Running Back

by Allison Parr

  “Mom!” He jumped up, his hands fisting. “I am fine. I was fine.”

  “No, you’re not.” She ran a manicured hand down the side of her face, over closed eyes.

  He shook his head, hair flying everywhere. Bewilderment and anger and hurt fought for control of his features. “What, just because I tried to save our family?”

  “Because you never let your family in. Why didn’t you talk to me about this? Or with Lauren?”

  He sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

  “Oh, honey.”

  He stared at her, and then grabbed my hand. “Come on.”

  I stumbled. “Where—”

  Behind us, Kate’s worried voice piped up. “Michael, don’t leave—”

  He didn’t turn. “Sorry, Mom. I need to think.”

  We didn’t speak until we walked up the stairs, and he held open the door to his room and I hesitated. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted—Because I slept in my own room last night.”

  His eyes widened, and then he nodded. “Right. Not a problem.” He walked through and let the door close behind him.

  I stood there for half a second, and then banged on in. I might have imagined it, but I thought he looked at me with relief. I offered a hesitant smile. “So, on a positive note, no guns.”

  He dropped onto the bed. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

  “What? No. You were a kid. You misheard a conversation. It happens.”

  “My mom thinks I’m insane.”

  I shrugged. “So does mine.”

  He rolled an arm out. “Come lie down with me.”

  I happily obliged, curling against his side on top of the floral quilt. But I didn’t stop with my listing. “Hey, I had an idea.”

  “A brilliant one, no doubt.”

  “I was going to hire someone to do a survey about substructures on Kilkarten. Why don’t we have someone come down and do one to see if they find any weapons? Just so you know for sure.”

  Mike grinned at me. “And just in case you happen to see your lost city, right?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay, look. That is not the primary purpose. But if there happens to not be any weapons, and there does happen to be, say, a quay, wouldn’t that all just be wonderful?”

  He was silent a long, long moment. Then he sat up and spoke with absolute certainty. “All right. Get me the contract.”

  It took a moment for his words to make sense. “The contract?”

  “Consider it a second positive note.”

  I tucked my legs underneath me and stared at him. “Are you serious?”

  He laughed a little. “Yeah.”

  He’d rendered me speechless, at least for a minute. “Thank you.”

  And I had my permission to dig at Kilkarten.

  So I wrote to Dr. Sam Gregory, the Dublin specialist I’d always meant to contact for the electrical resistivity survey. He came down on Wednesday. He brought two assistants, grad students my age, and we spent three afternoons walking over Kilkarten, staking the land with metal probes and taking readings of the voltage. The survey created a map that showed the resistivity of the land. If we had any large, subsurface features, they’d show up.

  Not much showed up.

  I’d hoped for a very obvious footprint of a ship, but nothing indicated that strongly. There were some areas that looked promising enough to dig units there, but not what I’d been hoping for. The entire northwestern quadrant of the site was impenetrable by radar because the soil was too dense, so that was a waste.

  It would be fine, I was sure. I’d just sort of wanted Jeremy to arrive and to be able to say, “Look! Here it is! I found Ivernis!”

  However, I had good news for Mike. “Oh, hey,” I said as we lay out on the grass, and his head rested in my lap. “No weapons.”

  He kept shaking his head, amazed. “I don’t understand. This was the defining trauma of most of my life. How can it not exist? Did we just miss them?”

  “I don’t know, it’s possible. We seemed to have missed my harbor.”

  He laughed and turned his face against my thigh. “What am I going to do without you this week?”

  My hand froze on the top of his head. “Um. What? Why will you be without me?”

  He stared up at me guilelessly. “I told you. I’m going to London for a charity event this week.”

  I scowled down at him. “You most certainly did not tell me.”

  He looked surprised. “Oh. Well, I am.”

  “Hmph.”

  I wasn’t exactly pleased, but at least I had no trouble keeping busy. I had to organize the crew, and gather all my tools. One day I went with Amanda O’Rourke to a folk festival several towns over, and Maggie had me over for dinner with her and Paul. Everyone was very sweet about my boyfriend leaving me for a week. Especially when I sat in the pub and scowled at the wall. At least three different people bought me drinks. As I finished off my last, O’Malley from the restaurant, Tim O’Brien and Eamon Murphy came over, wide grins on their faces.

  “We hear he’s quite the athlete, your man. He any good at hurling?”

  “Don’t know.” I took a swig and widened my eyes. “He plays football, actually.”

  “Does he now? And how is he then?”

  They couldn’t have been genuine. I bet they thought they were laying a trap. It made me smile for the first time all day. “He’s a professional, if you’d believe it.”

  “Isn’t that a surprise? Charlie, did you hear that? Mike O’Connor plays football. You should have him in your next match.”

  Charlie, a young man with gleaming blue eyes, looked back at me with unintentionally complicit glee. “That so?”

  I widened my eyes. “It is so.”

  We parted with mutual pleasure at binding poor Mike into a soccer game.

  I also went into Cork to rent a truck. I had never rented one in my life. I wasn’t even sure if it was legal. Didn’t you have to be twenty-five? Or maybe you just have to pay ridiculous fees under twenty-five? I didn’t know. I lived in the city and barely ever drove.

