Carved in Stone (20 page)

“Can you believe we’re actually having this conversation?” Alex laughed, digging away at the sand. “Two educated people, standing deep inside a mountain, digging a hole to bury priceless artifacts for a couple of cave spirits?”

“Definitely a story to tell our children,” Nate said, and he could have bitten his tongue when Alex shook her head in mute denial. Without acknowledging his comment, she knelt and began to scoop more sand out of the hole with her hands.

Somehow, at some point in the near future, he had to convince her they belonged together. Right now, though, he would help her make a final resting place for the bowls.

Alex had to force her hands not to tremble. Working with Nate on the face of the cliff had been a piece of cake compared to the strain of working here in a place where they’d made love.

Somewhere, deep within this mountain, the spirits of the daughter of Ixchel and the son of Chac resided. There was no doubt in Alex’s mind that the two existed. They had been together almost since time began and would remain lovers until its end.

The thought should have saddened her, that two beings remained trapped beneath the stone because of an angry curse, but she had never sensed dissatisfaction from them or a desire to escape. In fact, she envied them their existence.

They had each other and they had love. The kind of love Alex had thought she had with Nate. She scooped more sand out of the hole, smoothing out a nest for the pottery. Nate handed her the first bowl, a simple pot without etching or design. Alex wondered what it had held so many eons ago. What did a mother goddess leave for her daughter, knowing they would never see one another again?

One after the other, Nate handed her the bowls. Alex placed each one carefully in the bottom of the hole, fighting the tears that burned behind her lids. To hide such simple beauty from the world seemed like a terrible tragedy, but the sense of peace that filled the cavern told her what she and Nate were doing was right.

When the last bowl was in place, Alex reached into her bag and grabbed her lunch. A shiver went down her spine when she realized Nate was doing the same thing. Both of them carefully placed the food—their offerings—into the bowls.

Hadn’t Ixchel originally left food in these same pots for her cursed daughter and son-in-law?

Carefully, Alex scooped sand over the tops of the bowls with her hands. The coarse grains quickly filled the upturned bowls, hiding them from view. Nate helped, his large hands shoving the sand into the hole, quickly filling it to the top.

Alex sat back on her heels. She felt as if some sort of ceremony was in order, something beyond their simple gifts of food. It seemed almost sacrilegious to merely bury such priceless artifacts in the sand, deep in a nameless cave.

She grabbed the flashlight and turned toward Nate. Tears left damp silvery tracks along his cheeks. He grinned sheepishly at her, the familiar lopsided smile that warmed her heart, then brushed away the moisture with his sleeve.

“They’re so damned beautiful, and their story is so incredibly sad. It just really gets to me.” He sniffed out loud, and then he laughed. “C’mon.” He stood, pulling Alex to her feet.

Alex froze as Nate reached out and gently grabbed her chin, turning her face to his. “They’re beautiful,” he repeated. “Just like you, Alex. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Nate, please . . .” she begged, unable to break the bonds of his gaze.

“I love you, Alex,” he whispered, his lips a feather touch against her mouth. “I want you so badly I ache.”

She was drowning in his words and she clenched the flashlight tightly, forcing her fingers against the solid metal and glass to keep them from twining themselves in his hair.

His voice caressed her, his clean male scent enveloped her, and it was a horrible struggle to control her body’s traitorous reaction to the warmth of his body, the need in her own.

Their breathing sounded harsh in the cavern, hypnotic.

A low rumble deep inside the mountain brought Alex suddenly to her senses. “No,” she rasped, her throat dry. “No, Nate. We can’t, we . . .”

“Why not? Alex, for God’s sake, I love you. What’s wrong?” He grabbed her shoulders and she felt herself go rigid. Control. He always had to control her, with his words, his lips, the strength in his hands.

Whenever he touched her, she responded, whatever he wanted, she gave. She couldn’t let this happen, she wouldn’t!

“Let me go, Nathan! Now. I’m going back to camp.” She pulled out of Nate’s gentle grasp. He didn’t try to hold on to her.

