by Freda, Paula
"I chose right," she repeated. "Dinner, it's a date."
She smiled, and Wil thought he had never seen anyone quite so beautiful, mussed up golden brown hair, tired features and all."
"Good night, sweet lady."
Audrey snuggled into her sleeping bag. Wil was truly a gentle soul. And something more, but she couldn't yet put her finger on the feelings he elicited. She had met handsomer men with good manners and kind hearts, but something more about Wil attracted her. Something about the way she felt when he smiled at her; when she stood or sat close to him; when he showed concern for her. The thought filled her with a pleasant warmth that lulled her to sleep.
The smell of coffee brewing woke Audrey and she unzipped the sleeping bag. Toasty warm in the quilted bag, she had slept soundly and had not needed to turn on the heater. She dressed from top to bottom in fresh clothing, repacked her backpack and left the tent.
Wil sat by the camping stove with Singhen, sipping coffee from an enameled tin cup, nursing the heat from its steaming vapor. The camping stove had a built-in mini heater at its base that gave off additional warmth. Singhen had thought of everything to make the hike pleasant. The information in the company files portrayed him as wealthy, well schooled, shrewd, business-minded, and somewhat eccentric, but basically, a good-natured, fair, honest man. Audrey wondered if perhaps she was wrong not to consider his advances toward her. He certainly was handsome, well built, and at forty, not that old for her. The thought surfaced that he had never seen her at her simplest. He admired knowledge, sophistication and beauty.
"Good morning," Wil said, drawing her gaze away from Singhen.
Audrey turned. "Oh, good morning, Wil. I hope you slept well?"
"On and off," he admitted. Worrying about her safety and his pitiful chances to capture her heart, with Singhen as his rival, had made deep, refreshing slumber impossible. He hadn't shaved yet; neither had the other men. He rubbed his jaw, self-aware of the light brown bristle coating it and his cheeks, and the puffiness that, no doubt, underscored his eyes because of poor sleep.
Singhen commented, "Don't worry about shaving until we reach the dig site. Before we left the States, I ordered a makeshift cabin built at the site for our convenience."
"That was considerate of you, sir," Wil said appreciatively, glancing at Audrey.
He was surprised and his feelings for her intensified when she sat down beside him and solaced, "It's all right, Wil. This lifestyle is all new to us. Once the trip is over and we're back in the office, we'll be our old selves again."
He wanted so much to tell her how he felt about her, to thank her for her awareness and empathy, but the carriers and Singhen were watching him. Singhen's eyebrows had narrowed. All Wil could do was whisper a simple "Thanks," and quickly fill a cup with coffee and offer it to her. "There's eggs and sausage just fried," he said, grabbing a plastic plate and fork." Her nod and gentle smile were thanks enough.
After breakfast, everyone cleaned up. Trash was packed away to be disposed of in the designated waste container at the digging site. Heavy wind gusts would scatter everywhere any trash left on the ground.
At length, with everyone encased in their winter wear, their backpacks hitched to their shoulders and back, Singhen assured Audrey and Wil that they should reach the site by nightfall.
He raised his arm to give the okay to move out. Wil asked, "When will you tell us what you're looking for?'
Singhen called out, "Ready." As his men lifted the boxes with the packed equipment, he whispered to Wil, "As soon as I find this final clue that will assure us all what I'm seeking truly exists." He turned to face the trail, swung his arm forward, shouting, "Let's move!"
As they trekked forward, Audrey patted Wil's arm. "Patience is a well-learned and valued trait among archaeologists."
"You and I are not archaeologists," Wil said, "yet you don't seem ruffled by his refusal to tell us more about the expedition."
Audrey said, "My great-grandparents taught Archaeology. I've read their journals over and over. They traveled the world seeking rare and mysterious artifacts. I learned the meaning of patience from reading their stories. Singhen is not being secretive. He just wants to be sure of his goal's authenticity before revealing too much. Hold back your curiosity a bit longer. We should be at the site by nightfall, as he said. I'm sure we'll learn more when we're there."
