Excavated (12 page)

“But…”
He almost choked out the word. He reached out for her again but she jerked away
and stood up. The tears had spilled down her cheeks, and she hated herself for
them.

It
was so many years ago. She’d been a foolish girl.

It
shouldn’t still bother her so much.

Philip
moved to his feet too. He reached out one more time but this time stopped
himself before he pulled away. “Lucy, that isn’t what happened.”

“Yes,
it is.”  She was shaking with mortified grief and indignation. “I was there, Philip.
That was exactly what happened.”

“I
didn’t…”  He rubbed his face with one hand. “I had no idea that’s what you
thought happened. I thought… After we kissed, you said it wasn’t a big deal. I
believe you. I just thought it was one of those things for you. I didn’t think
it would bother you if I just…drifted away.”

She
didn’t want to believe him, but she did. He was telling her the naked truth. So
instead of shaking him—which was one of her impulses—she rasped, “How could it
not bother me? We were friends, I thought. I might have been interested in
more, but I could live without having it. But I really thought we were…close. I
trusted you.”

Philip’s
face twisted.  “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.”

The
endearment pushed her over the edge. She turned her back on him and sobbed
silently, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

“Please
don’t cry, Lucy.” His voice got closer as he approached, and she pulled away
from him when she felt his hand on her arm. “I was stupid and clueless, and I
had no idea I was important to you. I guess I didn’t really think I was
important to anyone back then. But I never meant to hurt you. I never would
have done it that way if I’d thought for even a moment I would hurt you.”

She
whirled around to face him again. “But why did you do it at all?”

He
grew very still for just a moment.

Wiping
away a few tears, she persisted, “Tell me why. If you weren't just tossing me
away, why couldn’t we have just stayed friends?”

He
swallowed and looked away from her.

“Philip?”

He
took a deep breath and turned back to face her. “I didn’t know what else to do.
You were seventeen, and I was twenty-three. And I was thinking about you in
ways that were wrong.” He shook his head. “Even if it wasn’t against the law in
Tennessee, it would have been wrong for me to... I might have been selfish and
stupid back then, but there were boundaries I refused to cross. You were one of
them.”

She
was so surprised she actually swayed on her feet. “What? You’re saying—
what
?”

“It
hadn’t gone too far,” Philip said, looking acutely embarrassed. “I wasn’t some creep
slathering over an under-aged girl. But I could tell the direction in which my
thoughts were starting to drift, and there was no way I could let that
continue. I thought it would be better if we had some…some distance.”

“Oh.”

It
felt like the foundation of her world had started to shake, and she wasn’t sure
she was going to make it through the tremors. She sat down on the side of the
bed again and hunched over, twisting her hands together as she tried to process
this revelation.

“You
can see now, can’t you?” Philip asked, sounding more urgent than embarrassed
now. He moved over to sit beside her. “You can see why I couldn’t tell you the
truth? Why I couldn’t let our friendship go on the way it had? I should have
done better by you. I can see that now. I never dreamed I hurt you. I just
never thought you would…you would care one way or the other. About me.”

She
almost laughed at the irony. The beautiful, twisted, aching irony of their
lives.

He
took her by the shoulders again so he could see her face. “Baby, please tell me
you understand. Maybe I wasn’t worth trusting back then, but you can trust me
now. You mean more to me than anything else in the world. I’m not going to let
you down again.”

She
believed him. The words sounded ripped out of him, and she knew they expressed
his heart.

But
she didn’t know if it could be that easy—to take back so many bitter years. Not
just this one heartbreak when she was seventeen, but a lifetime of them.

“I—" 
The one word stuck in her throat. “I don’t know.”

Philip
gazed at her with haunted eyes.

She
wasn’t used to such intensity. She wasn’t used to such naked vulnerability. She
wasn’t used to pouring herself out. She wasn’t used to the responsibility of
someone else’s heart.

And
she wasn’t sure if she could handle it.

She
tried again. “I understand what you’re saying, and I believe you. But my whole
life has been… I don’t know, Philip. I just don’t know.”

She
heard him let out a breath, and his hands dropped to the bed beside him.

“I
need a little time to process.” She darted a quick look at him and was relieved
that he now looked quiet and contained. Much safer than the moment before.

He
nodded. “Okay.” He stood up, although it seemed to take great effort. “Do you
want me to go back home?”

Back
to Scotland.  A different continent. An ocean apart.

She
shook her head. “No.”

He
relaxed slightly, and she knew his worst fears hadn’t been realized. “I can get
a hotel in town for as long as you need. Then we can talk…when you’re ready.”

She
nodded. “I’m really sorry, Philip. I just don’t know—"

“I
know you don’t. I’m sorry too.” He picked up the bag she’d packed for him
earlier. “I’ll send you a text when I get a room. Just give me a call when you
want to talk.”

“Okay.”

Then
Philip left the room, left her apartment, left her building. She missed him
before he was fully gone.

***

Late that afternoon, Philip
lay stretched out on the bed of his hotel room, staring blindly at the television.

He
was dying for a drink. For anything that would take the edge off the bleak ache
in his chest.