  I needed a truck; something that would carry the archaeologists and crew around, and fit our shovels and pick axes and buckets in the back. In Ecuador, we used to cram in ten people. Our shoulders and knees overlapped while the wind slapped our faces. We clutched the sides and laughed hysterically at each bump.

  Which worked great, on the Pan-American. These little Irish roads looked far too narrow for an actual truck.

  I managed to make it over to the hardware store without dying. It was much cheaper to buy local than to ship supplies over, and I’d already done my research and figured out where to shop for screens and tools. By the time Jeremy arrived, I’d have everything in perfect shape.

  Theoretically.

  Next, I set up a meeting with the local crew hires. In the pub, of course, no surprise there. They’d already congregated in the back half of the pub when I arrived on Saturday. They laughed loudly, foam clinging to the sides of their pints. I lifted a hand and smiled, and headed first for the bar and Finn. “Can I have a dozen pints of Guinness?”

  “That’s a lot of alcohol.”

  Startled, I took in Anna to my left. “Hey. What are you up to?”

  Anna finished off her clear liquid. “Day drinking.”

  I raised my brows and examined her glass. “Sounds like a solid life choice.”

  Anna frowned, like she wasn’t sure if I was teasing or not. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m meeting with the crew. You want to come with?”

  Anna threw a look back at Finn, and then shrugged her shoulders with studied disinterest. “Yeah, sure.”

  Anna’s inability to be impressed actually reassured me as we approached the table. If Anna could be that devi
l-may-care, surely I couldn’t be intimidated by a table of brawny Irish. I cleared my throat. “Hello, everyone. I’m Natalie Sullivan, crew chief for the Kilkarten dig. Thank you for all meeting me.”

  I recognized some of the dozen. Sean Larry, who’d spoken to me at the month’s mind. Eileen’s granddaughter, Amanda, who helped around the inn, and Finn’s sister, Molly, who as far as I could tell was one of five siblings that belonged to the pub. A young man with the same stretched face as MacCarthy—his nephew, I thought he’d mentioned. In addition to the four I knew, eight others ranged around the table. The youngest was Simon Daly, at eighteen and nervous, while the oldest was in his forties with a suspiciously thick mustache for a balding man. The Wójcik siblings, Anka and Jan, whose parents had immigrated here thirty years ago. And three men in their thirties and a twenty-something with attitude. But they were all strong and healthy and outdoorsy, which was the important thing.

  One of the men, with a head full of prematurely gray hair, said, “Not to worry, lass. Why don’t you pull up a chair?”

  Lassied in the first thirty seconds. I worked to maintain level breathing. Not a good sign for establishing authority.

  “Call me Natalie, please.” I tried to make my tone firm but friendly as I sat, Anna squeezing onto the bench next to me. “This is Anna O’Connor, Patrick’s niece.”

  Everyone nodded, because most of them had already met her. She delivered her signature scowl, but didn’t say, “I’m not his fucking niece,” so I considering it a positive.

  We did a round of introductions as Finn delivered the pints, then I plunged in. “I had several requests that I give an overview of the work, so I thought I’d tell you a little about the dig and answer any questions.” I took a long pull of my Guinness.

  Anna kicked me, delivering a pointed look as she raised her hand to her nose. I wiped mine quickly. Dammit, I’d gotten foam on it.

  Several of the gathered smirked slightly. One of the men, Colin, who had ears that stuck straight out of his head, a bobbing Adam’s apple and startling beautiful green eyes, spoke. “And you’re the one in charge and all?”

  The others laughed.

  I sat straighter. “I’m a doctoral candidate in archaeology and I’ve worked on plenty of digs before.” I’d just never been crew chief. “I’m very well qualified.”

  The twenty-something smirked and leaned back in his chair. “Don’t have to be,” he muttered, adding some additional comment under his breath.

  MacCarthy thwacked him and sent an apologetic look my way. “It’s all in good spirits.”

  Anna and I exchanged uncertain glances. Devon of the suspicious mustache said, “Knew his dad.” He nodded at Anna. “Yours too, now.”

  Anna bared her teeth. “Actually—”

  I kicked her before she started spreading any more rumors, and she rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m gonna get another drink.”

  They watched Anna go. A man from a nearby table leaned over to speak to Devon. “Doesn’t look much like the old boy.”

  One of his cronies joined in. “Has his eyes.”

  Devon’s eyes twinkled. “Has his trouble.”

  I slammed the flat of my hand on the table. “Sirs. Sirs!”

  They all looked at me with surprise—either at my exclamation, or that I was still here. The prematurely gray one—Tim? Tim O’Brien?—smiled benignly. “What is it, lass?”

  “It’s Natalie. Please.” I took a deep breath. “Let’s go over what we’ll be doing in the upcoming weeks.” I smiled brightly, making sure to meet everyone’s gaze. “We’re having a specialist come in next week to see if we can identify any interesting subsurface features. We’ll clear the field before—I’ll be supplying the tools. Next week the other three archaeologists will come down from Dublin and we’ll start opening the selected units.”

  Green-eyed Colin leaned forward. “You think we’ll really find something?”

  Quiet Jan piped up. “How long do you think this dig could last?”

  “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 th
e 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.