My Love At Last

Chapter 3

Connor returned to the makeshift office, took off his wet jacket and hung it on a hook behind the door. For a moment he shut his eyes and drew in a long, deep breath. He shouldn’t have let her go. He should have invited her to...something, whatever it took to keep her with him a bit longer.

He shook his head. Crazy. Losing his grip over some woman that he barely knew? What was that about? His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out. It was a call from Jake.

“Hey, Jake. What’s up?”

“Just checking. The roofers done?”

“Yeah, they left a little while ago. Everything looks good. We should be okay.”

“Great. Listen, me and some of the fellas are in town catching a few beers and the game.”

Connor didn’t make it a habit of hanging out with his crew. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy their company. It was more that he was mindful of crossing the line from employer to friend. But today he didn’t feel like being in his own company. To do that would keep him under the spell of whatever it was that Olivia Gray had cast over him. Maybe a roomful of male testosterone fueled by beer guzzling and cussing, and further incited by the sight of bodies crashing into each other on the field, was what he needed.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I will. Everyone at McCoy’s?”

“Back room.”

Connor chuckled. “A regular party. See you in a few.” He disconnected the call and was actually looking forward to some male bonding.

* * *

By the time Connor arrived at McCoy’s the weather had somewhat cleared. At least the rain had stopped, but it left behind a misty residue that hung waiflike above the town. Connor found a parking spot in the lot behind the bar, then joined the crew inside.

The back room of McCoy’s was about the size of a small classroom. A fifty-inch television was mounted on the paneled wall, wooden circular tables with spindle-backed chairs dotted the plank-wood floor and in the far corner was a jukebox with nothing more current than hits from the eighties.

McCoy’s prided itself on the bare essentials of its establishment. What it lacked in ambience it made up for with some of the best wings, ribs, steaks and burgers this side of the Mississippi, and drinks that could lay you on your ass, not like the watered-down stuff at some of the higher-end restaurants. McCoy’s was a sports pub through and through.

“Connor, over here.” Jake stood and waved him over to a back table.

Connor acknowledged the faces he knew with a lift of his chin as he passed by. The room was in full swing and the one waitress that was assigned to the space had her hands full keeping up with the orders. He made his way around the tables and pulled up a chair.

“First things first,” Connor said as he sat down. “What’s the score and how long will it take to get a drink?”

The table of five laughed heartily and brought Connor up to speed on the game. They were split down the middle between the Giants and the Redskins. There was money and booze on the table. It could go either way. Connor tossed his hat in with the Giants, ordered a bourbon neat and a burger with all the trimmings.

Jake scooted his chair a bit closer. “So how’d it go?” he asked, loud enough for Connor to hear but not their tablemates.

Connor glanced at him over the rim of his glass. “Told you. Fine. We’re good to go for tomorrow.”

“You know I wasn’t talking about the roofers.” His right brow arched.

Connor chuckled. “That went fine, too, or as fine as it could go under the circumstances.”

“To tell you the truth, I kinda thought the two of you would have been together right about now. Although I was hoping not, at least not until her agenda is clear,” he added, with a look that spoke to the last woman on the site. “Didn’t expect you to accept the invite.”

Connor took a sip of his bourbon, let it slowly warm his insides. “You were almost right.” He stared off into the distance. A glimmer of a smile teased the corners of his mouth. “We’ll see,” he said, and tossed back the rest of his drink while dismissing the subject of Olivia Gray.

* * *

Olivia pulled the belt on her robe a bit tighter, turned off the flame beneath the pot of boiling water, then poured it over her chamomile tea bag. She took her cup to the table where she’d spread out her notes. Settling in, she slowly glanced over the pages of documents and the sketches of what was once Dayton Village. She powered on her MacBook and scrolled to the images she’d uploaded earlier. It was still very early in the process but she could barely contain the excitement that bubbled in her veins. There was something different about this, a feeling she had that whatever she uncovered would change her in some way. It was a ridiculous notion, of course, but she couldn’t shake it. She’d done dozens and dozens of these investigative projects, and yes, there was always a level of excitement—anticipation...but...

The picture that she’d shot of Connor leaning against the wall came to life on her computer screen, and her heart jumped in response. There was no doubt that Connor Lawson added another dimension to the work. The idea of working with him over the days and weeks to come felt like sitting at the top of a roller coaster waiting for the crazy thrill ride. Seeing Connor forever captured on film stirred the embers of that first night, when he’d taken her home, kissed her, left her wanting more.

