Текст книги "Running Back"

Автор книги: Allison Parr

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Fifteen

When we returned to the inn Mike headed straight for Kate’s room. I didn’t expect her to be there, but she was, sitting at her desk before her computer.

“Mom. Can I talk to you?”

Kate’s face swiveled back and forth between the two of us. “What’s going on?”

I touched Mike’s arm softly. “I can go.”

“No.” Instead, he shut the door. “I wanted to talk about Kilkarten.”

I had said almost the same thing to him, long ago.

“Of course.” She glanced at me curiously, and then back. “What about?’

He took a deep breath, his gaze flicking briefly at me. For some reason, I reached out and took his hand.

He squeezed it like a lifeline, and looked back at his mother. “When I was ten I heard you talking to Dad about Kilkarten. It was an—an unpleasant conversation. About him being involved with nationalists. About Kilkarten being used for that. So I wanted to know if you knew—or had any reason to think—that there are any weapons buried on the land.”

“What?” Her face paled until only the red stain on her lips stood out, a macabre representation of life and love. “Weapons? On Kilkarten? No!”

I could feel the change in Mike. He’d been braced for revelation, for confirmation, but never imagined his mother would stare at him like he’d spoken in tongues. “What?”

“Michael, there’s nothing buried there.”

“But—” He stared at me wildly. “But he was so upset. You were crying. He said he’d been part of a rebellious group and that Kilkarten had been sacrificed for it.”

“Michael. Oh, honey. That conversation was never about guns.” She stood and came around and hovered before him, like she wanted to embrace him or touch his face but wasn’t sure how. Then her eyes widened, and she looked back and forth between us. “Is that why you didn’t want the excavation to go through? Because you thought there was something buried there?”

He stared. “There’s no statute of limitations for treason.”

She sat back down—more of a collapse into her hair. “How long have you thought this? Why didn’t you ask me? Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“But, Mike. Oh, honey.” I could see the agony etched in each line of her face, and every line looked deeper today. “I am my own person. You cannot try to protect me. That’s not your role.” She shook her head. “You can’t just steamroll everyone else. It’s because you’ve always kept everything bottled up inside so much. I never taught you how to let it out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“After your father died. You just seemed like you were coping, and the girls and I were such a mess and it was too late that I realized you weren’t all right, that you never mourned—”

“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 devil-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 the 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.

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 got 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?”