Blue Moon (27 page)

“Jeanne, I'm bringing along some canned tuna and more soup,” Remy called out to her, emerging from the bait shack. “Wait up.”

Hopefully Mr. Clean wouldn't remember them, but just in case, Gabe should be warned.

“Thanks, but not now, Remy,” she answered, speeding up on the uneven planks.

But before she was halfway down the dock, Gabe leapt off the deck of the
Fallen Angel,
hurried over to where the giant had disembarked, and gave the man a bear hug.

“Big Juan! How's the head,
amigo
?”

Jeanne cringed in midstep.
Way to go, Gabe. Remind the man that
you put the latest gash on his head.

But instead of hostility, Juan brandished a sheepish, snaggle-toothed grin at Gabe. “I did not know you,
amigo
.” He pointed to his head. “One too many fights, eh?”

“Oh, heaven spare us,” Remy moaned, catching up with Jeanne. “More hooligans.” He lowered his voice. “You do realize that our
Tex
”—the professor said the name as though it soured his mouth— “could be setting us up to grab the loot and run? If that giant doesn't look like a pirate, I'm Mother Teresa.”

Still bewildered by this strange alliance, Jeanne nudged him with her elbow. “Don't be ridiculous, Remy. I like Tex.”

But she wasn't so sure about Big Juan. As she and Remy drew closer to the
Angel,
Jeanne saw another familiar face. Juan's companion was the same young man who'd moved the van for them the night of the altercation in the Akumal cantina. It was Tito's big brother.
Rico,
she thought.

“
Buenos días, señorita
!” Rico waved from the stern, where the name
Margarita
had been painted across the transom. “
Mi hermano
. . . my brother Tito, he asks me to say to you that he is remembering your kindness.”

“You actually
know
these people?” Remy whispered in her ear, incredulous.

“It's good to see you again . . . it's Rico, isn't it?” she asked.

“
Sí
.” The young man's head bobbed up and down, his bowl-cut black hair shimmering in the sunlight. “It is good of you to remember me,
señorita
.”

“Well, now that we're all
amigos
,” Tex said, pulling on his vest. “How's about me n' Pablo ridin' with my boys and meetin' you folks at Isla Codo? That way they'll be up to speed on what we need them to do.”

“It sounds good to me,” Pablo called from the bridge of the
Angel
. “Okay with you, boss?”

“Sure,” Jeanne answered, a bit intimidated. Granted, everyone deferred to her, but in reality, the project had taken on a life of its own. It was now running itself.

“Good,” Pablo said. “I'll grab the detailed chart of the mound we want them to work on.”

Jeanne conceded that she felt better with Pablo accompanying the Akumal crew. And if Gabe trusted the lot, they
had
to be trustworthy, whether Remy agreed or not.

Lord, just help me to keep abreast of it all. As long as it's in Your
hands, I'm happy.

Once they were underway, Jeanne sat, foot propped up on the bridge sofa, reveling in the fresh air that swept through and the fact that she'd finally had the strength to shower that morning. Yesterday, she'd washed as best she could on potty runs to the ladies' bathhouse, nursed the soups and mineral drinks, and slept.

Gabe's occasional glance at her from the wheel worked better than the antibiotic to make her ready, willing, and able to get going again, although he'd already warned her that she ought to stay topside and help Remy and Mara, at least for today. Part of her hoped that they wouldn't find the
Luna Azul
's treasure today—because she wanted to see for herself the unveiling of a secret hidden for years beneath a coral bed. A more practical voice countered the sooner the better, with or without her.

Beyond the bow of the boat, Isla Codo appeared as a dark spot on the horizon. Gabe lined up the
Angel
with the buoys marking the entrance to the reef and cut back the speed of the engines. Behind, Tex Milland's
Margarita
maneuvered into their wake. This was it. Within an hour, they'd be underwater—at least the others would—and perhaps just a few blocks of coral away from the
Luna
Azul'
s treasure.

As Gabe steered between the two markers leading into the lagoon, Jeanne rose to join him at the wheel—when a terrible jolt vibrated through the boat, nearly knocking her to the deck. The grinding and scraping beneath them sounded as if the
Angel
had fallen into a giant garbage disposal. The boat shuddered as if it would fly apart.

Gabe shifted the throttle into reverse, churning up water all around them. Jeanne grasped the back of the captain's bench to steady herself, her mind awash with shock-blunted questions. Were they on the reef? How?

She glanced over her shoulder in time to see Tex Milland veer away from them toward the deeper water. Almost simultaneously, his voice crackled over the radio with his call sign.

“What in tarnation is going on up there?”

Gabe was too busy to answer. Blanched beneath his dark tan, he urged the shaking ship away from the dangerous shallows with muttered words Jeanne couldn't hear and growls of diesel power as the scraping and grinding continued to attack the hull.

Dear Father, please deliver us—

A wave lifted the boat and the props turned, thrusting it away from the reef.

Losing no time, Gabe maneuvered the
Angel
into shallower water near a bar, his eyes glued to the Fathometer.

“Manolo, drop the fore anchor!” he shouted. “Nick, get the back!”

“Do you think we're sinking?” Jeanne asked. A reef played no favorites.

“Maybe. If we are taking on water, at least we're in shallows.”

“Heavenly Father, please make it okay.” Jeanne didn't realize she'd prayed aloud until she saw Gabe looking at her.

Instead of responding with his usual cynicism, he simply added, “Amen. It'll take nothing short of a miracle.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The
Angel
rose and fell at anchor in the gentle swells near the bar, the
Margarita
tied off the port side. At the stern, Jeanne watched as Gabe swam to the side and climbed up the portable swim ladder. He'd been so worried, he'd not even bothered to spend time suiting up. He and Tex had been free diving over the side, checking the boat's bottom. So far, so good.

