party and then left her alone. She realized now that he'd probably only invited her to irritate Dan. But she needed to get home, and he had a car that ran.

  With a word of thanks, she opened the door and tumbled in. Quickly, she gave him directions to her house.

  "Good thing I was going this way," he commented.

  "I'm glad you happened along." Silvey looked out the window and wished he would hurry. Dan might be waiting.

  "I had to go over to my ex-wife's place. New condo I'm paying for," he said in disgust. "Had to sign some tax papers."

  Hearing his familiar lament set Silvey's teeth on edge. She felt bad that his marriages hadn't worked out, but she was beginning to understand why. What woman wanted to stay married to a man who felt sorry for himself?

  "Is your freezer on the blink?" he asked, eyeing the bag of ice.

  "I need enough for a cooler of soft drinks." "Going on a picnic?"

  "Yes," Silvey answered cautiously, hoping he wouldn't ask to come along.

  "Anyplace special?"

  She saw no harm in telling the truth. She was proud to be going somewhere with Dan, and Dan's visit to the mountain was probably common knowledge at the college. "To Branaman Mountain with Dan Wisdom. He's going to show me where they plan to excavate."

  "If they get permission," John added, his dark eyes giving her a quick, sideways glance. "It'll be quite a feather in his cap if he can open up that site."

  Silvey didn't like his insinuating tone. "Yes, it will." She glanced up, glad to see her own driveway up ahead, but dismayed to see an unfamiliar beige truck parked there. Dan was leaning against the side, watching their approach. His shoulders were resting on the door, his arms over his chest and his booted feet crossed at the ankles. Despite his relaxed pose, Silvey could almost feel the tension emanating from him.

  John stopped the car and nodded to Dan who gave him a cool look.

  John's face flushed. "Some guys get along on pure luck," he said bitterly. "They don't have to really work for anything."

  Silvey was already halfway out of the car, blurting a quick thanks, but she stopped and stared at him. "That's not true, John. Dan works hard. He's respected in his field."

  John's lip curled. "And you've got the hots for him."

  Insulted, Silvey slammed the door and stepped back as John tromped on the gas and roared away.

  Shaken by the encounter, she turned toward her house to find Dan facing her. His feet were spread wide apart and his hands rested on the waist of the khaki bush shirt he wore with trousers which were festooned with many pockets.

  Because she knew he was going to say something about John, Silvey tossed her head and gave him a saucy look. "Have you got a pith helmet to go with that outfit?"

  His eyes never left her as he reached a hand into the truck that had Sonora College printed on the side.. He picked up a dark brown fedora and clapped it onto his head. Turning, he looked at her expectantly.

  Silvey gave a faint smile. "Looks like I'm going adventuring with Indiana Jones!"

  Dan reached out and took the ice from her, holding it away so that it dripped on the sidewalk. "I picked this hat up at Dad's old house in California. He wore it in a movie called The Untamed back in the fifties. Have you seen that one?"

  She wished she knew what he was really thinking. It was impossible to read his expression. She hated that they were talking all around the real problem.

  Pulling her key from her purse, she started for the front door. "No. I haven't seen that movie, but the hat is definitely your style."

  He didn't answer for a moment, then finally he asked quietly, "Where's your car, Silvey?"

  She pushed the front door open as she gave him a challenging look over her shoulder. She recalled how he'd told her he'd felt jealous of John. At the time, she'd been amused and flattered, but now she felt sick, fearing that he thought the worst of her.

  "It's not parked at John Ramos' place, if that's what you're thinking."

  Her voice shook and she cleared her throat, hating the way he made her feel defensive with nothing more than a lift of his eyebrows.

  "It's not what I'm thinking."

  With a proud tilt of her head,- Silvey waved him inside and indicated the hamper beside the door. "I made us a picnic lunch, but then I realized I'd forgotten to buy ice for the cooler of soft drinks. My car stalled at the convenience store. Sounds like a dead battery. John happened along and gave me a ride."

  "That was nice of him."

  There hadn't been anything nice about it, and the distant expression in Dan's face was even less nice. She refused to make excuses, though. It wasn't as though he had any kind of hold over her, any more than she had one over him.

  She tossed her purse onto the sofa and flounced into the kitchen.

  Dan followed with the bag of ice. He poured it into the cooler and she arranged the cans of soda and bottles of water. Finished, she slammed the lid and flipped the latch while Dan slowly and methodically folded the plastic bag. He looked around for a trash can.

  Silvey reached for the bag, but he held on to it until she looked up at him.

