Authors: Kelee Morris
I ran a finger down his firm chest. “You’re far from decrepit, and you’re not 45.”
He frowned. “How do you know that?”
“Marilyn mentioned last week that today’s your birthday.”
“I’ll have her terminated immediately. I don’t like people making a fuss over my birthday.”
“It sounds like another way to keep people at a distance, but that’s not going to fly with me.” I nodded towards a large, red bag I had left on the floor next to my purse. “Go get your present.”
Ashland looked at me doubtfully. He reluctantly climbed out of bed to retrieve the bag. I rolled over on my side, enjoying the view of his naked backside. “I thought you’d been shopping,” Ashland said.
“I was, for you.”
He pulled the festive tissue paper out of the top of the bag and reached in to retrieve his gifts. He held one in each hand, considering them with a look of sardonic amusement. “You have quite the sense of humor, Mrs. Nelson.”
I smiled. In Ashland’s left hand he held a tan fedora. In his right hand was a whip. “I can’t believe I’m the first one to think of giving you those. They suit you so perfectly.”
“My archeological colleagues don’t think much of Indiana Jones.” With a deft flick of his wrist, he gave the whip an impressive crack.
“You’re pretty handy with that. Are you thinking of trying it out on me?”
He looked at the whip, then at my naked body stretched seductively across the bed.
He tossed the lash aside. “I’d much rather worship than whip you.”
~*~
After dinner that evening, I puttered around the kitchen, listening to an oldies station on the radio. They were playing a song from my post college days. It brought back memories of being single, living in Barcelona, working, but having plenty of time for idyll diversions like restaurants, clubs, and men.
As I scrubbed out the sink wearing plastic gloves, I felt a sense of bliss wash over me. It was as if all the responsibilities in my life, large and small, had been given new meaning. Instead of my secret affair with Ashland being a source of shame, it felt like the perfect complement to being a wife, a mother, and a valued employee.
“Mom?” Startled, I turned to see Lily standing in the doorway, watching me curiously. “Are you all right?”
“Sure. Why?”
“You were singing along to the radio.”
I smiled. “It’s The Sundays. They were one of my favorite bands.”
She nodded, unconvinced that I wasn’t engaged in bizarre parental behavior.
“How’s Chase?”
“Fine.”
“Are you two serious?”
“I don’t know. Don’t ask weird questions.”
“I just want you to know you can always talk to me.”
“I know. You’ve told me that a million times.” Lily draped her long, lean body against the doorframe. She seemed to like standing in doorways. Perhaps it allowed for a quick exit. She watched me for a while, before finally resuming the conversation. “Can I come to your work sometime?”
I eyed her. She had taken no interest in my new job, and I felt uncomfortable about my two worlds converging. “I guess. How come?”
“Business class assignment. I’m supposed to shadow someone.”
“I don’t know how exciting it’s going to be. I spend most of my time in the library staring at an old book. Maybe you should go to Dad’s work instead.”
“You like your job better.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I don’t know. You seem a lot happier since you started working there, and you just seem kind of different in general.”
I pulled off my gloves, considering her observation. “Different how?”
She shrugged. “You dress better.” She turned and glided out of the room.
It had turned bitterly cold on the mountain. Brother Ferreira was ill prepared for the weather, but he pressed on through the dense forest.
I feel a powerful presence guiding me
, he wrote.
It is something I have experienced in no church or monastery. I am traveling to a place where no Christian man has ventured, yet I feel a profound sense that something holy resides here.
I realized my hands were shaking. I closed the journal. Like Brother Ferreira, I felt I was on the cusp of something mysterious and profound. I took a minute to compose myself, then opened the book again and continued my translation.
The sunlight spilt upon me as I stumbled into a large clearing, my limbs rigid from the cold, my insides empty. Traditional dwellings of wood and thatch lined a small central square that appeared to have been carved out of the mountain. The homes were well kept and appeared to be still inhabited, though there was no one to be seen.
Surrounding the dwellings, I could discern ruins of stone. I did not know their origin, but it appeared that once a great city had been hidden here, far away from common human habitation.
I grew more excited. My translation became sloppy. I could clean it up later.
I noted movement inside the dwellings and then a face appeared, and another, and several more. They were all women. Were they flesh or spirit? I was not certain.
Slowly they emerged one-by-one from the houses. They were of all ages, from vibrant young girls to old women, bent and frail. They were clothed in long, flowing dresses of brilliant hues. They averted their eyes from me and appeared meek and humble, yet they continued to approach me until I found myself entirely surrounded by these strange creatures.
I spoke words of greeting to them in their native tongue but they made no reply. I wondered if I had succumbed to hunger and cold and, unbeknownst to me, was now among the dead.
