Out of the Depths

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“WAH—WAH—WAH!” JACI faked a temper tantrum on Kyndal’s bed with her perfect imitation of an infant’s cry—an attempt at levity to balance the sinking feeling. Once again, her part in Kyndal’s drama was stirring up feelings of guilt. If she hadn’t insisted, Kyndal wouldn’t have gone to the cave…wouldn’t be pregnant…wouldn’t be uprooting her life. “I just got you back, and here you’re talking about moving again.” She pointed to the royal-blue silk hanging on the doorknob. “Try that one.”

Kyndal presented her backside to be unzipped. “St. Louis is only three hours away. Not much farther than Nashville was, and we survived that.” She stepped out of the dress she’d been trying on and reached for the blue one. “I bought this one for the True Tennessee premier dinner. Wish I had the money back I spent on it.”

“But I like having you here.” Jaci made the most of her Queen of Pout whine as she slowly zipped the dress.

“I love being here, but I’ve got to go where I can make a living.” Kyndal turned around. “How’s this?”

The guilt stalled for a moment when Jaci saw how her friend looked in that dress. “Oh. My. God. Your stubbornness isn’t the only thing the baby’s increased.”

Kyndal backed up to look in the mirror and gasped at the amount of cleavage showing above the scooped neckline. “I look like I’m about to fall out!”

“And every man at Max’s will want to play catcher.” They giggled like they were in high school again.

It was wonderful hearing Kyndal laugh again. With all she’d been through lately—thanks to me—that she could laugh at all was amazing. “Seriously.” Jaci worked at making a straight face. “People like us only have ta-tas like that when we’re pregnant. I say, flaunt ’em while ya got ’em.”

Kyndal took another long look in the mirror. “I’ll keep this one under consideration. I may not get to dress up like this again for a long time.”

“Living in the city, you’ll have lots of chances to dress up. I mean…uh…opportunities.”

Kyndal snorted. “It’s not like I’m going to fall apart if I hear his name, Jaci.” She sighed. “Now, seeing him might be a different story.”

“Aha!” Jaci’s stomach tightened as her suspicion was confirmed. She scrambled to a seated position. “I knew it! You’re running away.”

Kyndal turned her back and sidled up to the bed. “I’m not running away. I just think it might be better if I wasn’t worried about running into him unprepared.” She made the move sound so…reasonable, as if a visitation schedule would fix everything. She picked up the black dress. “Should I try this one again?”

“No.” Jaci spoke around the lump in her throat, forcing her thoughts back to the dresses. “After seeing the blue one on you, the black’s frumpy, and the red’s…I don’t know, too red for just dinner. I vote blue.” She squeezed her eyes closed, knowing she had to ask the question she was dreading. “So, when do you have to give this guy an answer?”

“By the first.”

The air left her lungs. “Geez,” she whispered, “that’s only a week away.”

Fear clouded Kyndal’s eyes only briefly—and Jaci felt it in the pit of her stomach—before she put on her brave face. “I know, I’ll have to make my mind up soon. I’ll have to find an apartment and a new doctor—” she paused and grinned “—and if your bottom lip protrudes any farther, we’ll be able to hang an ornament on it.”

Despite the quip, Jaci’s heart felt as if it had shrunk by half. There hadn’t been very many times in her life when she’d been at a loss for words, but this was one.

Kyndal slipped back into her jeans. “What do you think Rick’s big announcement’s going to be?”

Jaci jumped at the opportunity to move the conversation to something less depressing. “I dunno. Do you think they’re engaged or going to get married? It’s way too soon, but maybe Denise is pregnant.”

“Oh, Lord, Jaci.” Kyndal buttoned her shirt and started gathering up the dresses she’d scattered about the room. “You’ve got pregnancy on the brain.”

More than you know. “Just exploring the possibilities.”

Kyndal sat on the bed beside her and took a deep breath.

Uh-oh.

“Jaci, I know how difficult the miscarriage was for you. Are you upset with me for being pregnant? Ever since we found out, I feel like there’s been a veil between us.”