The air felt heavy around her, and she sensed the concerned touch of the daughter of Ixchel.
Please,
she begged.
Please. I must leave!
Her hands were shaking as she focused the flashlight along the narrow tunnel. She felt Nate, standing silently in the shadows, watching her go.

“I’m not ready to leave,” he finally said. “I want to spend a few minutes here. It’s my last chance before they seal the cave.”

Relieved to make the trip alone, Alex headed down the mountain.

He hadn’t planned to stay so long in the cavern, but Nate figured the longer he gave Alex to cool down, the better his chances of finding out exactly what her problem was.

She was one confusing woman.

With a last solemn glance at the freshly turned sand, Nate grabbed the shovels and flashlight and headed down the long, narrow tunnel. He sent a silent thank-you to the spirits. In answer, he again heard a distant rumble. It sounded like thunder echoing through the mountain.

The sky was clear when he finally crawled out of the narrow gash in the rock. The rumble came once again, closer this time, and Nate shuddered with a gentle trembling in the ground.

Earthquake?

He felt a sudden urge to move away from the cave opening. The ground trembled again, as if for emphasis, and Nate turned and ran down the narrow trail toward the barren plateau.

He’d gone only a few yards when a loud explosion rocked the mountain. The force knocked him to the ground. Instinctively, he covered his head with his arms as he was hit with flying shards of rock and gravel. A tree fell nearby, so close the branches swept across his feet.

Within moments the dust had settled and the last echoes were gone. Birdsong returned to the woods.

Nate stood up and dusted himself off, then walked back up the trail. The narrow gash into the mountain was gone, closed tight by forces stronger than nature. Shaking his head in disbelief, he turned and headed back to camp.

The sound of a helicopter grew steadily louder, but Nate didn’t pay it any attention until he realized the craft was hovering over the landing area below camp. He picked up his steady pace and trotted down the hill to find out what Roger wanted. He hoped there wasn’t any problem with the smugglers.

He grinned when he wondered if someone had changed their mind on returning the artifacts. A little late for that now.

Nate was still about a quarter mile from camp when he heard the chopper’s engines revving up again. Suddenly the significance of its arrival made sense. Alex was leaving! She must have radioed Dalton and asked him to come and get her.

He hadn’t even considered she might leave. Breaking from a jog into a hard run, Nate rounded the trail and burst into the small campsite. The tent he’d brought for Alex was still in place but all her personal gear was gone.

Frantic, Nate raced into his tent and grabbed the radio. It took him just a few seconds to raise Dalton.

“Roger, where are you taking Alex?” he asked as soon as his friend picked up the radio.

“Ms. Martin radioed in and said she had a personal emergency, Doc. I’m flying her to the airport. Over.”

“Well, you can fly her right back here, Dalton,” Nate roared. “Ms. Martin has a job to finish. Over.”

“No can do, Doc,” Dalton said. Nate was certain he read censure in the other man’s words. “Lady wants to leave, the lady leaves. Sorry. Over and out.”

Automatically, Nate responded, “Out.”

She was gone. No explanation, no reason. Just gone. And he’d be damned to hell before he’d chase after her. He had a job to finish. In fact, maybe the next few weeks would convince him he didn’t want Alex Martin back at all.

Loving Alex had brought him nothing but grief—along with something else so special and unique he couldn’t describe it.

Damn it all. Why in the hell did she leave?

So weary he couldn’t stand any longer, Nate sat down on the log by the fire pit. Business first. He stared at the radio for a long moment and then put in a call to Forest Service headquarters. He needed to cancel the crew for tomorrow.

There was no longer any need to seal the cavern.

Chapter 15

“Alex, what are you doing here?” Kneeling in front of the partially painted baseboard in the remodeled studio, Jessie pushed her frazzled blond hair out of her eyes. She managed to smudge blue paint across her forehead with the small brush she was holding. “You aren’t supposed to be home until next month.”

