You made the discovery.
We came as a team, a package deal, she reminded him stubbornly.
I wont take your credit.
I want you to take the credit! Please?
He sighed deeply. All right, all right. Ill bring him over. But I wont lie.
Youre not lying if you say we found it as a team, she insisted.
He stared at her for a moment, then touched the top of her head with gentle affection. Okay. You want to stay out of the limelight, kiddo, Ill do my best to help you. For a while, anyway. Like a brother, he stroked her cheek, giving her an encouraging smile.
Thanks, she murmured softly.
Youre going to be okay. Youre coming along just great, he said.
She nodded, looking down.
Was she? A year had gone by. She functioned, yes, but she continued to hurt every day. Work was good. Friends were good.
Nights were torture.
And life itself
Was definitely different. That difference had become clear while shed still been in the hospital after the explosion. If she hadnt happened to pick up a magazine and seen the article on Adam Harrison and Harrison Investigations
Well, she would probably either be dead nowhaving scared herself into an early graveor in a mental hospital. Adam Harrison and his team, especially Nikki Blackhawk, had undoubtedly saved both her life and her sanity. But that was information she shared with no one. Not Brad, and certainly not Professor Laymon.
She watched as Brad walked over to talk to Laymon. Brad was definitely a good guy, the best. If shed had a brother, he couldnt have been better to her. Years ago, when they had first started working together, shed known that he wanted more of a relationship, but no one was ever going to stand a chance against Matt. And in fact, hed liked Matt so much himself that theyd all fallen into a great friendship. She hesitated, watching Brad, glad that nothing had changed, that he had kept a brotherly distance from her and given his full support without any indication that his affections could turn sexual. She knew she would never feel any differently about him; there came a point in life where someone was a friend and that would never change. Brad was tall, well muscled, patient, intelligent and fun. The perfect guyfor someone else. The great thing about their friendship was that they shared their love of what they did. Some of the first enjoyment she had felt since the explosion that had killed Matt had been because of Brad, because of the excitement in his dark and arresting eyes when they made a discovery.
In large part thanks to him, sometimes, she could even have fun these days, going for drinks or dinner after work. His presence kept other guys away, but if he wanted to start something up with someone else, she didnt get in the way.
They had worked well together before the accident.
Now she relied on him more than evereven if she was the one who usually saw the past more clearly and homed in on a location with eerily perfect accuracy. Sometimes he eyed her almost warily, but when she shrugged, he let it alone.
She watched as Laymon listened to Brad. His face lit up as if the sun had risen again purely to shine down on him. He was up in a flash, hurrying to Leslies side, shouting excitedly and bringing the rest of the teamteachers, students and volunteersin his wake. Watch where you walk, he cautioned. We dont want all this work trampled. Hopping over one of the plastic lines set out to protect the dig and provide the grid that allowed them to map their finds, he seemed like a little kid, he was so happy.
He stared at Leslie, eyebrows raised questioningly, then looked down at the skull shed uncovered before turning back to her again. A broad smile lit his worn features. He pushed his Ben Franklin bifocals up the bridge of his nose and scratched his white-bearded chin. If anyone had ever looked the part of a professor, it was David Laymon. Youve done it, he said.
Weve done it, she murmured.
Well uncover the rest of the skeleton in the morning, then get it to the folks at the Smithsonianright away, right away. Its too late to work anymore tonight, but we need to secure this area before we go, then get back to work first thing in the morning. From now on well need speedand real care. Leslie, I could hug you. I will hug you! He drew her to her feet, hugged her, then kissed her on the cheek. She was suffused with color, a blush staining her cheeks, as a burst of applause sounded from all around them.
Hey, please, she protested. Were all in on this, and Brad was the one to cordon off this particular area.
Still, what a find, Professor Laymon murmured. Youll need to speak to the press. This is big excitement for this areafor historians everywhere.
Please, she said softly, firmly, let Brad speak to the press. Better yet, the two of you can speak as a team.
Laymon frowned, looking mildly annoyed.
Please, Leslie repeated firmly.