He
didn’t pour himself a drink, though. If his inhibitions were lowered, even
slightly, then he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from banging on Lucy’s door
until she let him in. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from begging her to
take him back.

He
didn’t get a drink. He didn’t order any food. He didn’t leave the room. He
didn’t get off the bed.

He
just lay and stared at the cable news channel, never seeing or hearing a word
of it.

When
a sound started to penetrate through the blurred haze of his mind, he couldn’t
process it immediately. At first, he thought it must be the television, but
after a minute it got louder. And it was from a different direction.

He
sat up and blinked until he realized someone was knocking on the door to his
hotel room.

He
managed to get up and move stiffly to the door. He looked through the peephole,
his mind still not working properly, but when he saw who was in the hallway, he
swung open the door in a frantic rush.

Lucy’s
face crumpled as he stared down at her in bewildered hope. “Can I come in?” Her
shoulders were shaking with sobs.

He
wasn’t exactly sure how it happened. He couldn’t seem to say anything as he let
her into the room, and they ended up on the bed, Lucy crying against his chest.
His arms were wrapped around her, and he was trying desperately not to hold her
too tightly, even though every instinct in his being told him not to let go, to
never let her go.

She
couldn’t seem to stop crying, and it hurt him horribly to see her so broken.

But—despite
everything—she’d come to him, she was clinging to him, she was burrowing
against him, she wasn't pulling away.

It
felt like trust to Philip.

Philip woke up with a stiff
neck and a dry mouth.

He
blinked several times, managing to get his muscles to work enough to turn his
head.

Lucy
lay beside him in bed. Her hair was tangled messily around her face, her cheeks
were paler than they should be, and her green eyes were wide open, watching
him.

“Hi,”
she said.

She
didn’t smile, so neither did he. “Hi.”

They
hadn’t done much of anything the evening before, after she showed up crying in
his hotel room. They’d gotten dinner brought up from room service and gone to
bed early. They hadn’t talked much. They hadn’t had sex. They’d spent the
evening in a quiet, exhausted daze.

But
he'd held her until they'd gone to sleep. At least she'd let him do that.

“How
are you feeling?” he asked, his heart starting to beat faster as he realized he
would get her final decision about their relationship today—maybe right now.

She
released a long sigh, still not raising her head from the pillow. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah.
Me too.”

“My
head is kind of fuzzy. You know?”

“Yeah.
Mine too.”

She
swallowed, her eyes still resting on his face. “I’m scared.”

Despite
everything, his heart went out to her. “I know, baby.”

“I
believe you—about what you said yesterday. About why you did what you did back then.
I really do believe you. I think I understand.”

“But?”
he prompted.

“But
it’s just not that easy.”

“I
know.”

She
took another deep breath, this one shakier. “This is when I run away. This is
always when I run away.”

He
knew that about her. Her broken engagements were the evidence. There was no
particular reason why she’d want to commit to him now, when she hadn't been
able to commit to any man before.

He
just desperately wanted her to.

"Are
you going to run away now?” he asked, as quietly as he could, so she wouldn’t
hear how he was starting to panic.

She
looked away from him for the first time. She rolled over on her back and stared
up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I don’t want to.”

“Then
don’t,” he said, his voice rough with emotion despite his attempt to keep it
mild. “Baby, please don’t run away.”

He
couldn’t resist any longer, and he reached out and cupped her cheek, turning
her face back toward his.

A
tear streamed down her face to disappear in the pillowcase. “I don’t know how
to commit, Philip. Even if I want to, I don’t know if I can do it. I've never
done it. I just don’t know how.”

“Yes,
you do. You’ve committed to your career. You’ve committed to your friends.
Hell, you’ve committed to Arthur. You know how to commit, Lucy.”

Despite
the tension in the air and the seriousness of the conversation, she gave a
little huff of amusement. “I’m not sure committing to my dog is really evidence
of…of anything.”

“Isn’t
it?” Philip's blood was surging with urgency, and he had to sit up from the
momentum of it. “You feed him, you take him for walks, you take him to the vet,
you pay all the bills for him—and not just when you feel like it. It’s a
commitment, Lucy. Have you ever once thought about not taking him out when he
needs it, even when it’s raining and you’re tired and you don’t feel like doing
it?”

She
shifted uncomfortably, obviously thinking about what he said. "Of course
not. But—“

“It’s
a commitment. You know how to commit. Tell me why you take care of him.”

She
sat up too, adjusting the sheet around her hips. “It’s different, Philip.”

“Not
that different. Tell me why you take care of Arthur—even when you don’t feel
like it.”

For
some reason, her face crumpled with sudden emotion. “Because he’s mine.”

Her
emotion affected Philip too. He felt an unexpected tightness in his throat.
This was too important, though, so he spoke through it, his voice hoarse,
thick.

He
reached out to take her face again, this time in both of his hands. “I’ll be
yours, Lucy. I’ll be yours. If you’ll have me. If you’ll be mine.”

She
was crying for real now, her shoulders shaking, her eyes tightly shut. But she
lifted her hands to cover his on her face.

