Running Back nyl-2

by Allison Parr

  I looked at him for a long time, and he looked back. I closed my eyes and fell back against the bed. He was right. So why did I feel so uneasy?

  The words drifted out of me. “You know, that’s the real problem. That I’m afraid he’s right. That there’s nothing here. And I’ve been avoiding that for so long. I’ve believed in Ivernis for years. I don’t want it to just stop existing.

  “And even if I’m able to let it go...I don’t know if Jeremy can. I don’t want to make him. I certainly don’t want the press to blow it up in a huge thing. Haven’t we failed enough already?”

  I felt the bed move as Mike lay down beside me. “You haven’t failed. You tried. That’s all you can ask of yourself.”

  I kissed him. “It’s all we should ask. But both of us want more.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  When we came back from the field the next night, after another day of uneventful digging, the reporters had arrived. They came in droves, like locusts, like the eleventh plague, and they brought cameras and recorders and improper shoes. They had Irish brogues and Southern drawls and British vowels and American twangs. They were from The New Yorker and Sports Illustrated and Glamour and Vogue.

  Not a single respected journal wanted to talk to us.

  Then came the offers. Dear Ms. Sullivan, they wrote. We are so impressed with all the work you have done, and we want you to know that! Second, we are very curious in whether you currently are represented...if you currently are signed...if you are interested in working...

  The only ones that didn’t have to do with modeling had to do with football.

  I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t deal with reporters fixating on the wrong things.

  Cam, at least, had a positive outlook. She video called the next day. “New life plan. You model to pay the excavation fees! I’m brilliant.”

  I settled back against my pillows. “I’ve always thought that.”

  “I can’t believe you were in Paris. You should’ve gone to the top of the Eiffel Tower, and I could’ve gone to the Empire State Building, and we should have called each other. And then, if our life was a movie, there’d be a split-screen view with both of us and it would be epic.”

  I laughed. “Maybe you should’ve gone to the Statue of Liberty.”

  “No, too much Frenchness in one frame. Unless there’s an American building in Paris? Oh. That would be good. We could make a poster. Wait, I need to Google this.”

  “Wait, wait, no—Do it later. I need to talk to you about Mike.”

  “What, about your undying love for him and how you want to have his babies?”

  I pulled a pillow over my head.

  “Oh my God. You’re fucking kidding me. What?”

  “Should I even say anything? He’s going back to New York in two weeks. And, yes, I’ll go back to New York for the conference, but I don’t think we’re going to find anything here, so I’ll probably end up staying in Ireland with Jeremy, because it’s way easier to look at other sites here than from home. And I finished my classes, so there’s no real reason to be over there.”

  “Um. Me. Besides, you’re obviously just making excuses. If you love him, you tell him.”

  I tossed the pillow off and flopped over on my belly. “How? What’d you say to Rob?”

  “Ugh, Rob.” She paused. “I guess we sort of trickled it in. Like, we’d sign emails. And then once he said ‘Love you’ when we were hanging up the phone.”

  “Well, that’s not going to work. He’s here in person.” I brightened. “Unless I wait until he leaves.”

  “You’re such a coward. Haven’t you ever told a guy you loved him?”

  I paused. “Kevin Diaz said he loved me.”

  “The high school boyfriend you slept with on prom night? The one you said surrounded you with candles and rose petals and took your face in his hands—”

  “Hey, he was trying to be romantic! We were nervous!” I paused. “Do you think you can buy rose petals or did he have to pluck each one himself?”

  She snapped her fingers in front of the camera. “Nat. Focus.”

  “Right. I’m screwed.” I rolled over on the bed. “I can’t believe people are getting married and I can’t even tell my boyfriend how I feel.”

  “Hello. I’m single. Oh, God, did you see that Tori from undergrad just posted two albums of her wedding? Go look at them.”

  After dissecting the wedding of someone we never spoke to, I think we both felt better and like despicable human beings. “God, I miss you.”

