Chapter Ten
Elora
“What are you up to now?” I ask Linc, pulling another finds box toward me.
“Nothing.” He leans over to look in the box.
“You don’t want to go sightseeing, or shopping, or something?”
“No. I thought I might stick around and help out, unless you prefer to do it yourself.”
“Not at all,” I say happily. “We need to clean these up, then see if we can identify them.”
“Cool.” He takes off his jacket and tosses it over a chair. He’s wearing a gray T-shirt with a picture of The Beatles’ Abbey Road album cover. He sees me looking at it and smiles. “Does it take you back?”
“It does,” I say softly, remembering one particular Saturday afternoon. The boys had all taken part in a football match in the rain, and they’d come home victorious, but soaked to the skin and covered in mud. Mum had got them all to change and put their filthy clothes in the washing machine, and then she’d made everyone bacon rolls and chocolate brownies. We often played Dad’s old albums—he had a lot of Pink Floyd, Jimi Hendrix, and Led Zeppelin—but that day Fraser had put Abbey Road on. Most of the boys had flopped on the sofa and chairs and played cards, but Linc had come up to the dining table where I was sitting copying a sketch of the bones recovered in Ethiopia of the skeleton of an early australopithecine nicknamed Lucy.
He never commented on the fact that most girls of my age would be drawing cartoon characters or fashion models. Instead, he pulled up a chair, much the same as he’s just done, asked for a piece of paper, and proceeded to copy a sketch of an Acheulean handaxe from another book.
I stuck his sketch next to mine in my notebook. I still have it in a box in my apartment.
“Don’t you have a meeting at eleven?” I ask Fraser, who’s still hovering.
He purses his lips, then gets up and leaves the room.
I blow out a breath. “Overprotective brothers.”
Linc chuckles. “Where’s Joel today?”
“He told Zoe he had an idea for a suitable artifact for the exhibition for her. Maybe it was from the wreck that the cannon came from… can’t remember. Anyway, she said he’d asked her to go diving with him.”
He chuckles. “Sounds like a euphemism.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve heard that underwater archaeologists do it deeper, and under pressure.”
My eyes widen, and my lips curve up. “Linc! I don’t know what you’re implying. They’re not an item.”
“Yet.”
I stare at him. “Are you suggesting they’re interested in one another?”
He laughs. “Yeah,” he says, as if it’s really obvious.
“I don’t think so. They’re just good friends. You’ve heard them—they’re always bickering.”
“That’s called foreplay.” He meets my gaze, eyes sparkling.
I blink. “Oh my God. How do I miss these things?”
He chuckles and pulls a couple of tiny bird bones out of the box, then picks up a soft toothbrush to start cleaning them.
I let my gaze linger on him for a moment. The sleeves of the tee cling to his biceps, which look hard and shiny, as if Michelangelo has carved them from a block of marble. His hair is a little damp at the temples, and the touch of stubble that had grazed his jaw last night has disappeared—he’s had a shower. I can smell the cologne he’s used, something deep and sensual.
He looks up and meets my gaze.
“I was just wondering what scent you use,” I say awkwardly, conscious of him catching me ogling.
“It’s called Black Phantom ‘Memento Mori’. It’s got rum and coffee notes, and it’s inspired by pirate ships braving black waters, leagues deep in mystery.” He waggles his eyebrows.
“That sounds perfect for you,” I say, a touch sarcastically.
“Yeah. I love all that shit.”
I laugh and choose another bone to clean and identify. He is a bit like a pirate, sailing across an exotic ocean and bringing the smell of rum, the warmth of the summer sun, and the scent of adventure.
“Why did you blush when I walked in?” he asks.
I stop mid brush and look at him. “I didn’t.”
“Ah… yes, you did. You went the color of that pot.” He points to the tub holding the toothbrushes. It’s a brilliant scarlet.
“You surprised me.” I clean carefully around the edge of the bone.
“Nothing to do with you having a dream about me last night?” he asks.
It’s so close to the truth—that erotic fantasy I had about him in the bath—that I can feel the warmth creeping into my face again. “No,” I say.
He chuckles. “The reason I ask is because I dreamed about you last night.”
“I don’t need to know the details of your wicked, one-track mind,” I state.
