Running Back

I heard the thumps of several kicks. A foot smacked into my leg. I couldn’t tell if it had been meant for me or someone else.

“Ah, the archaeologist.” Eamon smiled, wrinkles spreading out over his leathery cheeks and brow. “I hear something’s dodgy with the excavation? You better fix that.”

This time, I was the kicker. Mike winced.

Eamon missed it, as he’d turned back to Kate. “We’ve all been very curious about you. Expected you to come back years ago.”

Kate’s fingers stiffened around her silverware. “Well. I didn’t.”

He didn’t take note of the shortness in her voice. “Lovely city, Boston. I can see why Brian wanted to visit, you know, though we always thought he would settle down here.”

I searched for something to diffuse Kate’s pained look. Anna beat me to it, speaking up in an exact mimic of her mother’s tone. “Well. He didn’t.”

Eamon chuckled, and the talk turned to more mundane things. By the time the food arrived, several other locals had edged up to our table. Everyone was very curious about Brian O’Connor’s life in America, though the curiosity was tinged with a wide array of other emotions—disapproval, excitement, disdain, hurt, vicarious interest. Kate did her best to give succinct explanations, but each time another person approached and asked, “Why didn’t he come home?” she tensed even more.

So it was a relief when we left, retreating to the inn where the only other guests in the parlor were a German couple and a family from County Meath. I figured I’d head to my room, but Kate and Lauren roped me into a game of Go Fish. I was torn, since they were probably only asking to be polite, but I couldn’t help myself. The warmth they radiated was addictive and bone-deep. Anna might be angry, Kate sad, Lauren stressed and Mike protective, but they weren’t cold. They felt warm.

I wanted to feel warm.

Mike, Lauren and I sat on the floor before the fireplace while Anna curled up against her mother on the sofa, watching as Lauren dealt out the cards. “We should see if anyone has any pictures of Dad. Aunt Maggie should.”

“Aunt Maggie?” Lauren sloppily picked up her cards. I sneaked a look. “Jesus.”

Anna sat straighter. “She is. She’s our only aunt.”

“I’m sure she has pictures.” Kate hugged her youngest to her side, her voice just shy of normal. “Of course, she’s suffering her own loss right now, so maybe we should save that for later.”

“I’d think she’d want to look at them. Because Uncle Patrick’s probably in them too, right?”

“Laur, hold your cards closer,” Mike said in a beleaguered voice, like he’d told her time and again.

“Why don’t you just not look at them?”

“Because they’re staring me in the face. Besides, Natalie’s cheating too.”

My head flew up. “That’s not true.”

Mike grinned at me. “And she lies.”

I narrowed my eyes. His danced. Anna kept talking. “Well, we’re going to her house tomorrow, aren’t we? For the month’s mind thing. We can ask.”

“We’ll see.” Kate closed her eyes as she stroked her daughter’s head. “We’ll see.”

The evening went on. Somehow I ended up in involved in an intense discussion with Lauren and Anna on Girl Scout Cookie names. I was vastly outnumbered by Bostonian fools who thought Caramel Delights was legitimate.

“Hey,” I tossed at Mike, after we figured out the difference in cookie names came from which of the two Girl Scout baking companies produced it (thus destroying a satisfying and endless argument forever), “isn’t it weird, then, that you ended up playing for the New York Leopards? Didn’t the Patriots bid on you?”

Lauren groaned. “Oh, sore subject.”

“What? They didn’t?”

Mike looked aggravated. “They did, they were just too late. What was I supposed to do?”

My mouth flapped open. “So would you rather be playing for them? Would you leave the Leopards?” I felt personally betrayed.

He laughed. “No. Not anymore. They’re my family.”

“Actually,” Anna put in from the couch, “we’re you’re family. They’re just a bunch of dudes who knock people down.”

I excused myself around nine, when Kate started yawning. Back in my room, I spent the next hour writing emails. I started with Cam and Mom, but the O’Connors’ relationship made me send notes to each of my brothers. When I came back from Ireland, maybe I’d see if we could all get together for dinner.

And then a new email popped up. And I stopped breathing.

The subject line was innocuous. The sender was Dr. Henry Ceile.

Dear Ms. Sullivan,

I hope you’ve been well. I see you are in Ireland working, once more, on one of Dr. Anderson’s projects. I am about to begin excavating an Iron Age site in Ulster, and I would like to extend an invitation to join me as one of my site managers. I would be happy to meet with you and speak about this opportunity.

Best,

Dr. Henry Ceile

I was still staring at it when someone knocked on my door and it swung open. I looked up to see Mike.

“Hey,” he began, and then stopped and frowned. “You all right?”

I waved at the computer, too stunned to speak, and Mike came over to read it. “What is this? A job offer?”

“Yeah. From this guy who’s never gotten along with my advisor. He’s trying to poach me!”

Mike couldn’t smother his smile. “Are you interested?”

I almost choked on oxygen. “In working for the devil? No way.”

“Why not? You’d at least get to work on a site in your field.”

“Thank you, for reminding once again that I will never be able to excavate at Kilkarten.”

He stared at me.

I took a deep breath. “Sorry. That was uncalled for. Just—I would never betray Jeremy like that, by going to work for Ceile. That would be tantamount to saying that Jeremy’s crazy, that I agree with Ceile that Ivernis doesn’t exist. Would it make sense professionally? Sure. But—it would make me sick with myself.”

He slowly sat. “You’re still upset you’re not excavating Kilkarten.”

I let out a strangled laugh. “Of course I am. You knew that.”

“I didn’t realize how strongly you felt.” He studied me. “Are you upset with me?”

I avoided his too-clear gaze. “I don’t know. I guess my emotions about you are all tangled up.”

“But that’s the main block between us.”

I shrugged and nodded. “It’s the elephant in the room.”

“Okay. I get that. But—maybe for tonight we can forget it and just be friends.”

I nodded. “I’d like that.”

So for that night, we talked and watched Irish television. He told me about his teammates and I told him about my travels and we made mangled attempts at accents, starting with Ireland and spreading all over the world. He tore apart my fantasy team and I taught him how to write his name in ancient Greek. It was one of the best nights I’d had in a long time, and when he finally slipped out the door, I stared after him for a long, long time before falling into a deep sleep.