Running Back (16 page)

“My wife is a cook—we could get our lunches catered—”

“I can get you a good deal on screens and woods, and my cousin’s a carpenter, so he can build them for us—”

The faces surrounding me were tense with wary hope. Proud faces. Watchful faces.

I chose my words carefully. “It all depends on what we find, but I’m hopeful that this will be a very successful excavation. If it is, we’ll be coming back in the next summers.”

They all nodded. “And you’re the one that decides?”

“It really depends on what we find. And if we can dig up grant money.”

I left first, amidst cheerful goodbyes and after organizing everyone’s appearance next Monday morning. My legs wobbled and my palms were dry and tingly. I knew this was a small village. I knew every extra bit of economy helped. I knew digs often created infrastructure.

I hadn’t realized how much they were counting on it.

Anna didn’t pick up her cell, so I waved down Finn before I headed out. “Have you seen Anna?”

He maintained his aloof and brooding expression, like he’d taken a Heathcliff pill. “Went out with Mary and the others half an hour ago.”

I had no idea who Mary and the others were. “That was water earlier, right? Anything else?”

“Just a cider.”

I didn’t have to worry about her on one cider. Theoretically. I texted Lauren just in case and headed back to the inn.

An hour later, I was sitting in the parlor and pretending to read Yeats—but really trying to figure out what color a curd-pale moon would be, because was that like off white? Had I ever actually seen curds? Did anyone besides Yeats and Little Miss Muffet talk about curds?—when Lauren burst in, her cheeks flushed almost as bright as her hair. She dropped down in the chair across from me. “You’ll never believe what I learned.”

“I won’t? What?” Anna had gone missing? Mike had come back early?

“Maggie used to be engaged to my dad.”

“No!” The photo. The photo in the study of the brothers and Maggie. I’d forgotten it in everything that followed. “Wait, and then she married his older brother instead? Wow. She told you this?”

“No, Paul did.”

“You saw
Paul
? What happened?” This was all too much for my brain to process.

She waved a hand. “Nothing. Whatever. But no wonder she doesn’t like Mom. And no wonder everyone describes Patrick as bitter, if his wife was in love with his younger brother.”

“Was she still? Who broke up with who?”

“I have no idea. Paul just dropped it in passing, like he thought I already knew, even though he
knew
I didn’t, and then was all like, nevermind, no big deal. What an ass.”

“So do you think that’s the real reason the brothers were estranged? A fight over a girl?”

She shrugged. “Makes some sense, right? But you’d hope there was a little more than that to a fight that lasted so long.”

It wasn’t really my place to figure out the O’Connors’ past, but I was still dying to know.

* * *

Sunday, because I was sick of waiting around for Mike to come back, I took myself on a long run.

I went farther than we’d ever gone, up over the crest, and then flat across the land. Wind streamed from forty-five degrees. Big-eyed bunnies looked up from between wildflowers and then darted away. The path narrowed into a descending staircase, cut into the bluff, and I hopped over a sign that read No Sheep and pattered down until I hit the ground. I raced over a pebbled beach and then another of sand packed by the withdrawn low tide. I ran until the bluffs curved inward, creating a pocket of dry sand that even high tide couldn’t reach. I paused there, looking out over three jagged boulders that rose up from the shallow water.

In this small corner of the world. 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.

“Hey, you.”

My eyes flew open and I almost tripped at I ran at him. “You’re back!”

He caught me and spun me around. His lips were hot against mine and I clung to him as though the world would spin away if I let go. I wanted to cry. I wanted to laugh. But mostly, I wanted to kiss him, so I pressed my lips against his. He tasted smooth and subtle and rich, and we stood there, kissing languorously, exploring each other like there was nothing else we were meant to do in this world.

He kissed me so thoroughly my bones melted. There was nothing to me except where our bodies met, our mouths, the heat in my belly, the ache lower, and then there was nothing but the slow and golden sensation, sweeping all clarity out to sea.

Later, as we lay there with matching breaths, I remembered one more thing. I rolled over so I could see him. “I told the pub that you played football, so you’ve been drafted into a match sometime in the future.”

He slowly opened his lids, and I almost giggled. “Please tell me you specified
American
football.”

I pulled my best, and utterly unconvincing “Who, me?” face. “I forgot.”