Laymon sighed deeply, looking at her with sorrow in his gray eyes. You never used to be so shy, he said. Okay, sorry, I understand. Its just that He shook his head. I understand. Whatever you want. All right, Ill get the ball rolling for the press conference, and you stay heregrab some students to give you a handand make sure that the site is protected until we get back to it in the morning. Im going to see to it that we get some police out here to keep an eye on things, too.
Leslie wasnt sure why anyone would want to disturb a paupers cemetery, but she knew that plenty of digs had been compromised, even ruined, by intruders in the past. She assured Laymon that she would stand guard until they were battened down for the night.
He stared at her, letting out a sigh and shaking his head again as he walked away. Brad walked behind him. One of the grad students, a shapely redhead, hurried up alongside Brad, slipping an arm through his. Leslie decided that she would have to tease him about her later.
For a moment, she wondered what Brad said about her when he decided to get close to a woman. Oh, my friend Leslie? Completely platonic. She was engaged, but there was a terrible accident. She almost died, and her fiancé was killed. Since then shes been having kind of a hard time, so I try to be there for her. But it wasnt that long ago, just a year.
Just a year.
She wondered if she would ever again feel that there was a perfect guy out there for. Right now, all she felt was
Cold.
Just a year. A year since she had buried Matt. Buried her life
With a shake, she forced her attention back to her work.
Despite her determination to call it an early night, she found herself dragged to a celebration dinner. They didnt opt for anything fancybudget would always be important in field workjust a chain pancake house on the main highway. But when the group decided to go on to a local tavern for a few drinks, she at last managed to bow out.
She returned to the residence provided for those higher up in the echelon. She, Laymon, Brad and a few others were housed in a Colonial plantation that was now a charming bed-and-breakfast. Their hostess, a cheerful septuagenarian, rose with the roosters crow, so she went to bed early. She happily saw them off each morning, and since she was a bit hard of hearing, she was also happy when they came in late at night, because she never heard a thing.
Very tired herself, but feeling a comforting sense of satisfaction, Leslie helped herself to a cup of hot tea from the well-stocked kitchen left open for the help-yourself pleasure of the guests. She took a seat before the large open hearth that dominated the room and sipped her tea from the comfort of the rocker to the left of the gently burning fire. Within a few minutes, she knew she was not alone.
Very tired herself, but feeling a comforting sense of satisfaction, Leslie helped herself to a cup of hot tea from the well-stocked kitchen left open for the help-yourself pleasure of the guests. She took a seat before the large open hearth that dominated the room and sipped her tea from the comfort of the rocker to the left of the gently burning fire. Within a few minutes, she knew she was not alone.
She glanced slowly to her side, a smile curving her lips as she looked at the man who had joined her. He had a rounded stomach, emphasized by his plain black waistcoat and the bit of bleached cotton that protruded from his waistband right where it shouldnt. His wig was a bit messy, but in the style of his time, and the tricornered hat he wore sat perfectly atop it. His hose were thick, white and somewhat worn; his shoes bore handsome buckles. His cheeks were rosy, his eyes a bit dark and small beneath bushy brows. He looked at her and returned her smile with a sigh of satisfaction. Well, now, its good and done, eh? he asked her.
She nodded. And you mustnt worry, Reverend Donegal. Its true that some of the bones will be boxed and sent for analysis, but the people at the Smithsonian are very careful and reverent. Theyll be returned, and well see to it that all the dead are reinterred with prayers and all the respect thats due them. And I believe that once the significance of what weve found here has been verified, the Park Service will have its way. A lovely memorial and a facsimile of the church will be built, and generations of visitors will be able to enjoy the beautiful countryside and learn about everything that happened here during both the Revolutionary and Civil Wars. Her smile turned slightly rueful. I know you did a great deal to help refugees during the Revolutionary War, but this very house was a stop for escaping slaves during the days of the Underground Railroad. There was also a Civil War skirmish in the front yard here. Its amazing the place is still standing.
Solid construction, Reverend Donegal said sternly. Folks to care for her. Why, I remember, years and years ago, of course, when I came many a Sunday to this house for my tea following servicesah, lovely then, it was. So much excitement and fear. A new country. His eyes darkened, and he seemed troubled for a minute. Pityone war always leads to the next. It hurt me to be hereto see so many fine men die, North and South, believing in the same God. Ah, well, never mind. Theres always hope that man will learn from his mistakes. He paused, his old eyes clouding, and she knew he was looking back to his own time, firmly fixed in his mind.