Olivia closed her eyes against the taunt of his hard outline and returned her attention to her notes. One of the first things that she needed to do was photograph the entire site. She would compare those images to the diagrams and then begin her interviews and study the artifacts on the site. Often the tiniest remain would hold a wealth of information. Her pulse quickened at the thought of the treasures that she was sure to uncover. Having Connor Lawson in her peripheral vision was a bonus.

She sipped her tea and flipped through her binder. She stopped on the articles that documented the first family of Dayton Village. According to historical documents, Elijah and Sarah Dayton arrived from Virginia at the turn of the century. Both Elijah and Sarah were born into slavery, a year before the Emancipation. Based on the minimal information at Olivia’s disposal, the couple had several children, all of whom they raised in Dayton Village. Not much more was known about them. At some point others found their way to the village and built new lives there.

Olivia’s thoughts wandered, envisioning the time, the early days when Dayton Village first began, the excitement and uncertainty that must have permeated everything and everyone. She could almost feel the hope of the people who’d come there so many years ago wanting to build a life on the shoulders of freedom. She could only imagine what it must have been like for the thousands of Africans torn from their homeland, doomed to a life of slavery and degradation, to one day be free. It meant different things to so many people. As the legendary conductor Harriet Tubman once said, “I freed hundreds of slaves and could have freed hundreds more if they knew they were slaves.”

That very powerful statement resonated within Olivia like none other. How can people know where they can go, what they can achieve and the possibilities that await, if they don’t know who they are in the world—what was their purpose?

It was not happenstance that of all the professions to choose from, Olivia decided to study anthropology. She was led in that direction because her own life was riddled with missing pieces, inconsistencies and half-truths. If she couldn’t construct the foundation of her own truth, then she would do it for others.

Her cell phone vibrated on the countertop. She smiled at the Bach ring tone that was attributed to Dr. Victor Randall, her supervisor and on again, off again lover.

Olivia pressed the green phone icon. “Victor, checking up on me?” She leaned against the backrest of the chair.

“Yes.” He chuckled. “How are things—and you, of course?”

“Well, I had a chance to briefly visit the site yesterday, but the weather was against us. I did get some photographs and...I met with the developer in charge of the restoration work.”

“Connor Lawson.”

Olivia beat back the sudden uptick of her heart. She drew in a breath. “Uh, yes, as a matter of fact.”

“Hmm. Heard good things about his work. It’s really important that you two work hand in hand. Not only do we want to get the history of Dayton Village, but it’s going to be up to you to ensure that the restoration keeps in line with your findings.”

Olivia frowned. “Mr. Lawson doesn’t seem to be the kind of man that would appreciate outside direction on his project.”

“I’m not telling you to run his project. What I’m saying is that it’s imperative for our purposes to ensure that the restoration remains true to your findings. The site...is the only original community of freed slaves and Native American Indians on the Eastern Seaboard. I can’t impress upon you the significance of that. You are the eyes and ears. You are the one who must ensure that every detail is accurate.”

“I’ve been doing this for a long time, long enough to appreciate the significance without a reminder course.” She felt his hesitation before he responded.

“I didn’t mean to imply otherwise or to second-guess you. However, the grant is important, Liv. Plenty of eyes are watching. If we miss a step on this project we could potentially lose major funding across the board for the future. Not to mention that your five-year contract is up at the end of this project. I don’t have to tell you what that means.”

Olivia blew out a conciliatory breath. “I know.” The weight of her responsibility and her future curved her shoulders.

“I plan to come down in a couple of weeks,” Victor said.

Olivia flinched. “Why? I mean, sure, but...why?”

“The funders want a progress report and...I want to see you.”

Her stomach knitted. She looped her fingers around her mug, as she’d suddenly grown inexplicably cold. She brought the mug to her lips and took a sip. “Looking forward,” she finally said.

“I’ll only be able to stay a couple of days...but I hope we can spend some time together, catch up. It’s been too long.”

A filmstrip of their relationship played in front of her. Dr. Victor Randall could have easily had any woman that he wanted. He was a brilliant scientist with magazine looks, and a personality that was a mixture of charm and sensuality. They’d met about four years earlier when Olivia had first come to work at The Institute. He became her mentor, then her lover, then her supervisor. They’d both agreed that neither of them wanted or needed anything permanent. When Victor got his promotion, they’d tempered their personal relationship, and over time their intimacy moved further into the background, morphing into what it was today—purely platonic as far as Olivia was concerned. Even though she’d made it crystal clear that nothing could happen between them, there were instances when Victor seemed to have forgotten.

