Love, Artifacts, and You by Sarah Ready

10

Emma

I’min serious need of coffee so we decide to swing by the SweetStop Bakery. The bakery is a short walk from the Historical Society, through a little open park and a rose garden in full summer bloom.

“Look at this. It’s incredible.” I point at the rose garden. It’s about half an acre and is surrounded by a white picket fence covered in purple clematis and flowering vines. A white wooden trellis with climbing red roses is at the entrance. A stone path leads through the garden to the exit into the grassy park and then on to Main Street. Andrew and I walk through the trellis and I breathe in the rich old fragrance of dozens of antique roses.

“Wow. It’s beautiful.”

I look at Andrew to see what he thinks, but he isn’t looking at the roses, he’s looking at me.

“What?” I give him a self-conscious smile. “Don’t you like roses?”

He tears his eyes away from my mouth and looks around the garden. There are at least fifty different varieties, each with a metal label in the ground nearby telling their common and Latin name. Maybe there’s an agricultural school or a club that cares for this garden. Some of the roses are delicate with soft, small, pale petals and frothy yellow centers. Others are robust and showy in vibrant deep reds. There are fat bushes, delicate miniatures, and long-stemmed roses. Yellow, peach, white, crimson and pink. I reach out and touch the deep red petal of a rose hanging from the trellis. The petal is thick and velvety.

I look at Andrew again. The petal is nearly as soft as he was. His eyes go dark when he sees the expression on my face.

“I could learn to like them.”

I smile and pull him along the little stone path.

“I love roses.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

I nod. A bee buzzes by and lands on a pale peach rose.

“I always have. My mom grew them at our family home.” A bit of sadness tugs at me. It’s bittersweet and smells like roses. “When our house was foreclosed on…those roses were the only thing I…they were the only thing it was hard to let go of. I can’t see roses without thinking of her.”

I look up at Andrew. His jaw is tight and his eyes are dark and unreadable. “I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “It’s not your fault. It was stupid of me to hang on to them. They aren’t her. I put too much meaning in them.”

He reaches down and takes my hand. His fingers stroke over mine. I lean into him for a moment, then start walking along the path again.

“Anyway. The reason I like them is because they’re exactly how I feel about life.”

He stops and turns me toward him. We’re at the center of the garden near a sweet little fountain.

“How’s that?”

I look up at him. I never noticed this before, but his lower lip has the same curving lushness of a petal. It’s a juxtaposition against the hardness of his jaw, the harsh line of his cheekbones, his crooked nose and the long white scar over his eyebrow.

“It’s just…” I lick my lips at the expression on his face. “I just mean, roses can hurt and make you bleed, they’re almost guaranteed to hurt you.”

“True.”

“They’re also beautiful. You see? Some people want the beauty without the pain. But life doesn’t work that way, does it?”

He reaches up and brushes his thumb over my lip. Then, he gives me a smile. “I see what you mean.”

I shrug. “Come on. Coffee calls.”

We walk down Main Street, past the brightly colored shops and their window boxes overflowing with flowers. At the SweetStop my cellphone vibrates.

I pull it out of my pocket. “It’s my dad. Do you mind?”

Andrew tenses. I wouldn’t have noticed, but I’m still holding his hand, and for a split second his whole arm goes tight. Then he relaxes.

“No. Go ahead. I’ll get the coffee.” He gives me a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. I frown after him as he strides into the bakery.

“Hi Dad.” I answer.

“Emma.”

“I’m glad you called. Did Linda give you my update?” Linda is his full-time nurse. After multiple strokes, he’s become much weaker physically and has a harder time regulating his emotions and speech.

“She did. Come back to New York, Emma. You need to start Castleton again. Accept Justin’s offer. Stop moping.”

Wow. That was a whole lot to take in. I stare over Main Street at the bright buildings. I wanted to tell him about Andrew in person, but I think now is as good a time as any.

“Dad. Andrew’s here.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line.

“Dad? Did you hear me? Andrew’s back. He’s come back. He wasn’t dead. Crudell lied. It was some sort of horrible scheme. Andrew’s back and, Dad, I love him. I’m not going to start Castleton again. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but whatever it is I’m going to do it with Andrew.” I’m speaking quickly and excitedly. I pause to take a breath and realize my dad still hasn’t said anything.

