The Lies Uncovered Trilogy (Books 4, 5, and 6 of The Dancing Moon Ranch Series) (49 page)

Two hours later, with a battery-operated lantern in his hand to find their way, Marc led them up the trail to Whispering Springs. Once inside, they quickly shed their clothes and stepped into the hot springs pool. Marc moved around to sit on the natural rock ledge and Kit cuddled up alongside him. Marc curved his arm around her, kissed her, and said, "You're an amazing woman. If I'd known this was what commitment was all about, it wouldn't have taken me so long to get with the program."

"I'm not sure you have it right yet," Kit said. "It's not about having an afternoon of really hot sex. It's about filling voids in each other's lives and there's still one big unfilled void in yours, and that's your project in Belize."

"It's not as important as it was," Marc said.

"Yes it is," Kit insisted. "It's something you want, and I'm okay going back there as long as I can share a tent with you, but since I'm not part of the team, that's not an option. How about, you accept the job and head the team for the initial dig, and if we find out your little bundle in pink is on her way we'll work out a plan that includes her, maybe find a bungalow to rent, somewhere not too far from the site, where you could come home on weekends?"

Marc kissed her on the temple, and said, "Not a workable plan for me. There would be too many unfulfilled voids during the week. But what about the job in Santa Fe?" Marc asked. "It's what you want, so not taking it leaves an empty spot in your life."

"Well, we came here for a reason," Kit replied. "Maybe we should close our eyes and listen to the mountain and see what comes. You said it's always worked in the past."

"It has." Marc shut his eyes.

For a few moments Kit looked at Marc and wondered if she could love a man any more than she loved him. She was tempted to touch his face and kiss him, and curve her arms around his neck and move onto his lap and take it from there, but eerie, faraway sounds were beginning to funnel through the crevices in the mountain, so she closed her eyes and listened, and waited.

For a while she tried to come up with rational ways to merge Marc's Belize project with her museum job, but each time she thought she was on the right path, it would come to a dead end. But gradually she began to relax, and before long a calmness seemed to settle around her.

Marc was the one to finally break the silence. "When you brought up the idea of excavating a mound I made a remark about your pissing off the locals by shipping everything to a museum and you said you'd get your team to move the museum to the site to make things easier. It sounds like a good idea."

"I said that because you were being a total android at the time," Kit said. "Obviously we won't be building a museum on the ranch."

"Why not? There are living history museums all around the country. If we stayed here, after excavating the mound we could leave half of it open and in excavated layers, to show the process of doing an archaeological dig, and on the other half we could reconstruct some of the pit houses. One pit house could be set up for demonstrating cooking techniques like cutting corn off the cob with the jaw bone of a deer, or have someone grinding corn on a grinding stone. Another could be an arrow maker's house where an Indian from the reservation could show how to make arrowheads or tan leather. Later, we could have overnight campouts for scouts and they could make their own tools, and maybe even offer a powwow one night a week where visitors could be taught dance steps by the local Indians, along with giving them a historical narrative about the Indians who once lived in the village."

Kit thought about the idea. It wasn't so farfetched. Then she looked at Marc who was smiling, and said, "You're serious, aren’t you?"

Marc nodded. "It seems like the perfect solution. We'd still be digging, and in the end, you'd be curator of the museum."

"There's one major problem," Kit said. "Commitment is about filling voids in each other's lives. A living museum might fill a void in my life, but what about Belize?"

Marc placed his hand on Kit's bare belly, and said, "This afternoon I put a baby here and I don't want to be stuck off in the jungles of Central America when your time comes."

Kit laughed. "Honey, you must think you have alpha sperm. We only made love two times."

"Which means around a half-billion sperm made a mad dash for your egg. And I can tell you for a fact, the sperm I gave you were very eager to get on with things, so since a sperm can reach an egg in as soon as thirty minutes, a little zygote's already on its way up your fallopian tube."

Kit curved her hands around Marc's neck, and said, "You're a very intelligent man, and you're extremely proficient in what you do, but you can't assume, just because you have big balls to generate potent sperm, and a jet-propelled delivery system that's bigger than most, that I'm already pregnant."

"Don't complicate things," Marc said. "But speaking of a jet-propelled delivery system, it's refueled and ready to go again, so in case you're right, maybe you could climb aboard so we could make sure that egg becomes a little zygote."

"This is all about outdoing Rick and Adam, isn't it," Kit said.