“It has,” she finally responded, her voice noncommittal. “Um, just let me know when.”

“I will.” He paused. “Is everything all right, Liv? You sound...odd.”

She pushed away thoughts of Connor and Victor in the same space, with her in the middle. “No. I’m fine. Looking over some notes and thinking about your visit.” She heard him exhale.

“Good. I’ll be in touch soon.”

“Take care, Victor.” She disconnected the call and slowly placed the phone on the counter. She stared off across the kitchen. Maybe having Victor come for a visit was a necessary complication. Connor Lawson would only wind up being “another one,” and she wasn’t sure if that was all she wanted. Victor’s presence would erect the barrier she needed to prevent that from happening.

Olivia turned off her computer and stuck her loose pages back into the binders. It was nearly ten. She was sure that the workers at the site would be in full swing by now. She would need access, but she didn’t want to get in the way. Unfortunately, she and Connor hadn’t discussed a working schedule. She hopped down from the chair. There was no time like the present.

* * *

After getting dressed in her typical workday outfit of jeans, white cotton blouse and ankle boots, she gathered her iPad, notebook, phone and camera and tossed them in her tote. She grabbed her lightweight leather jacket from the hook by the door and headed out.

Unlike the previous day, the forecast was for warm weather and blue skies. Signs of spring were everywhere, on the budding leaves and shimmering grass. The chirps of the winged ones that had begun to return from a winter hiatus carried the announcement of a new beginning.

Olivia rolled down her window and inhaled the freshly washed air; the sharp scents of wet grass and moist earth permeated her senses. On either side of the narrow two-lane road the small, neat homes stood like advertisements for a way of life that was foreign to city living.

Moments like these, and of course, the thrill of discovery, were the ingredients that fueled her, made all the traveling and often long, grueling hours worthwhile. Uncovering the history of people long forgotten and bringing them back to life for the world to see was an unending goal. It was all she had; it was who she was. There was a time in her life when that stark reality had stared her in the face and she’d been overcome by an unbearable sense of worthlessness. Over time, rather than reject or fight the one fact of her life that she could believe in, she’d embraced it.

Yet there were moments like now, as the homestead came into view, and she knew the buried secrets of some others’ past would soon be revealed, that she wanted more for herself for once.

Olivia cut the engine of the Range Rover, gathered her things and got out. She stood for a moment on the crest overlooking the worn structures and forgotten paths below. She pulled out her camera and took a series of shots of the work in progress to document the “before.” She put her camera away and cupped her hands around her eyes, blocking out the glare of the morning sun in hopes of spotting Connor among the men. Her heart double-timed with anticipation as she slowly descended the slope and made her way across the muddy ground and around the trucks and heavy equipment.

A tingle skittered along her spine. His voice. She heard him before she saw him. She turned to her right and caught sight of him climbing up onto the seat of a tractor. Halfway in he stopped, as if he’d heard something in the distance that told him to wait. Hanging on to the wheel, he swiveled his hard body in Olivia’s direction.

The only thing that moved was her lips, which parted ever so slightly to gather some air.

Connor jumped down, snatched his thick work gloves off his hands and jammed them into his back jeans’ pocket while he strode toward her.

Olivia clenched her fist, digging her nails into her palm. The mildly uncomfortable action snapped her back to the reality of where she was and why. She was not here to snatch this fine specimen of a man by his leather belt and haul him into one of these deserted buildings. That was not her assignment.

“Olivia,” he said in greeting, making her name sound like a hymn.

“I should have called or something, but I did want to get started. Maybe we can work out some kind of schedule.” She wished that she could see his eyes behind his dark shades.

The left corner of his lush mouth inched slightly upward. “It’s not a problem. Really. You can come...whenever you want.”

Her clit jumped at the double entendre.

“We can work out a schedule tomorrow night—at dinner.”

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but it wasn’t lost on Connor.

“We’re still on...?”

“Yes. Sure. I’m looking forward to it,” Connor said.

He studied her for a moment from behind the shield of darkness. “So...where do you want to start?”