  “I miss you too. I wish you were here and we could make mudslides and hate watch reality TV and I could give you excellent tips on love confessions.”

  I tugged the blanket up and rolled around a bit until I was securely snuggled beneath it. I eyed my book on the bed stand. “Maybe I should quote Yeats.”

  “Is he romantic?”

  “I’m not really sure. The intro said he was obsessed with some woman?”

  “Like Heathcliff obsessed, or...”

  I flipped the book open. “He proposed to her six times. At least he was poetic about the obsession.” I paused. “Wouldn’t it be nice if every time you got catcalled, it came out as a line of poetry? We should patent that.”

  “No. Because that’s called magic, not science.”

  “Right.” I took a deep breath. “Maybe I just won’t say anything.”

  “For God’s sake. Just tell him after you have sex.”

  I nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay, I can do that.”

  “Wait, actually, if Yeats was a creeper that would be totally appropriate because you’re a creeper!”

  “I’m hanging up now.”

  * * *

  Grace and Duncan, who had been displeased but not scared off the excavation when only articles appeared, soured as reporters badgered them with questions. When I joined them and Jeremy at breakfast the next morning, they were whispering furiously at each other across the table.

  They looked up, disgruntled, as I sat, and Grace shook her head at me. I almost smiled brightly, but I was tired of fake smiles and talking just to fill silences. “Any new ideas of how we’re dealing with them?”

  “I think we should just ignore it,” Duncan said.

  Grace shook her head. “Maybe if we made it clear Ms. Sullivan wasn’t actually associated with the excavation.”

  It took a moment for that to sink in. “You want—you want me to pretend I’m not a part of this? No!” I looked to Jeremy for help. “I was the one who picked this location out of all the possibilities, because my research said this was the most likely spot for a city. I found the money. I got the permission. I’m not going anywhere!”

  “Natalie,” Jeremy said quietly.

  I ignored him. “Why should I disassociate? Because it’d be easier for all of you? To just put all the blame on the supermodel’s flaky daughter.”

  “Natalie.”

  “I don’t want my reputation being dragged down on this,” Grace said coolly.

  I looked at Jeremy. He wouldn’t return my gaze.

  Because right now my rep could lower him, while Grace’s and Duncan’s could bring him higher up. “Jeremy, please. Let me talk to the press. I’ll give a little statement about how we’re still early in the dig and have no substantive conclusions right now, and I’ll add something boring about my mother and Mike to get them off my back.”

  “They don’t want something boring.”

  I started, and twisted around to see Mike, standing in his sweats and rumpled hair, watching us all with bright eyes.

  “Oh?” Grace said. “Why do you say that?”

  “I’m sure your feud is great and all. Very made-for-TV. But those aren’t your academic journalists out there. They want a splashy story for the tabloids or the cover of the sports section.”

  “Tabloids,” Duncan groaned.

  Jeremy leaned back in his chair. “You think they’re more interested in you than me and Ceile?”

  Mike’s brows shot u
p and he smiled his you-poor-disbelieving-bastard smile. “I think it can’t hurt if Natalie and I give a little interview with some of the journalists I know.”

  I waited until they’d all agreed, and then I went after Mike. “Why’d you offer that? I thought you were anti saving Jeremy’s rep.”

  He brushed my hair back. “I don’t care about Jeremy. But I don’t want you sacrificing yourself and giving up the dig to save his reputation.”

  I frowned. “Do you really think I would do that?”

  “I don’t know. Would you? You’ve put people above finding Ivernis before. You put me above Kilkarten.”

  I studied the planes of his face. How was it possible a person could be so familiar to me, that I could conjure his face down to the smallest detail even when he wasn’t nearby, and that when he was before me I never tired of looking? “You’re different.”

  He slid his hands around my waist, under the hem of my shirt. They radiated heat. Mike radiated heat, like fire made human. “Am I?”

  I brought my lips to his and tried to tell him in every way except verbally that I loved him.

