Birthright

by Nora Roberts

  Nancy Ellis. Can’t say for sure, but Wil’m asked for one of them most often.”

  “Are they still in the area?”

  “As far as I know. Lose track of people when you’re a widow. You want to talk to every blessed one who worked up the hospital back then, you check with Betsy Poffenberger. She worked there more than forty years. Nothing she doesn’t know about anybody or anything goes on there. Always had her nose in somebody’s business.”

  “Where would I find her?”

  Betsy lived twenty minutes away, in a development Callie learned had been built by Ronald Dolan.

  “Lorna Blakely sent you?” Betsy was a robust woman with hair as black as pitch that had been lacquered into a poofed ball. She sat on her front porch with a pair of binoculars close at hand. “Old biddy. Never did care for me. Thought I had a thing for her Wil’m. I wasn’t married back then, and in Lorna’s mind any unmarried woman was on the prowl.”

  “She thought you might be able to tell me who was in the delivery room with Suzanne Cullen when her daughter was born. Maybe who her roommate was during her stay. The names of the nurses and staff working the maternity wing. That sort of thing.”

  “Long time ago.” She eyed Callie. “I’ve seen you on TV.”

  “I’m with the archaeology project at Antietam Creek.”

  “That’s it. That’s it. You don’t expect me to tell you anything without you telling me why.”

  “You know Suzanne Cullen’s daughter was taken. It has to do with that.”

  “You an archaeologist or a detective?”

  “Sometimes they’re the same thing. I’d really appreciate any help you can give me, Mrs. Poffenberger.”

  “Felt sorry as could be for Ms. Cullen when that happened. Everybody did. Things like that don’t happen around here.”

  “This time it did. Do you remember anything, anyone?”

  “We talked about nothing else for weeks. Alice Lingstrom was head nurse on the maternity floor. She’s a particular friend of mine. She and Kate Regan and me, we talked about it plenty, over breaks and at lunch. Kate worked in Administration. We went to school together. Can’t say I recall what was what right off, but I could find out. I still got ways,” she said with a wink. “Guess I could do that. Jay Cullen, he taught my sister’s boy in school. Mike, he’s no brain trust, if you know what I mean, but my sister said Mr. Cullen worked special with him to help him out. So I guess I could see what’s what.”

  “Thank you.” Callie took out a piece of paper, wrote down her cell phone. “You can reach me at this number. I’d appreciate any information at all.”

  Betsy pursed her lips at the number, then peered up at Callie’s face when she rose. “You kin to the Cullens?”

  “Apparently.”

  The poker game was under way when Callie got back. She could hear the rattle of chips from the kitchen. She turned toward the steps with the hope of getting up them and into her room unnoticed.

  But Jake appeared to have radar where she was concerned. She was halfway up when he took her arm, turned her around and marched back down.

  “Hey. Hands off.”

  “We’re going for a walk.” He kept his grip on her arm and propelled her through the door. “So nobody can interfere when I slap you around.”

  “You keep dragging me and you’re going to be flat on your back checking out the evening sky.”

  “Why did you sneak off?”

  “I didn’t sneak off; I drove off. In my freshly painted vehicle.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I don’t report to you.”

  “Where did you go, and why did you have your phone turned off so I couldn’t call and yell at you?”

  When they reached the creek, she pulled her arm free. “I had some legwork I wanted to do, and I wanted to do it alone. I’m not having the team talking about us because we’re always together. You know how gossip can breed on a dig.”

  “Fuck gossip. Did it occur to you that I’d worry? Did it ever cross your mind that I’d worry when I didn’t know where you’d gone and couldn’t contact you?”

  “No. It occurred to me you’d be mad.”

  “I am mad.”

  “I don’t mind that, but I didn’t mean to worry you.” And she saw, very clearly, that she had. “I’m sorry.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said I’m sorry.”

  “You apologized without being pounded into submission first.” He lifted his hands palms up, looked toward the sky. “It’s a day of miracles.”

  “And now I’m going to tell you what to do with the apology.”

  “Uh-uh.” He took her face in his hands, pressed his lips to hers. “Let me enjoy it.”

  When she didn’t kick him, shove him, he drew her closer. He deepened the kiss, let his fingers slide back into her hair.

  His lips were warm, and gentle. His hands more persuasive than possessive. This, she thought as she let herself float into the kiss, wasn’t the way he demonstrated temper. Not in her experience. The fact was, she couldn’t remember him ever kissing her in quite this way.

  With patience, and with care. As if, she thought, she mattered a very great deal.

  “What’s going on with you?” she murmured against his mouth.

