Blue Moon (17 page)

“Tex?”

“Tex Milland, our explosive expert.”

“On Sunday?”

“Tex isn't exactly a churchgoing kind of guy.”

“Like you?” Jeanne said in hopes of sparking a conversation. And it did worry her—his skepticism toward faith. Surely just asking wasn't par with trying to beat change into him with a fist of faith.
Just a little nudge, Lord, okay?

“Not
quite.”
Gabe cocked his head, searching her face as she rolled down the window for relief from the pent-up heat in the vehicle. “I'd like to think I have a few more scruples.”

The casually dropped boulder of revelation squashed Jeanne's spiritual musing in its track.
Oh, great. An unscrupulous explosives
expert
, she groaned in silence as Gabe slammed the door. Next they'd have a belly dancer on board who could pick up coins from the bottom with her navel.

He walked to the driver's side of the van and moved the seat back to accommodate his longs legs before climbing in.

Without preamble, save the roar of the engine as Gabe turned the switch, the closing words of Reverend Hanks's sermon passed through her mind.
Delo sobre a Dios.
Give it over to God.

The van scattered a yellow cloud of butterflies from the
sascab
road that led away from Punta Azul. As Gabe turned on Highway 307 and headed north toward Akumal, Jeanne noticed ongoing construction on both sides of the thoroughfare amid the flow of green and occasional floral bursts of plant life—the purples of the
dormilona
, yellows of the mangroves, whites of various fruit-bearing trees, orange-red ziricotes, and the ever-present purple-pink trumpets of the morning glory vines.

But as Gabe braked for a car turning into a Pemex station, she shifted her attention to her driver's aquiline profile. He had perfect sculptured lips, the kind made for kissing. “Hard to believe this was no-man's-land a few years ago,” he grumbled.

Get over it
, she told herself
. You know little about this guy, and
some of the things you do know are not reassuring.
Gabe was not the kind of man a gal took home to Mama. Unless she—
God,
she amended—could change him.

“A blasted shame, if you ask me,” Gabe went on, as a none-too-welcome awareness swept over Jeanne.

If only her motives in wanting to introduce Gabe to God's love were entirely unselfish.

“Progress is spreading like cancer from Cancun south,” he lamented. “Most of the villages have already moved to the landward side of the highway to make room for the hotels. Punta Azul and its likes won't last much longer.”

“It is a shame,” she agreed, resorting to the tact that had moved her to the head of her class and career when they were threatened by distraction of any sort. “Strictly business” was the smartest way to keep things and, if nothing else, Jeanne was smart. She wouldn't be here leading an expedition if she weren't. The expedition was first. And the business at hand was finding this explosives expert.

“This
Tex
gentleman. Is there any other choice? I mean, you said that he was unscrupulous.”

A slow smile pulled at Gabe's lips, a fascinating, caution-provoking progression. “There's even an honor among thieves, Jeanne. The trick is to tap it.”

Thieves. Great. Now she really felt better. “How?”

“He'll want a share of the treasure.”

Her stomach dropped as if she'd just reached the roller coaster's apex and now plummeted earthward. “But . . . there are no spare shares. I'll have to call all the investors and get permis—”

“Or he'll become our competitor,” Gabe warned. “He's a treasure hunter first, explosives expert second. Either offer him a cut, or you'll have to pay him big money for his services, and given the arrangement you proposed to me, you have no funds readily available.”

Gabe was right on that account. There were no extra funds. But who'd have anticipated needing a path cut into the coral reef ?

“You do realize that you've found an untouched Spanish wreck,” Gabe reminded her after a moment. “Think about it, Jeanne. No one even suspected it was there. It's not been looted over the centuries.” Excitement throbbed in his voice. “But to get to it we need to—”

“Blast or find a barge.” Jeanne brushed a loose wisp of hair behind her ear.

“One is immediate. The other a delay.”

“And we can't afford either.” Four weeks was it. They all had jobs to get back to. One week was down. If they found the
Luna Azul
tomorrow and started excavating, it could take twice that to do it right.
Lord, what do I do?

“Are you a gambler?”

“No. I'm not,” she declared. “I'll have to call everyone involved or . . .” She paused for the flash that lightened her burdened thoughts. “Or be prepared to give Tex my share.” She could do that. She wasn't in it for the money per se. If the finds went to museums and it advanced her career, she'd be better off than before.

“You
are
joking, of course,” Gabe said, incredulous.

Jeanne shook her head. “If the stockholders are not willing to create another share, I could give mine up. I mean, I don't think it will come to that, but if it does, I could live with it.” God had looked out for her before and now was no exception. She was really at peace with it, if that's what it took to make the project successful.

Jaw clenching, Gabe kept his eye on the road ahead and turned on the radio. He flipped from station to station, pausing just long enough for a staccato Spanish voice to register before moving on.

“There,” he said, at last pleased with the selection. “I like music only, nothing chatty.”

“Nice.” It was the kind of music that conjured an image of a couple in candlelight, dancing slowly in each other's embrace.

“And you said you weren't a gambler.”

The silhouettes in Jeanne's mind vanished. “What?”

“You're gambling on your partners understanding the situation and being willing to take less to bring Tex aboard.” Gabe smiled. “I'd say that's a gamble.”

Jeanne shook her head. “Not at all, Gabe. That's
faith
.” At his skeptical smirk, she explained. “Seriously. The moment I thought about putting my share on the line, this peace came over me, like it was going to be okay.”

“You're serious.” Gabe clearly had no inkling of what she meant.

“I can't explain it completely, Gabe,” she admitted softly. “I take it you've never had any spiritual conviction.”

“I don't really think about spiritual things when it's all I can do to keep track of what I can see or hear.”