“You sure?” he asks. “There was melted chocolate involved.”
I tip my head from side to side as if I’m thinking about it, and we both laugh.
“Actually,” he says, “I dreamed about Greenfield. We were all young again, and it was one of those days when the clouds seemed to hang over the tops of the mountains. So peaceful. Although there was also a dragon chasing me through the forest, so… maybe not so peaceful.”
“A dragon?”
“Don’t ask.”
I grin and choose another bird bone, which looks like a radius—part of a wing. “I spoke to my dad this morning, by the way.”
“Oh? How’s he doing?”
“He’s okay.” I turn the bone over in my fingers. “I told him you were here, and you’d let it slip that he sent you away.”
He stops cleaning, leans on the table, and looks at me. “Did he deny it?”
“No. He tried to defend his actions, but I told him how upset I was, and he went quiet. I asked him how he could do that to you, after everything you’d been through. I was quite angry with him.” I begin to brush the bone with the toothbrush.
Linc doesn’t say anything. After a moment, I look up. He’s watching me, his eyes filled with emotion, although I’m not sure what—surprise? Affection? Admiration?
“Thank you,” he says softly. “For being on my side.”
“I was always on your side, Linc.”
“Yeah, Joel told me.”
My eyebrows rise. “Did he?”
“Last night. We went for a drink after we left your place. Joel said that when I left, the other kids were angry that I didn’t say goodbye, but you always defended me, and that you didn’t blame me for going.”
I flick some earth away with the bristles of the brush. “There were times I was angry at you because I missed you.”
He falls quiet again. He watches me work for about a minute, as I clean the bone, measure it, and start sketching it in my notebook.
Eventually, he says, “They told me.”
I stop halfway through drawing a line and look up at him. His expression is hard to fathom.
“What did they tell you?” I ask carefully.
“About what happened to you when you were eighteen.” He frowns. “Lora, I’m so incredibly sorry.”
I stiffen and look down. “They had no right to tell you that.”
“It’s not their fault. I pushed them. I knew something had happened. And Fraser told me not to let on that I know, but I couldn’t not tell you. It’s so fucking shit.”
That makes me give a short laugh. “Yes, it is fucking shit.”
He gives a small smile. “It still sounds odd when you swear.”
I give a long sigh. He leans an elbow on the table and rests his head on a hand as he studies me.
“Why didn’t you want me to know?” he asks.
“It’s private. People treat you differently when they know. Like you’re a victim. Someone to be pitied. And I’m not.”
“I know,” he says. “Anyone less like a victim I can’t imagine. I was thinking this morning how brilliant you are. So accomplished and confident. It hasn’t changed how I look at you. You’re still beautiful to me.”
Feeling my face warm, I move a pile of tiny bones to form a square, then add a triangle on top to make the shape of a house. “It has affected me, though. I have these weird behaviors. I have to double check locks, and make sure I know where the exits are when I’m in a strange place. I can’t go to the bathroom in places I don’t know. I get claustrophobic and panicky in small rooms where there’s only one door. And as for men…” I trail off, and then clear my throat.
There’s another long pause.
“Fraser said you told them you don’t remember what happened during the attack,” he says. “Do you remember?”
I make a garden path with the bones. Then I look up at him. “Every second.”
We study each other for a moment. His expression is carefully blank.
“Have you dated since?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Can I ask why? Are you frightened it might happen again?”
“No… not really. But I know that if I meet a guy, it’s going to take a long time for me to trust him enough to let down my guard. And I can’t imagine any man will have the patience to wait for me. Plus, I am worried about what it’s going to be like.”
“Sex?” he asks. Everyone else—bar Zoe, and Hallie at times—shies away from the topic of sex with me, but Linc was always frank like this.
I nod. “Hallie’s boyfriend told her that if she was less boring in bed, he wouldn’t have cheated on her.”
“What?”
“That really upset her.”
“Jesus Christ. I’m not surprised. Fucking arsehole.”
I give a short laugh. “Funnily enough, that’s what Zoe called him. She said, ‘What does he expect you to do? Pin tassels on your tits and put on a show every night?”
He doesn’t laugh, though. He looks upset, if anything. “That’s awful. It should be the guy’s responsibility to make sure she’s having a good time, not the other way around.”