And then, as if bidden by a voice only they could hear, they turned away from me and knelt as one. I stared, unspeaking, perplexed by the sight of these supplicating women.
From the largest dwelling another woman appeared. Small but regal, she wore a crimson dress trimmed with gold. She appeared to be beyond the age of child bearing yet she was radiantly beautiful.
This noble woman did approach me and stood before me. Her eyes met mine. She was unafraid. Her hair was made up upon her head and was topped by a crown of bronze, which had grown dull with age.
Again, I spoke a greeting but, like the others, she did not respond. I there upon proceeded to hold up the crucifix that I wore about my neck, presenting to her the symbol of my Lord.
In response, she removed the crown from her head and held it in a similar fashion so that I might see the symbol cast in its center.
I turned the page. There, at the top, Brother Ferreira had made a small drawing of the symbol that the woman had shown him. I stared at it in awe. What had felt so abstract that I could dismiss it as coincidence now was utterly real. I had no doubt that Brother Ferreira had stumbled into Magoa and had met its goddess.
I was startled when a drop of water landed on the page, just below the drawing. I realized that I was crying and my tear had smudged the ancient ink.
Fighting the urge to wipe away the stain, I pushed the book away and found my cell phone. I managed to call Ashland’s number. He picked up on the second ring. “Where are you?” I asked without bothering to say hello.
“In a faculty meeting.”
“Is Nina with you?”
“Yes. Is everything all right?” He sounded concerned.
“It’s better than all right. You and Nina need to get over to the library.”
“We’ll be right there.”
I paced the adjoining stacks while I waited for what seemed an interminable time. Finally, I heard their hurried footsteps. When they appeared I stepped aside without saying a word so they could see the open journal on the table. They stared at the drawing, as wide-eyed as I must have been. Then Ashland looked up at me. “Have you translated—”
Before he could finish his sentence, I slid my open laptop over to him. He quickly sat and read what I had typed. He passed it to Nina, who did the same. “I can’t believe we didn’t see this before,” he said.
“It’s the only drawing in the journal and it’s small. It was easy to miss.”
“Do you know how important this is?” Nina asked, handing me back my computer.
“It looks like Ferreira found Magoa, or what was left of it. But what does it mean for your research?”
Ashland’s eyes were shining. He was clearly proud of my work but was holding his emotions in check. “You couldn’t have done better if you found a map pointing the way to the lost Roanoke colony in Virginia. This is concrete evidence that Magoa was a matriarchal goddess society.”
“When can you finish translating this section?” Nina asked.
“I’ll see if my sitter is available so I can keep working on it tonight.”
“You don’t have to,” Nina said. “I’ll pick up my son and your daughter from school and stay at your place until you get home.”
“Are you sure?”
“This is the first breakthrough we’ve had since we left North Korea,” Nina said. “Take all the time you need.”
~*~
I didn’t leave the library until eleven that night, taking a break only to grab a quick sandwich for dinner.
Brother Ferreira spent three nights in Magoa, sleeping in a barn with goats and cattle for company. Women brought him food and blankets, but there was no attempt to converse with him or invite him into any of their homes. During the day, he sat in the square observing. The women gathered food from the forest and tended their livestock. Their village appeared perfectly normal, except for the complete absence of men. Ferreira assumed at first that he had entered the Korean equivalent of a convent. But there was something profoundly different about the women of Magoa, something even an assumedly celibate man like Ferreira sensed.
The women carry with them an assurance that I am hitherto unfamiliar. They appear comfortable with their sex. They do not shrink from a man’s gaze. Once, I witnessed a young woman drawing water from a trough. As she bent with her bucket her naked leg did become exposed. Despite my vows, I was unable to pull my eyes away from the sight of such tender flesh. When she noted my attention, she did not cover herself as would a woman of modesty. She neither invited my attention, nor shrank from it.
My brethren would call these women harlots,
Ferreira wrote,
but I believe they are angels. They do not pray or worship in any way that is visible to me, but here I have found a profound sense of the divine that I have been searching for all my life.
On the third morning, a woman brought Brother Ferreira enough provisions to make the journey off the mountain. He took the hint, but before he left, he walked to the home of what I assumed was Magoa’s resident goddess. He had not seen her since the day he arrived, but he stood patiently outside until she finally appeared.
A woman’s visage had not stirred me since I was a boy, and yet this woman’s beauty moved me more than words can describe. I longed to remain in her presence, to bow down before her, and to breathe in her feminine scent.
Without a word, she reached out her hand and touched my arm. It was if an angel had caressed it.
~*~
When I arrived home, Nina was curled up on the sofa, working on her laptop. “How is everybody?” I asked.