He smiled disbelievingly as he pulled me on top of him. “You didn’t forget. I bet they didn’t forget. I’ve been pulled into a conspiracy of Kilkarten.”

I leaned down to kiss him. “So how are you at soccer?”

“I’m no kicker. But I’ll be damned if I let Connelly and his friends beat me at any sport.”

I kissed his ear. “At least you won’t have to deal with rain in hell.”

Chapter Sixteen

On Wednesday, Jeremy and the other archaeologists arrived.

All five O’Connors, plus Paul, came out to Kilkarten that morning, and I included them on the tour for the crew. I summarized a history of the land and what we were looking for. Clay that changed color, charcoal pits, beads. Large stones that could be millennia old structures. Ideally, a cache of Roman coins or pottery obviously imported from Rome.

I gave a demo lesson on how to open a unit, how to make good walls and how to sift the earth through a screen. We broke ground close to noon, and after an hour without any amazing discoveries, Kate and Maggie headed out. Lauren sat bickering with Paul on a picnic blanket, while Anna plunged into the dig with enthusiasm, along with two of the local teens she’d befriended. Which, sure. Free labor.

To my surprise, even Mike took a shovel, and I swear I almost lost an hour watching him work. “Okay,” he said during the afternoon break. “While I need this workout, archaeology’s way more exciting when it’s Indiana Jones destroying temples.”

I laughed. “Yeah, he always managed to stay alarmingly clean. But, if I’d been him, I totally would have dug in Ireland.”

He screwed up his forehead and waited for the punch line.

“Because there are no snakes in Ireland!” I laughed and did a little dance at my cleverness.

He shook his head. “No.”

“Come on, that was funny! Indy had a phobia and St. Patrick drove the snakes out. I’m hilarious!”

He couldn’t quite contain his grin, though he tried really hard. “No. You’re in a good mood.”

I flung open my arms. “Are you bothered by my joyous glee? My exuberance?” I stepped right up to him, raising my eyes to his steady warm ones. “Just think. Standing below us even now could be a trove of torques and pins. Within a day, we could be decked out like Schliemann’s wife.”

His brow creased. “Who?”

I laughed. “Mid nineteenth century archaeologist. Discovered ‘Troy’ and this totally ridiculous amount of gold and then his wife
tried it all on
. Not quite as shoddy as Indy, but close.” I took off my hat and saucered it toward my notebook and backpack, and combed my hair out over my shoulders. “‘’Course, my favorite faux-archaeologist is Sir Arthur Evans. I like to sing about him to the tune of Henry Higgins. He’s the one who built stuff at Knossos on Crete, which was dumb, but it got a lot of tourists and their money, so maybe not so bad.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about but
damn
, you’re giddy.”

I threw my arms around him. “Thank you,” I said to his chest. “I know you didn’t want this. But thank you.”

His arms around me were warm and strong and steady. He smelled like earth and grass. I pulled back slightly, but he held me in place, looking down with the strangest expression, puzzlement and wonder and brightness all at once.

Behind us, slamming doors and the honking of a car horn broke through the woven sounds of Kilkarten. I pulled away, taking in the three figures headed toward us.

I swung back toward Mike. “How do I look?”

“What?”

Happiness bubbled up through my chest and spread through my limbs until even my fingertips and toes tingled. I redid my ponytail and then pulled it over my left shoulder. “Am I a disaster? Hair standing straight up or dirt on my face?”

He raised his brows. “You’re usually a disaster, Natalie Sullivan.”

I nodded and headed for the parking lot. “Great. Let’s go!”

“Nat!” Jeremy Anderson hailed me with a wide wave of his arm, the lead point in the trio of archaeologists. I grinned and waved back. He looked just like the last time I’d seen him—tall and narrow, like a string bean, with rectangle glasses and slightly unruly hair.

“Jeremy!” I jogged the last few steps to him. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

He pulled me into a hug. “Is that tan still from Ecuador? How was Ecuador?”

“It was novel not having people laugh at me all the time.” We exchanged wry grins. “No, it was great. Very impressive. But it wasn’t Ivernis.”

He squeezed my shoulder. “Thanks for doing all of this.”

“Not a problem!” I rocked back on my heels, pushing hair out of my face. I couldn’t stop grinning at him, and my cheeks hurt from sheer happiness. We had worked together for years—I had chosen my undergrad in order to study with him, and Ivernis was as much his baby as mine. No one had believed in us. Yet here we were, on the brink of discovery, and I could taste the anticipation of success.

