Excavated (10 page)

His
tone might have been casual, but his eyes weren't.

She
made herself give him one last smile, although it was achingly poignant. “Take
care of yourself, Philip.”

“You
too.”

She
left then. She walked away from the standing stones and barrow. Past the
trailers, where she picked up Arthur’s carrier. To the waiting ferry.

She
got on the boat, and then the boat took off, leaving the island behind.

Dana
and Sawyer kept giving Lucy worried glances, but she diligently ignored them.

She
would get over this. Soon.

Better
to hurt a little bit now than hurt unbearably later.

Lucy clicked her
keyboard a few times and stared at the monitor, watching three minutes worth of
an edited montage of Philip and Michael MacPherson.

The
images flashed from Philip to Michael with quick, carefully edited cuts,
showing both of the men growing more intense and enthusiastic as their
conversation about Erland Island's history continued. She paused and reversed
several times over four seconds of film—a close-up of Philip in intent
concentration transitioning to a shot of him rubbing his golden-brown hair in
frustration.

The
sight of him hurt—even after three weeks.

“It’s
good, Lucy.”

The
soft voice startled her, and she whirled around in her chair.

Sawyer
stood behind her, his eyes on the monitor. “The whole episode is good. It's
great. It’s ready to go.”

She
turned back to the screen with a sigh. “I don’t like this transition,” she
explained. “Isn’t it too jarring?”

“No.
It’s good. It’s time to put this to bed.”

She
knew he was right. She respected his professional opinion, and she’d come to
the same conclusion herself.

But
she couldn’t let it go.

She’d
been working them all like a madwoman for the last few weeks, obsessing about
every step of the editing process and rerecording the voice-overs about a
hundred times.

More
than once, Dana and Sawyer had left well after midnight, sometimes dead on
their feet and sometimes on the verge of wringing her neck.

Lucy
wasn’t a fool. She knew why she was obsessing.

She
just couldn’t seem to help it.

She
started to watch those same four seconds again, Philip’s handsome, focused face
a kind of torture.

Lucy
hadn’t been sleeping very well. Even on the nights she could, she would
sometimes wake up suddenly on the image of Philip’s blue eyes.

Deep,
aching, speaking. The way they’d been the morning she left the island.

She
knew he was disappointed in her decision, but he couldn’t have been hurt that
much. Certainly not enough for her to keep brooding about it. She was realistic,
and men tended to get over things and move on quickly—especially since all Philip
had lost was a week’s worth of sex.

But,
even knowing this, she still felt guilty.

And
she still wanted to see him so much.

She’d
thought getting home and back to her normal surroundings and routine would have
caused her time on the island to blur into a hot memory.

It
didn’t. It hadn't. And it wasn't getting any better.

She
couldn’t believe she’d done this to herself. She never should have given in and
had sex with Philip. She should have known better from the very beginning.

“Lucy,”
Sawyer prompted. “Can we put this episode to bed?”

She
let out a long, shuddering exhalation. “Yeah.” She closed out the editing
software she’d been working on. “It’s done.”

Sawyer’s
face transformed with relief, but Lucy just felt kind of sick.

That
heaviness in her gut just wouldn’t go away.

“Why
did you put this Dr. Bronsen on your schedule tomorrow?” Dana asked without
prelude after barging into the room. She looked a little peeved, as she always
did when Lucy played fast and loose with her schedule.

Lucy
arched her eyebrows. “Because I did.”

“But
his background seems kind of dodgy. I don’t like you to waste your time with
kooks.”

“There’s
no evidence he’s a kook. Not everyone has to go to a top-tier grad school.”

“True.
But I still don’t understand.” Dana peered down at a file in her hand, one she
must have put together as soon as she’d seen Lucy had added this appointment to
her schedule. “I don't see anything interesting in his background or
credentials. What made you think he was worth talking to?”

Lucy
sighed. “He was a referral, and it’s just a half-hour appointment. What could
it hurt?”

Dana
started writing a note to herself on a page in the file. “Oh, okay. Good. Who
referred him?”

“What
does it matter?”

Dana
lifted confused eyes. “I just like to keep track of these things.”

Lucy
couldn’t be stubborn just to be stubborn—not with Dana, who was absolutely
committed to doing the best for her. “Dr. Wentworth referred him.”

“Oh.”
Dana’s expression changed. Relaxed somehow. “Oh. Good. Very good.”

She
busily finished scrawling her note, and Lucy tried not to feel embarrassed.

Philip
had sent her a quick email last week—nothing intimate or even friendly, just a
brief note saying another archaeologist would be contacting her about a
possible idea for an episode of
Girl Meets Ghost
and he would be worth
listening to.

Lucy
respected Philip’s opinion and wasn’t about to miss a good opportunity for the
show. And, even if that wasn't true, she still would have taken the
appointment.

She
understood that the referral was a peace offering. Not a gesture of friendship
or interest. Just a nod toward appeasement.

No
hard feelings between them, even if things hadn’t ended as he’d wanted.

It
was good. It was closure. After she met with Dr. Bronsen tomorrow, she’d send Philip
a quick thank-you for the referral. The episode on Erland was complete now, so
she could also tell him when it would air.

That
would be it.

Lucy
could move on completely.

She
would get over this aching heaviness soon.

“What
site is this guy proposing?” Dana asked, her voice breaking into Lucy’s
reverie.

Lucy
shifted on her seat.

“Dr.
Bronsen? What site?” Dana prompted.

No
use not to tell her. “The Garden of Eden.”

Dana’s
eyes seemed to pop out of her head, and even Sawyer turned to give Lucy a
surprised look.

Lucy
shrugged. “I thought it sounded strange too, but Dr. Wentworth wouldn’t have
made a referral if there wasn’t something worthwhile for us to consider.”

