by Sandra Hill
“She wouldn’t!” Caleb exclaimed.
“Did I tell ya ’bout the time she went skydiving ta celebrate her eightieth birthday? She said if George Bush Sr. could do it, so could she. She about gave the Blue Angels instructor a heart attack when she showed up for his class.”
Caleb and Claire were both gaping at LeDeux.
He waved and started to walk away.
“And stay away from Lizzie,” Caleb yelled to his back.
“Mais oui,” LeDeux said. “Whatever you say.” And immediately took a detour toward Lizzie, who was arranging some bedding plants that Jonas had sent over from his nursery as a sort of thank-you. Lizzie was alternately staying with Jonas at his house and with him at the B & B, neither of which pleased their father. Big deal! In his present frame of mind, he was more inclined to do things that displeased his father. In fact, he might even help Lizzie get an audition for American Idol, just to piss off Dat. But not by getting LeDeux to help her. That boy was like Godivas to teenage girl chocoholics. Older girls, too, for that matter.
Soon he and Claire were geared up and standing on the ledge before the opening, waiting for LeDeux. She looked mighty fine in her red wet suit, which nicely molded the curves he had come to know and love intimately.
“What’s with you and Finley?” He could have bitten his tongue for blurting that out.
She smiled, and man oh man, he loved her smile. “Nothing. We date occasionally, but nothing serious.”
He wanted desperately to ask if they’d been lovers. After all, Famosa had first referred to Finley as Claire’s semi-fiancé, whatever that meant. Luckily, he managed to maintain a little bit of decorum. Instead he said something equally stupid: “I never kissed a female frogman before.”
She winked at him. And man oh man, he loved her winks, too.
“I’ve kissed a lot of frogs, but no frogmen of any kind.”
“Is Finley a frog?”
She tilted her face to the side. “Are you jealous of Del?”
“No! Maybe. Oh, hell! Damn straight I am.”
She cupped the side of his face and pulled him toward her. Something intense flared inside him just at being this close to Claire.
“Caleb.” She said his name against his mouth as if he were someone special. He liked it.
He made a rough sound in response, then angled his lips against her. As kisses went, it wasn’t anything unique, and yet its very gentleness marked something significant between them.
Claire took control of the kiss. Her lips moved against his in changing patterns till he was pliant and at her mercy. As if he weren’t already. His heart and another body part lurched. She put a hand on him there and smiled against his mouth at how aroused he was from a mere kiss.
He put a hand to her breast and moved his palm in a circular fashion till he imagined that he felt the nipple pearl, even through the neoprene, which was probably impossible. Caleb was the one to smile-kiss then.
“Holy sac-à-lait! You two’re gonna need a dunk in that cold water if ya keep it up,” LeDeux said behind them, causing them to jerk apart like teenagers caught necking on the front porch.
He and Claire had been so engrossed in each other that they hadn’t even realized LeDeux had come back to the cavern, let alone been climbing the ladder.
“Do you always have to sneak up, LeDeux?” he snapped.
“Oh, yeah. Ya see and hear the bes’ things that way. By the way, did I ever tell ya ’bout the time I had sex inside a coffin?”
What sex in a coffin had to do with near-sex on a ledge he had no idea. “Alone or with a partner?”
“Both.”
“Was she dead or alive?”
“Definitely alive. She was an undertaker from Biloxi. Nothin’ like satin on bare skin! We even did it on the hood of her hearse one time. Ya wouldn’t believe the things ya kin do with a hood ornament. Whoo-ee!”
He and Claire both laughed then.
“You are so full of it,” he said.
LeDeux leaned over their shoulders and glanced down. “At least I talked down your hard-on, buddy.”
Swimming with sharks . . . uh, SEALs . . . uh, one ex-SEAL . . .
Claire was an experienced scuba diver, but she’d never cave dived before. It was a remarkable experience, totally different than she’d expected.
First of all was the blackness of the water. The absence of light was blinding to the extreme. You couldn’t even see a finger in front of your face unless you shone a light on it.
It was cold in here, too. Colder than the main cavern, and that was colder than the outside temperature of eighty today. The water felt like ice, and divers had to regulate how much time they spent here or suffer hypothermia.
And then there was the depth. She’d scuba dived in the United States, the Bahamas, and the Mediterranean, but she’d never gone this deep before. The lower they went, the less they could see of the floodlights shining on the water’s surface. Then finally, the light disappeared totally.
She wasn’t frightened, though. A ten-foot safety line connected her to Caleb, and he stayed close, giving her constant hand signals and pats of encouragement from the minute they began rappelling down twenty feet to the water’s surface, bracing their legs against the sides for braking. They would abseil up the belaying rope in a little while with John’s help.
A white fish swam by, skimming her arm. She jumped, which caused her safety line to tug at Caleb.
“They’re blind,” Caleb said into the mouthpiece in his face mask, which had two-way communication with hers. “Every animal form in caverns is blind and colorless, adapted to the surroundings.”
Studying the surrounding walls as best she could, she tried to imagine what the drained chamber would look like with its thousands of years of limestone formations, each a creative work of art in itself. And if this chamber had been dry at one time as they suspected, there might very well be evidence of human habitation, even prehistoric . . . early Lenape from thousands of years ago, or older than that.