He indicated the people on either side of him. “These are Professors Grace Ahearn and Duncan Grady. This is my student Natalie Sullivan—my former student. She’s brilliant.”

I laughed and reached out to meet each of their handshakes firmly. “So good to have you both here.”

Grace tossed an almost unnoticed glance at Duncan. Shit. Cultural insensitivity. “Grand to be here.”

In my own fecking country.

Oh, well. I turned back to Jeremy. “How have you been? How was the trip over? Any news in the manuscripts?”

He laughed and tweaked the side of his glasses in a familiar gesture. “All good. And you? All settled with the contract?”

“Yeah.” I tossed a glance back at Mike. His sisters had gathered at each shoulder. “Come on, let me introduce them to you.”

The O’Connors didn’t move as I brought the archaeologists over. Anna looked properly bored, while Lauren had on her frozen business face, but it was Mike’s expression that actually surprised me. I could have sworn a storm gathered in his eyes and dislike in his jawline before he smoothed it all away. Did he resent Jeremy because he’d been the original instigator of the excavation? I didn’t want Jeremy to know about all the drama beneath the signing. Good grad students didn’t have time for drama.

I moved a little closer to Jeremy, feeling protective under the stone-cold glares of the flame-headed siblings. “This is Dr. Jeremy Anderson, and Dr. Grace Ahearn and Dr. Duncan Grady. Dr. Anderson is the one who inspired me to work on Irish archaeology in the first place.”

Mike’s brows rose almost imperceptibly, but I had become a master of Michael deciphering, and that did not look favorable. I swallowed. “And these are the O’Connors. The, uh, new ones.”

Lauren reached out, business like, and shook hands, while Anna muttered hello and whipped out her cell so she could watch without having to participate. Mike followed a half second after his sister, wrapping his hand around Jeremy’s. “Hey.”

They were about the same height, though Mike was broader, and his muscles came from throwing people around, not dirt. Jeremy had a thinner face, and currently wore a grin as he shook Mike’s hand. “Running back for the Leopards, huh?”

Mike’s hand fell away. His shoulders relaxed, his eyes lidded and that false, charming grin came out. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Too bad you guys lost so quickly this season. I rooted for you.”

Mike’s smile didn’t change, but I recognized the tension in the set of his eyes. “Hey, I’m always rooting for me.”

Jeremy waved a hand around. “You excited for the excavation?”

Mike smile widened. “Something like that.”

I cleared my throat. “Have you guys checked in at the inn yet? I thought I’d show you around and then we’d grab dinner in the village. But there’s no rush if you want to get settled in first.”

Jeremy smiled. “Maybe a tour first before dinner.”

I spent the next few hours pointing out the planned unit locations, and explaining what the resistivity specialist had said. Grace and Duncan had been working on Iron Age sites for longer than I had been alive. It was both intimidating, flattering, and depressing—the last because I realized very quickly into my tour that all three of them regarded me as an underling—a useful one, but certainly not the leader of the project. They had just as many ideas as I had, and as we talked it quickly became clear whose plans would trump whose.

And it was fine that mine were at the bottom of the pile. Really. I was twenty-four and they were in their fifties. Well. Jeremy was only thirty-seven.

But we were the money and they were the artists.

Which kind of sucked.

But I got it. I had to pay my dues. Besides, if this became a big deal, then I could just stay here. And if they liked me, they probably had a ton of connections that would be fantastic and helpful and everything I needed.

I took the professors to O’Malley’s restaurant for dinner with all the usual suspects—Kate and Mike, tentatively made up; Lauren and Paul, sniping as usual; Maggie and Anna, both with a similar disdainful attitude. One big, distorted family.

Kilkarten was the main topic, of course. Jeremy took center stage as he recalled how the quest for Ivernis had begun. “It started when I was excavating a site in southern Italy. It was a second century site, and everything we found was exciting but expected—except for the toggles.”

Lauren and Mike both kicked me. “Beads without holes,” I said quickly. Jeremy was still talking.

“They had similar patterns and colorants to ones found in Ireland, so much that I was convinced they were connected. But the connection between Ireland and Rome is contentious. It’s much easier to believe all trade went through France and Britain. I wrote papers on the subject and did extensive research, and spent a decade excavating potential sites.