Jaci felt the end of her nose starting to bloom red as her eyes welled up. She squeezed Kyndal’s hand. “I could never be upset with you about something so wonderful. I’m upset with myself. I feel like everything is my fault.”

Concern shimmered in Kyn’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

Jaci choked back a sob. “I’m the one who insisted you go to the cave with Chance. If I hadn’t done that, you wouldn’t have gotten lost in there…wouldn’t be pregnant…wouldn’t be moving so far away. I’ve made a complete mess of my best friend’s life.”

Kyndal pulled her into a warm, motherlike hug. “Oh, Jaci. You’ve never been more wrong.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better.” Jaci tried to speak plainly, but it came out more as a blubber.

Kyndal loosened her grip and pushed her to arm’s length, forcing her to meet her gaze. “No I’m not. Please don’t think of it as taking the blame for what happened. Think of it as taking credit.”

Jaci grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes. “What do you mean?”

Kyndal smiled. “Chance and I didn’t make love that first night. We had a lot of air-clearing to get through. If we hadn’t gotten lost, we never would’ve had that time together, and I wouldn’t have gotten pregnant.” The look in Kyndal’s eyes was so earnest, it almost hurt to see it. “Jaci, I’ve told you this before, but you obviously haven’t believed me. This baby is the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s given my life meaning…fulfilled me. Yeah, you pushed me out of my comfort zone, but beause you did, I feel like I can face anything now.”

Kyndal was drawing strength from that mom-material source, but then, her best friend had always been strong—the kind of person who faced down life without blinking. Jaci knew she should take comfort from the words, but they only seemed to highlight her own shortcomings. Her tears continued to fall.

Kyndal’s smile faded. “That’s not all, is it? What’s going on?”

Talking about her fears with a pregnant woman was a horrible thing to do. But honesty made their relationship what it was, and the need to talk to somebody besides Bart was strong. Jaci’s breath caught in her chest. “I’m afraid, Kyn, of being a mother and of not being a mother. I think about all the things that can happen to a child, and I feel so…so inept.” The words poured out. “I keep thinking that maybe the miscarriage was nature’s way of telling me I’m not mom material.”

“That’s hogwash.”

Hardly the sympathetic response she’d expected. “Huh?”

“Giving birth doesn’t make you mom material.” Kyndal’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “Look at my mom.”

“Good point,” Jaci admitted.

“You can’t drive yourself crazy with worry. Life’s unpredictable.” Kyndal’s frown dissolved as she rubbed her tummy. “I’m living proof of that. Bad things happen and good things happen, and you face them because that’s life. You don’t control it. You just do the best you can with whatever resources you have.”

Kyndal refused to relinquish the floor, even when Jaci tried to cut in. “I’m not done, Eight Ball. You’re the one who always says things happen for a reason. Those kittens didn’t show up on your deck by accident. That mother cat brought them to you. She chose you.”

“Kittens are hardly babies.”

“But they’re a commitment, and you made it, and you’ve done an amazing job seeing it through. Let me tell you, there are mothers everywhere who would consider themselves blessed if their child could be cared for by someone like you.”

“Are you saying we should consider adoption?” She and Bart had never discussed that option, but she knew him well enough to know he’d be open to it.

“Maybe…or maybe animal rescue. Whatever works for the two of you.” Kyndal dabbed a tissue under Jaci’s eyes. “I just know that I’ve been on the receiving end of your nurturing for years, and you’re a natural.”

Jaci’s brain whirled with the potential. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

Kyndal gave her hand a motherly pat. “You’re definitely mom material, and there’s a world of possibilities out there. Motherhood comes in a lot of different forms.”

Jaci took a deep breath, and it felt like the first one to reach all the way to the bottom of her lungs since Kyndal and Chance had gone missing.

* * *

CHANCE WOKE UP ON THE EDGE of the couch with Chesney behind him, snoring in his ear. The blazing fireplace had made the room warmer than was comfortable. So hot he was sweating. He sat up and rubbed his tired eyes. No, it wasn’t the heat. He’d been having another erotic dream about Kyndal.

