Running Back

by Allison Parr

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 go
t 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.”

  “I’m loyal to Jeremy because—because—” I’d never tried to psycho-analyze my relationship with Jeremy. “He’s a great person. He’s brilliant, and intense, and sincere, and dedicated. And he has helped me so much.”

  “He’s not interested in you. Oh, he finds it cute and flattering, but he’s not interested.”

  I jerked to a stop, enlightenment finally descending. “You’re jealous.”

  He wrenched around to face me. “Yeah, fine. I’m jealous.”

  Wow. Wonder bloomed in my chest as I studied the simmering anger in Mike’s gaze and clenched jaw. “Mike, no, I don’t like him. I like you.”

  “Except you think he’s brilliant and wonderful.”

  “I think my best friend Cam is brilliant and wonderful, and I don’t want to date her either.”

  I could see him trying to pull all his emotions away and bury them behind his mask of calm, the mask he usually covered with another of charm. I didn’t want that. I wanted Mike, raw and unfiltered, and I wanted to understand why he was upset. “Mike, I’m confused. What are you trying to get at?”

  He studied me. “I guess I’m just interested if he’s the kind of guy you’d consider lifetime monogamy for?”

  I scrunched up my forehead. “What?”

  “You said you didn’t believe in love, but in lifetime monogamy with someone you’re compatible with. He seems like a good candidate. What do you think?”

  “Why are you pushing this?”

  “I just want to know.”

  Irritated across all bounds, I answered honestly. “Sure, I could see that. We have similar interests and career goals and values. We’d probably always be interested in each other as human beings.”

  “You’d rather
be with some guy you’re well-matched for then someone you love.” Then he shook his head. “Sorry. You don’t believe in love.”

  “I do believe in it. I just have a hard time with the forever part.”

  “You are a piece of work, Natalie Sullivan.”

  “Why am I a piece of work? Just because I have a different opinion than you?” I waved my hands. “How did we even get to this conversation?”

  “If you love someone, you make it work.”

  “You can’t just magically make something work. And how do you even know? Have you ever seen love work for decades? Because I haven’t!”

  We stared at each other. My heart pounded and I felt awful and sick and horrible, but it was true. And I didn’t know why it should matter to both of us so much, this far off concept, this abstract emotion, but it was clear that it mattered to both of us, and desperately.

  We turned away at the same time. I wondered if we’d broken something.

  The inn was in sight. We walked up to our floor, silent, and turned away at our separate doors.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next morning, I found Lauren and Anna poking at a half disintegrated brick of grain flakes with their spoons. Anna pointed hers at me. “Yo. World traveler. What the hell is this?”

  I peered into their bowl at the soggy mess. “Um.”

  Lauren forlornly settled her chin her hands. “I just wanted cereal.”

  “Seriously.” Anna rocked her chair back on two feet. “They have Domino’s and McDonald’s here. Well, not here here, but in Cork. Why can’t they have Honey Nut Cheerios?”

  Lauren took a very tentative bite, and swallowed exaggeratedly. “It’s like—either throat scrapingly dry or super mushy grain flakes.”

  Do not make a Lucky Charms and Ireland joke. Do. Not. Do it.

  Anna rolled her eyes. “They could at least have Lucky Charms.”

  “That’s what I was thinking!” Lauren and I shouted at the same time.

  Mike came in as we were laughing, and looked at us like we were crazy. I froze. He shook his head, picked up a banana and frowned at the grains, and then made to walk out.