by Karen Harper
“Ah—yeah. And ready to go, there before I was. It went unspoken that he’d obviously spent the night with Lacey somewhere, but he’s welcome to her. And he volunteered to stay at the mill during the lunch break, go around and talk to the guys, so that Keith and I could both be away. I explained to Brad why we’d set this up for you, so he didn’t think Keith and I were plotting something behind his back. I hope this new responsibility will settle Brad down, bond the two of us again.”
“Sometimes I wish something would make me feel that way about my father. I was awful to him when he was here, but I just couldn’t help it.” She sighed. “So Keith’s wife’s name is Velma. Do they have kids at home?”
“Two in high school, but they sent them to camp for the first time this year. Keith came into some money from an old Desert Storm buddy who died and didn’t have a family. It sounds like he and Velma have been spending money like it was water—a new truck, furniture, not sure what all. And, of course, having Lee, so Keith tells me, not repair but replace their fence.”
“Maybe Keith will try to help out his sister and brothers, though not much he can do for the one in prison. It’s a real blessing one of them seems on the right path, to stick with you, not blame you and Gabe for the troubles of the others.”
“Yeah, I never did understand that guilt-by-association stuff when Gabe’s the one who arrested Keith’s brother, not me. I need all the help I can get right now. And I appreciate your helping out Nadine financially and Amber with her kids. And reaching out to me,” he said, putting his hand on her knee.
As usual, merely touching her sent a jolt of energy through him. If he made love to her, possessed her body, would that stem the ache she’d created in his life?
* * *
Kate thought Keith and Velma Simons made a strange team. She was as short and wiry as he was tall and brawny. She had hair bleached so blond it looked almost white, while his was dark. She talked a lot; he was a man of few words. Velma was proud of their new things and showed them off, while Keith seemed a bit embarrassed by them.
“Your cousin just took a break and is eating his lunch over on the hillside,” Keith told Kate, pointing. “You can see the hill but not him from here.”
“I fed him up good yesterday,” Velma said. “Today I wanted to keep him off by hisself for you to talk to. So nice to meet someone’s been all over Europe, like you, Kate. I got Keith here to promise me we might go to Paris someday, so’s if you can fill me in on that, much obliged.”
“I’d be happy to,” Kate told her, looking out the window in the direction of the hillside. “My sister and Gabe will be back this weekend from France and—”
The moment that was out of her mouth, Kate realized these people wouldn’t want anything to do with Tess and Gabe, since it was their evidence that had sent Keith’s brother Jonas to prison for working with the meth gang. And Gabe had fired Keith’s sister, Ann, whom he used to date, though she’d pled to a lesser misdemeanor and was only on probation.
“But sure,” she said quickly. “Never mind them. Let’s talk about Paris at lunch.”
“Better go out to see to your cousin now,” Keith said. “You know, while he’s on break, not working. See—we understand how blood’s thicker’n water, if’n you get what I mean, that you’re worried about your kin.”
“And you’re worried about yours,” she said. “Of course, I understand that and thank both of you for helping Grant set this up for me. I do worry about Lee, Grace and their kids at that commune.”
“Oh, yeah,” Velma said, hands on her skinny hips. “For sure that squirrel—Bright Star—got more than one screw loose. We’ll hold lunch for you now.”
Kate was grateful they’d given her a pass on her misstep. One thing she recalled about this area fringing the Appalachians was that kin counted. Grudges and insults could go on for decades, kind of like the Hatfields and the McCoys. And here she was, sister-in-law to the sheriff. At least Keith didn’t hold it against Grant.
As she left the three of them talking, she saw Grant position himself so he could watch her out the window. Kate crossed the front porch with its new lawn furniture—Grant had said there used to be a beat-up, old couch there—and toward the hill. She could see the white picket fence Lee was erecting and painting. She supposed they got the wood from Mason Mill.
She passed Lee’s tools neatly laid out on the ground, his closed can of paint, the few slats and boards he had yet to assemble. A longing for her own excavation tools laid out on the ground near a dig swept through her. She spotted the top of Lee’s head first, then saw he was sitting down the hill and had finished his lunch. He was dressed in the muted, nondescript clothes the Hear Ye male converts tended to wear.
“Lee,” she called so she wouldn’t startle him by coming up behind him. “Grant Mason and I are having lunch here today, and they mentioned you were working on a fence out back. I thought I’d just take a minute and say hi.”
He sprang to his feet and turned to face her so fast that she thought he might tumble down the hill. He looked dismayed, as if she’d caught him at something.
“Kate. What a coincidence.”
“I guess so—a good one. After all, the last time we were together, Bright Star ran the show.”
“He always does—more than a show. Reality. Eternity.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but she didn’t want to get confrontational or stuck on some philosophical topic. “Well, it was good to see you and Grace anyway. How’s everyone doing lately? I will make an appointment to visit both of you and the kids. Tess will be back this weekend, so you’ll see her soon, too.”
So she didn’t seem to tower over him, she walked down the hill a ways. She was tempted to sit, but she didn’t want to invade his space. She was an outsider to him, maybe a dangerous one if Bright Star found out about this private chat. Would Lee have to confess it as if it were a sin?
