Authors: Allison Parr
Lauren mirrored him. “Oh, yes it is.”
“It’s not your choice to make.”
She scoffed. “And who made it yours? Or do you think you have
more sway than the two of us? Because I’m pretty sure Anna and I are also on the
deed.”
“Nothing happens to the land unless all three of us agree.”
“Or unless we vote.”
Mike’s voice shot up. “This isn’t a fucking democracy!”
Lauren’s fury matched her brother’s. “Yeah? I don’t know why
you think your say carries more weight in this family than mine and Anna’s.
You’re barely even here. You don’t know
what
this
family is—”
Mike’s eyes narrowed into slits. “I have
always
been there for you.”
“What, with
money?
Since when is
that a cure all? Can you plaster green paper over broken hearts or use it for
company? Do enough zeroes cure loneliness, or keep your sister in school, or
your mother from depression?”
Mike spun around. “I did what I had to do to keep us going!
Where were you when Dad died? Were you making arrangements and comforting Mom
and finding out about gravestones and life insurance? No, you were crying in
your room!”
Her eyes widened and her face turned splotchy. “You still want
credit from
ten years ago
? I was fourteen!”
My head whipped back and forth as they shouted, but at this
point Lauren stormed off. Anna stopped long enough to hiss “Good fucking job” at
her brother, before running after Lauren.
We stood alone on the hill. “I’m sorry.” The fog swallowed my
words, and I tried again. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t realize this would happen.
He said nothing.
“So...what happens now?”
He turned to me with a twisted smile. “Why? Want to know if
your dig’s actually going through?”
“Mike.” I took a step closer. “That’s not what I meant.”
He took a deep breath and pushed his hands through his hair. “I
don’t know. Do I screw up our family forever by refusing to allow the
excavation? Or do I sign, and then risk...”
“Risk
what?
” I asked, when he
didn’t go on. “Mike, what’s so wrong with digging at Kilkarten?”
He pinched the skin between his fingers, furrowed his brow and
breathed out. His lips parted as he began to say something. I held my
breath.
And then he paused and the wrinkles on his forehead
disappeared. His eyes widened and focused on me. “There’s one other way.”
I shook my head, not following him.
“You could tell Lauren you’re no longer interested. Then it
doesn’t matter whether I sign or not.”
My stomach fell away. “But—then I have no chance at excavating
Kilkarten.”
“You never had a chance at it.”
“No, I didn’t, not in the beginning—but now I do.”
We faced off, that awful truth between us.
His jaw tightened. “And if I said I wouldn’t sign? That you’re
still not going to excavate, so it doesn’t matter one way or the other?”
“But that’s the thing.” My voice floated out, and I felt like
the words and thoughts were detached from me emotionally. “You would sign.
Because you don’t want your family to hate you.”
He took a step forward. “Do you want to put me in that
position?”
I shook my head slowly, feeling like I was in a dream. Or a
nightmare. “No. But that was always the reason. That was
always
why I came to Ireland.”
“Natalie—”
“Don’t.” I took a step back and my hands came up. “Just—I need
to think. I just need a minute to
think
.”
So for the first time since that night that at the dolmen, we
slept in our own rooms. Or didn’t sleep. Instead, I tossed and turned for hours.
After midnight, Mike knocked. I sat up, gathering the blankets to me and
shivering. The moon hung low and large in the sky. I didn’t answer.
Instead, I lay back down in the dark and watched the moonlight
slide across the ceiling. My heart didn’t stop beating. I thought about writing
to Jeremy or Skyping Cam or my mom, but this had to be my decision.
I just had no idea what the right choice would be.
I didn’t know how you made that decision.
* * *
I felt like I’d barely closed my eyes before I was awake
again.
I still didn’t have an answer, but I knocked on Mike’s door
anyway. I needed to talk to him about this. Or at least see him.
But he didn’t answer. I didn’t find him downstairs, either. So
I pulled on my running gear, ran through my stretches and headed outside. The
mist hung over the hills, fading out the swaying Cypresses and the sea, and
raising goosebumps on my arms and bare legs. I took a deep breath, filling my
lungs with the fresh, grassy air, and started jogging. I’d be warm soon.
