With Me Now

by Heather Hambel Curley

  But, no. They had one.

  She huffed into a loose strand of hair that had worked its way out of her messy bun. You’re lucky to be on this dig. Don’t be critical. No, no, she was still going to be critical. The distribution of tasks on this dig was like nothing she’d ever seen before. Whiny blonde in tight jeans gets to sit in the shade and watch while the other three worked. “So, Cianna, where’d you go to school?”

  “I went to art school in Philadelphia.”

  “Art school?” Madison brushed her hands on her jeans. “That’s…a unique way to get into archeology. Was it art history?”

  “No.” Cianna didn’t look up from her notebook. “I took some art history classes, but I’m much more interested in process and technique. Watercolor, charcoal, pencil, oil. You know.”

  “Not really.”

  Mike snorted.

  “Ultimately I’d like to work in an art museum or work as an art broker. I’m going through a watercolor phase right now, actually. I’ve collected some nice pieces, but I like working on my own.” Cianna blew on the notebook and held it out in front of her, critically reviewing the face of the page. She placed it back on her lap. “I’ve been in some shows.”

  “Cianna Simon: Best in Show.” Liam made no effort to lower his voice. He chuckled.

  “I had some pieces in a gallery in Harrisburg.” Cianna paused. “And countless pieces in Philadelphia galleries.”

  “Don’t take this as bitchy,” — Madison also paused, mimicking Cianna’s dramatic speech pattern — “because admittedly, it’s bitchy. But, why are you here? Do you like history? Do you like archeology.”

  “I like it. It’s just not my passion.”

  “Okay…so, again, why are you here? I know kids at school who would sell a kidney to get on a dig like this.” Madison stopped shaking the sifter and stared at her, suddenly transfixed on her crouched figure like she anticipated her to spontaneously combust. “You’re just here to kill time or something?”

  “Yeah? So?” She was defensive. “You’re here because you’re a drunk.”

  Mike and Liam simultaneously stopped working.

  “True, but I’m a drunk about to graduate with a double major in history and anthropology.” Madison turned back to the sifter. “And archeology is my passion.”

  Cianna didn’t respond and Madison refused to look at her. Great. She really was the notorious drunk undergrad archeologist.

  “Well, that escalated quickly.” Liam put his hand on his hip, fully resembling a nearly bald, squat teapot. “But don’t mind Cianna. She’s on her period or something.”

  “Fuck off, Liam.” Cianna crouched further over her notebook. “At least I’m not fabulous like you.”

  It was said in a cutting, homophobic way, sickening for someone who said herself she’d worked with him for nearly ten years. Liam didn’t seem surprised or nearly as offended as Madison thought he should be. “I am fabulous, aren’t I?”

  “Hey, Mr. Fabulous.” Madison picked an object off the sifter screen. “Want to take charge of the first official artifact?”

  “You found something?” Mike launched out of the test pit. “Already?”

  She rubbed the dirt off the object and then held it in her flattened palm. “To my highly trained eye, it’s glass…from a modern age beer bottle.”

  Mike took it from her and studied it. “I love how, despite the fact that it’s garbage, we still have to clean and catalog it. Hey, Cianna, did you hear that? We found glass. Modern glass. Can you write that down?”

  “Yeah, Cianna.” Liam pulled a black film canister out of his duffle bag and held it to Mike. “Unless you’re too busy drawing to work. You remember work, right? That thing we do in between admiring the way the wind tussles Brad’s hair?”

  Madison turned, her anticipation of Cianna’s response shattered by Brad yelling from the pickup. “Mike! Help me unload this second sifter!”

  Her eyes shifted to the lower level of the barn, half expecting to see the curious stranger staring at her. He had seemingly left the property and yet, she still felt as if something was waiting in the stark blackness of the storage rooms. If she stared long enough, she could almost convince herself someone was in there, waiting. Watching; will her into walk inside. She shook her head to clean her thoughts and turned back to the dirt left on the wire screen. “Oh well, at least I have one fan.”

