Running Back

along of the edges of the unit, but I jumped right in with Simon. Mike and Jeremy weren’t far behind me. “What’d you find?”

Simon moved aside and gestured. “Practically broke my shovel. It’s rock. Big, solid rock, but I don’t think its bedrock yet, because look here, I hit the edge and it curves real nice.”

I looked at the other corners of the unit, which didn’t show a hint of stone. “I don’t think it’s bedrock, either. But the survey didn’t pick up anything here—oh, of course.” We were in the north-west quadrant of the site, where the soil make-up had been moist enough that the radar had only penetrated a few centimeters. “It wouldn’t have. All right. It might just be a boulder. Still—Colin, get a whiteboard and write down the time and date and longitude and latitude and add an arrow north. Anna, get the camera.” I arranged the whiteboard with trembling fingers and then stepped back and took several snapshots.

I took one of white-faced Jeremy for good measure.

And then I jumped into the unit and started digging, and so did Jeremy, and then came Grace and Duncan. And slowly, slowly, the dirt vanished and a capstone appeared, and then, layer by layer, more stones, backstones, purposefully placed to hold the first, a subsurface burial tomb.

I met Mike’s eyes.

And then I sat down and started to laugh and cry.

* * *

That night the rain hammered down like the seventh Chapter of Genesis. But our floral room was cozy. The lamps cast warm pools of light and the room smelled like Earl Grey and bergamot.

Mike and I stayed warm and cozy under the blankets. I leaned against him and let out a content sigh. “I’m so happy. We’ll have funding, we’ll have things to excavate...” It shocked me, how much the weight disappeared. Now we didn’t even need the reporter’s article—we’d saved ourselves. “And thank God, because everyone kept talking to me about all their plans—about catering business, and Eileen about expanding the inn, and O’Malley wants to get a set dinner done, and Tim’s brother, the carpenter, wants to build protective structures.” I laughed. “I’d tried to resign myself to finding nothing—I’d pretty much done it—but now I feel like the whole world has realigned and everything is right again.”

“And you know what the best part is?” Mike murmured.

“That we found Ivernis?”

He pulled me closer. “That if you’re not out searching for other sites that might be Ivernis, you’ll be able to come back to New York in the off-season.”

My chest fluttered. He wanted me with him. I wanted to be with him. “Hey.” I propped myself up on my elbow and looked down at Mike. “Something I want to tell you.”

He traced my brows, my cheeks, my lips, his forefinger brushing lightly over sensitive skin. I caught my breath and he smiled. “What?”

I pressed a kiss to his finger, then to the skin behind his ear. With my hand resting on his chest, I could feel the shudder that ran through him, and I smiled and drew back.

An arm’s length away, my phone buzzed. I glanced at it, hesitated, and then sighed. “It’s my mom.”

“Resist.”

“No, I should see what it is.”

And the odd note in Mom’s voice made me glad I’d picked up, as did her almost timidity when she asked if I had time to talk. “Of course. Just—” I glanced at Mike, and then grabbed at my sweatshirt, making an apologetic moue. He waved his hand and gathered his things instead, and quietly shut the door behind him. “Okay, tell me what’s wrong.”

She led up to it with all the little lines about how irritating Dad was, lines that I thought meant nothing, and finished with, “So I’m moving out.”

The entire world blanked. I forgot how to breathe or see, and then I wanted to babble in overtime to make up for the seconds I’d lost. “Are you sure? When did you decide?”

“About ten years ago. Honey—I know this is going to be hard for you—”

I tried not to let her hear me hyperventilating. “Me? No. I’m an adult. Are you okay?” Of course she wasn’t okay.

Oh my God, I couldn’t believe Mom would leave Dad.

She sounded like she doubted my adulthood. “I know, but it’s still hard for children—even grown ones—to handle divorce.”

Divorce? Whoa, I’d been thinking separation. “Have you—have you tried couple’s therapy?”

“Yes. Honey—this has been a long time coming.”

I knew that. I just didn’t think it would ever actually arrive. “But why didn’t you do it years ago?”

She sounded like her heart was breaking. My heart was breaking. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to until you were out of the house. Until you’d found your feet. And—maybe I’d forgotten about being happy.”

“And—what. No. Mom. Paris? That’s just rose-colored glasses. I mean, it was Paris. And you were eighteen. Of course it’s beautiful in hindsight.”

“Well, I want it back. I think I deserve it.”

Shit, I was a crap daughter. “Of course you do. You do.” I swallowed. “Will you be okay?”

“Of course! I’ll be fine. Cheryl’s letting me stay with her while I look for a place.”

My eyes widened. “Wait, when are you leaving?”

“That’s why I wanted to call you. This weekend.”

I went silent for long enough that she had to say my name. I took a breath and forced out the question. “Did you ever think this would happen? In the beginning?”

Her silence almost rivaled mine. “Never.”

I watched the rain.

“Because you loved him.”

“So, so much. Don’t doubt that, Natalya. I loved him with every part of my soul.”

* * *

Mike knocked and walked back in while I sat curled in the window seat, staring out at the drizzle. “What’s wrong?”

I looked up, but it took a moment for Mike to come into focus. “My mom’s moving out.”

He stopped. “Wow.”

I stared at the murky green mess. “It’s surreal. I guess since they were unhappy forever—it was the status quo. I didn’t think it would ever change.”

“Then I guess it’s brave of her.”

“Yeah.” I straightened. “Oh my God. How is she going to survive? She’s always had someone to take care of her.”

“Well, she is an adult.”

“Yeah, I know.” My gaze went back to the rain and then I sighed.

“What had you wanted to tell me earlier?”

The rain was no longer friendly; the lights no longer warm. Or at least I couldn’t feel it. “I don’t know.”

“I thought—I thought maybe you wanted to talk about afterward. Since I’m going home on Sunday.”

No, Mike. Not now. I didn’t want to talk about afterward because there was no afterward. Because things ended. They ended, and they were buried, and they were lost forever. That was the only forever.

I heard him take a step closer to me, and the ghost of his reflection showed in the darkened window. “I wanted to tell you something too.”

I shook my head, my arms holding my knees against my chest.

His hand curved over my shoulder. “Natalie, look at me.”

I closed my eyes.

“I’m leaving tomorrow. Training camp starts soon.”

“I know.”

“Natalie.”