"No, baby," Marc replied, "it's about us introducing some new genes into the Hansen line. You have blue eyes, and I have multi-colored eyes, and if we have at least six kids, odds are most of them will have something other than brown eyes and brown hair."

"Six kids means we'll have one more than Rick and Sophie," Kit pointed out, "which means it's still about you outdoing your brothers. But I do like the idea of making love while looking at each other, and maybe that would send signals to my egg to be more receptive to having sex with your sperm." She straddled him, and in the dusky twilight of the cavern, they again consummated their love, but this time it was slower, and during the moments after they'd come down from their climaxes, Kit looked at Marc and said, "I love you, and for some reason I can't explain, I feel as if a tiny little sperm is at this moment penetrating my egg."

Marc looked at her, soberly. "Is it because of the way we're doing it?" he asked.

Kit shrugged. "No, it's just a feeling."

"I love you too, baby," Marc said, "and maybe the reason I want you pregnant is because I want an excuse
not
to go back to Belize. I'm liking it here again. I can even imagine building a house, not too close to Rick and Adam, but somewhere near here. Sam has a parcel of land set aside for me, and one for Becca and Chase too. He said he and Jayne want their kids around them, and he included me."

"And your mom and dad want you here too," Kit said, "and a house in the vicinity of Whispering Springs would be heavenly, maybe one built into the side of the hill and overlooking the Indian mound."

After a few minutes, Marc said, "Meanwhile, I think the delivery system has finally run out of fuel. Are you ready to go back?"

"I am if you promise to stay in my tent with me tonight," Kit said. "You can sneak back to yours before your folks get up." She moved off his lap and climbed out of the pool, and Marc followed behind her. But after they'd dried off and dressed, and before they left, Kit picked up the lantern and walked over to the wall and studied the irregular surface with curiosity, and said in a thoughtful tone, while moving the light slowly around, "Did you or your brothers ever carve pictures on this wall?"

"No," Marc replied. "Why?"

"Come see." Kit raised the light, bringing into view the vague outline of a crude stick figure that appeared to have been inscribed into the cave wall with a sharp tool, and not far from it, was another figure. "It looks like a petroglyph." All around the figures were tiny lines and small cuplike indentations."

Marc walked over to stand beside her. Running his fingers over the stone wall, he said, "Cupules and grooves. They're associated with rituals involving rhythmic pounding during altered states of consciousness, usually by shamans’ intent on finding power."

Kit held the light up to the stick figures, and said, "Or this could have been part of a fertility ritual, like the Pomo Indians in California do with their baby rocks. Couples would go to a sacred rock together, make impressions on it, with cups representing the woman, and lines for the man, then pray and have sex." She pointed to a short, incised line between the legs of one of the stick figures. "This one's obviously a man, and this one's got a slit instead of a stick, so it's a woman."

"Maybe you need to rethink your premise," Marc said. "Instead of a winter village, this could be a place where couples came to conceive. Shamans ritually bathed to maintain their powers, so maybe couples took part in a ritual of being immersed in the pool before having sex."

"Or maybe they had sex while immersed," Kit said. "I told you I thought I felt my egg having sex with your sperm. In fact, I think I feel a little zygote flipping its way up my fallopian tube right now."

Marc looked at her in amusement. Then he took the light from her and set it down, and pulling her into his arms he kissed her, looked at her steadily, and said, "I think we just shifted my PhD project from dropping muons down holes in Belize, to an in depth study of petroglyphs in a cave in Oregon."

"Does that mean we've filled in all the voids in our lives?" Kit asked.

Marc nodded. "Filled in the voids, and added a little extra. I want to call her Lizzy."

"Are you serious?" Kit asked.

"Well, Elizabeth," Marc said, "but we'll call her Lizzy for short."

Kit didn't quite know what to make of Marc's enthusiasm to start a family, or his fixation on having a daughter when most men wanted a son, but then, she wasn't marrying an ordinary man, so there was no reason to assume he'd approach marriage and family and life in an ordinary way. "Then since you picked the name for our daughter," she said, "I get to pick the kind of wedding we'll have."

Marc eyed her dubiously. "What do you have in mind?"

"A Mayan wedding," Kit said. "That way you can keep the ponytail, since Mayan men had ponytails, and we won't have to worry about shoes since the Maya went barefoot. I'll wear a natural, homespun skirt and brocaded blouse like the women did, and you'll wear an embroidered loincloth decorated with shells and parrot feathers like the men. And while we exchange vows, I'll be thinking about what's under that loincloth. I can tell you for a fact, that long-fingered, big busted goddess would not have been disappointed."