“Dad?”

There’s a wheezing noise coming from the other end.

“Are you okay?”

He starts to cough, and I wait for nearly a minute while he coughs and wheezes into the phone. Finally, he goes quiet.

“Okay, Dad?”

“Emma. Stay away from him.” His voice is slightly garbled and he sounds extremely upset.

I shake my head. He must not understand.

“Dad. I’m talking about Andrew Santiago. Our Andrew.”

“Listen.” He harshly exhales.

I stop. A large cloud passes over the sun, dousing the warmth. I shiver.

“Whatever he says is a lie. Stay away from him. He’s dangerous. He’s—” My dad starts wheezing again. After his first stroke he had a really hard time regulating his emotions. I haven’t seen him this frustrated since those first weeks all those years ago. He coughs and then yanks in a loud, phlegmy breath.

My heart beats hard, and I feel slightly ill. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but he’s scaring me.

“Dad. I’m sorry I upset you. I’ll talk to you when I’m back. It’s okay. It’s just Andrew. He worked with you for years. You know him. He’s not—”

“Emma. Stay away—”

He starts to cough again.

My chest feels tight and my stomach rolls.

“Emma? Are you still there?” It’s Linda, my dad’s nurse.

“Oh, thank goodness. Linda, he’s really upset. I don’t know why. Can you…?”

“It’s fine. I’ll take care of it. I’ll send you an update later today.”

I let out a long breath. “Okay. Thank you. Sorry. It’s been really stressful for all of us lately.”

I let Linda go. And then I sit down at one of the metal café tables. I stare out at the painted brick storefronts but don’t really see them.

I don’t understand…

Why was my dad so upset?

“Here you go. I got you the Sumatran if that’s—” Andrew comes out of the bakery, then stops. I look up at him. His shoulders are stiff and he has a wary expression. “What did he say?” His voice is flat, and my internal alarm bells go off.

I swallow down a lump in my throat. “He…he wasn’t himself.”

Andrew nods and carefully sets down two cups of coffee. His movements are quick and economical, and I notice that there are lines of tension around his mouth.

“Did something happen?” He sits down stiffly in the chair next to me.

I nod. The lump in my throat is back. “It was weird.” I watch his expression carefully. “He told me to stay away from you. That you’re a liar. And dangerous.”

If I weren’t watching so carefully, I wouldn’t notice Andrew’s eyes shutter. But I am. And I do.

“What is it? Tell me.”

“Emma.”

I stand and push back from the table. “No. Don’t. What did he mean?”

His face pales and he closes his eyes. He lets out a long sigh. When he looks back at me, I can tell he’s come to a decision. I sit back down at the table, ready to listen.

“When we were younger, my uncle and your father told me to stay away from you. They said life had better things in store for you than a kid like me.”

“But that’s ridiculous.” A spark of anger ignites in me in defense of the boy Andrew was. “There’s no one better for me.”

He gives a wry smile. “Your father didn’t agree. He wanted more.” The word more is laced with meaning. “More for you. More for himself.”

“More?”

Andrew nods. “I stood in the way of that. I always have.” He shrugs then pushes the white ceramic mug of coffee to me. “Here. Before it gets cold.”

I lift the warm mug and sip. It helps clear the lump from my throat. “But why would he say you’re a liar? Or dangerous?”

He takes a long sip from his mug then sets it down on the table. “He never much cared for me.”

I furrow my brow. The way he says it makes it sound like a gross understatement.

“I don’t like that he was so upset.”

Andrew nods and puts his hand on mine. Then he changes the topic back to the runestone and we start brainstorming on where to begin our search.

Hours later, we’re back at Andrew’s rental house, sorting through satellite images of the terrain around Romeo’s forest. A few years back, archeologists started using high definition satellite images with thermal and infrared capabilities to locate buried settlements, ancient roads, pyramids and burial sites. The satellite images act almost like an X-ray of the earth’s surface and let us see places long buried. Entire cities have been uncovered using this technology.

Andrew phoned a contact this morning and had the compiled images sent to him in less than an hour. Not even when Castleton Inc. was at its most prominent did we have that kind of responsiveness. He’s really made a place for himself in the field. Just like I knew he would.