“Is that where you hope to pump?” she asked when Caleb stopped just a foot or so from the mud bottom.
“Yes.” He placed her hand over the crack. There was definite movement of the water.
“It’s not very wide. Are you sure you can run tubing through there?”
“Positive.”
“And you think there might be a chamber on the other side?”
“Could be. This little crack here seems to open in a funnel shape to another chamber.”
“It’s exciting, isn’t it? Not knowing what’s on the other side? Or even what’s at the bottom here?” She watched him and learned as he led her around, never quite touching the bottom.
At certain points, he took out a gauge to measure the cracks, the diameter of the pit, the location of certain protruding stalagmites from the sides. He also remeasured the depth of the muddy silt bottom in various spots. All of the numbers were relayed up above to John, who would be transferring the data to a tape recorder.
There were several limestone columns formed by stalactites and stalagmites meeting. They had to be careful to swim around them, not wanting to break the delicate formations. “Another indication that the chamber was dry at one time,” he noted, taking measurements of each of them.
It wasn’t that measurements hadn’t been taken before, but each time a diver went down, he noticed different things and refined the data previously noted.
A short time later, they were talking excitedly in the entrance area. Mostly, Claire was doing the talking. He was searching for Sparky to give him a high five for biting Knepp, but the snake was nowhere to be seen.
“And I remember the time we went diving in the Bahamas. The water was so clear that day. You could see forever. But that was nowhere near as exciting as going to my first Lenape powwow in Delaware, where . . . what?”
“You’re nervous,” he said, leaning down and giving her a quick kiss. “You’re talking a mile a minute, even more than you usually do.”
He dodged a slap from her for that comment. “What’s up, honey?”
She gave him a skittish glance, then walked outside. He followed after her.
“Claire?”
“You’re going to be really mad at me.”
Uh-oh! “Why?”
“I went to see your parents today.”
He stopped and stared at her with disbelief.
“With Tante Lulu.”
Oh, that makes it better! Not! “Why?” He would have said more, but he was barely restraining his anger.
“We . . . I thought it was unfair, the way they were treating you. Tante Lulu agreed. And we decided to go over to the farm and confront them about it. Except I lost my cool and made your mother cry. And your dad kicked us out. But then the chickens escaped and there was this psycho chicken. And we helped make chow-chow, even Cajun chow-chow, but we never got to eat any. Tante Lulu gave your mother lingerie from Victoria’s Secret; can you believe that? And then there was the bride quilt. Oh, God, I think I made things worse.”
Chow-chow? Psycho chicken? Victoria’s Secret? Bride quilt? “Who’s the bride?”
When she didn’t answer, he stood stock still. The anger inside him that he’d thought melted away was back in spades. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“Tante Lulu talked me into it.”
“Oh, great! Blame a dingbat as old as time. Next you’ll be telling me that meddling is contagious.”
She raised her chin haughtily . . . at his tone of voice, no doubt. “I was trying to help.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“My intentions were good.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what your intentions were. I don’t need help, especially from some crazy do-gooder Indian-loving fanatic.”
“Everyone needs help sometimes, even stubborn pain-in-the-ass militants who build glass walls around themselves and pretend to be macho when they’re really marshmallow inside.”
“I am not a marshmallow.”
“Marshmallow, marshmallow, marshmallow!”
“Are you deliberately trying to annoy me?”
“Tante Lulu and I were just trying to be mediators.”
“If I want mediation, I’ll call on the United Nations, not two crazies.”
“Oh, this is immature, exchanging insults.”
“You started it.” He gritted his teeth and counted to five . . . ten would take too long. “You had no right to interfere in my life. You’re not my wife. Even if you were, I’d be just as friggin’ angry.”
She gasped as if he’d hit her. “Just let me explain.”
“No! I should have known better. Let a woman get close and she takes over your life. Why is it that women always think men need to be fixed? Why do they think it’s necessary to pussy whip a guy till he becomes their puppet?”
“Now you’ve gone too far. I never asked to take over your life or be your wife. All I did was care about you.”
“Care? You said you loved me.”
“Oh, you heard that, did you? And you didn’t hightail it out of Dodge? Lucky me!”
“I heard, all right.”
“And you thought if you didn’t mention it, it would just go away, right?”
She was right about that. His tight jaw twitched, negating any possibility of a denial.
“I know that it’s hokey to talk about love at first sight, but I think that’s what happened to me . . . from the first moment I saw you. I’m not a kid, and I’m intelligent, a PhD for heaven’s sake, so I know how foolish I sound. But there it is.”
“Claire—”
“Wait. One more thing. I expect absolutely nothing in return. Not words. And definitely not actions. It was just a statement of fact. No response necessary.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong, Claire. Once you say those three words, it changes things. That bell can’t be unrung. And you’re wrong about no response being necessary, because even silence is a response.”
She paused, then said in a small voice, “I know.”
“Do you want to take them back?”
“No, but it might have been better, for you, if I’d kept it to myself.”