Philip
was starting to hope, although it was too soon to really let himself. So his
stomach dropped like a stone when she pulled her face away from his grip and
started to get off the bed. “Sorry. I’ve got to go to the bathroom for a
minute.”

He
didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer.

She
must have seen something on his face. She wiped her tears away with her palms.
“I’m not running away, Philip. I really do need to go.”

He
released his pent breath in an embarrassing gust. "Okay.”

After
the toilet flushed, he heard the sink running for a long time, and he figured
she was washing her face.

She
looked better—more pulled together, more herself—when she came out. “I used
your toothpaste.”

“Did
you use my toothbrush too or just squeeze it into your mouth?” He felt some of
the tension leave his chest and muscles, since she looked and sounded so
natural.

Maybe
it was going to be all right.

“I
used my finger.” She crawled back into bed and smiled at him.

Philip
chuckled and decided he might as well go to the bathroom too, and he brushed
his teeth while he was in there—just in case he was right about things moving
in a promising direction.

He
couldn’t help but sigh in relief when he came back in the hotel room and Lucy
wasn’t getting ready to leave, wasn't heading back to her place to escape from
him. He crawled into bed beside her.

He
didn’t know what to say, so he just looked at her.

She
didn’t speak immediately, but he could tell she was working toward something.
He waited as patiently as he could.

Finally,
she said, “I want to, Philip. I want you to be mine.”

For
the first time, he set free the glimmer of hope. It filled him. Warmed him.
Momentarily took away his breath. “You do?”

 “Yeah.”
She reached out and gently stroked his hair. "And I want to be yours.”

He
smothered a groan and pulled her into his arms, holding her too tightly, unable
to stop himself. “You are mine, Lucy,” he murmured into her hair. “You are.”

She
hugged him back for a long time. Then she lifted her head, her eyes glinting
with teasing affection. "And?”

He
immediately knew what she meant. "And I’m yours.”

They
kissed for a minute, softly, gently, then she pulled away and settled herself
at his side. He wrapping his arm around her more snugly.

“So
how does this work?” she asked.

Philip
was filled with so much feeling and excitement that it took him a minute to
talk naturally. He spoke lightly, knowing she was still nervous. “Well, I’m not
sure it will look that different than the way we were together before. Only
we’ll know it will definitely last longer than each day.”

“Well,
that doesn’t sound too bad.”

“I
don’t think it will be bad at all.”

She
laughed and stretched up to kiss him on the chin. “We still live on different
continents.”

“True.
But that doesn’t have to be a permanent arrangement.”

“What
do you mean?”

He’d
been thinking about this for a while—since he and Lucy had gotten together, in
fact—but he didn’t want to rush things and scare her when she’d just now taken
her first step. “Not now, but eventually—if we both want it—I can look for a
job at a university in the States.”

“But
Erland—“

“It
would still be my site. That wouldn't change. Most archaeologists don’t work at
institutions near their dig sites. It’s just those weeks in the summer when I
can dig there anyway. For the rest of the year, I can live anywhere.”

She
stared down at him in awe, despite his attempt to be casual and laidback.
“You’d really move?”

"Of
course, I’d move. I’m not saying I’m going to do it right now. It’s too late in
the year for faculty searches anyway, and it might take me a while to find a
job—since universities aren't beating down doors for archaeologists. But down
the road…it's a possibility. We won’t have to live on different continents forever.”

She
made a choked sound and lunged for him, pressing kisses all over his face. He
had no idea why what seemed obvious to him should have meant so much to her,
but he wasn’t about to complain.

Eventually,
he couldn’t hold back so he took her face in his hands and kissed her more
deeply.

Then
the kiss turned into more. And soon he was kissing and caressing her body until
she gasped and shuddered beneath him.

Then
she made room for him between her legs and he sank inside her. He was still
kissing her as they started to move together—urgent, needy, hungry.

Her
body clung to him, responding to his every touch, and it was more than just
pleasure he felt in her. He knew it. He felt tenderness, affection,
understanding in her body.

He
felt trust.

It
was overwhelming but he didn’t—couldn’t—pull away.  He tried to meet it, match
it, show her he felt the same way.

When
her tension finally broke and she came with a breathless cry, Philip came too,
her tightening body pulling him into climax as he choked out her name.

Then
they just lay tangled together for a long time. He occasionally pressed little
kisses against her warm skin, but mostly he didn’t have the energy.

She
gently stroked his back and head, and he loved the feeling.

“Philip,”
she said, after a long time.

“Hmm?”
He pressed a little kiss against the pulse in her throat.

“When
did you get to be such an expert on commitment?”

He
smiled as he lifted his head to gaze down at her. "Are you serious? I’ve
never had a problem with commitment.”

She
thought about that for a minute and then seemed to realize he was right. “I
guess your problem was finding the right thing to commit to.”

“Yeah.
I used to always choose badly. I would pour myself into the wrong things, the
wrong women, and they would only hurt me. So, for years, I figured it was
better not to commit to anything at all.”

She
lifted a hand to brush her fingertips along his cheekbone. Her eyes were softer
than anything he’d ever seen. “So what changed?”

“I
finally found the right thing.”