Wil reluctantly nodded his compliance, but he meant to ask her about her great-grandparents. He would love to read their journals. He liked the way Audrey's eyes literally sparkled when she mentioned them. Behind the intelligence and the beauty, there was so much more that fired his feelings for her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Midway through their hike up the low mountain range, unexpectedly a snowstorm developed, filling in the dry streaks where previous ice and snow had melted. The winds increased, furiously buffeting the party until they were forced to stop and take shelter in a natural alcove formed during the past when a nearby volcano erupted. By the time the storm weakened, it was close to nightfall, and Singhen decided to wait until morning before moving out again. They did not reach the archaeological dig until early afternoon, the following day.
The log cabin Singhen had ordered constructed beforehand, proved surprisingly comfortable, with all the amenities fed by pipes drawing water from the surrounding hot springs. The solar-powered generator behind the cabin sustained the electricity inside. The carriers shared the tents that housed the site workers, among them a couple of students on expeditions sponsored by Icelandic Universities.
The digging site was divided into five rectangular sections. Singhen was in charge of three. His privately paid workers had uncovered a crevice that widened as they dug deeper, disclosing the opening to an unexplored tunnel, one of many that wove beneath the varied landscapes and the geothermal phenomenons. What was special about this unexplored tunnel, were the wall carvings and murals preserved by the ice, promising further intriguing finds.
The Icelandic officials were thrilled. Under their law, all finds were the property of their country. This did not worry Singhen, as he had dual citizenship, and was affiliated with museums in both the United States and Iceland. No surprise to Audrey and Wil when a few nights later, during a rustic supper of smoked lamb, waterfowl, cheese and Crowberry-Blueberry wine, their host informed them that his request to explore the tunnel had been sanctioned. They would leave at first light. He advised them to retire immediately after they'd finished eating, and fall asleep gazing through their windows at the Aurora Borealis. "Watch the bands of colors as they swirl and curve, and dance midst the myriad of sparkling stars, in a universe so visibly close to our planet's northern rim, you might reach up and pluck one."
As wine affected Audrey, when the rush of warmth and cozy effervescence dissipated, she was left wide-awake. Unable to sleep, she rose, donned her wool plaid floor-length robe, and wandered to the makeshift kitchen. A small night lamp was purposely left on to prevent anyone stumbling in the dark, although the Aurora Borealis' bright colors alone, streaming through the front window in the living area, were enough to dispel the cabin's darkness.
Recalling her reason for leaving her bedroom, Audrey moved to the fridge. Earlier she had spotted a full bottle of milk inside. She poured enough into a quart cooking pot to fill a mug and set it on the convection unit. She heard a door closing, and turned to see Wil enter, wrapped in his own wool robe, a royal blue. He was a handsome man, she couldn't help appraising, pleasing to the eye now that he'd reverted to his natural looks.
"Couldn't sleep either?" she asked.
Wil nodded.
"Nervous?" she inquired, sympathetically.
Wil hesitated answering, but somehow she always inspired him to speak the truth. "Yeah, I guess," he sighed.
He was gentle and sensitive, but still a man, Audrey mused, and didn't find it easy to admit feeling unsure.
"I'm warming up some milk. Would you like some? It's always helped to calm me when I felt too tense to
sleep."
Wil smiled. "Thanks, yes. My mom used to do that, when I was in high school, especially on the nights before my finals."
"Is she still with you?" Audrey asked.
"Yes. Both my parents are. My sister married four years ago. After the twins were born, she and her husband bought a mother/daughter house in the suburbs, and convinced our parents to sell theirs and move in. The old house was far too big and too hard to upkeep for an elderly couple. And they have the added benefits of being close to their daughter, babysitting and watching their grandchildren grow."
"I think that's a lovely arrangement," Audrey said. "Not always an easy one, but definitely beneficial. Does your sister's husband get along with your mom?"
"My parents respect their children's privacy, especially my mother. One of her favorite bible quotes is "...What God has joined together, let no man put asunder."
