The Digger's Rest

by K. Patrick Malone

  “Whew,” Simon said when he saw her, a look of relief washing over his face. “Boy am I glad to see you. When you didn’t come back, Dr. Bramson and Lady Cotswold got worried, so I volunteered to come and look for you. They want to leave so we’ll have enough time to get ready for dinner.”

  Sandrine put on a quick smile, said, “Thank you, Simon. It was very kind of you to think of me. I sat down for a moment and just…fell asleep,” and began to follow him back to the others. But her mind, still hazy from her strange nap, was taken somewhere else completely.

  As she watched Simon move awkwardly through the brush a few feet ahead, she was suddenly struck by an image out of her childhood, from a story book. His beautiful black curls, a lacey crown around his head, his face unspoiled, virginal in its innocence, creating the impression of secret sensuality hidden behind those accepting blue eyes. His limping movement made her think of the gait of a pony. He was like a mythological creature from an ancient Greek forest, half boy, half stag; a youthful Pan without his flute, and she felt her loins and nipples stir again.

  “Au Revoir, Sandrine. A bientot,” a laughing breeze whispered as it passed her ear. She turned quickly to look back over her shoulder, felt a chill crawl up her spine like a creeping shadow, and hurried to catch up.

  When they got back to the main site, Mitch and Lady Madeline were pacing, waiting impatiently, worried that Sandrine had gotten lost, and Simon had gotten hurt trying to find her. Mitch wanted to go look for her himself but then Simon volunteered. Mitch had hesitated, thinking about Simon’s leg and was just about to say that it was probably best if he went when Lady Madeline touched his arm and said to him quietly, “You must allow the boy to find his way,” so Mitch swallowed his words and let him go.

  When they saw the young pair come through the break in the trees, both Mitch and Lady Madeline were much relieved. Mitch saw the large, ragged tear in Simon’s pants just below the knee of his bad leg, spotted with blood. He rushed over to the boy. “Simon, what happened? Are you alright?” he said and took him by the arm to a nearby ruin wall about three feet high and sat him down. Simon looked at him, confused.

  “Huh”?

  Mitch went straight to work, kneeling down to pull up his pant leg and get a look at the damage. Lady Madeline was behind him with her bag. There was a jagged gash in Simon’s shin, not very deep but about two inches long making it look worse than it was.

  “It’s nothing, Dr. Bramson. I just smacked my leg against a tree. I didn’t even know it was bleeding,” Simon said. Mitch looked to Lady Madeline for what to do.

  Having realized from the moment she saw Simon’s brace the special bond Mitch had with the boy, Lady Madeline took over and pulled a small first aid kit she always kept in her shoulder bag for occasions just like this. She had learned long ago never to go anywhere without it, and depending on her destination, it often included snake bite kits, salt tablets, antibiotic ointments and anything else she might need to ward off small tragedies.

  “Let me…” she said and got down on her knees next to Mitch. “It’ll be fine,” she said to him firmly, but she could see in his eyes the guilt he was feeling for not having gone himself. Leaning into him she whispered, “Every boy gets a scraped knee, Mitchell. Didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but…” Mitch said. She cut him off.

  “Every boy gets a scraped knee,” she whispered again, then took out sanitary wipes and started to clean the wound. Mitch backed off. Simon flinched at the cold, stinging touch of the wipe.

  Lady Madeline looked to Sandrine who got the message without words and sat next to Simon and took his hand. Mitch just stood there with his hands on his hips feeling helpless.

  After Simon’s wound was cleaned, Lady Madeline called Mitch back to show him her handiwork. “See it’s just a small cut,” she said as she applied a layer of antibiotic ointment to keep out infection and help it heal. When Mitch saw that after the blood was gone, it really was only a small cut, he sighed with relief.

  Having succeeded in handling the situation, Lady Madeline covered the cut with a gauze bandage and adhesive tape and pulled Simon’s pant leg back down. “There, now. He’ll be right as rain in no time,” she said giving Mitch a self-satisfied smile, then turned to Simon, “Won’t you now?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be fine. Thank you,” Simon said shyly and blushed.

  ***

  When they got back to the inn there was no sign of Malcolm or Deck. Jed was at the podium studiously writing in the reservation book.