We’re back in the kitchen, seated at the table. Both of our laptops are open with the satellite images pulled up.

“There’s definitely a pre-industrial settlement here.” Andrew points to a layered image.

“Yeah. These look like the outlines of longhouses and a turf wall.”

Andrew nods, then turns and looks at me. There’s a light in his eyes that I recognize. It’s the one he used to get when we were hot on the trail of our latest find.

He pulls up a map on the internet and types in the geocoordinates. It pinpoints a location near the forest, close to the field where we were yesterday.

“I’d bet money that Sol’s cave is within a mile radius of the settlement.”

Andrew nods and uses his mouse to draw a circle. “We’ll start our search here then.”

A small smile curves on my lips. It’s too late in the afternoon to go today. But we’ll be out there first thing in the morning.

“Don’t you find it funny…” I look at the map and the outline of the settlement. “The last artifact we found together was made for Queen Isabella, a proclamation of eternal love. And now this artifact is from a husband to his wife. You think the universe is trying to tell us something?”

I raise my eyebrows at Andrew and smile. He was tense for a while after my dad’s call. Heck, so was I. But it was forgotten in the excitement of looking through the satellite images.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, expecting an update from Linda, but the caller ID says Justin.

Justin.

I pull in a breath and stand. Andrew looks at me and frowns. “What’s up?”

“Sorry. I’ve got to take this.”

I hurry out of the kitchen, walk down the hall and answer his call.

“Hey.”

“Em. Your dad called me.”

My stomach drops. “Ah. What did he say?”

“That your Andrew is back.” Justin’s voice is dry.

“Mhmm. Are you okay?” I make it to the end of the hall, it opens into the living room. I stand and look out the window at the landscaped front lawn.

“Well. You know me. I’m pragmatic, logical. I realize that you won’t be accepting my proposal.”

“No. I can’t. I’m sorry.” I close my eyes. My heart pinches. I don’t love Justin, he knows this. But he’s my friend, and I don’t want him hurt.

He sighs. “No harm, Em. Look, I’m on my way to Romeo.”

“What? You are?” I look out the window as if I expect him to pull up to the drive.

“Your dad was pretty upset. He wasn’t making a lot of sense. He asked me to come up, check things over.”

“You don’t need to do that. Everything is fine. Better than fine.”

“Right. I get it. I want you to be happy, Em. But being your friend means I’m going to come up and cross-examine your Andrew, make sure he’s good enough for you. Like I said, a person can change a lot in ten years.”

I smile ruefully. “You’re a wonderful friend. I’m sorry that I couldn’t love you. I did try, you know.”

He’s silent for a moment, then, “I know. I never asked for love, so it’s my fault, I suppose. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

He hangs up and I stand and stare out the window. There’s a noise at the entrance to the living room. I turn back and see Andrew leaning against the hallway wall. He’s bathed in darkness, and his eyes are dark and unreadable.

“That was Justin Van Cleeve, my friend. You remember him?”

Andrew nods, and once again he reminds me of a cat, ready to pounce on its prey.

I look down at my feet then back at him. I know he isn’t sharing everything about his past with me, but I’ve not been fully forthcoming either.

“He asked me to marry him.”

Andrew’s eyes grow hooded and he studies me with restrained tension, then, “And what did you tell him?”

“That I can’t.”

I swallow and wait for Andrew to respond.

He uncoils from the wall and stalks toward me. Dangerous flashes through my mind. He looks dangerous. And I remember that’s the feeling I got when I first saw him in the woods too.

“What did he say?” he asks in a low voice. He’s only a few feet from me and I can feel the tension coming off of him in heated waves. I step back and my legs hit the back of a low chaise lounge.

“He said he’s coming here to see you. He’ll be here tonight.”

The right side of Andrew’s mouth lifts. “He can’t have you.”

His eyes flick to my mouth, at the freckle above my top lip.

My mouth goes dry.

“No?”

Andrew shakes his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

He steps forward, touches his finger to my freckle. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he slowly undresses me. Kisses every inch of me until I’m begging him to make love to me. When I can’t think, can’t form words, he turns me around, unzips his fly, and makes love to me from behind until I’m screaming his name.

Afterword, when I’m dozing off on the chaise in his arms, I realize he never answered my question.