  * * *

  None of the reporters followed us onto the fields, since Kilkarten was private property. Still, a hesitant unease hung over the crew as we shifted shovels of unremarkable earth. I called lunch early, and my unit trooped over to the others by the parking lot. We settled in the dirt with our bags and a round of Purelle. Some of the workers, like Anka Wójcik, lay down with their hats over their faces and catnapped during our forty-five minute break. These were usually the ones who worked here as their second job, or who came from farms farther away and had to wake earlier than the rest of us.

  They probably weren’t worried about the lack of discovery, but more about having this income next summer.

  “Who’s that?” Tim O’Brian, with the farm ten miles west, nodded his head toward the parking lot. “Never seen her before.”

  Jack Kelleher spoke around his mouthful of banana. “She a friend of yours, Natalie?”

  I looked up and realized they were asking me because the newcomer was accompanied by Mike, who helpfully offered his hand to help her over a bump.

  We were outside. Of course there were bumps. Why the hell was she wearing heels?

  From this distance, I couldn’t see her features, but I could see the way her long dark hair flowed over her shoulders, held back by a headband, and the way her coat cinched at the waist and then flared out in an appropriately whimsical manner.

  I stood and made my way over, acutely aware of the dirt on my legs and my butt and my hair and my face. I was dirt all over; I breathed it, ate it, smelled it. I blew my nose and black mucus came out. “Hi.”

  Mike gestured at the girl. “Hey, Nat. This is Jane Ellington.” To the girl, he said, “Natalie’s a grad student on the dig.”

  She stuck out her hand and revealed gleaming white teeth. “Nice to meet you.”

  I held my hands up, showing the dirt smeared to the edges by the cool sliding sanitizer. “Probably shouldn’t shake. You’re kind of far from home.”

  “I’m the sports foreign correspondence for Sports Today.”

  I blinked several times. Sports Today was one of the largest news sites. “Well, that is just fascinating.”

  She smiled broadly. “Do you mind if I ask a couple of questions?”

  I glanced at Mike, who had on his agreeable, easy-going face. I wanted to tell him to wipe it off and put on something that would indicate now was not the time. “Now’s not a good time.”

  “Maybe over dinner?”

  I sighed and rubbed my head, remembering only afterward that the combination of sunscreen and dirt meant I was now a muddy mess. Great. “I don’t know. It’s been a long day...”

  “A day looking for the remains of Ivernis?”

  My defensive bristles went up at the slightly amused lilt in her voice. But Mike had brought her here, which must mean he thought she was worth talking to. “Sure. Fine. Dinner.”

  Mike smiled and led her away. I looked forlornly after them.

  Lauren came up beside me, wearing a neat blouse and skirt. She clearly was only here to socialize. “Do we hate her?”

  “What? No!”

  Lauren shrugged. “I don’t know. Looks like someone we should hate.”

  “Just because she’s pretty and successful is not a reason to hate someone. I mean, we’re pretty and successful.”

  Lauren refocused on the girl. “I can hate her for you.”

  “Lauren! I don’t want you to do that!”

  Lauren raised her brow. “Do you think she would be down here if my brother wasn’t?”

  I blinked, and looked back at the twittering girl, and Mike, laughing. I crossed my arms and tried not to frown. “Kilky is interesting in its own right.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not what’s going to be selling papers back home.”

  “Well. Hmph. We still can’t hate her for trying to do a good job.”

  “Okay.” Lauren nodded sagely. “But if she goes after Paul when I’m not around, I want you to take her out.”

  * * *

  Mike raised his brows when I finished dressing for dinner. “You’re wearing a dress.”

  I smoothed my hands over the black sheath. “It’s been known to happen.”

  We headed downstairs, but he didn’t drop the subject. “Twice. Once for the month mind, once in Paris. And your hair’s up. You’re channeling Tamera.”

  I let out an exasperated huff, even though that was exactly what I was doing. “You sound like Cam.”