“Zoe said that most girls need the male to lead, that it’s the way of things, and I said that David Attenborough agreed, unless you’re a spotted hyena.”
He does smile at that. “That’s such a you comment.”
“I said that there are around 5,400 mammal species, and females outrank males during dominance contests in only a couple of dozen. So I know it’s natural for the guy to take charge. But it’s just… I don’t know how that would make me feel. It frightens me a little. I’m not saying I want to be a dominatrix or anything, but…”
“You’d look good in leather, though.”
“And those thigh-high boots are the shiz.”
That makes him laugh out loud. Then he inhales deeply and gives a big sigh. “Ahhh… I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry. My work is more than enough to keep me busy.”
“Aw, come on. You’ll meet someone one day. You’re too gorgeous to stay single. A guy will come along who’ll be patient and kind, and he’ll wait for you to be ready. You have to trust me.” His eyes twinkle. “Archaeologists are experts in dating methods.”
I trust you. The words hover on my lips like homing pigeons, but I don’t release them. Instead, I give a short laugh and pull a new box toward me. “Did you hear the one about the archaeologist who was found knapping on the job? Apparently he was stoned.”
He chuckles and gets up. “That was much better than my joke.” He kisses the top of my head, then leans over to ferret in the box.
I watch the T-shirt stretch across his chest and stifle a groan. My head burns where his lips touched it. Even after all these years, he still makes my blood sing.
But he’s only here for a short time, so nothing can come of it. And it’s best not to start what you can’t finish, right?
*
For the next two hours, Linc and I clean, identify, and draw the bird bones. After a while, he makes us a coffee from the machine in the corner, and then we get back to work. While we brush and sketch, I play music on my phone, and we sit and chat about advancements in archaeology since we’ve been apart, books we’ve read, and sites we’ve been to. Of course his stories are much more interesting than mine—one thing New Zealand doesn’t have is a vast trove of human history. The Stone Store in Kerikeri is about the best you’re going to get here, and that only dates back to 1820.
But I have read a lot, so when he tells me about the digs he’s taken part on, I’m able to respond, at least, with some modicum of knowledge, and it’s with some surprise when his phone goes that I realize it’s nearly midday.
“Hello?” he says, pressing it to his ear. His face lights up. “Oh, hi. Right. Oh, wow, that’s fantastic. Yes, of course. NZDNA? Yep, I’ll find it. That’ll be great.” He listens for a minute. While he’s waiting, Fraser comes in, spots him on the phone, and walks over to me.
“I think it’s Edmund Mansfield,” I mouth, and Fraser nods.
Linc’s eyes find mine, and he smiles. “Sure. Yep. Right, I’ll talk to you probably Monday sometime. Okay, bye.” He ends the call.
“Edmund?” I ask.
He nods. “He’s contacted a lab here in Wellington. I need to go and give a cheek swab, and he’ll do the same in Queenstown. Then they both get sent to Auckland to be compared. He said he’s fast tracked the results, and we should hear on Monday.”
“That’s fantastic,” I reply. “It gives you a few days before you have to go to Christchurch. If it’s positive, maybe he’ll want to meet you.”
“I hope so.” He blows out a breath. “I’m trying not to think about it too much. I don’t want to get disappointed.”
Fraser’s brows draw together. “Hopefully it’ll be good news,” he says.
“Yeah.”
“Well, shall we go to the lab now,” I suggest, getting to my feet, “and then maybe we can go and get some lunch?”
“Sounds great,” Fraser replies. “I’m starving.”
I meet his gaze. He lifts his eyebrows.
I put my hands on my hips and glare at him for about ten seconds.
Linc watches this silent argument between brother and sister, trying not to laugh.
Eventually, Fraser huffs a sigh. Then he says, “Come to think of it, I have some sandwiches in my desk, so I guess I don’t have to go out.”
“Excellent,” I reply. “Enjoy.”
Linc and I go over to the sink and wash our hands. I’m conscious of Fraser glowering behind me, but I ignore him, grab my purse when I’m done, gesture to Linc to follow me, and head out of the conservation room.
Linc falls into step with me as we head out. I glance at him and find him smiling.
“He means well,” he says.