“It’s a long story, Jess.” Alex stared at the wall, evading the penetrating look in Jessie’s brown eyes. “I just couldn’t stay up there anymore.”

“It’s Dr. Murdock, isn’t it?” Jessie set her paintbrush on the can and stood up, wiping her hands on a soiled rag. “What happened?”

“I blew it, Jess. I blew it big-time.” Alex blinked as her eyes burned and her vision blurred. “I love him. I love him a lot.” She grabbed a handkerchief out of her back pocket to catch the tears streaming from her eyes.

“Then why are you here and not there?” Jessie asked, pragmatic as ever. “I would think that if you love him you’d want to be with him. So what’s wrong, kid?”

“Ever since we got out of the cavern, everything’s been different. He tries to hold me, I freak out. He tries to talk to me, I get angry. I want to blame him, but I know it’s not his fault. This is so much worse than what happened with Jake.”

She sniffed and attempted a smile. “It was a long drive home from Weaverville. I had a lot of time to think. What’s wrong with me, Jess? I couldn’t make it work with Jake, and now I’ve messed up everything with Nate.” She leaned against the counter, giving in to the tears.

“Alex, I know Jake hurt you, but you can’t let that ruin every other relationship.” Jessie had to reach up to cup Alex’s shoulders in each hand. “Ya know, between your father and your ex-lover you sure managed to let two men screw up your life.”

“That’s the problem, Jess. They didn’t just do it to me. I let them. I practically gave them permission to make my life miserable.” She pushed away from the counter, walking across the oak floor to stare blindly out the front window. “Why can’t a man love a woman without taking control of her life?” she asked, not expecting an answer.

“Alex, loving someone doesn’t mean giving up control of anything. Real love means having the freedom to make your own decisions. If you love someone, you make those decisions with them in mind. It works both ways.” Jessie walked over to the window and stood next to Alex. “Sometimes I think what you see as a power play is just someone else showing you how much they love you.”

“Yeah, like my father showed my mother,” Alex responded bitterly.

“Yeah, Alex. Just like that.” Jessie grabbed Alex’s shoulder and gently spun her around. “Look at me, kiddo. I did some heavy talking with your father when you were missing. I think we’ve misjudged him in a big way. Why don’t you take a few days off, head down to Big Sur and spend some time with him?”

“I don’t care if I never see him—”

“Don’t say that, Alex, because you don’t really mean it.” Jessie folded her arms across her chest and glared at Alex for a moment. Then she shrugged, shook her head and smiled. “Please, sweetie. Go talk to your dad. Give him a chance to tell you what really happened when you were born. He’s not perfect, but he’s not the ogre we’ve made him out to be either.”

Alex didn’t say anything. This was so not what she expected Jess to ask her.

“Please.”

Jessie gave her that pathetic puppy-dog stare with her heart in her big brown eyes.

Alex caved. “That is so unfair. You know I can’t fight that sad little puppy look.” Fighting a grin, she punched Jessie lightly on the shoulder.

“Big sisters always win arguments.” Jessie laughed. “It’s in the contract.”

Alex parked her car in the small level spot just below her father’s house above the beach. Gulls wheeled and spun in the evening sky, their cries echoing off the cliffs as they caught the last light from the sun. The air was redolent with the salty tang and drying kelp smells of the Pacific Ocean.

Alexander Martin’s home, stark and angular, sat on a lonely promontory high above the waves. Her father had moved here permanently when he retired six years earlier, but he had owned the house for as long as Alex could remember.

She wondered how her father was going to react when she knocked on the door. She hadn’t been here in ten years, not since he’d accepted his Pulitzer on the strength of her photographs.

She fought a strong compulsion to climb back into her little car and head north, back to Oakland and Jessie and the safety of her studio, when suddenly the door on the back of the house swung open. Alexander beckoned her inside.

“Jessie called,” he said without preamble. “She wanted me to know you were coming so I would be sure and be home. C’mon in.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t leave anyway,” Alex muttered under her breath, wondering for the hundredth time why she was here.