“I thought Grace looked good,” she rushed on. “Maybe a little tired.”
“She works hard. The angels do.”
“The angels?”
“Like, ah—those who are specially chosen.”
“Leaders in some way?”
“For sure,” he said, but she couldn’t decide if he sounded proud or angry.
Kate had meant to question Lee about what the star Grace had drawn on her chest could mean, but suddenly, she hesitated. If Grace had been trying to give something away or even call for help, could she be punished by Lee or Bright Star? It had been obvious that she’d meant to show the sign only to Kate.
“So,” Lee said when she hesitated. “Are you going to be allowed to dig in the ancient mound? The Adena were infidels, you know, pagan people. Pieces of their past, things they left behind, should be buried for good, not brought into the light of day, where they would be studied, cherished and idolized.”
She wondered if those were Bright Star’s words, not Lee’s. And it annoyed her that he seemed to be on Grant’s side. “But we can learn from them,” she said. “What they did, what not to do, since they disappeared almost as quickly as they arrived in this area.”
“A warning then that modern men and women can disappear in death as quickly—or so Bright Star says.”
“What does he mean by that?”
“Just that life is short. Living people matter, not dead ones, not places.”
“But I heard somewhere that he’s buying the old insane-asylum grounds outside of town. I can see why he’s attracted to it. That place must matter to him.”
“Are you implying something is off with Bright Star? It will be Eden on earth for us there. We pray it will come to pass soon. So, will you heed the warning about not digging up the mounds, clinging to the demonic past?”
“Demonic? Look, Lee, the Adena hardly had the benefit of hearing vast pseudo-wisdom from the blessed lip
s of Bright Star Monson.”
She’d done it again: let her temper get the best of her. For the second time, she’d managed to insult Bright Star, but the drivel Lee was spouting really upset her. He looked shocked.
She forced her feet up the hill before she could say something more direct about that horrible, screwed-up cult leader. Monson was the one who was demonic! He obviously went to great lengths to control people, scare people. She was certain he’d left those stars on the mounds and that was what poor Grace was trying to tell her. He no doubt wanted Kate out of the area at any cost.
21
“Okay, I get it,” Grant said with a tight smile when they’d finished a fish-and-chips dinner uptown at the English pub that evening.
“Get what?” Kate asked.
“You’re fidgeting like a kid having to wait to open presents Christmas morning. Let’s head back, and I’ll show you the vein of mica. We’d better take a spade and trimmer out with us, because, like I said, it’s pretty hidden by undergrowth.”
“I have tools in my car—but right. We’ll use yours. The foliage is probably why I didn’t spot the seam when I was looking for a water source out there. That was the day I saw Brad and Lacey together.”
“Maybe she’s going to be good for him. But he said she’s only here for a few more days visiting her parents before she heads back to Cleveland. I think he may be the one who got her to disband her greeniacs, because it sure wasn’t me. I got the idea they intended to protest at the mill at least a second time. Brad was also helpful today, telling people he was just filling in for Todd, so maybe everything will work out if he can sell his paper mill or get it back on its feet. And stay off the booze.”
They went home—was she thinking of it as home now?—changed their clothes and headed out back with a spade and large pair of hedge clippers. Kate was excited to be walking out toward the mound with tools, even though they were soon headed past it.
After they’d returned from Keith and Velma’s and Grant went back to the mill, she had spent the afternoon at Tess and Gabe’s new place, making sure it was ready for their homecoming. Workers had completed the remodeling of their old house on the other side of town, and Tess’s attached day-care center was almost finished. The sawdust on the floor and sawhorses still there reminded Kate of the sad remnants they’d found of Grant’s bird’s-eye maple tree up on Shadow Mountain. The precious, living heirloom that had held his childhood tree house and had watched over Mason Mound for decades had been slaughtered like some Adena had been in death chambers uncovered in this area. And she was still as far from getting into Mason Mound as—as she was from forgiving her father.
Once Tess and Gabe returned, if Grant still refused to let her excavate the mound, what excuse would she have for staying here? She couldn’t impose on him longer. And she certainly wouldn’t stay with newlyweds setting up a house and business. Should she work with Carson to convince the state legislature to force Grant to let them dig, and turn him against her forever? Carson had hinted at marriage more than once, but that once-cherished goal of them as more than research and excavation partners seemed all wrong now. She wanted to hold Carson off, as much as she wanted to urge Grant on.
As they approached the mica seam, she saw that Grant was right. The side of a shallow ravine they walked into was completely overgrown with ivy and bishop’s weed spilling over it from a treed ridge on top. But she could tell there was something dark beneath the drooping foliage. A frisson of excitement shot through her. She would feel this way if she was about to uncover the entrance to the mound, but at least she might find some clues that the Adena had used the mica here. She was going to find the right moment and ask Grant for permission, hoping he’d give her that, at least.
“So how did you know this was here, since it’s obviously been overgrown for years?” she asked as he began to cut some of the foliage back, then pulled the tangle of vines away. In the dim light under the forest cover, the rock beneath glinted.