"Honey," Marc said, "I think my jet-propelled delivery system has just been refueled..."

EPILOGUE

Dancing Moon Ranch - three weeks later

Maureen Hansen looked at the lineup of Hansen grandsons, all shaved and clean and wearing their best clothes, the group of young men standing just to the side of the grape arbor, where Kit and Marc were exchanging wedding vows. They were a handsome bunch. Adam would have been proud of these boys. They were still sowing a few wild oats, but when they'd finally settle on mates they'd be faithful. It seemed to be in the Hansen genes.

She also noticed that Ryan couldn't seem to keep his eyes off Annie Kincaid, who was sitting with her folks and the other guests attending the wedding. The Kincaids had visited the ranch on several occasions when Matt and Ruth Kincaid were thinking about starting a guest ranch, and now that they had, they were looking to hire a ranch hand to oversee the riding horses and take guests on trail rides. She suspected they'd come to check out the Hansen boys, with Ryan the most likely candidate since, much to Grace's dismay, Ryan was growing increasingly anxious to go off on his own, and he let the word out. But if Ryan didn't stop staring at Annie, he'd no longer be in the running. She doubted if Matt Kincaid would look favorably on one of the ranch hands chasing after his daughter, if the man was anything like Jack was with Maddy.

Maureen looked across the grassy center aisle and saw Kit's family, who'd come from Albuquerque, as well as Marc's grandparents, the Templetons. The Templetons arrived from Texas the day before, and their meeting with Grace and Jack had been tense, but as the day progressed, and the attention turned to Marc and Kit, things changed some, and she was certain that as soon as the grandbabies would start to arrive there would be a coming together. Already the Templetons were talking about moving from Texas to be close to Marc when Marc's grandfather would be retiring from the university at the end of the following year.

"And now you may kiss the bride," the minister announced.

Maureen smiled as Marc and Kit kissed for the first time as Mr. and Mrs. Marc Hansen. Marc looked exceptionally handsome in his new safari shirt and khaki pants, as Kit requested he wear, and Kit looked beautiful with her hair in braids coiled around the top of her head, and with tiny flowers interwoven in the braids. She was wearing the squaw dress Adam bought when they were on their honeymoon almost sixty years before, and on her feet she wore a pair of new suede moccasins with beaded patterns on them. When Kit commented that she wanted to have a non-traditional wedding, the squaw dress seemed appropriate. Kit was also wearing the dancing moon pendant Adam commissioned to be made the day they bought the squaw dress.

When Jack and Grace married, she'd given the pendant to Grace to wear as something old, with the idea that Grace would pass it down the line. She wasn't surprised when Grace gave it to Kit—a symbolic gesture to make sure Marc knew he was a Hansen through and through. Marc seemed to get it now, but it had taken him twenty-five years, and the right woman.

Kit was exactly what Marc needed. Their exchange when they stopped by to pick up the squaw dress the week before, and to decide what Marc should wear, was both playful and insightful, giving her a glimpse into their private world. It was also a reminder of how it had been when she and Adam were in the prime of their married life. She left the room to get the squaw dress, and when she returned, she heard the exchange from the hallway. Marc was sitting in a kitchen chair, with Kit standing behind him while trying to decide which of three cords to tie his ponytail with, when Marc tipped his head back, looked up at Kit, and said, "Honey, I can cut it off. I intended to do it anyway before we left Belize."

Kit bent down and kissed Marc on the forehead, and said, "No way. You know how I feel about your hair. Besides, you wouldn't look right nibbling on a mastodon bone with a buzz cut, and while we're on our honeymoon, we're going to share a whole lot of bones."

Marc grinned, like it was their private joke, and said, "You still haven't said what I'm supposed to wear. If I start thinking about sharing a mastodon bone with you, a loincloth could be an embarrassment, but since my groomsmen will be wearing western dress, I could too, and we'd be a cowboy and his squaw."

"I admit, you give me palpitations when you wear tight jeans," Kit said, "but I want you to wear khakis and a safari shirt."

Marc grabbed Kit's arm and pulled her around to sit on his lap, and said, "I thought you had a thing for cowboys."

Kit laced her fingers behind Marc's neck, and replied, "I do, but I have a bigger thing for an archaeologist whose roots are buried deep in an Indian mound on the Dancing Moon Ranch." She kissed him lightly, and added, "But I wouldn't mind if you put a little deet on your chest."