“The
Garden of Eden?” Dana repeated.

“I’m
sure it’s just a speculative site,” Lucy explained, trying to sound natural and
disinterested. “But biblical archaeologists are really doing some interesting
work. And our Noah’s ark episode was one of our most popular. This might be
really good for us.”

“Okay,”
Dana said, still jotting down notes. “The Garden of Eden it is.”

***

Lucy was quickly
getting a bad feeling about Dr. Bronsen.

It
wasn’t his long, rumpled gray hair, bright orange bow tie, or propensity to
mumble—academics were notorious for not caring that much about their appearance
and for not always being particularly adept at social interaction. Rather, what
gave her prickles of worry was what he was saying.

He’d
shown her a map of the Middle East, giving a long rambling explanation of how
the Genesis description located the Garden of Eden at the juncture of four
rivers. He pointed out each of the rivers in turn, with a lot of geographical
and geological data that sounded to Lucy like hokum.

But
Philip had referred this man, so she tried to keep an open mind.

Dana
was quietly taking notes, sitting to the side and slightly behind Lucy. But Lucy
could feel the suspicious vibes growing in her assistant too.

“I
don’t understand,” Lucy said when the man finally reached a brief pause in his
rambles. “So you’re saying the Garden of Eden is actually under water now.”

“That’s
right. When the ice caps melted, the whole area would have been flooded. See
here." He pointed again at the map. "The flooding would have been
Noah’s flood, of course.”

Lucy
swallowed. “Of course. But what exactly is the site you would like us to film,
if it’s all under water. You understand that
Girl Meets Ghost
has to
have a physical location to—“

“Naturally,
naturally. And I’m convinced we will find a physical location with a little
investigation. It’s hidden under water now, but it’s still there.”

“What
exactly is still there?”

“The
laboratory.”

Lucy
swallowed again. “The laboratory?”

“Yes,
of course. You understand, don’t you? You aren’t as narrow-minded and biased as
mainstream scientists and archaeologists. The Garden of Eden was never actually
a garden, despite all the mythology built up around it. It’s a laboratory,
where they experimented with life until the first human being was created.”

All
of Lucy’s kook-sensors were firing at full capacity. “They?” she breathed.

“The
Grays. When they came to this planet originally, they would have seen the
potential. So they set up a laboratory—the Garden of Eden—and created human
life there. I’m convinced, if we can just do the underwater search, that we can
find remnants of the lab. And with it absolute, concrete proof of alien life.”

Now
Lucy had more reason than most to believe there was more to this world than
humans could see and touch.

But
she knew a kook when she saw one.

She
and Dana’s eyes met briefly, and they both reached the same conclusion.

Ten
minutes later, they’d managed to send Dr. Bronsen on his way, disappointed and
shaking his head about narrow Western minds.

Both
of them were giggling helplessly when they collapsed back into their chairs.

“I
don’t understand,” Dana said breathlessly, her pretty face overwhelmed with
laughter. “Why would Dr. Wentworth have referred this man to us?”

Lucy’s
amusement faded as she thought about this question.

Then
she knew. She
knew
.

Philip
had sent her this crazy person on purpose.

***

“Excuse me.”

Philip
had been working for hours, meticulously cataloging his findings from the dig
in the office of his trailer. His mind was fully focused on the task, and he
had trouble breaking his concentration at the unexpected voice.

He
needed the focus, the distraction, since when he wasn’t working he was
miserable.

He’d
known he hadn’t wanted things with Lucy to end, but he hadn’t realized how
bleak and monotonous his days would be after she left.

“Excuse
me,” the voice said again, louder this time.

He
blinked and looked over his shoulder, seeing Kurt standing at the doorway to
the office. “Yes.”

“There’s
a phone call for you.”

He
shook his head. “Later.”

“But—”
Kurt began.

“Later,”
Philip repeated, more curtly this time.

“It’s
Ms. Nelson.”

Philip
blinked again, trying to shift his intent concentration enough to keep up with
what was happening. But the last words broke through his consciousness.

He
reached over to take the satellite phone Kurt handed him.

He
knew the grad students he worked with were annoyed and frustrated with his
behavior for the last few weeks. He’d been driving them all hard, and he hadn’t
even managed to keep up his typical blunt civility.

But
the strange look of relief on Kurt’s face as he handed him the phone still
surprised him.

“Lucy?”
Philip asked, when Kurt closed the door.

“You
ass!” she exclaimed, without greeting or preamble. “You vindictive asshole!
What the hell were you thinking?”

Philip
blinked yet again, his mind finally starting to fire on all cylinders.  “Would
you like to explain yourself?” he asked, his voice light and cool.

“No,
I would not. You know exactly what I’m talking about. What the hell were you
thinking making me waste my time with that…that…kook?”

Despite
his physical fatigue and the mental strain of the last three weeks—or maybe
because of it—Philip had a hard time suppressing a ripple of laughter.

He
could only imagine Lucy’s face as she was confronted with the ancient-alien
theorist he’d set loose on her.

“What
do you mean?” he asked, managing to sound innocent. “I thought he’d be right up
your alley.”

“You
thought no such thing. You did it on purpose. Just to be mean. He wanted…He
wanted…”

She
was almost choking from outrage or something, and when she couldn’t finished, Philip
prompted, “What did he want?”

“He
wanted me to find a biology expert who would recreate the conditions necessary
to harvest human-alien hybrid embryos.”

Philip
lost it. He just lost it. He howled with laughter.

“It’s
not funny, Philip,” Lucy insisted, although her voice was sounding less angry
now.

“It
really, really is,” he rasped, trying to restrain his amusement and failing
utterly.