  “Good evening, Jed." Mitch said. The young man looked up and smiled.

  “Good evening to you too, Doctor,” Jed replied then looked around at the rest of the group. “I see you’ve brought guests for dinner. Looks like you’ve all had a jolly time making mud pies.”

  It hadn’t occurred to Mitch until that moment that Jed might not have met Lady Madeline or Sandrine when they arrived and, on top of that, they were all covered in dirt. Not skipping a beat he made the proper introductions. “Jed Farthing, this is Lady Madeline Cotswold. She’s part of our party staying in the cottage.

  Then it dawned on Jed. “Yes, Lady Cotswold. I was aware that you were staying with us. My apologies for not having met you sooner,” Jed said taking her hand and bowing slightly.

  “And this is her assistant, Miss Boucher.” Sandrine stepped forward to take Jed’s hand.

  The minute Jed and Sandrine’s eyes met, Lady Madeline and Mitch looked at each other. Both of them had seen it. Mitch cleared his throat, “Uhum!” snapping Jed back to reality as Sandrine stepped back to stand next to Simon.

  “So, Dr. Bramson, I can put you down for four to dine tonight?” he asked Mitch politely, a shine in his eyes. Mitch just smiled to himself and rolled his eyes thinking, Not my first time at the rodeo, boy.

  “Yes, do you think we could have an early seating, maybe in about forty-five minutes or an hour. As you can see, we’ve been out digging and could use a good clean up first,” Mitch said with a knowing smirk.

  “Not a problem, Doctor. I’ll take care of everything,” Jed said, having trouble keeping his eyes from wandering past Mitch and Lady Madeline to the girl behind them and so painfully obvious to Mitch and Lady Madeline that he was going out of his way to deepen his voice and straighten his posture.

  When they came down to dinner an hour later Jed was waiting for them in a crisp fresh black shirt and black jeans. His dark hair had been freshly redone as well. “Good evening, Doctor, your Ladyship…” He smiled at Simon and made a small bow. “Good evening to you, Simon…and to you, Miss Boucher,” he said giving her a small bow as well. “I have your booth ready for you over here. I thought you might like a bit more privacy than you would have at a table,” he said to Mitch as he led them to the booth in the farthest corner.

  “Thanks, Jed. That’ll be perfect,” Mitch said following him across the room and making a subtle but thorough scan of the room to see who else might be in attendance. He couldn’t help but immediately notice the long, wavy red hair with gold highlights behind the bar.

  Simon slid into the booth first and Lady Cotswold entered from the other side, then Mitch after Simon. “If I may say so, Miss Boucher, you look lovely tonight,” Jed said to Sandrine as he took her hand to help her slide into the booth next to Lady Madeline.

  “Thank you, Mr. Farthing,” she said, smiling with natural coquettishness as she allowed him to help her into the booth. All settled, Jed went over to the podium and came back with four menus bound in old leather. “I’ll come back in a few moments, after you’ve had a chance to look things over,” he said and bowed slightly again before walking away.

  “He’s a very handsome young man, beautiful eyes. Long lashes on a man have always caught my attention,” Lady Madeline said as nonchalantly as if she was commenting on the weather, but inside breathing a sigh of relief. In the four years that Sandrine had been with her, she’d never once shown any interest outside of the manor or her work, and Lady Madeline was beginnin
g to wonder if maybe she didn’t like boys. Not that it would have made any difference to her.

  “Yes, he is, Lady Madeline, and he does,” Sandrine said, smiling to herself.

  “Just make sure he’s of the right sort before you encourage him, dear. Find out who his people are. He’s obviously Australian, but it’s important to find out what they do there.”

  Trying to remove himself from the girl talk going on at the table, Mitch opened up his menu to peruse the offered fare. Deciding the best way of handling it was the same way he did in London, Mitch decided on steak and mushroom pie for himself and chicken and ham pie for Simon with green side salads for both of them along with the extra plates so they could share. Ears still attuned, he heard Lady Madeline say quietly to Sandrine, “And you absolutely must not sleep with him until we’ve finished the dig.” It was Sandrine’s turn to blush then. Mitch jumped in, trying to come to poor Sandrine’s rescue.