“Good. My husband picked up our son. I just had a long talk with Lily about archeology. Anna is upstairs in her room, and Mackenzie is asleep.”
I sat down next to Nina and showed her my translation. “This is amazing,” she said when she finished reading it. “Have you sent it to Dr. Stewart?”
“Not yet. I wanted to get your take on it first.”
She handed me back my computer. “It would be easy to dismiss this as the reaction of a hungry, exhausted man who already had an inclination towards spiritual experiences.”
“But you don’t believe that.”
“And I don’t think Dr. Stewart will either.”
“What about his rational view of the world?”
“I think that’s all changed since he met you.”
I felt a pang of worry that Ashland had shared our secret. “Did he say something to you?”
She shook her head. “I knew Dr. Stewart intimately,” she explained, “but he never looked at me the way he does you.”
“Why not? You’re beautiful and smart.”
She smiled. “I’m sure there were other beautiful, intelligent women in Magoa,” she said, “but there was only one goddess.”
~*~
I emailed my translation to Ashland after Nina left. He responded within minutes, inviting me to his house the next morning.
I was too excited about my discovery to sleep. My mind kept turning over the mystery that was Magoa. There were other mystical places in the world, but most of them were awe-inspiring monuments. Even in Brother Ferreira’s day, Magoa was a ruin. There was nothing overtly spiritual about it. Yet, it had a profound effect on Ferreira, Nina, Ashland Stewart…
And me.
~*~
I barely let Ashland close the back door before I threw myself into his arms, kissing him with all the passion and excitement I was forced to contain last night. I was even able to ignore the wonderful smell of freshly brewed coffee as I dragged him into the living room and pushed him onto the narrow sofa. I climbed on top of him, my knees on either side of his hips.
We spent a long time kissing like two hormone-crazed teenagers, enjoying the simple sensation of pressing our lips together while our tongues intertwined. I loved the way he slipped his hands under my sweater and touched my bare skin, or moved one hand to my face to brush the hair from my eyes.
Finally, we came up for air and I smiled broadly at him. “You seem happy about something this morning,” he said.
“You mean besides seeing you?”
“Julia, what you found in Ferreira’s journal has convinced me that it’s time to let the world know about Magoa.”
“What about the North Koreans?”
“It’s a calculated risk. I’ve talked to my South Korean and Chinese colleagues. They agree that Kim Jong-un may embrace the positive publicity for his country. After all, this could become a major World Heritage site.”
“Maybe we could make Dennis Rodman an honorary archeologist.”
Ashland kissed me again. “I was thinking of reserving that honor for you.”
I sat up so I could see his face clearly. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s an important archeological conference in Madison next April. We have a lot of work ahead of us, but I want to present a paper on Magoa there, and I want you to give a presentation on Ferreira’s journal.”
I frowned at him. “I’m just the translator.”
“You’re highly intelligent and articulate and you know the journal better than anyone. You deserve this.”
Ashland’s shirt was partially unbuttoned. I teasingly ran my index finger from his Adam’s apple to his chest. “And this has nothing to do with the fact that I’m sleeping with the head of the excavation?”
His face turned into what I could only describe as a glower. “I thought I made it clear that I would never compromise my work like that.”
“You did.” I climbed off his lap and took him by the hand. “Now I want you to take me upstairs and fuck me while I think it over.”
~*~
Ashland scheduled a meeting to discuss plans for the conference. After clearing an idea with him, I texted Lily.
Do you still want to shadow me at work?
Yes,
came the reply.
Matt’s reaction, when I told him that night in bed, was less enthusiastic. “Are they paying you for the weekend you’ll be away?”
“I don’t know, Matt. I don’t care. This is a big deal. They don’t normally allow non-archeologists to speak at the conference.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, putting down his phone. “It’s just that this seems to be taking up more and more of your time. Last week I came home from the airport and the girls were starving. There was no food in the house.”
“This is important to me. We need to figure out how to make it work. If they have to eat mac ‘n’ cheese every dinner for a week, it’s not going to kill them. In fact, Mackenzie will be in heaven.”
“Fine,” he grumbled. “It’s just that things are stressful at work right now. I don’t need any more stress at home.”
In the past, this was the point where I would apologize and promise to bend over backwards. But I didn’t feel like it this time. I was a selfish goddess, at least tonight. “There might be a little more stress, but this is what I need, and it’s what I’m going to do.”
I rolled over and turned out my light, but I didn’t fall asleep. My mind was filled with thoughts and plans. I hadn’t even told Matt that Ashland had warned me about the amount of work ahead. Well before April, I would have to finish the translation and review every word that I had written. Then I would have to prepare my talk. Magoa would face stiff skepticism from the archeological community. I couldn’t afford to make any mistakes.