  Liam picked a few small dirt clods off the screen and crushed them between his thumb and forefinger. “Who? Mikey Caldwell?”

  “Well, maybe. But, I was talking about that guy from earlier.”

  “What guy from earlier?”

  “I don’t know, some guy.” Madison nodded toward the barn. “He was standing over there watching us this morning, and then I saw him a little bit ago in the woods. Tourists, you know? We got them all the time at Fort Pitt.”

  Liam frowned. “This place is shut down to tourists. The only people allowed here during the dig is us and park rangers.”

  She looked away from him, focusing on the sifting dirt in front of her. “Maybe it was just Brad.”

  “You hardly sound like someone who thinks it was Brad.”

  “Well, I’m easily confused.”

  Liam pressed his hip against the sifter, keeping her from moving it. “I don’t want to sound like an authoritative bitch, but if someone’s snooping around here, we need to let Brad know. The park has had a huge problem in the past with relic hunters and vandals. The last thing we need is someone fucking with our site.”

  “I know.” She forced a smile. “I’m sure it was nothing. If I see him again, I’ll flag you down.”

  He didn’t look convinced, but let the sifter go.

  She picked a few rocks and twigs out of the screen and tossed them aside. The last thing she wanted was to see him again. Glancing at the barn, she inwardly shuddered. She felt the gooseflesh spread across her arms. It didn’t exactly feel like he’d left.

  * * * *

  Brad called it a day by five o’clock. Other than modern broken glass and rocks, they’d found nothing.

  “Which is not surprising.” Brad opened the passenger’s side door of his pickup for her. “Tomorrow will be a better day. This is just the beginning.”

  Madison reluctantly crawled in the cab and let Brad close the door behind her. It reeked of thick cologne, like he’d just doused himself with a quart before letting her in the pickup. She glanced outside. Mike was in the driver’s seat of the Wrangler; his eyes caught hers and he lifted his hand in a sheepish wave. God damn it, why couldn’t he be the one driving her back to the hotel? She could invite him in, they could have a laugh, maybe stroll down to the saloon and grab a drink—

  Brad slammed the driver’s side door shut behind him. “Ready?”

  “Yeah.” She tore her eyes away from Mike and yanked the seatbelt across her chest. “So day one is down in the record books.”

  “It went like I thought it would.” Brad shifted the truck into gear and pulled out of his parking place. “What did you think of the crew? They’re my A-Team.”

  “They’re great.” Madison wasn’t sure what was great about Cianna, other than the fact she was great at doing nothing but sitting in the shade wasting the Federal tax payers’ dollars. “It seems like a good group of diggers.”

  “I wouldn’t want anyone else on this dig with me.” He glanced at her and smiled. “You are a great addition to our group.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t be modest. I’ve got four great diggers under me, all with diverse backgrounds and experiences. You being here just sweetens the pot.”

  Madison inwardly groaned. “Well, ah, just a reminder, I have my first rehab meeting tomorrow. It’s at the college…you…ah, said you had all the information for me?”

  “Yeah, it’s no big deal. If you want, I can just sign off on your paperwork.”

  “Uh, I do need you to sign off on my paperwork, but I really need to go to the meetings.” She shifted in her seat
and adjusted the seatbelt. “It’s kind of court ordered.”

  “Don’t you think that’s overkill?”

  “Obviously. But, I want it off my record, so I’m playing along.”

  “Whatever you want. The meetings are in Reynolds Hall, right off the main drag. Parking is marginal, but I think most of the college kids have gone home.”

  “Hey, it’s better than community service. I figure as long as I just answer, ‘drink responsibly’ I should be fine.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine anyway.”

  She wanted to open the passenger’s side door and jump into the ditch running beside the road. Riding in the Jeep with Mike and Liam would have been so much better. Hell, driving with Cianna would have been better than riding next to Creepy McCreepster.