  Prickly and defensive, her gaze darted up to meet his. A hint of a smile edged his mouth.

  "Good morning, Silvanna," he said formally.

  Some of Silvey's tension began to relax. "Good morning, Daniel."

  He took the plastic bag from her lax grip and tossed it into the sink.

  Then his fingers moved up to her wrist. He lifted her hand and placed it on his shoulder where it lay as limp with surprise as the rest of her. She blinked slowly as his hands moved around behind her. He drew her forward until she was pressed up against him.

  Delicious excitement replaced her surprise, spiralling through her in waves.

  "What say we start this day out on the right note?" Dan's voice was low and gruff with some emotion that she hoped was the same desire she was feeling.

  She had to swallow before she spoke. "What note would that be?"

  He bent his head and kissed her forehead. "Oh, just a little friendliness."

  Oh, Lord, he smelled wonderful. She unabashedly buried her nose in the V opening of his shirt. "You think we can be friends?"

  "That depends." His lips feathered over her temple.

  She lifted her face so they would touch her cheek. She wanted to turn her lips up to meet his, but a sudde
n shyness held her back.

  "Depends on what?"

  "On how much you want it."

  His nearness was fogging her mind. "Oh, I want it," she sighed.

  With a soft chuckle, Dan brought his mouth to hers. Silvey whimpered with pleasure at the contact. She went up on tiptoes and clasped her arms around his neck. She knew she should have resisted more. It seemed he could so easily bend her to his will, but she didn't protest.

  Finally, he pulled away and looked down at her, his eyes deep blue with amusement. "I'd say that on the friendliness factor that kiss rates a ten."

  Silvey drew in a shaky breath and touched her tongue to her lips.

  They were flushed and swollen and she loved the feeling. She released the breath in a rush and asked, "Care to try for a twenty?"

  Dan laughed and released her. "If we do, we'll never get on the road."

  Keenly disappointed, but wanting to hide it, Silvey gave him a sassy look. "And we don't want anything to hold us up, do we? After all, you've got to convince me you need to excavate that mountain, and I've got to convince you that you don't."

  Dan gave her one of his steady looks as he picked up the cooler.

  "Let's go, then. We'll stop on the way back into town, and buy a battery for your car. I can install it."

  Pleased, she smiled at him as she locked the door and thought about how generous he was with his time and energy. Her dream was that he could be as generous with his love. "Thanks, Dan. I would appreciate that."

  Within a few minutes they had locked the house, stowed the food in a lock box in the back of the truck and headed out of town.

  Branaman Mountain was northeast of the city so they started out on Interstate 10, then switched to a state road that wound through land administered by the Bureau of Land Management. Cattle dotted the mesquite and creosote-covered hills that rolled away into the hazy distance.

  The truck didn't have air-conditioning so they cranked down both windows and let the desert heat blast through. The less than ideal conditions didn't seem to bother either of them. Dan asked Silvey how the shop was coming along and she knew they'd reached a truce.

  Enthusiastically, she told him of the new paint job that had brightened the place up and thanked him again for the loan.

  Dan waved his hand negligently. "It's just money. I've got plenty of that."

  Silvey gave him a puzzled look and settled against the seat. A few weeks ago he'd been adamant that she and her grandmother weren't going to get their hands on his father's money. Now it didn't seem important to him. She understood now that the issue had never been the actual cash, but the threat to his father's emotional and financial stability.

  Dan himself was easygoing about money. His financial situation was obviously secure, as were his emotions-at least the ones he let her see. It was his hidden emotions that intrigued her, his hidden desires and needs.

  She knew what he would like to have from her-an affair, but he wouldn't ask it of her. Because of that, or maybe in spite of it, she couldn't stay away from him.

  He drew her to him as surely as a compass is drawn to the north.

  She heartily wished there was some way she could maintain a level of casualness with him, but it seemed to be beyond her capabilities.

  She brooded over it for the remainder of the drive.

  They passed through the town of Branaman and headed for the foothills of the Ochoa Mountains where they picked up a dirt road leading to the tallest peak, Branaman Mountain. They stopped so Dan could open the padlock on the chain-link gate, then drove through, leaving the gate open.

  "Shouldn't we close that?" she asked, looking out the rear window.

  Dan shook his head. "Someone from the Bureau of Land Management said for us to leave it open in case he needs to come through. I've got his only key. No one comes this way much, and they'll stay away altogether if they see this truck." He stepped on the gas and manoeuvered around a bend in the dusty road.

