Running Back (New York Leopards 2)

But what about this site? I thought of Maggie, and Anna, of the Wójcik siblings, of Simon Daly. Of the tourists they hoped to bring, the jobs they wanted to create. I thought about the lay of Ireland in 500 CE, of the Gaelic period and the transition to Christianity and the warring kingdoms that stretched across the island. “There’s still something here.”

Now he finally raised his head. “We’re not looking for something. We’re looking for Ivernis. We’re looking for real, tangible proof of the connection between Rome and Ireland. I thought that was what you wanted too.”

Of course it was. “So what are we going to do?”

He sighed. “Try again.”

But what about the people here? Could I leave them for a dream, no matter how vivid? What about the site, the box, the beads?

But what about Ivernis?

“Jeremy—don’t you feel—There’s still a site here. There’re still people who want to work on it.”

He stood. “Then they can work on it themselves. Find another archaeologist who will lead them in another season. We have more important things to find.”

I sat back uncertainly. “I don’t know. Don’t you think we should stay here another season or two?”

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“Natalie.” He sat down beside me, and placed his hands on my arms. “You can’t give up your dream just because you’re afraid of hurting people. So they’ll be upset for a minute. Then they’ll get over it. You can’t let a week of discomfort stop you from what you really want to do in your life.”

“But—Jeremy, I’m not sure what I want anymore.”

He frowned. “You’ve known what you wanted since you were seventeen years old. You’re just—confused right now. You had a complicated relationship with O’Connor. Don’t stay here just because you’re trying to hold on to him somehow.

That made sense. “But...”

“Natalie. You’re thinking too emotionally. Just take some time to reflect. Make sure you’re thinking about your dreams.”

But I’d always thought with my heart. My heart had always said to look for Ivernis, while everything logical sent me elsewhere. “I’ll think.”

He hugged me when he left. “You’ll make the right decision. I know you will.”

I smiled a little sadly. Because to him, the right decision was clearly marked by Roman writing, and to me, that might no longer be so.

* * *

The week was ugly.

I didn’t know what to do.

If I didn’t go with Jeremy, was I giving up? Or was going tantamount to chasing rainbows? Were the only people who found pots of gold those who sat by a river for months on end and mined it?

I wanted to talk to Mike about it.

I wanted to badly enough that my heart ached, that my head spun, that I picked up the phone a dozen times and wondered and worked myself into a fit. I talked to Cam, of course, but she just wanted me to do what would make me happy, and I had no idea what that was. I couldn’t talk to Jeremy and I wasn’t close enough to any of my other professors.

But I didn’t talk to Mike, because I already knew what I wanted to hear from him. I wanted a reason not to go with Jeremy, because if I wasn’t canvassing Ireland looking for a site, it would be much easier for me to go to New York and stay there until the next field season. And if I was in New York, maybe I could see Mike. Because even if we couldn’t be together because he needed someone who didn’t only see the end of things—he deserved someone who didn’t only see the end—maybe we could be friends.

But I didn’t want to make my decision about Kilkarten or Ivernis if it was really me making a decision about Mike.

The night before my flight home, I went to the pub with everyone. The amount of warmth that washed over me when I looked at these people almost drowned me, almost made me drown myself by turning into a blubbering mess. Instead, I cheered and toasted and drank down pints poured.

Paul dropped down beside me. “So I guess we won’t be seeing you around here anymore.”

“Why?” I swirled the dregs of my pint. “Because I’m just going to follow Jeremy?”

“Aren’t you?”