“When nothing showed up right away, people lost faith—though not Natalie.” He paused and smiled warmly at me. “She kept doing research back home, while I headed over to Ireland to see what I could find on this side. It took years, but I finally tracked down references in the scribblings of illuminated manuscripts. You see, Ireland has several great oral poems, such as
The Tain
, but while that one was actually preserved, many more were lost. However, when the monks started transcribing the Greek and Arabic works, they often used young boys to write who’d grow bored and doodle in the margins.”

He gestured at Dr. Grady. “Aware of this, I gained permission from the university to study the off-drawings in their extensive hold of manuscripts. And I was able to put together the narrative about the Iverni people, also called the Erainn. And you can follow that to the Dáirine, known in the Ulster Cycle of legends. And so with the help of Dr. Grady, we combed the materials for any mentions of land and location, which were usually put as mythological. But with Natalie’s research into the geography we were able to find the probable location of Iverni.”

I sighed happily. Jeremy’s perseverance always made me warm and fuzzy and delighted.

Mike turned to me. “So you knew Ivernis was supposed to be somewhere nearby, and used all your geophysical whatever to figure out the most likely place for a city back then.”

I nodded.

“Isn’t that sort of like figuring out what you want your evidence to prove before actually gathering it?”

Look who suddenly had opinions about something he’d spent weeks shunting aside. “Of course not. I mean, the evidence that a site was located here is strong enough even without Jeremy’s research. It’s not like I made anything up.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, so, your research holds up that maybe there’s a site. But why assume it’s Ivernis? Isn’t that like the same as Schliemann’s Troy?”

I went hot and cold and wished I’d never told him anything. “
Mike.
”

Jeremy and the others regarded him with some disdain.

Mike relaxed back into his chair. “Just saying.”

“Don’t.” I kicked him again. Hard.

Anna—blessed, oblivious Anna—took that moment to interrogate the professors about studying archaeology at college. Kate, sensing her daughter’s active interest in an academic field, also leaped in the conversation.

Mike excused himself first. “Nice to meet all of you,” he said as he stood, and the professors all looked up at him. “Welcome to Kilkarten. Be sure to let me know if you need anything.” He strode off.

Across the table, Lauren’s brows shot up. I quickly tucked my legs out of reach in case she wanted to kick me, just to make sure I’d noticed Mike’s somewhat aloof manner.

Which I definitely had. I smiled at the table and excused myself, and then ran out after Mike.

It was drizzling again, so light it almost just felt like a heavy mist, and gray blurred out everything two feet beyond me. Mike’s hair, like always, carried an extra gleam, like a copper penny cutting through the haze. I caught up with him, grabbing his arm. In the fog, he stood out like a moonbeam on the water. “‘Welcome to Kilkarten’?”

He stared stubbornly ahead as we continued on the path back to the inn. “It’s my land.”

“We are all well aware of that,
Mr
. O’Connor. Did you need to rub our noses in it?”

“‘Our’? You’re an ‘
our’
with that group?”

“Mike! What is going on with you? There’s no reason to get so worked up.”

His lips pressed together into a narrow, thin line. “How can you like a guy who takes credit for your work?”

“What?” I shook my head. “What are you talking about? Jeremy is a genius. He’s not taking any undue credit.”

“Yeah, he is. So he found some stupid beads—and don’t even get me started on the fact that
this entire thing
is based on ‘non-beads.’”

“You’re already started.”

He glared at me. “So he found them and decided that meant Ivernis existed. Great.
You’re
the one that found this location. You figured out where the river used to be and the likeliest place for a settlement. Why the hell aren’t you getting the credit?”

“Because. Jeremy’s my professor. Anyways, he’s been studying manuscripts and finding other sources that mentioned Ivernis.”

“I don’t get why you’re so loyal to him.”

Please. I looked down at my feet as they moved over long grasses. We paced as quickly as we spoke, a frantic energy surrounding our words and movements. Something was off with us. “What about your coach? Aren’t you loyal to him?”

“That’s different.”

“I don’t think it is.”

“It is, because I don’t spend so much one-on-one time with him. I don’t do things for him, like you secured the funding and the permission and the lodging. And I get paid a ton, while you do this out of personal emotions.”