But she knew why. No one said no to Jessie. Ever. And just maybe she’d finally get answers to the questions that had haunted her all her life.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t stay on the project,” Alexander said as he grabbed her one bag of luggage and guided her through the door. “But Jessie said you were having some problems with your employer.”

“Leave it to Jessie to sum it up in a nutshell.” Alex walked ahead of him into the great room. She had always loved this room, paneled in whitewashed pine on two walls and framed in floor-to-ceiling glass on the two walls facing the ocean.

Generally her gaze was drawn to the massive waves crashing on the rugged coastline below, but now as she entered the room she looked at the pine walls and stopped. The last time she had been here her father’s photographs and a few of his paintings had been artistically spaced on the expansive wall. It was different now. Alex walked to the far end of the wall to her left, realizing immediately that every photograph across the entire surface was one of hers.

All of them were framed and professionally mounted, in order by date and place. Photos she had taken as a young girl on one end, photos she had done within the past few months at the other.

She turned to face Alexander and caught a look of immense pride and love on his face before he quickly shuttered his expression.

“I don’t understand,” was all she could think to say. “How did you get these?” She pointed to her recent photos.

“Jessie sends me copies of your work.” He walked across the room to a small wet bar. “Would you like a drink?” he asked, pouring himself a glass of brandy.

“Yes, please,” she answered, not really caring what he gave her. When he handed her a glass of chilled Chardonnay, she was surprised he knew what she preferred.

“Thank you.” She took a sip of the wine. It was excellent, a local product, she realized, still wondering how he guessed her preference.

“I know a lot more about you than you realize, Alexandria.” He sighed, as if she had voiced her confusion. “We haven’t talked in a long time. I’m glad you’ve come.”

“I wouldn’t have,” she admitted honestly, “but Jessie asked me to. She said we’ve been unfair to you, that we’ve misjudged you. That I’ve misjudged you. If I have, I’m sorry. But you haven’t given me much to go on.”

“No, I haven’t.”

It was a stretch to hear his soft whisper, but his voice was stronger when he said, “I think it’s time we talk.” He guided Alex to a long white leather sofa.

He sat across from her, his legs crossed at the ankle, the brandy snifter balanced in the tips of his fingers. Alex waited for him to begin.

“I can be extremely obtuse,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “At least that’s what Jessie tells me. She’s a lovely young woman. You’re very lucky to have someone as loyal as she is, you know. At least when I found a family for you, I found you a good one.” He smiled at Alex and his eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

“You’re very like your mother. She was headstrong and beautiful, the original untamed spirit. Except for your blue eyes and your height you look very much like her.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Alex said bitterly, taking a swallow of her wine. “You’ve never let me see a picture of her.”

“I destroyed them all when she died. I hated her for dying. I guess in some ways I hated you as much for living,” he said without apology.

“Tell me about her,” Alex begged, hoping that finally she would learn about the woman who had given her life almost thirty years ago.

He stared into his brandy for what felt like a very long time. Finally he raised his head and sighed. “I met your mother on a job in the Yucatan Peninsula.”

There was such a faraway expression on his face that Alex knew he’d almost forgotten she was in the room. She sipped her wine and watched him.

He shuddered, as if he were tugging himself back from memories too painful, and turned his attention to Alex. “I was down there to photograph some newly discovered Mayan ruins near Chichen Itza. The village where I stayed was very remote.

“She was barely sixteen, just a child. She came to my hut every day to prepare meals and do laundry. She had no family except an elderly grandmother she cared for.

“I think she must have had a lot of Mayan blood in her, but she was of mixed heritage. Her face fascinated me and I wanted to photograph her. It took a while, but I finally convinced her to model for me. She was lovely.” He sighed and took a long swallow of his brandy.

“Then the unspeakable happened. I fell in love with her.” His eyes, when he looked at Alex, were filled with anguish. She heard his voice tremble with the pain of his memories.