Of course, she knew his story. He had worshipped the hostess of his very house from afar, always entirely circumspect, but enjoying every opportunity to be in her company. He had faithfully served his flock of parishioners; a good man. His one pleasure had been his Sunday tea. And so, one day, he had come here, had his teaand then died of a heart attack in the arms of the woman he had secretly adored for so many years. Leslie had thought at first that he must have been a very sad ghost, seeking the love he hadnt allowed himself in life. But that hadnt been the case at all. She had discovered that he had been at peace with himself; that his distant and unrequited love for Mrs. Adella Baxter had in actuality been a pleasant fantasy but not one he had truly hoped to fulfill. He had enjoyed his life as a bachelor, administering to his flock. He had stayed all these years because he felt so many of his flock needed to be remembered. In short, he had wanted the graveyard found.
At first, he hadnt trusted her. Hed tried a dozen tricks, moving her brush around, locking her suitcase, hiding her keys. He hadnt expected her to see him, and he certainly hadnt expected her to get angry, yell at him and demand that they talk. Once they had, hed become an absolute charmer. Through his eyes, shed seen the house as it had been in his day. Shed experienced his passion as hed spoken of what he and so many others had gone through to establish a new country; his fear that he might be hanged as a traitorsomething that had been a distinct possibility many times during the brutal years of the Revolution. He was deeply disturbed that so few of the people who passed through the old house were aware of just how precarious the struggle for freedom had been. You cant understand, he had told her. We almost lost the war. In fact, its a miracle that we won. And all those men who signed the Declaration of Independence? They would have been hanged! So many risked so much. Ah, well, God does show his will, against all odds.
Right now he seemed lost in thought.
Thank you for your help, she said very softly to him.
He nodded, then wagged a finger at her. I expect you to play fair, young lady. You see that the right thing is done by my people. Especially little Peg. You did find her grave, didnt you, right where I sent you?
Leslie nodded, then stared at the fire for a moment, as lost in the past as he had been. It was strange. Before the blast, shed had intuitions, like the one that had helped her find the homeless man. As if she could close her eyes and imagine something of a life now gone, then home in on it. Logic? Instinct? Something more? She couldnt have said. But now
Now ghosts came into her life.
I will see that Pegs story is told, she assured Reverend Donegal. She repeated what he had told her before about the girl. Peg, aged ten, walked the ten miles from town through a pouring, freezing rain to bring the men from the county together when she knew an attack was coming. She rallied the local troops, and they successfully defended the river and the plantation here, all because of her bravery. She died of the fever that came on her that night, after her journey through the rain and cold and enemy lines. And after the warwell, people were poor. She was given the best burial they could manage.
He nodded in satisfaction. A statue would be very nice. You will get someone to pay for a statue?
Ill pay for a statue of her myself, if need be, she assured him.
He looked at her indignantly. A statue of me! he declared. Oh, well, of course, Peg must be honored, too, I suppose.
Youll have a place when they rebuild the church, and Peg will be honored in the graveyard. Hows that? she said, glad she could smile.
He nodded, staring at the fire. Theres a chill in here, he said. Ah, these old bones
It is chilly tonight, but I dont think youre really feeling your old bones, she teased. She set her cup down and rose, walked to the fire and let it warm her hands. When she turned to speak to the reverend again, he was gone.
She sat back in her chair. In a little while she heard the others returning. It had grown late; she assumed they would head right up to their beds, but she sensed someone behind her, and this time she heard breathing.
She turned. Brad was there, just inside the doorway, staring at her.
Hey, she said.
Hey, he echoed, still staring at her.
What? she demanded.
Laymon really didnt say anything to you yet? he asked, looking surprised. I thought he called you.
About what? she asked.
Theyre researching another site in Lower Manhattan, he said.
She felt a streak of cold sweep along her spine, as if shed been stroked by an icy sword. She looked at the fire, trying to speak perfectly calmly. Im sure that at any given time, someone is always digging somewhere in Lower Manhattan.