  He opened the door outside and we headed for the coastal path. “Well, there’s a reason one of us is your best friend and the other is your boyfriend. Play nice with Jane, okay? I had to pull some strings to get her here.”

  I stopped walking until he took my hand and gently tugged me back into motion. “Mike! You didn’t have to do that!”

  He shrugged. “She wasn’t that far. Just in London.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “I don’t even know what the point of this is. Why am I talking to her?”

  “Because you always want the media on your side. And if you lay out all the details, Ivernis won’t seem so mysterious and people will stop being interested.”

  I raised my brows at him. “Does that work?”

  “We’re gonna find out.”

  Jane looked up when we walked into the restaurant. We sat, and Jane smiled at me. “Now I can see it.”

  “See what?”

  “The resemblance.”

  “What?”

  “You’re Tamara Bucherov’s daughter, right?”

  I slowly swiveled to look at Mike. He raised his brows and shook his head slowly.

  I looked back to Jane. “Yes.”

  “But you’ve never modeled or anything before?”

  “No.”

  “And how long have you two been dating?”

  “I’m sorry. Is this an article on Ivernis, or Mike?”

  She smiled brightly, teeth flashing like only American teeth did. “Both. It’s a human interest story.”

  “Well.” I wanted to leave, but dinner hadn’t even arrived. “I don’t really want my personal life written about. I’d rather talk about Ivernis.”

  Jane leaned forward. “Look. You have this academic character, this Dr. Ceile, who’s trying to discredit you because of your personal life, right? Because of your mom and your boyfriend.” She nodded at Mike. “And that’s offensive and ridiculous. If he discredits you, it should be because you’re searching for the Irish Atlantis.”

  I raised a brow. Mike tapped his foot against mine under the table, a clear indication not to be a smart ass. I mostly resisted. “Sounds about right.”

  “So my job is to make people like you. And if they think Mike’s in love with you, it will be easier for them to love you.”

  That was kind of weird logic, but okay. Still—”If you’re a sports journalist, how is this going to help the archaeologists invo
lved on the dig? Everyone’s going to expect you to be on Mike’s side, which is my side, which is not going to convince the academic community that we’re to be taken seriously.”

  She leaned forward. “Because I plan to write the story for our sister site, which does mainstream news. And I plan to make sure people will pay attention. I’m not a hack, you know. I’m not doing this as a favor to Mike, I’m doing it because there’s a story here.”

  My fingers knitted together. “There is?”

  “You’re a woman passionate about her career, and you’re being mocked because it’s easy to make Ivernis sound ludicrous and you sound frivolous. Mike told me about all the work you did to get your grant and prove an Iron Age site existed here. I want to show the world you did that work.” She shrugged. “Also, it doesn’t hurt for the public interest that you ended up in a relationship with the Leopards’ running back.”

  Underneath the table, Mike took my hand and squeezed.

  Jane placed her recorder on the table. “Are you in?”

  I swallowed. “I’m in.”

  * * *

  We kept digging. Sometimes, in the field, everyone laughed hysterically and told stories and played mindless word games, but other days there were too many hours of where you were entirely in your own head. Too many repetitive hours of sticking the shovel in the ground, bending at the knee, lifting, throwing, over and over. Nothing there. Nothing here. No Ivernis.

  On Thursday, I took a moment’s break and swept my eyes over the land. A smile twisted my lips. Would it hurt if I came here, years later, and there was nothing? Just sheep. Just grass and wind and heather.

  Not Ivernis, here. Just Kilkarten.

  I closed my eyes and breathed in the salt and earth.

  Maybe I loved Kilkarten more than I loved Ivernis.

  Maybe it wouldn’t hurt, coming back here.

  If I’d been asked four months ago for my reaction to not finding Ivernis, I wouldn’t even have been able to consider the possibility. If forced under pain of death to give that option thought, I would’ve guessed I’d be utterly devastated.