Marc eyed her with amusement. Then his face sobered, and he looked at Kit with all the love a man could possibly hold in his heart, and said, "Thank you, honey, for bringing me home."

After Marc and Kit walked down the aisle, and while Maureen was waiting for the other wedding guests to leave their chairs and funnel to the lodge for the reception, Howard Barker, who was sitting beside her, covered her hand with his and said, "It's time, honey. Our spouses have been gone for over twenty-five years now, and before our memories of them begin to fade, we can still have a few good years together to reminisce and keep the memories going longer."

Maureen gave Howard's hand a squeeze and remained holding it. They went back so many years she could barely remember when she hadn't known him, or his wife Evie. They'd stood at each other's weddings, standing together as they repeated vows to mates they'd hoped to be with well into old age. Still, after they'd lost their spouses, when Howard moved across the state to be near his daughter, they'd stayed connected by phone and Christmas cards and emails, sharing life changes about their children and grandchildren from a distance.

But now, she couldn't help thinking Howard was right. A couple of years back he'd broached the idea of their getting married, more for old time's sake than love, she'd thought, but for the first time since she'd lost Adam, the idea of sharing her life with another man didn't seem so unimaginable. Still, her roots were planted deeply in Dancing Moon soil.

"I can't leave here," she said to Howard. "It's my whole life."

"I know," Howard replied, "but maybe there's room in your little house for me."

Maureen saw the expectant look in Howard's eyes. He had a nice face, one she wouldn't mind looking at as the years went by. "I think it could be arranged," she found herself saying. "Could we move Evie's remains here and have them re-interred in our family plot?"

Howard looked at her in surprise, then in relief, like a big burden had been lifted from his shoulders. "Are you sure you wouldn't mind?" he asked.

"How could I mind?" Maureen said. "The four of us have been together for three-quarters of our lives, whether in the physical body or in our hearts. Evie belongs with us now. And after we're gone, we'll be buried with our first mates, and still all be together."

Howard moved their clasped hands to rest on top of his knee, and said, "I've loved you for years, honey, but in a different way than I loved Evie. But maybe that's changing some. Can a man love two women in the same lifetime?"

Maureen laughed, and replied, "Let's not try to romanticize this. Let's just enjoy what we have, a love that goes back sixty years. But I wouldn't mind sharing a bed with a man again. I never adjusted to sleeping alone after I lost Adam."

Howard smiled in amusement. "Is that a proposition?"

Maureen eyed the man sitting beside her. He still had a full head of hair, although snow white now, and was nice-looking for a man approaching eighty. Actually handsome, the kind of face she wouldn't mind looking at over breakfast each morning. She felt a little ripple of awareness. "Could be. Do you have a playful streak?"

"Haven’t for a number of years," Howard said, "but sometimes an old sleeping dog can wake up."

Maureen laughed. "Well, if he starts to get frisky you let me know." As soon as she'd said the words, she felt her face grow hot.

Howard laughed. "Honey, I haven't seen a blush like that in years. Do you think you can handle a frisky old dog?"

Maureen felt little odd tingles in places that had been dormant for years. She was also aware of a glint in Howard's eye that told her an old dog could very well be waking up. To her surprise, she found the idea appealing. "I think I'd like to try," she said, then wondered where her cheeky words had come from. She hadn't flirted in years, but it was beginning to come back.

"Would the family be too upset if we had our own little ceremony next month?" Howard asked. When Maureen didn't respond, because she was caught up in wondering how it would be to have a man other than Adam in her bed, Howard said, "I'm sorry, honey, I think I'm pushing you. You probably need time to think some."

Maureen saw the resolve in Howard's eyes and already missed that little glint of moments before. "Time and frisky old dogs are the two things we don't have much of anymore," she said. "Next month's fine with me. But maybe we could take a short honeymoon trip somewhere."

"I never thought of that," Howard said. "Is there someplace special you want to go?"

"No," Maureen said. "I just don't want all these young bucks around here to see me smiling the morning after we marry and figure out what Grandma and her new husband have been up to."

Howard winked. "Keep talking like that and the old dog might remain frisky forever."

Maureen couldn't help grinning, and wondering, and thinking that maybe there was a little untapped spice left in her life'

Before that thought had settled in, Howard crooked his finger under her chin, kissed her lightly on the lips, and said, "I like the grin. It just turned a frisky old dog into a pup."

"I can handle pups too," Maureen said. Continuing to hold Howard's hand, they went to join the others at the reception, prepared to make their own announcement.

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