I huff a sigh. “I know. and I’ve really appreciated everything he’s done for me. Joel and Dad are the same. But they forget I’ve grown up. Just because I seem vulnerable at times, it doesn’t mean I don’t want to try to cope on my own, and I certainly don’t need them vetting my boyfriends.” I blink. “Not that you’re my boyfriend. Shit.”
He chuckles.
“I meant the people I spend time with.”
“I know. And obviously they mean well. They’re just a little heavy handed with it.”
Glad he understands, I watch him pull his phone out of his jacket pocket and bring up the Uber app. He types in his destination and orders the Uber.
“Three minutes,” he says.
We stand side by side on the pavement, waiting.
“Was he nice?” I ask. “Edmund, I mean?”
“He was shocked at first, but I expected that. It was when he saw the photo that he changed.”
“He thought you looked alike?”
“I guess. He was less hostile after that. And he was nice when I said about Dad dying. Don, I mean. I’m not calling him Dad anymore.”
His expression hardens. I don’t argue, because I understand completely. I’m not going to say, ‘Oh but he was a good father for so many years,’ because he wasn’t. He physically abused Linc in some of the most awful ways possible.
“He said Mum was a lovely little thing,” Linc says distantly. “I can’t imagine that.”
I know the fact that Nancy Green never defended her son against Don’s attacks hurt Linc terribly. He knows it must have been difficult for her to stand up to such an abusive man, but neither of us will ever understand why she didn’t walk out when the abuse became recurrent.
“I hope it’s him,” I say. Then, because he looks sad, and he’s gorgeous, and because I want to, and I know he won’t mind, I slide my arms around his waist and give him a hug.
He immediately puts his arms around me, tightly enough to suggest he doesn’t want me to move.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs. His breath warms my ear, and I shiver.
“I’ve missed you, too.”
“I’m so sorry,” he says.
I don’t know what he’s sorry about, but I don’t ask. I tuck my head against his neck, enjoying the scent of his cologne. My lips are close enough to his throat that I could kiss it if I wanted. I don’t, but I could. He swallows, and I watch his Adam’s apple rise and then fall again.
We stand there like that, in the summer sunshine, until the Uber pulls up.
He releases me and walks around to the roadside behind the driver, while I get in the pavement side. We buckle in, and the Uber slides into the traffic.
“I’m glad Wellington is putting on a good show for you,” I say. It’s a beautiful little capital city, but it can be windy and rainy.
“Yeah. It’s nice and clean,” he says. “I would have liked to do some more sightseeing. I should have given myself more time here.” He’s looking out of the window, but I wonder whether he also means so he could spend some more time with us. Maybe, maybe not. I like to think that’s the case, though.
It only takes ten minutes to get to the lab. We walk inside, and Linc gives his name to the woman behind the desk. She directs us to take a seat, but we’ve literally just sat down when another woman in a white coat comes out and calls his name.
“This shouldn’t take long,” he says to me, and then he gets up and follows her through a door which closes behind him.
Sure enough, in less than five minutes the door opens, and he comes out. “All done,” he says, and we head outside.
“Was it just a cheek swab?” I ask as we pause outside the lab.
He looks down at me. “Yeah, luckily. I don’t like needles.”
“Really?”
He tips his head to the side. “Or maybe I’m just looking for sympathy so you’ll hug me again.” He gives me a mischievous smile.
“No wonder you wear Black Phantom cologne,” I say. “You have the morals of a pirate.”
“I prefer the term ‘gentleman of fortune’. And any more of that lip and I’ll make you walk my gangplank.”
I laugh and lift my arms around his neck. He wraps his arms around me, tightening them so we’re pressed together.
“You didn’t grow much,” he teases.
“You did. How tall are you?”
“Six one and three quarters.”
“And you obviously work out.”
He moves back a little so he can look at me. “You been checking me out?”
“Maybe. You did strip off for me, remember?”
His lips curve up. Then his gaze drops to my mouth. My pulse instantly picks up. He’s thinking about kissing me. I remember my fantasy from this morning, and a warmth begins to creep through me at the memory of his mouth on mine, his lips on other parts of my body.
He pauses. I want to reach up on tiptoes and kiss him, but I’m not brave enough. And after a few moments, he releases me.
“Come on,” he says. “I’m going to buy you lunch.”