This conversation had gone way off track. “Hey, we’re talking about what you did today. Stop trying to turn the tables.”
“Get over yourself. I went to your parents’ house. Big deal! Maybe they won’t talk to you anymore. Oh, I forgot. They don’t talk to you anyway.”
“Enough!” he said. “I’ve had it. I need a cooling-off period. We both do.”
She had tears in her eyes when she spun on her heels and walked away. He didn’t follow her. But he wanted to.
What a hell of a mess!
As he worked to tamp down his temper, he tried to imagine Claire telling his Dat off. Or Tante Lulu offering his mother sexy underwear.
Laughter bubbled up in him then. He was still angry, but the situation was so ludicrous he’d be a fool not to see the humor.
They both needed some space to sort things out. Maybe tomorrow they could talk more calmly. If he apologized, things could go back to the way they were before.
Yeah, right! he thought he heard a voice in his head say.
They were headed for The Red Zone, and they weren’t even football players . . .
Caleb did not come to her house that evening.
He had every right to be angry with her, but the way he had treated her . . . Well, she was angry now, too. Besides, everything was happening at warp speed with them, and he had to be in full-tilt-boogie male panic mode, needing to slow down the train. Her going to his parents’ house just gave him an excuse to end it earlier than she’d expected. He would be leaving. This wild party was going to end sometime soon. Maybe it was for the best to end it now. Still, it cut deep.
So what was she doing, driving into the B & B parking lot at 8 P.M.?
Caleb glanced up with surprise when she walked into the library, where he was working at a laptop. He took off a pair of wireless reading glasses.
She blushed at the lack of welcome.
“Claire, what are you—”
She put up a hand to halt his words. “I’m not here to see you. Where’s Mark?”
Now the blush on Caleb’s face matched her own. “Mark?”
“Yeah, I have a message for him.”
He waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t.
“He’s got first watch at the cavern tonight.”
“Well, somebody else better cover for him.” She spun on her heels and left the room.
Caleb caught up with her even before she reached the kitchen.
“What’s up?”
“It’s personal.”
“Between you and Mark?”
“Whatever is or isn’t between me and Mark or me and Del or me and any other guy in the blinkin’ world is none of your damn business.”
“What’s got you so pissed off? I mean, I know, but don’t you think you’re overreacting?”
“Overreacting?” The shrillness of her voice startled them both.
“You’re looking at me the same way a Taliban fighter did one time. The guy was trying to lop off my head.”
That got her attention. Somebody tried to chop off his head? Oh, my God! And he says it so casually.
“You’re practically breathing smoke, sweetie. Aren’t you even going to give me a chance to apologize?”
“Sweetie?” Her voice got shriller, but then she closed her eyes and counted to ten, restraining herself from clobbering the dope. When she was calm, she said, “Go back to your work, Caleb. Go hide your head in the sand and pretend that everything is hunky-dory. Go pretend that you don’t care about anyone in the world.”
“Hunky-dory? What the hell is hunky-dory? You’ve been hanging around Tante Lulu too much.” He grinned at her.
“Don’t you dare laugh.”
“Is this because you miss me?”
She made a hissing sound and shoved him aside.
He eyed her as i
f she’d suddenly sprung three heads. Typical man that he was, he probably attributed her mood to PMS.
When she got to the wigwam, she saw not just Mark, but John, as well. Good. He needed to hear this, too. The two of them were sitting outside talking, bottles of beer in their hands. She noticed that Caleb had followed her, though at a distance.
“Mark, there was a message on my answering machine from your grandmother when I got back from my run tonight. She and Tante Lulu went to The Red Zone. Apparently Lily is scheduled to dance at nine.”
“What? No! That’s impossible.” Mark stood, letting his bottle roll over in the grass. “LeDeux, this is your wacky aunt’s fault.”
“I hope ya mean wacky as a compliment.” John stood and faced off with Mark. “Don’t attack the people who try to help ya. And say one more bad thing ’bout my aunt and ya might be minus two arms.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Caleb said, stepping between the two of them.
John seemed to notice something then, staring off toward the house. “Mon Dieu! They took my car.”
Everyone turned to look at the parking lot.
“Why is that such a bad thing?” Claire asked.
“Because my aunt drives like a bat outta hell. Because she’s had enough tickets to paper a wall. Because she’s been known to give the finger to state troopers who get in her way.”
“Uh-oh,” Claire said.
Everyone turned away from staring at the parking lot to staring at her.
“Uh-oh what?” Caleb asked.
“I think they might have gone to pick up Amos and Andy, too. They mentioned a double date. That must be what Tante Lulu meant when she talked about tonight revving up all their rusted-out engines.”
Mark groaned and put his face in his one hand.
John grinned and said, “That’s my girl.”
“I’ll go get them,” Caleb offered.
“I’m coming, too,” Claire said.
“I can handle it myself.”
“I’m coming, too,” Mark insisted.
“I wouldn’t miss this fer nothin’.” John was already walking over the bridge, followed by Claire and Mark. “Besides, I was a stripper fer two weeks one time. I kin give Lily pointers.”
“Fuck you!” Mark said.