"...and a man shall leave his father and his mother and cling to his wife, and they will become one flesh," Audrey added.
"Yes, that one especially," Wil said, thinking, how beautiful Audrey looked, with her hair loosed about her shoulders, a soft satiny maize brown in the muted light of the small lamp.
Audrey added another cupful to the pot and when the milk was close to simmering, she turned off the heating element and filled two ceramic mugs with the steaming white liquid.
Attracted to the Aurora Borealis visible through the front window, Wil sat on the flowered couch facing the phenomenon. "It's stupendous," he remarked, as Audrey, holding both mugs by their handle, offered him one. "Take it by the handle. The cup is hot."
"Thanks," he said, accepting the cup, fingertips meeting hers. He hoped she did not hear the sudden quickening of his heart, or hear his breath stilling for an instant, as he felt her touch.
"Yes, it's remarkable," she agreed. "Did you know one of the beliefs associated with Norse mythology was that the Northern Lights were auroral archways called the Bifröst Bridge — a quivering roadway, as the name translates. A fiery path the Gods built for fallen warriors to travel to Valhalla, Viking heaven."
"No, I haven't heard that one. The myth I came across in college world history class was that the northern lights were caused by the shimmering glow of the spears and armor of helmeted Valkyries, immortal warlike virgins, as they galloped across the sky."
"Yes-yes," Audrey responded excitedly. "My great-grandmother wrote about that myth in one of her journals, recounting one of many field trips she shared with my great-grandfather."
"You have to let me read some of their journals," Wil said, in earnest. "The way your eyes literally sparkle when you speak of them, I'd swear you were there with them."
Audrey smiled. "Wil, you're the one person who doesn't yawn or hasn't tried to change the subject when I speak of them."
"What's there to yawn at? My God, from what you've told me about them so far, I can only envy and dream hopelessly of a life so exciting."
"And fraught with danger," Audrey added cautiously. "It's exciting to us to hear their stories, but to them as they lived them, there was no guarantee of the outcome."
"Yet, they took the chances."
"And their rewards grace several museums in our time."
Audrey became aware of how she and Wil had drawn closer as they spoke, the mugs of hot milk they each held, forgotten. Nor did she want to, or want Wil to draw back. Their visages so close, their lips almost touching, the kiss beckoning, "Wil," she whispered.
He did not disappoint. His lips gently caressed hers. She closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss.
"You really should get some sleep," Singhen's stentorian voice interjected.
Hot milk spilled on their laps, and both yelped, nearly jumping out of their skin.
"Forgive me for startling you," Singhen offered. "But as I said earlier, we have an arduous journey ahead of us. You will need all the rest you can get."
"Y-yes, of course," Audrey stammered, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. It had been a long time since she had let her guard down. And in essence, on this trip, Singhen and his account represented her employer, for the length of the project. "We-we couldn't sleep. Hot milk is an age-old remedy."
"That's an old wives' tale," Singhen said. "Science has never been able to prove it."
"True, but if the mind believes it, it's often effective."
"I agree with Audrey," Wil said. "So, I think we should drink our milk, and go back to bed." He raised his arm as in a toast. "Cheers," he said, and took a sip. The milk had cooled to warm. He drank some, then stood up. "Audrey?" he asked, extending his free hand to help her up.
Grateful for his moral support, Audrey allowed him to help her stand. She drank some of her milk. "It's just right. I'll finish it in my room. Goodnight."
Before anything else could be said, Wil followed her cue and retired to his bedroom. He felt Singhen's gaze bearing down on his back.
CHAPTER NINE
Helmeted and safely strapped into a roped harness, Wil nonetheless felt his stomach rebel as the manned winch on the surface lowered him a few inches at a time through the crevice. The lower he descended, the less light surrounded him until all he saw was darkness. It was cold, a wet coldness from the charred lava ash petrified into air-bubbled porous rock. He experienced an eerie sensation that he was leaving behind the world he knew. Halfway down the descent, he nearly panicked.