“Our gang of friends knew every foot of this forest when we were growing up. In the autumn, when the leaves were off the trees and we’d had a couple of frosts, we used to be able to see this from the tree house, and we checked it out.”
“Did you make things out of this mica, like little arrowheads, or something like that? Adena usually used flint or chert for their working arrowheads and spear points, even ax heads. But mica is so shiny, they liked it for decorations and oversize ceremonial weapons—like those left in their tombs.”
“I hear you, Professor. It’s a short walk from here to the mound, so you’d expect to find mica artifacts in there.”
“Exactly. Grant, since you still don’t want me to excavate the mound, would you mind if I worked here? If enough of this plant growth is cleared away, I might be able to see where someone chipped at the mica, maybe even the shapes of what was taken out. Everything I’d need to see would be close to the surface here, no deep digging. It’s a long shot, but...”
“You’d never prove it was the Adena, rather than the Shawnee or even pioneers, would you?”
“The Adena had distinctive shapes for their arrowheads and ax heads. I could make a good case for the Adena because, especially in their burial chambers, some of their tools and weapons are oversize, as if they had to be special for the afterlife.”
When he didn’t answer, she stopped talking. She didn’t want to upset him about digging even here. But another idea suddenly hit her. Little Jason’s dreadful drawing included a huge ax head. Did it mean the boy had seen an Adena ceremonial one? More likely he just drew it large because one he’d seen in a book looked scary or important. It had impressed him. Kids that age paid little attention to size or perspective. Grant had said he would talk to Jason, then hadn’t mentioned it again. She’d have to question the boy on the sly.
“Well, if you think you can get something useful for your research out of this mica bed, sure,” he said to her delight and surprise. “I’m all for your studies, Kate, as long as it lets the dead stay dead, as my grandfather said. But maybe you should only work on this with someone out here, considering we’ve had trespassers who cut the tree, and you thought you heard something outside last night. But I’d rather you don’t get Carson Cantrell out here.”
“How about Kaitlyn?”
“Can you trust her?”
“To help me work on this, at least. My instinct is to trust her, but I’ll need to know her better to be sure. Thanks, Grant.”
“Oh, yeah. I haven’t mentioned the fee.”
“The fee?”
“Kind of like a finder’s fee, not only of this mica, but because I’ve found you.”
He put the clippers down and took the spade from her hands and dropped it to the ground. The mica seam glinted beside and above them in a sudden shaft of setting sun. Grant’s hands came strong around her waist as he pulled her to him.
“Just a couple of these for a down payment,” he said, his voice husky, as he kissed her lightly, then lingeringly and tugged her even closer.
Every nerve in her body came alive. “How many is a couple?”
“Oh, forgot to say—kisses are just for starters.”
She was going to say something flip but, as ever when Grant touched her, everything except him flew out of her mind. She tilted her head so the kiss could deepen and looped her arms up around his neck to hold him tight. Her breasts flattened against his chest. If he had pulled her down on the gritty ground at the edge of the mica wall, she would not have protested.
They seemed to prop each other up as their kisses lengthened and deepened. She loved the feel of his hard back muscles, his shoulders, the crisp hair on the nape of his neck. His body seemed carved from the wood he loved. He pressed her against the mica wall, which was good, because she wasn’t sure she could stand, even clinging to him, without that solid wall of rock behind her.
; His hands left her bottom and marauded over her hips and waist. He pulled her T-shirt hem up and lifted one hand under it to cup a breast through her bra. His kisses came harder, more demanding. He was devouring her, and she wanted more.
He turned them so that his back was against the mica and locked her to him again, hips to hips. She felt dizzy, no longer earthbound but soaring. The slight stubble on his chin scraped her cheek. She was certain the whole world was tumbling down around them in bright, sparkling shards of—
Grant broke the kiss and looked up. They heard a cascade of mica before it hit them, like a waterfall of tiny rocks coming down at them from above. Grant yelled and pulled her away from the wall as more mica gave way above them and then a big chunk bounced down, just missing them. He dragged them back as more rocks fell and exploded in smaller pieces where they had stood.
Despite their ragged breathing, they heard a grunt from above, then footsteps spitting mica that rained down again in a fine, black powder.
“Someone did that,” Grant muttered. “Stay here—stay back.”
He turned and ran out of the ravine with her right behind him. They clawed their way up to higher, flatter ground, then raced to the spot above where they’d been standing.
“No one here I can see,” she gasped, out of breath.
“Gone by now. I told you to stay back, but I should know by now you do your own thing.”
“Wish I could.”
He turned and looked at her, squinting into the red, setting sun. “We won’t argue about that now. Let’s check for footprints.”
She glanced at the open glade fringed by a thick stand of trees, wondering if someone could still be there. If he or they had run, they hadn’t gone far and could be watching. Wasn’t that area ahead of them where Brad had buried his dog? She followed Grant over to the lip of the ravine. “Could it have been a natural occurrence? Mica stratifies and flakes easily.”
“Not a coincidence,” he insisted. “Awfully good timing, especially with all that’s happened lately. I didn’t see much previous rock litter down there, so rocks hadn’t fallen recently.”