  “That’s my question.” He eased back, let out a long breath. “We’d better talk or I’m going to forget why I’m mad at you. Where did you go?”

  She nearly refused to tell him, then realized that was simply a knee-jerk reaction. You demand, she thought, I refuse. And we end up nowhere.

  “Why don’t we sit down?” She lowered to the bank of the creek, and told him.

  Seventeen

  Callie sat cross-legged on the ground, filling out a find sheet. Her notes and records were secured in a clipboard and fluttered in the light breeze.

  There were voices everywhere. The weekend team expanded with amateur diggers and curious students. Leo was talking about organizing a knap-in the following month to draw in more help and more interest before the end of the season.

  She imagined fall in this part of the world would be a perfect time for camping out and holding outdoor instruction. Some who signed up were bound to be more trouble than they were worth, but she didn’t mind the idea as long as it got the project attention and more hands.

  She heard the occasional car pull up at the fence line, and those voices carried as well. One of the students would give the standard lecture and answer the questions of the tourists or townspeople who stopped by.

  When a shadow fell over her, she continued to write. “You can take those pails over to the spoil pile. But don’t forget to bring them back.”

  “I’d be glad to, if I knew what a spoil pile was and where to find it.”

  Callie turned her head, shading her eyes with the flat of her hand. It was a jolt to see Suzanne in sunglasses and ball cap. It was almost like looking at an older version of herself. “Sorry. I thought you were one of the grunts.”

  “I heard you on the radio this morning.”

  “Yeah, Jake, Leo and I take shifts with the media.”

  “You made it all sound so fascinating. I thought it was time I came by and had a look for myself. I hope it’s all right.”

  “Sure.” Callie set the clipboard down, got to her feet. “So . . .” She hooked her thumbs in her pockets to keep her hands still. “What do you think?”

  “Actually”—Suzanne looked around—“it’s tidier than I imagined somehow. And more crowded.”

  “We’re able to pull in a lot of volunteers on the weekends.”

  “Yes, so I see,” she said, smiling over at where little Tyler scooped a trowel through a small pile of soil. “Starting them young.”

  “That’s Lana Campbell’s little boy. He’s a Saturday regular. We give him spoil we’ve already sieved. One of us seeds his pile with a couple of minor finds. He gets a charge out of it. The spoil’s dirt we take out of the plots, then it’s sieved so any small artifac
t isn’t missed.”

  “And every piece tells you something about who lived here, and how. If I understood your radio interview.”

  “That’s right. You have to find the past in order to understand the past, and understand it in order to reconstruct it.” She paused as her words echoed back to her. “I’m trying to do that, Suzanne.”

  “Yes, I know you are.” Suzanne touched a hand to Callie’s arm. “You’re uncomfortable with me, and that’s partly my fault for going to pieces the way I did in Lana’s office that day. Jay gave me a hell of a lecture over it.”

  “Well, you were understandably—”

  “No, you wouldn’t understand.” And there was quiet sorrow in the words. “Jay isn’t a man who normally gives anyone hell. He’s so patient, so quiet. Just some of the reasons I fell in love with him when I was about six years old. But he laid it on the line for me the other day. It was very unexpected. And, I suppose, exactly what I needed.”

  “I guess this isn’t easy for him either.”

  “No, it’s not. That’s something I found it very convenient to forget over the years. I need to tell you before this goes any further that I’m not going to put that kind of pressure on you again.”

  She let out a little breath, a half laugh. “I’m going to try not to put that kind of pressure on you again. I want to get to know you, Callie. I want that chance. I want you to get to know me. I know you’re trying to . . .reconstruct. Betsy Poffenberger called me this morning. She heard you on the radio, too.”

  “Popular show.”

  “Apparently. She told me you’d been to see her. She said she wanted to make sure it was all right with me to give you information, but what she wanted was to pump me for it. I didn’t tell her anything, but people are starting to put things together.”

  “I know. Are you all right with that?”

  “I don’t know yet.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I’m jittery all the time. The idea of answering questions when everything’s still evolving is hard. Harder than I could have imagined. But I can handle it. I’m stronger than I’ve given you reason to think.”

  “I’ve read some of your letters. I think you’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever known.”

  “Oh. Well.” Eyes stinging, Suzanne looked away. “That’s a lovely thing to hear from a grown daughter. I’d really like you to tell me more about your work here. I’d really like to understand more about it, and you. I really want us to be comfortable with each other. That would be enough for right now. Just to be comfortable with each other.”