  When he pulled the truck into her hotel parking lot, she had to force herself from throwing the door open and leaping out before he completely stopped. “Well, hey, thanks again for the ride.”

  He smiled. Even that seemed oily and soaked in cologne. “Same time tomorrow?”

  “Thank you, but I think I’ll try and get there myself tomorrow. I have to be at the meeting by six o’clock, so I’ll probably bail as soon as I can.” She slid out of the cab and reached back in to grab her backpack. “At least it’s only on Tuesdays.”

  He caught her hand and placed a business card in her palm. “I wrote my cell phone number on here. If you need anything tonight—or change your mind about carpooling—give me a call.”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks.” She pulled her hand back and shoved the card in her pocket. “Uh…have a good night.”

  “You too, Madison. See you tomorrow, eight o’clock sharp.”

  She shut the truck door quickly and waved at him, hustling across the parking lot and to the back door of the hotel. His eyes were on her—she didn’t have to turn around to see him ogling her from the driver’s side, it would be more surprising if he wasn’t—and she couldn’t get inside and up the stairs fast enough.

  She burst into her hotel room and locked the door behind her, tossing her pack to the floor. What a weirdo. If he kept creeping up on her, it was going to be a long four weeks.

  Once she’d showered and washed her hair, she pulled on a pair of black cropped yoga pants and gray Ft. Pitt t-shirt and flopped down on the king sized bed. Her mother had texted her three times.

  Did you have a good day? How was your day? Hope it was a great day.

  She swiped her finger over the face of her cell phone and entered a fast response.

  Good day but I’m worn out. Motivating to walk across the street and grab some food. Dig crew is nice.

  Getting into a more specific definition of “nice” with her mother wasn’t worth the trouble it would cause. She didn’t feel like exposing herself to the Spanish Inquisition this late in the day.

  Her mother must have been sitting with her phone in hand; her response was almost immediate.

  Be safe if you go out after dark. Love you!

  Madison sighed.

  It’s not dark. Twenty people live in this town, but I promise to be careful. Stop worrying. Love you, too.

  She slumped back against the pillows and sighed. Was it worth getting up and walking back down two flights of stairs, across the street, and down the road to get fast food? It had been over a year since she’d last been on a dig this involved; she felt like she’d been hit by a truck. Lounging around like a paperweight sounded entirely more desirable than moving. Or walking. Or doing anything.

  A knock on the door jolted her from her drowsy relaxation. It was hesitant, almost a light rap instead of a purposeful pound.

  Shit. It was probably Brad. She could just hear him, suave and coy, asking her out for dinner. Drinks. Dancing, maybe even snuggling, snogging, breakfast. Ugh, she’d rather poke her eyes out and puke.

  She forced herself out of bed and to the window, pushing the curtain to the side and simultaneously steeling herself for the disastrous confrontation that was sure to follow.

  It was Mike.

  She snapped the curtain back in place and, nearly falling over the chair beside her, rushed to the door and yanked it open. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” He glanced down her body, obviously taking in the yoga pants and Fort Pitt shirt. “You look busy. You’re busy. I’m sorry.”

  “This is me not looking busy, but looking like the college bum I really am.” She pushed the door back wider. “Do you want to come in? What’s up?”

  He grimaced and muttered under his breath. “Ugh, this sounded so much better in the car.”

  “Dude. Come on. You watched me nearly freeze to death standing in the shade; there’s nothing you can say that could possible out embarrass that.”

  “Do you want to go get some ice cream?” He blurted it out like a fourteen-year-old boy asking a girl to a dance. “I was just thinking, you said you’d never been here before and I thought I could show you around town. Because I have been here before.” He groaned. “I sound lame.”

  “You’ve swept me off my feet.” She smiled shyly. “Let me put on legitimate pants and grab my wallet. It’ll take like, two seconds.”

  “No cash. It’s my treat.”