  “Uh, we’re here, too, ladies,” he said, feeling his ego a little pinched at being completely ignored.

  “Yes, yes, Mitchell. You teach your boy in your way and I’ll teach my girl in mine. I’m sure you’ve discovered somewhere in your life that boys and girls are different and need to approach life differently,” Lady Madeline said with a secret smile as she continued to survey the menu.

  Just then Jed came back to the table with a clean white apron tied snuggly around his waist.

  “Can I take your drink order now?” he said smiling a big, white boyish smile. Mitch knew then that he’d somehow arranged to switch with one of the waitresses to take care of them himself. Very clever, Mitch thought to himself and looked at Lady Madeline. The notion wasn’t lost on her either.

  “I’ll have a merlot,” Lady Madeline said and looked to Sandrine to order next.

  “I’ll have the same, please,” she said, mildly embarrassed at knowing exactly what Lady Madeline and the men were thinking.

  “A pint of Butcomb for me please, Jed,” Mitch said and looked to Simon.

  “I’ll have the same, please,” Simon said sounding unsure. Mitch winked at him, nodding his approval.

  “I’ll be back in a moment with your drinks and to take your dinner order,” Jed said smiling widely again and bowing as he backed away. Man! This guy has got it bad, Mitch thought to himself, and gave Lady Madeline a sly wink to silently say that he thought the boy was probably alright, but all the while never letting himself forget that the redhead at the bar was most decidedly not alright, because as he looked around the room every few seconds, he noticed that she never once looked in their direction, less than twenty feet away.

  After more bowing and smiling in what Mitch guessed to be a youthful mating dance, they finished dinner. He was tired from not having slept well the night before, so after his third beer he decided to retire to his room to do some preliminary sketches and diagrams of the site to send back to Jack. Lady Madeline agreed with him saying she wanted to do the same to send to Lord Cotswold. In the end they decided that they would both do theirs from her room so they could work together and be on the same page, as it were. That left Simon and Sandrine to fend for themselves.

  At Lady Madeline’s suggestion, it was agreed that, being the young people that they were, they might stay out and enjoy the evening in the pub. It made Simon a little nervous, but picking up on it, Mitch heard Lady Madeline lean into him and say, “Sandrine is a very smart, good girl, and good company. Make friends with her. It’s always good to make friends in the business.”

  Simon looked to Mitch for what to do and felt better when he saw Mitch give him a confident nod.

  Mitch and Lady Madeline then headed back to the cottage and Simon and Sandrine headed to the bar. As soon as Simon saw that there were two seats open at the very end, he went over and got them. If he had to be among strangers, he preferred it to be someplace where he could keep his back to the wall. It made him feel better, safer, knowing that no one could come up and hurt him from behind.

  It surprised no one that when it came time to order their drinks, Jed was behind the bar and Ivy had gone out to work the floor, giving Jed and Sandrine some time to make eyes at each other when he wasn’t rushing back and forth between customers. The interim gave Simon and Sandrine time to get to know each other as well. Two beers later, Simon began to feel more comfortable in his surroundings.

  The beer he was drinking didn’t seem to be as strong as the beer he’d had in London and he’d actually come to like the taste, so when Jed was there flirting with Sandrine, he took the opportunity to relax and survey the room, which by then had filled with locals who’d come in for their after-dinner drinks. Three people in particular caught his eye. The first was a man about Mitch’s age or a little older with a dog and a white cane, leaning against the bar smoking a cigar. The next was a tall, black-haired woman wearing a white, open-collared blouse with a thick choker made of strands of jet black beads, a black leather skirt and spiky-heeled black leather boots that came up to her knees. Over in the corner he saw a little old man in tattered and frayed old clothes wearing a worn knit cap.

  The old man was staring at him, making him feel uncomfortable. He averted his eyes and gave his attention to Jed who was waiting to see if he wanted another beer. “Yes, please,” Simon said, beginning to feel like he could drink that beer all night and still not get drunk.