But I’d barely started when I saw a figure obscured by the
fog.
It was Lauren, coming in from the path to the village. She
still wore last night’s black dress, her hair piled up in a messy bun. My mouth
parted. “Oh.”
She flushed furiously and lifted her chin. “I was out for a
walk.”
Hey, if that was her story I wouldn’t challenge it. “Sure. I’m
just...going for a run.”
I couldn’t help it. My mouth quirked and a snort slipped
out.
She scowled at me. “What?’
I shook my head.
She jutted out her chin. “Go on, ask.”
I didn’t really need to ask. “You slept with Paul last
night?”
She stared at me, and then she laughed until she pressed her
hand to her head. “Yes.” She fished a clip from her purse and put up her curls.
“It’s not that weird, is it?”
“No. I mean...you’re not
that
related.”
“Oh,
God.
”
I smiled wryly.
She let out a breath. “So, did Mike calm down?”
“Um. That’s something we’ll probably have to talk about later.
I haven’t really talked to him since last night.”
She made a face. “I sort of forgot that this might, uh, have
ramifications for you too.”
She didn’t know the half of it.
Actually, maybe she did. His whole family seemed to think we
were a thing. “Hey—I just wanted to say, Mike really does care about all of you.
And I don’t think it’s fair to say he isn’t trying, because he loves you
all.”
“How can you defend him after you just—figuratively—stuck a
knife in his back?”
Now,
that
was a bad analogy. Much
too strong. Besides— “You were standing right there, Longinus.”
“What?”
“Um. Longinus? One of Brutus’s co-conspirers. Helped him
assassinate Julius Caesar?”
She snorted, and then it dissolved into helpless laughed. “I’m
surrounded by crazy people.”
They didn’t let you into grad school unless you were crazy. “I
guess, because even though I’m, um, clearly in Mike’s bad grace’s right now—I
really like him.”
Lauren shook her head. “You’re even more screwed than I
am.”
“Trust me.” I stared out at the hills. “I know.”
* * *
When I came to the coast, I stopped. I stared out at the
water, watching the waves roll in from the south, white crests so far below they
appeared as pencil lines. I could understand where the fair folk came from when
I stood here, in a small corner of the world where humans seemed foreign and
strange and unnecessary. I closed my eyes, breathing in the salt and sea, the
coolness of rain on the way and freshness of wind combing through the
grasses.
I needed to let it all go.
“Nice view.”
I spun around. Mike stood there in running shorts and a Notre
Dame sweatshirt. My chest spiked and swooped, unprepared and defenseless, and
the raw emotion jolted straight through my body. My voice came out uneven. “I
thought I might find you here.”
He fit here, in this wild place. This man who played by rules
and regulations, who wore the same outfit as dozens of others, who was almost
indistinguishable on the field with his gleaming hair hidden away. Here, he
looked like an elemental part of the landscape.
He shrugged and walked up to the edge of the bluff.
I could have Kilkarten. Mike would sign, I knew he would. I
could have everything I’d worked for these past six years. I could have
Ivernis.
He was asking me to choose him over Kilkarten.
How could I choose him over my work?
My chest felt light and heavy all at once. A bubble formed
inside it, too much oxygen, and my blood raced until my skin tingled and my
thoughts flew in every direction. I tried to keep my breathing from escalating,
but instead ended up taking lots of short, quick breaths.
I could hear the rush of the ocean, but it didn’t drown out his
slow, steady footsteps behind me. I closed my eyes and breathed in the salt and
earth. I licked my lips. “Okay.”
“What?”
I forced myself to turn, and I spread my hands. The wind
whipped his hair into a maddened mess, and his eyes shone like polished
bronze.
I swallowed. I felt sick and hollow. “Okay. I...withdraw my
request.” It took everything in me to say that, and even so, a large part of me
wanted to suck the words back in, to disavow them.
He searched my eyes. For once, there was no mask at all, no
charm or stone, just a strange vulnerability. “Really?”
I nodded, hands squeezing my opposite elbows as I hugged my
arms to myself. “I promise.”