Jeanne could feel a wall of ice going up between them in record time, block by frigid block.

“I didn't mean to sound critical. If you are happy with your life as it is, who am I to tell you to change?” Even though she really wanted to. “The difference between us is that, for me, God helps me keep track of what I can see and hear . . . and even what I'm not aware of. It's what makes me tick,” she told him. “And when God's in charge, whatever I'm involved in will work out best for me, even when it's not the way I'd have chosen for myself.”

“Sounds like a cop-out to me. If He does well by you, it's praiseworthy. And when He doesn't answer your prayers, He's got a built-in excuse.”

“That's because you look at it from mankind's limited vision, not God's omniscient one.”

Gabe grunted, skeptical. “Like I said, a built-in out.”

After a moment's rumination, Jeanne shifted in her seat, rallying to the challenge. “Haven't you ever had something go wrong and yet it worked out best for you in the long run?”

“No.” He laughed without humor. “And trust me, I've had a lifetime of things go wrong. If God is really in charge, He's in sore need of an assistant.”

Jeanne winced inwardly at the pain he tried to cover in his voice.
No fist
, she counseled herself, but she had to be true to herself and her faith.

“You know, I'm not trying to sound like I have all the answers, Gabe, but . . .” She searched her soul for the right words, but could think of no way to sugarcoat it. “It doesn't sound like you're very happy with your life.”

“Exactly my point,” he shot back. “It seems your God stacked the disappointments on my side and forgot the silver lining you Christians are so sure exists.”

“God opens our eyes to the silver lining,” she said, feeling as if the words weren't coming from her at all, but from another power with far more insight than she possessed. “Have you ever turned to Him, or are you content to simply doubt without giving Him so much as the benefit of the doubt?” At Gabe's prolonged silence, she said gently. “That's all you have to do, you know. You can't see the good if all you look for is the bad.”

“Just go to church and light a candle or sing in the choir, eh?” he wisecracked.

“No, not at all. That's the celebration of what we live throughout the week . . . or it should be.” Jeanne tilted her head, seeking out the unsettled gaze cemented to the road. “Just ask,
whenever
,
wherever
. You know . . .” She giggled halfheartedly. “Like the cell phone commercial, except God's line never fails, even when the satellites are out.”

“Mmm.”

It wasn't exactly a step forward as far as responses go. But it wasn't one backward either. Perhaps it would grow. Jeanne hoped with all her heart that it would for Gabe's sake. But there was no point in overwatering it.

She changed the subject on a bright note. “If you don't mind, I'd like to stop at the grocery and see if they carry home perms . . . for Mara's makeover,” she explained. “Remember?”

To Jeanne's relief, the brooding cloud lifted from Gabe's face. “Excellent. Mind if I help?”

“And how might that be?” she asked, a mix of surprise and uncertainty in her voice. Somehow the image of Gabe at a girls' night just didn't make sense.

“With the
fiesta
coming up, I thought I'd get her something to wear, you know, something feminine enough to make the lads' eyes pop when they see her . . . With your help, of course.”

Oh, heavenly Father. The man not only cares for the wallflowers of
the world, but he shops too.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

From the moment Gabe turned into the white-gated entrance to Akumal with its lettering heralding seaside villas, they were in diver's heaven. A casual beach town, it had a few small grocery stores and a dozen or so restaurants. Strung along the beach in a tangle of tropical scrub and bougainvillea were hidden villas and courtyards.

As he pulled in front of the Super Chomak, Jeanne groaned. “Oh dear. Somehow the
super
conjured something larger in mind. I don't think we'll find a perm kit for Mara here.” She strained to see what lay beyond the large white arch that led to the beachfront.

“Nothing there but a few boutiques and some restaurants, and villas, hotels, private homes of the rich and famous—that sort of thing,” Gabe told her. “For major shopping, people drive to Cancún.”

“Do you think the hotels here would have a salon?”

Gabe's mind raced. He'd once hired a young man whose girlfriend worked in one of the hotel spas and salons. If he still had that phone number . . .

“Tell you what. Let's grab something light, so as not to spoil dinner. Then, while you browse the market and shops, I'll make a few calls and see what I can find out.”

After parking the van inside the
entrada
, Gabe guided Jeanne past a small, laurel-shaded green with its statue commemorating the first Euro-Maya family on the Yucatán. Beyond it was a bar and restaurant situated on the half-moon beach. Gabe had spent many a night drinking at La Buena Vida—with scuba aficionados from all over the world—beneath a giant iguana skeleton rattling over the bar. At the edge of the thatched overhang, thick-planked, henequen-roped swings gently swayed in the sea breeze.

“I feel guilty eating cheeseburgers without the gang,” Jeanne confided after the waiter brought her order. Her skirts tucked around shapely legs, she'd already kicked off her sandals to wriggle her painted toes in the sand. Jeanne was something else—classy when she needed to be and footloose the rest of the time. And caring. Gabe had never met someone filled with as much concern for others as she was for herself.

Later, as they browsed through a short string of boutiques with an eclectic selection of art, crafts, jewelry, and a small shop with casual fashions, she was like a kid in a candy shop. Jeanne Madison was the kind of woman a man wanted to take home to Mother—if Gabe ever returned home. That he even thought about it took him by surprise. So many bridges had been burned—at least professionally.

Jeanne picked out a jungle-print outfit for herself that made Gabe want to beat his chest. For Mara, they found a cotton dress with hand-embroidered ruffles on the neckline and around the full skirt. And when it came time to pay for the clothing, Jeanne refused to allow Gabe to purchase hers. She was definitely a change from the other women Gabe had taken out. None had ever had the ability to simultaneously charm and annoy him to distraction.