“Well, I thought I’d begin by matching up the drawings with the structures that are standing—do some sketches. Then, going forward, examining each of the buildings, the areas around them, checking for artifacts, note taking, more pictures.” She grinned. “Ideally, I need to get in before any major restoration is done. I’d also want to examine any debris.”

“Whatever you need.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll get Jake to take you around.”

Why was she disappointed? She forced a smile. “Great.”

“He’s on the other side. Follow me.”

Connor walked a step or two ahead of Olivia and she cataloged the confident, long-legged swagger that could part a crowd or the seven seas. She drew in a “get it together” breath and matched his pace.

“What time do you want me to pick you up?”

“Oh, um, seven, seven thirty.” She glanced at his profile.

Connor gave a bare nod, then lifted his chin. “Over this way.”

Jake was in the midst of reviewing the blueprints with one of the crew when Olivia and Connor walked up.

“Connor. Dr. Gray.” His greeting held a questioning note. He glanced from one to the other.

“Dr. Gray wants to get started with her research. We’ll work out some kind of schedule, but I told her that you’d give her the full tour in the meantime.”

A brief shadow of confusion passed over Jake’s face. He gave a slight shrug. “Sure.” He flashed a look at Connor, but couldn’t penetrate the dark lenses.

“When you’re done, come back to the main building,” Connor said, and strode off.

Olivia watched him leave and juggled the conflicting emotions that followed—dismissal, disappointment, uncertainty.

“Ready?”

Olivia blinked and turned her focus on Jake. “Yes.” She adjusted her tote on her shoulder and fell into step with him. “I hope this isn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

“Not at all. What the boss wants the boss gets. We can start up on the ridge and work our way down and across,” he quickly added, before Olivia could respond to the “boss” comment.

“Lead the way.”

“You do a lot of these, I suppose,” Jake said.

Olivia smiled. “I’ve had my share. You?”

“Working with Connor is a lot different from what I’d been doing.”

“What was that?”

“Basic construction work, apartments and office buildings mostly.”

“So...how did you and Connor meet?”

Jake slowed in front of a structure that was standing with a hope and a prayer. “Funny, seems as if I’ve known him all my life.” His brow knit. “We were at this bar in Harlem, Rhythms I think was the name. We had a few drinks, started talking and the next thing I knew I was saying yes to joining him on his next reno job. One job led to the next.” He shrugged. “Here we are.”

“He must be a very persuasive guy.”

Jake gave her a sidelong glance from midnight-blue eyes. “Very. Connor always finds a way to get what he wants.” He picked up a yellow hard hat that was stored on the outside of the building and handed it to Olivia. “Can’t be too careful.” He unhooked his own from his work belt and put it on his head. He held open the door of the cabin and Olivia stepped inside.

* * *

For the next two hours, Jake led her around the development, explaining the layout and functions of each of the structures and what, if any, work had been done, while Olivia photographed and took notes. In between she asked innocuous questions about Connor, which Jake seemed more than happy to answer.

* * *

“See everything you need?” Connor asked when Olivia and Jake approached. He wiped his moist forehead with the back of his hand. At some point he’d taken off his gray hoodie and was now wearing only a fitted gray T-shirt that was sticking to his damp torso.

Olivia licked her bottom lip and tore her gaze away from the expanse of his chest, but looking into his now exposed eyes was just as deadly. “Jake was extremely helpful.” She turned and flashed Jake a smile.

“Anytime. I’m gonna head back up the hill. The supplies came in. Need to check the inventory.”

“Sure. And thanks.” Connor focused on Olivia. He leaned against a mud-covered truck, crossed his feet at the ankle and stared at her, his gaze gently probing.

Olivia felt as if she was being caressed, but Connor was several feet away. Her skin tingled. She ran her hands up and down her arms.

“Cold?”

She shook her head. “Um, I’m going back to my place. I have a lot of work to do. Thanks for today.”

“I’ll walk you to your car.” He stepped up to her, then casually placed his hand at the dip of her back, as if it was something he was entitled to do, and the warmth of his hand and his self-assurance flowed through her.

Olivia allowed herself to be guided around the workmen and their big toys. When she and Connor reached her Range Rover, she faced him. “How many more hours?” she asked, lifting her chin toward the work site.

“Till about six.” He took a step. “I’d be in the mood for a drink about six thirty. Care to join me?” It sounded like a challenge.

“I...really have a lot to do...”

“No problem. If you change your mind, I’ll be at McCoy’s on Winston Street.” He tapped the side of her car and walked away before she had a chance to respond.