“I was thirty years old, almost twice her age, but I wanted to marry her. She refused me, not because of my age, but because there was no priest in the village to perform the ceremony.

“Finally I persuaded her to let the village headman marry us. She agreed, so long as we could be married by a priest the next time one came to the village.

“When she told me she was pregnant, I was ecstatic. When her time came, I wanted to take her to Merida, where there was a doctor. She refused to go. She insisted the village midwife could handle her delivery. She assured me the healer in the next village would come if she had problems.

“It didn’t seem to matter what I wanted, because Pilar always got her way. She was very stubborn, your mother.” Pausing, he smiled gently at Alex. “She could never seem to make the distinction between people who acted out of love for her and those who tried to control her.” He narrowed his gaze, looked pointedly at Alex, and she lowered her eyes.

“You have to believe me when I say how much we wanted you. Pilar’s labor was relatively easy, and you were a beautiful baby. She was so proud. I remember when she held you out to me and your eyes were already as blue as the sea.” His voice cracked, harsh with emotion.

“Your mother died two days later. There was no doctor, so I never knew what killed her. That night I remember we laughed as she nursed you. I loved to watch when Pilar fed you. It was beautiful, her breasts full and firm. Your tiny mouth, working so hard to feed. Your hands like tiny kitten’s paws, kneading rhythmically at her full breasts. We laughed at how greedy you were and how quickly you fell asleep.”

Alexander took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his eyes before speaking again with a voice that was no more than a ragged whisper. “That was the last time we laughed together. The midwife wrapped you in a blanket and put you in bed next to your mother. She fell asleep with her arms wrapped around you, smiling. She never woke up.”

He gazed out the broad expanse of glass, looking toward the deep blue of the Pacific. Alex wondered what memories played through his mind as she waited for him to continue.

Finally, he turned his gaze back to Alex, but his thoughts seemed to be miles away and years past when he spoke. “She was just a child, Alexandria. Only seventeen. I loved her more than life itself.

“I think I went a little crazy when she died. The village was very poor and there wasn’t anyone there to take care of you. Pilar’s grandmother had passed away months earlier, and Pilar didn’t have any other family. Our union was never formalized by a priest, and there was no way to prove you were my daughter, so I smuggled you across the border. The birth certificate I eventually obtained for you is merely an excellent forgery.

“Ben and Patricia were my closest friends, the only friends I stayed in touch with through all my years of travel. Jessie was their only child. Patricia couldn’t have any more children, and when they offered to take you, well . . .” He paused, and Alex could see pain in his eyes at the memory. “You have to realize, I had never even held a newborn, much less cared for one. I’m surprised you even survived the first few weeks of your life.

“It took me many, many years to get over the guilt I felt for Pilar’s death. Ben finally sat me down and forced me to realize that she made the choices that killed her. If she had let me take her to a doctor when her time came, she probably would have survived, but she always had to be in control of every situation.

“Maybe she was afraid to leave her village, but I’ll never know. It was her choice to stay, no matter how I argued. And that choice killed her.

“I have never been a good father, Alexandria. I didn’t want to interfere with your relationship with Ben and Patricia, but I used that as an excuse, too. After your mother died, I didn’t care about anyone or anything. I took you with me on some of my trips because Ben and Patricia insisted I should know my daughter, but it was always painful to look at you and see Pilar.

“The only thing that mattered was my work, but as the years went by, I let bitterness rule my life. I could never look at all the good I had without seeing everything I had lost. That bitterness made me lose you as well. Instead of taking pride in your wonderful creative spirit, I was jealous of your talent. Your work is so fresh, Alexandria! You capture life with your photographs, the way I did so many years ago. And I stole that from you.”

He rose stiffly from the chair, like an old man. Alex was struck with a sense of time passing, of time wasted. He walked heavily across the room to a large roll-topped desk and took an envelope out of one of the compartments. “The low point in my life, Alexandria, was the day I was awarded the Pulitzer for your photos. I will never forgive myself for my duplicity.” He held the envelope in both hands, silently begging forgiveness.