Running Back

by 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?”

  “Mmm?” His thumb dragged against my lower lip. He leaned closer, but I pulled away.

  “Talking to your mom.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  When we returned to the inn Mike headed straight for Kate’s room. I didn’t expect her to be there, but she was, sitting at her desk before her computer.

  “Mom. Can I talk to you?”

  Kate’s face swiveled back and forth between the two of us. “What’s going on?”

  I touched Mike’s arm softly. “I can go.”

  “No.” Instead, he shut the door. “I wanted to talk about Kilkarten.”

  I had said almost the same thing to him, long ago.

  “Of course.” She glanced at me curiously, and then back. “What about?’

  He took a deep breath
, his gaze flicking briefly at me. For some reason, I reached out and took his hand.

  He squeezed it like a lifeline, and looked back at his mother. “When I was ten I heard you talking to Dad about Kilkarten. It was an—an unpleasant conversation. About him being involved with nationalists. About Kilkarten being used for that. So I wanted to know if you knew—or had any reason to think—that there are any weapons buried on the land.”

  “What?” Her face paled until only the red stain on her lips stood out, a macabre representation of life and love. “Weapons? On Kilkarten? No!”

  I could feel the change in Mike. He’d been braced for revelation, for confirmation, but never imagined his mother would stare at him like he’d spoken in tongues. “What?”

  “Michael, there’s nothing buried there.”

  “But—” He stared at me wildly. “But he was so upset. You were crying. He said he’d been part of a rebellious group and that Kilkarten had been sacrificed for it.”

  “Michael. Oh, honey. That conversation was never about guns.” She stood and came around and hovered before him, like she wanted to embrace him or touch his face but wasn’t sure how. Then her eyes widened, and she looked back and forth between us. “Is that why you didn’t want the excavation to go through? Because you thought there was something buried there?”

  He stared. “There’s no statute of limitations for treason.”

  She sat back down—more of a collapse into her hair. “How long have you thought this? Why didn’t you ask me? Why didn’t you talk to me?”

  “I was trying to protect you.”

  “But, Mike. Oh, honey.” I could see the agony etched in each line of her face, and every line looked deeper today. “I am my own person. You cannot try to protect me. That’s not your role.” She shook her head. “You can’t just steamroll everyone else. It’s because you’ve always kept everything bottled up inside so much. I never taught you how to let it out.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “After your father died. You just seemed like you were coping, and the girls and I were such a mess and it was too late that I realized you weren’t all right, that you never mourned—”