He closed his eyes and seemed to expel all the worry and
tension in his body. “Thank you.”
I nodded.
He looked back at me. “Why?”
“Why?” I repeated.
“You’re right. I would have signed. So why’d you give it
up?”
I shrugged. “I, um. I thought I was choosing between Ivernis
and you. And I could never choose a guy over my career. Over something I’d
worked on for so long. Over what made me
me
. Because
I wouldn’t want a man to somehow define me more than I defined myself.”
Before us, the waves crashed, a low, dull roar. Above, gulls
screeched in a sharp counterpoint, swooped in and out of the moving fog. “But
that’s not what the choice was. It wasn’t about me. It was about—being a good
person. Being a good friend. And—I don’t know, I guess I thought about the pain.
The pain you’d suffer versus the pain other people suffer if this went through.
And if it doesn’t, my pain, Jeremy’s pain—yes, it will be personal, but it will
be personal about a thing. A place. Not a loved one. And it will affect our
professions—but not our families.” I shrugged and tried to swallow, but the
soreness and tightness of my throat made it difficult. “And I don’t want to be a
bad person.”
He looked at me for a long time, his hands shoved in his
pockets, and then he nodded. “Okay. I have a story to tell you.”
I cracked a grin. “Once upon a time?”
He took a deep breath. “I think there are guns buried on
Kilkarten.”
My stomach convulsed and I twisted to see him. “What?”
“During the Troubles. There were guns kept there for the
nationalist movement.”
No, the words still weren’t making much sense. “The—what, like
the IRA?” Weren’t the Troubles about Northern Ireland, whether they were part of
the UK or the Republic of Ireland? Protestants vs. Catholics? What did that have
to do with farmers in western Cork?
“No.” He rolled over, too, and gripped my hand hard enough to
hurt. “God, no. He just...supported a united Ireland.”
“He.” It started to sink in. “You think
your
dad buried guns on Kilkarten?”
“I don’t know. I just—” He closed his eyes. “He never talked
about it. You know how some people want to tell you every last detail of their
lives? Not my dad. He’d tell you about his childhood, and about moving to
Boston, but there were two or three years in the early eighties that he never
mentioned. Like they didn’t exist.
“And then one year, when I was ten, I heard him and my mom
talking. About Irish nationalism. About supporting the cause. About being young.
And about Kilkarten. About ruining Kilkarten, and wishing he could take it
back.
“Later on, after he died, I would ask my mom about it, and
she’d just shake her head and say he didn’t like to talk about those years. And
I just kept thinking...” He shook his head.
Good God. “And you thought he smuggled weapons in to the
nationalists.”
“How else could he ruin the land? Why else would he leave
Ireland and never come back?”
“Have you asked your mother? I mean, straight out said what
you’re thinking.”
He just looked at me.
My overactive imagination raced across a hundred miles and
thirty years. Because didn’t all those groups get their weapons from connections
in other countries? I gaped at him. “No.”
He covered his eyes with one arm. “I don’t know.”
I sat up and tugged at his arm. “Come on. Your mom did not
smuggle weapons into Ireland to support the nationalist movement. She said she
met your dad in Boston.”
He allowed his arm to move. “What if she lied?”
I laughed slightly maniacally. “So you’re trying to protect,
what, your sisters from the knowledge, and your mom from the repercussions if
she was involved? There has to be a statute of limitations.” I shook my head.
“No. No, this is just our imaginations running wild. This doesn’t happen in real
life.”
“You’re searching for a lost city based on an ancient map and
scribblings in manuscripts.”
Point taken.
“Let’s leave it now, okay? Now you know.”
“Mike... Why’d you tell me?”
“I don’t know. He shrugged. “Because I wanted you to know.
Because telling you things—it makes them more bearable. It makes the weight go
away.”
I leaned over and kissed him. His hand tangled in my hair as he
pulled me down for a thorough exploration that sent longing spiraling through my
body until I was weak and melting against him. His hands slid over my skin,
blazing heat everywhere they touched.
I pulled away and leaned my forehead against his. Both of us
breathed heavily. “Do you know what would really make the weight go away?”