  She forced herself to close the door with restraint. It wasn’t a date. It was just two archeologists going for a walk and getting ice cream and probably chatting about history. It just so happened one of the archeologists was paying for the ice cream of the other archeologist.

  It kind of was a date.

  Yanking on a pair of faded jeans, she shoved her feet into her flip flops as she buttoned the fly and threw herself at the door. At the last minute, she remembered to grab her room key and shove it in her back pocked. That would have been a disaster.

  His eyes lit up when she opened the door. “Ready?”

  “Almost forgot my key, but yeah, I think I’m set.” She pulled her still damp hair back from her face and up into a messy bun. “I’m telling you, man, I’m a tornado of unfortunate circumstances. Like the little citation that ruined my life.”

  “I didn’t want to ask about it, unlike Cianna.” He started down the sidewalk, heading toward a neat row of shops and stores to the north-east of town.

  “It is what it is.” Madison shrugged. “My academic advisor at school doesn’t seem to think it’s going to impact me getting into grad school, but…who knows.”

  “You’re got a lot going for you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, quickly glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve read your journal submissions and campaign for Federal funding for Fort Pitt. Not everyone gets that kind of exposure before they even have their degree.”

  She flushed. “I also have a lot not going for me, namely the fact my step-father is the president of my school. He likes to constantly prove I don’t get preferential treatment and, apparently, making an example of my nefarious behavior is the way he’s doing it.”

  He guided her across the street and into a glaringly lit store. The interior was small and cramped, the far end completely taken up by the ice cream case. To the left was a shelf of knick knacks—ice cream scoops with Gettysburg emblazed on the thick, white handles—and to the right was the cash register and small coffee bar. A freckled faced blonde sat behind the counter. “Can I help you?”

  “Two scoops of double chocolate fudge.” He turned to Madison. “And lady’s choice.”

  She scanned the containers of hard ice cream. “Peanut butter.”

  “And two scoops of peanut butter.”

  “I’m going to have to take up jogging or something with all these snacks you guys keep pushing on me.” She awkwardly shifted from one foot to the other. It was like being sixteen again, trying to flirt with a boy and still retain some form of composure. “Not that I relish the thought of jogging. But, from what I hear, all the cool kids are doing it. Everyone I know is training for a marathon.”

  “Liam always threatens to run marathons. I did enough jogging to last a lifetime when I was in the Army,
and I can confidently say I have no further desire to do it again.” He took the peanut butter ice cream cone from the blonde and handed it to Madison. “There’s a lot I miss about the Army, but running isn’t one of them.”

  He paid for the cones and then headed back out of the shop. Madison followed, taking a careful bite of ice cream. She was starving. The ice cream was delicious, but she had a feeling she’d inhale it in approximately two bites if she wasn’t careful. “How long were you in?”

  “Eleven years. Well, closer to twelve. My dad signed for me when I was seventeen, but I went to basic once I was out of high school.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I was a combat engineer.” He paused and took a bite of ice cream. “It was my life for eleven years, but I got burned out after three consecutive deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

  There was something about the tone of his voice that made her desperately want to back off the subject, an underlying pain, a tense inflection that hinted to something that still shook him to his core. “So, we tricked you into the oh so lucrative business of digging in the dirt.”

  He laughed and when he spoke, the uncomfortable tone was gone. “I was just in the right place at the right time. I was living in DC when I finished my degree and knew Brad from an inter-departmental softball team. He needed someone last minute and, basically, I kind of fell into it. I never looked back.”

  “Go ahead and say it. Kind of like I fell in the test pit today.”

  “Well, now that you mention it…” Mike seemed to consider it. “You have the reflexes a cat. I thought for sure we were going to have to hoist you out of there.”

  “Notoriously, I’ve had that happen before.” She heard a gentle tramp of footsteps and was momentarily struck by the feeling someone was walking directly behind her. Turning slightly, she realized no one was there and shrugged it off. “Not the falling in a test pit thing, but I fell through a barn floor once. It was awkward.”