  Silvey held on for dear life as the four-wheel-drive truck bounced and roared up the rough track. Once, the back tires skidded sideways on the gravel and she grabbed for Dan's arm.

  Grunting, he fought the wheel. "Silvey, if you cut off my circulation, I won't be able to drive."

  "Oh, sorry," she gulped. She gripped the edge of the seat, preparing to scoot back and tighten her seat belt, but Dan slowed the truck and hauled her in close.

  "Here," he said, lifting his shoulder and indicating she could tuck herself next to him.

  Smiling shakily, remembering how it had felt to dance with him, kiss him, and forgetting all about casualness, she did so, pleased by his protectiveness.

  Within a few minutes they stopped in a clearing just below a stand of pine trees. Dan switched off the motor and looked down at her.

  "Are you all right?"

  "Yes." She eased away from him with an embarrassed smile. "I just didn't expect it to be this rough."

  "Yeah, since the army dismantled their tracking station, this road hasn't been kept up. But we've arrived safely and we'll be finished in plenty of time before dark." He gave her a quick, all-encompassing glance to make sure she was all right and said, "Come on."

  He jerked up the door handle and helped her out. They stretched and glanced around, then Dan led the way into the pines.

  A feeling of reverence stole over Silvey, as if she was stepping into church. She looked sideways at Dan and saw the same feeling mirrored in his face, although his eyes were bright with eagerness.

  At the edge of a natural clearing, he stopped and pointed. "Over there."

  Her gaze darted ahead eagerly, then met his in disappointment.

  "That's it. Just dirt and rocks?"

  He looked at her in amazement. "You were expecting marble headstones?"

  "Well, no, but...." She didn't know what she had expected, but it wasn't this flat nothingness. "How do you know there's even anything here?"

  As he started walking again, she hurried to catch up. "From the potsherds," he said, sweeping his hand toward the ground. "The places where they're the most dense is where the village was most likely situated." He pointed farther into the woods. "The largest concentration of potsherds was up there in another clearing. I'll take you up there in a minute. This burial ground was discovered by following a path that seemed to have been cut through the trees.

  One grave was excavated back in the fifties, before the missile tracking station went up."

  "And before the laws prohibiting the opening of Native American graves," Silvey added dryly. "What was found?"

  "Pots with supplies for the journey into eternity. One still contained a small amount of maize." As he spoke, Dan's voice grew in intensity and excitement. His face was eager.

  Silvey smiled. She loved seeing him like this, open and free. "Tell me more," she invited, to keep him talking.

  He swept her hand into his and led her around the edge of the burial ground, describing the way archaeologists created a grid of the excavation site, gave numbers to each section before beginning to dig carefully, sifting each spadeful of dirt to make sure nothing was missed. Each artifact was collected, classified, and carefully stored.

  Later it was placed in a museum for the public to view.

  "Graves are an especially rich source of information," he went on.

  "Besides the pottery and jewellery that can be found, we can get a good idea of the state of health of the person. It's possible to find out what diseases, dietary deficiencies, wounds, they had. All this can lead us to know more about the tribe. What they ate, suffered from, what, or who they battled with."

  Her forehead creased. "But you're an anthropologist."

  His chin tucked against his chest as he drew back. "Well, what do you think archaeology is, if not the study of people? These subjects just happen to be long gone."

  "But the sacredness of their burial ground ... Would you like someone to go, and dig up one of your ancestors?"

  The avid gleam faded from his eyes to be r
eplaced by a hint of exasperation. "No, of course not, but you have to admit there are no near relatives of these people to object."

  "That doesn't make it right, Dan. Isn't there some way to study them without digging them up?"

  "Sure, by using remote sensing equipment. It's a new type of technology, very delicate instruments that are passed over the ground to detect remains of manmade structures, telling exactly where to dig."

  "So, why don't you use that?"

  "Because little Sonora College can't afford it."

  "Oh." She almost suggested that he could buy it himself. She knew he wouldn't because it would be too much like buying his way into the position of department head.

  He pointed up the hill. "Come on. I'll show you the village site."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SILVEY followed, her brown eyes studying his back, aware that he didn't know what more to say to her. He led her farther into the pines. The shade and coolness of the air were a relief after the midday heat.

  Dan stopped at another clearing. "Here it is." He pointed toward a sunny area that was clear of trees. There were a number of dirt and rock mounds and she drew closer to examine them. A sense of wonder and excitement rushed through her as she imagined what the village must have been like at one time. Children would have been playing outside, the women working over their fires or tending their corn fields. The men would have been hunting or fishing, bringing home the day's catch to feed their families.

 

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