  “I’m working this section.” Needing to make the effort, Callie took Suzanne’s arm, turned her. “We’re establishing that this area was a Neolithic settlement. And this section their cemetery. You can see here we’ve uncovered a low stone wall, which we believe the tribe built to enclose their graveyard. As we excavate bones—bones are my specialty, by the way.”

  “Bones are your specialty?”

  “Yeah. I almost went into forensic archaeology, but it’s too much time in the lab. I like to dig. Here, this is pretty sweet. I found this the other day.”

  She crouched down for her clipboard, flipped back sheets and pulled out a photo of a skull. “It’s already at the lab, so I can’t show you the real deal.”

  “This will do.” Gingerly, Suzanne took the photo. “There’s a hole in it. Is that a wound?”

  “Trepanning. An operation,” Callie explained when Suzanne looked blank. “They’d scrape or cut away bone, using a stone knife or drill. The purpose, we speculate, might have been to relieve cranial pressure caused by fractures or tumors.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. Had to seriously hurt. The point is, they tried, didn’t they? However crude the healing, they attempted to heal their sick and injured. A tribe gathers together for defense and survival, and evolves into a settlement. Housing, rituals—you can talk to Graystone if you’re interested in that kind of thing. Hunting, gathering, organized tasks, leadership, healing, mating. Farming,” she added, gesturing toward the area not yet disturbed. “Grains, domesticated animals. From settlement to village, and village to town. From town to city. Why? Why here, why them?”

  “You find out the who and the how first.”

  “Yeah.” Pleased, Callie glanced back at Suzanne and continued. “To do that, you have to plot the site. That’s considering you have permission to dig, financial support and a team. You’ve got to do your surveys. Once you start digging, you’re destroying the site. Every step and stage has to be recorded, in detail. Measurements, readings, photography, sketches, reports.”

  Jake watched Callie give Suzanne a tour of the site. He could gauge Callie’s emotional state by her body language. She’d closed in immediately upon seeing Suzanne, then had gone on the defensive, from there to uneasy, and now to relaxed.

  In her element now, he thought, as he noted her using her hands to gesture, to draw pictures.

  “It’s nice to see them together,” Lana said as she stepped beside him. “To see them able to be together like that. It can’t be easy for either of them, trying to find some common ground without trespassing. Particularly challenging for Callie, I’d think, as she’s sectioned off in so many areas.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Oh, I think you get the meaning. This project is her professional focus right now, and one that challenges and excites her. At the same time, she’s dealing with the trauma of uncovering answers to her past, trying to forge a relationship with Suzanne they can both live with. And in, around and through all that is you. Personally, professionally, every which way. And, if you don’t mind my saying so—”

  “Whether I mind or not, you strike me as a woman who says what she has to say.”

  “You’re right about that. And you strike me as a difficult man. I’ve always liked difficult men because they’re rarely boring. Added to that, I like Callie, very much. So I enjoy seeing her more at ease with Suzanne, and I enjoy watching the two of you trying to figure each other out.”

  “We’ve been at that for a long time.” He turned as Ty raced over, clutching a bone in his grimy fist.

  “Look! Look what I got. I found a bone.”

  Jake chuckled at the low and essentially female sound of disgust Lana tried to muffle. He swung Ty up, shifting so Ty could wag the bone in his mother’s face.

  “It’s neat, huh, Mom?”

  “Mmm. Very neat.”

  “Is it from a people? A dead people?”

  “Ty, I don’t know where you’ve developed this ghoulish interest in dead people.”

  “Dead people are neat,” Jake said soberly. “Let’s have a look.” But he was still watching Callie. “Why don’t we ask the expert?”

  “And wooing a woman with bones isn’t ghoulish?” Lana said under her breath.

  “Not when she’s Callie. Hey! Got a find over here, Dr. Dunbrook.”

  “It’s a bone!” Ty called out, waving it like a flag as Callie walked over with Suzanne.

  “It certainly is.” Callie stepped close, examined it thoughtfully.

  “From a dead person?” Ty asked.

  “A deer,” she said, and watched his face fall in disappointment. “It’s a very important find,” she told him. “Someone hunted this deer so the tribe could eat. So they could make clothing and tools and weapons. Do you see those woods, Ty-Rex?” She brushed a hand over his hair as she turned to point. “Maybe that deer walked in those woods. Maybe a young boy, not much older than you, went out with his father and his brother, his uncle, on a day just like today, to hunt. He was excited, but he knew he had a job to do. An important job. His family, his tribe was depending on him. When he brought down this deer, maybe it was the very first time he did his job. And you have this to remember him.”

  “Can I take it to show-and-tell?”

  “I’ll show you how to clean it and label it.”

  He reached out, and Callie reached for him. For a moment she