  After Jed brought his fresh beer, Sandrine turned to him and told him that she needed to visit the lady’s room and asked if he would be alright until she came back. By then, it seemed it wasn’t only Mitch but also Lady Cotswold and Sandrine who’d developed a fond proprietary interest in him. He liked them, too.

  Simon said he would be okay until she got back and went about gazing around the room. When his eyes got to the corner of the room again, he noticed that the old man was gone. Relieved, he took a sip of his beer and turned to look over towards where the younger men were playing darts against the far wall on the other side of the room. There he was, the old man, standing next to him.

  Before Simon could move or look away, the old man waved his hand in front of Simon’s face while at the same time waving his other hand over Simon’s beer. Simon froze. The old man pointed to the beer in Simon’s hand. Simon’s hand began to move, involuntarily following the movement of the old man’s finger as it pointed to his mouth. Simon raised the glass and drank. He had no choice.

  The old man spoke to him, his lips moving to form words in a language Simon couldn’t understand, but in his mind seeming to hear it in modern English. “Thou art the boy called Holly. Are thee not?” the old man asked. Simon nodded. “Thou hast spilled thy blood this day. Hast ye not?” Simon nodded again.

  Without warning, the old man waved his hand in front of Simon’s face again. Simon blinked and when he opened his eyes again the old man was gone. When he came back to himself, he looked around the bar, then over to the corner where he first saw the old man. There he was, sitting in the corner drinking his beer, looking out the window in front of him.

  Simon looked around for Sandrine. Instead he saw the tall black-haired woman with the black beads. She was smiling at him and nodding. The next thing he knew Sandrine was beside him again and Jed was asking him if he wanted another beer.

  “What does Dr. Bramson drink when he’s down here?” Simon asked Jed.

  “He’s been having brandy with his beer,” Jed said, smiling at Simon, then looked gooey-eyed at Sandrine.

  “I’ll have one of those, please,” Simon said, wiping his damp forehead with his shirt sleeve.

  ***

  After Mitch had finished working with Lady Cotswold on the diagrams and sketches, he went back to his room. He’d no sooner closed the door and taken off his boots when he heard a knock at the door. Thinking it was Simon, he opened it, surprised to see that it wasn’t Simon at all, but the blind man with the dog, Sean Donnelly.

  “Dr. Bramson, may I come in?” he said, staring straight ahead.

  Mitch moved aside. “Yes, of course, Sean
. Please come in,” he said hesitantly.

  Sean Donnelly walked through the door, feeling his way around with his white cane; Yale flowing closely at his heel.

  “I’m sorry to bother you like this, Doctor,” he said as Mitch closed the door behind them. “…but I wanted to speak to you privately, to apologize for my behavior last night.”

  “There’s nothing to apologize for Sean. You were tipsy. I was more than tipsy. We were both drunk. No harm, no foul,” Mitch said good-naturedly.

  But there is. I shouldn’t have burdened a stranger with my problems,” Sean said, hanging his head, real remorse in his voice. “I must have sounded like a madman.”

  “We all go a little mad sometimes,” Mitch said, trying to ease Sean’s discomfort. Losing his sight so young with so much to look forward to must have been tough to take, even for a cop. “Please sit down.”

  Sean felt around with his cane, found the nearest chair and sat, Yale immediately lay down in front of him, and Sean started to rub his hand over his mouth nervously. Mitch sat down on the bed. He could tell that the man wanted to say something to him, but couldn’t seem to find the words.

  “What can I do for you, Sean?” Mitch said patiently, breaking the ice in the best way he knew how. Sean rubbed his hand over his mouth again then spoke.

  “Take me with you,” he blurted out. “I know I’m blind and can’t be of any help to you in that way, but I’m strong and I can lift and carry. There are things I can still do, and…I need this, Dr. Bramson.”

  Dumbfounded, Mitch didn’t know what to say and he fumbled. “I don’t know, Sean. That’s probably not the best idea after all you’ve been though.”

  “Please, Dr. Bramson. I need to go back, to find out if I really am mad. Please take me with you,” Donnelly begged then broke down, sobbing into his hands. “I can’t go on this way, not knowing.”

  Mitch stood and went over to the table by the window, poured a glass of water from the pitcher and took it over to the distraught man, putting his hand on Sean’s heaving back.