"Wil, it's okay. You won't fall. And there is solid ground beneath you. Switch on your headlamp."
He turned his head in the direction of Audrey's voice. He had totally forgotten that like her, he wore a helmet with a headlamp. He quickly switched on the light. Audrey, also strapped to a lowering harness, was only a few feet away from him. Wil took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly, feeling a bit easier with her presence and her reassurance. "You've done this before," he remarked, sending her a tentative smile,
"Yes, once, during a college field trip in the Adirondacks. I know what you're feeling. Just don't think about it. It's not a void. Your feet will be touching ground very soon."
He wished he could display bravery and indifference to danger as was Singhen and his men below him. He could see them now that he'd switched on the headlamp, and almost burst out laughing when he saw Singhen yawn.
Soon enough, he touched ground. Singhen and his men had unbuckled and climbed out of their harnesses. The ropes and harnesses dangled beside them, awaiting the group's return trip, which might not take place for hours, perhaps days, as Singhen had further explained earlier that morning.
When the party was assembled at the Tunnel's entrance, backpacks filled with necessary supplies and hitched to straining backs, Singhen raised his arm and signaled to commence forward. Again, all filed behind him as they had on the initial hike. The workers who had discovered the tunnel with its wall carvings and paintings, had not been allowed to enter it for more than a few yards. This was Singhen's project, and he intended to lead it.
They moved forward slowly, but steadily, with Singhen pointing out to Audrey and Wil the carvings and paintings. Without an iota of Singhen's knowledge of Archaeology, Wil could only discern shapes and colors.
"These carvings of first language characters were made between the third century A.D. and the Middle Ages," Singhen explained, as a matter of fact. He sounded blasé and not the least surprised. But as they moved further into the tunnel, the carvings appeared cut deeper into the stone and took on different shapes. Singhen referred to these as petroglyphs, and a twinge of excitement threaded his voice.
Audrey commented, "Yes, I've seen similar etchings in my great-grandparents' journals from their visit to Easter Island during the late 1940's."
"Ah, yes," Singhen replied. "I've heard of them, "The Hayden Journals, Elizabeth-Grace and Lord William. Incredible stories. But I think the duo let their imaginations carry them away. No visible proof. Mostly conjecture."
Audrey's brow creased. "My great-grandparents were not the type to let their imaginations run away with them. They we
re both accredited teachers of Archaeology. They brought back many rare and authentic relics. Honest research went into their field trips, and their journal entries."
Bravo! Wil thought. That's telling him, he cheered quietly, loving the way the bridge of her Duchess nose crinkled and her lips pursed with affront. Gone for that brief moment the sophisticated manager of the firm's financial consulting department. In her place, the young girl, the adventurer, the dreamer, the Swan Princess he knew hid behind the facade of sophistication.
Singhen was quick to offer an apology. "Forgive me, Audrey. I meant no disrespect to your ancestors. I'm sure, for their times, their theories were adequate."
Oh boy! Wil controlled a laugh. Singhen was digging an even deeper hole. Audrey was too much of a lady to give verbal expression to her thoughts at the moment. "To each his own," she replied simply, casting her glance elsewhere, signifying there was nothing more she wished to hear on the subject.
Finally exercising good sense, Singhen made no further comment. He turned his full attention to the ancient runes on the cave walls. "These were definitely not made by Vikings from a millennium ago. They are older, of a source I cannot identify," he said, and motioned with his hand for the party to stop. Drawing close to the wall, he stared at the etchings and traced them with his fingers. Particularly one. A rectangle with tiny characters etched across its surface, among them a pitted circle and stick images.
"An ancient alphabet constructed of symbols with hooks and curves and loops," Singhen said.
A tablet with hieroglyphics of sorts, Wil thought. Whatever it was, Singhen appeared mesmerized by it. Wil saw a grin curve a corner of his mouth. "We go on," Singhen ordered, raising his arm and signaling forward with his hand.