He’d awakened from a similar dream around two-thirty, just as he had the night before. Unable to get back to sleep, he’d come downstairs and read until almost four. Now it was five-fifteen. He was facing one of the biggest David-and-Goliath days in his career with only eight hours of sleep in two nights.

Wharton Barge Lines was a huge corporation, which could well afford to pay Harry Holloway fair compensation rather than the paltry sum they’d first offered. Thank God, Harry had the sense to seek legal advice. The man had lost an arm when he fell between the barges. He could’ve lost his life.

Harry Holloway needed a hero today, but the hero he was depending on had his head stuck so far up his own ass he couldn’t see the light of day. All because of a woman named Kyndal Rawlings, who kissed him with the heat of a thousand suns one minute and turned down a date with frosty nonchalance the next.

Chance roamed around the house, straightening things that didn’t need to be straightened, running a load of laundry for two towels, waiting for dawn when he could go for a jog and out-distance his thoughts for a while.

He hadn’t been to the cave all week, and Chesney could use some exercise. So at first light, he called her and grabbed her leash.

The morning breeze off Kentucky Lake held the first strong acknowledgment of winter, and he found it invigorating. The jog became a run and then a race with him and Chesney neck and neck at the bend.

Evidently the colder weather had put a stop to the partying at the cave, too. The alarm hadn’t sounded and he’d been home fairly early all week. By spring, the new system would be in place.

As they neared the cave, he spotted a long rope dangling from a tree, a large loop at one end, the other thrown over a sturdy limb. Someone had been here. The alarm hadn’t worked.

When he spied the cut wires dangling from the roof, he understood. “Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch!” They’d hoisted someone high enough to make short work of effectively disarming the alarm, which led him to wonder if the culprits were kids at all.

He pulled the set of keys from his pocket with the tiny flashlight attached. It wasn’t much, but it would save time if he didn’t have to go back to the house for a lantern. He entered the cave and did a quick scan of the walls. No additional graffiti, but they wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of cutting the wires without following up with some mischief.

He groped his way around the room slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Beer cans. Cigarette butts. Nothing too awful.

And then his gaze fell on the small belt, curled against the side wall. He approached it hesitantly, not wanting to believe his eyes, but the sinking feeling told him his vision was perfect. Not a belt at all. A dog collar.

He flipped the tag over and read the name. “Jet.” One of the dogs buried in Old Man Turner’s secret burial room. They’d found it. A few feet away lay several more of the collars and what appeared to be a journal rolled up and tied with a shoelace.

He undid the lace and smoothed the periodical under his palm, finding a red marker rolled up inside.

A magazine. He held the light close. The photo on the front was of a cave.

His cave.

Kyndal’s photos.

He slowly leafed through the pages, eyeing the familiar caverns in breathtaking detail thanks to Kyndal’s amazing artistic eye. The window into the vug, enticing crystals sparkling beyond it. The stalagmite teeth, eerily beautiful in their ferocity. Damn, the shots were good. Better than good. Fabulous! His wrath cooled somewhat as he became swept up in admiration for Kyndal’s talent.

How in the hell did she not get that job? What would lure an editor away from someone with talent like hers?

He came to a page that had been dog-eared. A picture of the dog cemetery circled in red with a large check beside it.

They’d left this here to use again. They were going to look for everything pictured. A treasure hunt. A game of search and destroy.

And Kyndal had provided them with a map.

It wouldn’t be long before they found the bats. Disturbing them during hibernation would probably kill them. The vug. The spiders. The lower level.

They’d eventually find the ancient room.

He’d known this would happen. Telling the public about the cave was an invitation to vandalism. But he’d allowed Kyndal to take the photos and given her permission to use them against his better judgments. Kyndal had a way of getting him to do all sorts of things against his better judgment.

Kyndal Rawlings was the disturbance in his force.

His cave. His sleep. His heart. His peace of mind.

The woman seemed to have a knack for wreaking havoc in his life.