“Well?” Jeanne asked as he stepped onto the deck, water running in rivulets off his chest.

Gabe held her gaze. “You've made a believer out of me.”

“There's no damage?”

“It's a miracle . . . a tarnfounded miracle,” Tex exclaimed, breathless as he followed Gabe up out of the water. “Nothin' more'n a paint job and a bent wheel from what I could see. Why both wheels weren't twisted to kingdom come is beyond me.”

“You mean we're
not
sinking?” Visions of the
Titanic
had flooded Remy's imagination ever since they'd struck the reef. He'd remained stationed at the bilge hatch, backing Manolo up as they looked for any sign that the ship was taking on water.

“I guess the tide was just right,” Tex remarked. “An hour later an' we'd be sitting high and not so dry.”

Not caring what anyone thought, Jeanne gave into her joy. Reaching toward the heavens, she did a little seafarer's jig. “Praise the Lord!”

Across the deck, Pablo crossed himself to the ensuing chorus of “Amen!”

“We're not out of the woods yet,” Gabe reminded them. A storm had gathered just beneath the surface of his stoic features, although the reason eluded her. After all, he'd just said she was making a believer of him.

“What does the bilge look like, Manolo?”

“
Bueno, muy bueno, amigo
.” Manolo was usually shy, but after Gabe had given him holy what for in rapid-fire Spanish for not watching the bow during their approach, shame compounded his withdrawal.

Jeanne placed her hand on Gabe's arm. “Is something else wrong?”

Darkness closed in on his expression. “Yes. Those buoys didn't move themselves.”

“But who on earth would want to move our markers?” Remy asked.

“I can think of one feller,” Tex volunteered.

Jeanne glanced at him. “Surely you don't think Marshall Arnauld would do this?”

Gabe shook his head. “No, he never does his own dirty work.”

“But—” Jeanne protested.

“Think about it, little lady,” Tex said. “The
Angel
gets stove up, your project runs over budget, and you run out of time. Guess who's waitin' in the wings to sweep in and claim your prize after we done all the work?”

Jeanne digested the situation in disbelief. It was like something out of an adventure novel, not real life. “It just doesn't make sense to me.”

Gabe touched the side of her cheek. “That's part of your charm, sweet. You believe the best of everyone, but you are going to have to trust us. Something isn't right here.” He turned to Pablo.

“While we're changing the wheel, Pablo, you take Nick, Stuart, Rico, and Primston in the rubber raft and reset those markers.”

“You have a spare wheel?” Jeanne echoed in surprise. God was
so
good, she thought at Gabe's nod. She'd envisioned having to return to Punta Azul, losing another day.

“
Bueno. Vamanos amigos
,” Pablo said to the others. “Let's go.”

While Ann filmed the men changing the bent wheel—“Just another part of the adventure,” she said—Jeanne left Mara curled up on the bridge with her nose in a book and went below to make some coffee. Since the wind made the low-seventies temperature feel much colder than it was, a cup of something hot and invigorating would be just the thing.

As she poked around until she found where Gabe stowed the pot and a canister of coffee almost too big to fit on the narrow counter, she debated whether or not to call her brothers. Popping off the lid, she savored the rich smell of the ground beans.

Blaine and Mark would know what to do, she thought, digging around for the scoop. Or at least they would know where to find out what could or should be done. Although, another voice countered, if they knew someone was willing to wreck the
Angel
on a reef, risking the lives of her and her crew, her brothers would call the whole thing off—even when the project was so close to finding the treasure.

Lord, like David said in the psalm, you are my light and my salvation,
so whom shall I fear? You're the strength of my life; of whom shall
I be afraid?

Her mind tumbling with pros and cons, she found a receptacle and plugged the pot in. But since God had clearly saved them from the reef, maybe her answer
was
in her paraphrased scripture. Or was she rationalizing because she wanted so badly to find the treasure and make a success of the mission?

God, why can't You just spell it out for me like you did Moses? I need
help. I need Your wisdom—

“Dr. M,” Mara said from the steps of the companionway. “Need help?”

“Lots of it,” Jeanne admitted, although Mara wasn't what she expected. “If those buoys were moved, then I have the lives of my crew to worry about as well as finding the gold. What kind of a person would do something like that?”

Mara shrugged, tossing her book on the dinette table and sliding into the booth. “A pathological jerk.” Leaning on one elbow, she twirled a blonde ringlet with her other hand. “I just love my hair . . . and I wouldn't have had the nerve for a perm, if it hadn't been for you and Ann.”

“I noticed that you and Lupita's nephew were having a grand time.”

Mara turned as fuchsia as the bougainvillea spilling over the rails on the lodge veranda. “I felt like Cinderella . . . with
three
princes! I mean, Nick and Stuart . . . well, Nick mainly. Stuart was in love with the burger vendor. It was cool because I could dance with all of them. I think Nick finally realizes that a girl can be a bookworm and a woman at the same time.” She paused to get her breath. “Just like Gabe realizes you can be hot and a doc at the same time.”

Jeanne nearly dropped the thermal carafe she was filling with water. “Now, don't—”

“Everyone,” Mara said the word as if it encompassed all of Punta Azul, “can see he's got a thing for you . . . and vice versa. Ann says—”

“Ann thinks she was born a cupid,” Jeanne told her, lifting the top of the coffeepot to fill the holding tank. “She thinks because she's in a state of marital bliss that everyone she knows should take the leap as—”

“How can you
not
love Gabe?”

Jeanne wondered the same thing. But was what she felt toward him love? The physical attraction was undeniable. And he
seemed
to be changing, opening his mind, at least to God.