Forbidden Ground. Karen Harper

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      Friday, the day before the wedding, loomed long for Kate. Though she was dying to see Mason Mound, she dared not trespass on Grant’s land, not if she wanted to get closer to him and be permitted at least exterior access to the mound—hopefully, more. Instead, she took her rental car and drove out to the site of two other, long-ago excavated Adena sites.

      She was walking around the slant of a mound she’d noted on an old archived map, this one called the Falls Mound. It was not far from the park boundaries where Tess and Gabe would take their vows tomorrow beside the waterfall. That was the spot where, Tess had told her, they had first kissed. Both the rehearsal dinner and the reception would be at the rustic lodge near the falls. When Kate’s cell phone rang, she glanced down at it to see Carson Cantrell, her friend and mentor, was calling and it seemed so appropriate to talk to him here.

      “Carson, guess where I am?”

      “Kate, darling, guess where I am?”

      “The Smithsonian? Practicing your talk before some of their indigenous-people tableaus?” she kidded him.

      “Sitting out in front of the National Museum of the American Indian, but it mostly features historic tribes. And—let me guess. You’re at an Adena mound, hopefully the Mason one you thought had been untouched by excavation.”

      “I’m at a mound but one that had some grave goods taken out years ago, according to my research. Some are in the Ohio Historical Museum. Some were stolen and sold on the black market and never recovered. Skeletal remains were too far gone to reveal much.”

      “How about your smashed-skull theory concerning those sacrificed in the mounds to serve the royals or shamans?”

      “No finds like that in the records for this mound. Once again, I think the early pioneer trespassers probably broke things up. As a result, skeletons were useless for examination. I read the pioneers left graffiti on the interior walls, though.”

      They chatted about his upcoming talk, and she assured him again that nothing but the wedding would have kept her away, not even a Celtic dig in England she was participating in. She did not mention that her father was flying in with his new family today and that his plane had been delayed and he’d barely make the rehearsal dinner this evening. Carson had advice for anything and everything, so she surprised herself in not wanting to share all that. But she was even more surprised by his question. “So what do you think of Grant Mason, the current owner of the Mason Mound property? You think he’ll go along with a dig? I looked at his house on Google Maps, but there are so many trees out back, I can’t pick out the mound itself from the satellite shot. Even zooming in, all I get is the roof and his curved driveway.”

      “He seems protective of the mound. His grandfather and father had the theory to let the dead stay dead.”

      “Which may mean his family knows there’s a burial there. But he sounds like a real small-town rube.”

      “No, he is not! Really,” she said, toning down her outburst. “He’s a college graduate, business major. Tess says he has ties to the Ohio legislature and even in Washington on environmental issues related to his lumber-cutting and mill projects.”

      “So you like him. Just remember, I think we’re ready to take the two of us to another level. As for Grant Mason, I’d like to visit Cold Creek, meet him, see the mound. Next week I hope, as soon as I get back to Columbus. Stick around there awhile if you can, try to get closer to him—in a highly controlled way. Since he’s a business major, keep it all business, okay?”

      “Right,” she told him. But with her instant attraction to Grant, it seemed somehow wrong.

      * * *

      Kate hated to admit it, but Jack Lockwood, at age fifty-two, looked as handsome as she remembered from her memories as a ten-year-old girl and dreams of “Daddy.” As he entered the room reserved at the Falls Lodge for the rehearsal dinner, he let go of his youngest boy’s hand and ruffled his older boy’s hair. His wife, Gwen, was a pretty blonde, probably fifteen years younger than he was. She looked as nervous as Kate felt, but her father strode across the room toward his three daughters.

      Tess met him partway and threw herself into his arms. Char grabbed his shoulder until she, too, was pulled into his embrace. But he looked over both their heads directly at Kate.

      “Katie,” he said.

      She blinked back tears and extended her hand when he stepped free from the group hug. Gabe hovered nearby; she could see Grant watching from the doorway where he was talking to the two young Lockwood boys—her half brothers. She felt frozen in place.

      “Welcome back,” she managed to say, not stepping closer.

      “I know how hard you worked to keep things together, Katie,” her father said, lowering his voice. “You and your mother did a great job with everything.”

      Her brain told her to say thank-you, but the words wouldn’t come out. She tried to move away, but he raised her hand and kissed the back of it. The years, the fears, came screaming back as he released her. He had a determined way about him, and maybe she owed her own pluck to that.

      Suddenly, everything turned chaotic, meeting his wife, stooping to look into the darling faces of his sons, chatting with them. Dad remembered Vic Reingold, who had helped the sheriff when Tess was abducted, so they shook hands. And then they all held their breath as he came to Gabe’s mother, with whom he’d had an affair that helped to end his marriage—though only those closest to him had known.

      “Sarah, you’re looking great,” he said, shaking her hand. “My condolences on the loss of your husband and congratulations that Tess and Gabe have put all the pieces together like I couldn’t.”

      “Yes,” she said. “The second generation atones for the mistakes of the former sometimes. That’s a blessing.”

      “It sure is.”

      Finally, everyone’s attention turned back to Tess and Gabe. They all trooped out to the grassy spot where the wedding ceremony would be held. The backdrop was a sky-blue lake with a waterfall crashing into it from granite cliffs. When the wind blew just right—or wrong—mist floated in the air, like nature’s attempt at a cleansing, Kate thought, a sort of new-family baptism. If only she could hug her father, forgive him and be glad that he was here, but she just couldn’t.

      In the wedding rehearsal, Kate walked down the grassy aisle just ahead of Tess’s entrance. Gabe and Grant stood waiting next to Pastor Snell and the portable altar. For one fleeting moment, with the whirring rush of the falls in the background, she imagined she was walking down the aisle to Grant.

      After Pastor Snell talked them through the ceremony, she walked up the aisle and back to the lodge on Grant’s arm. It seemed so natural, actually exciting, to be with him, paired with him, even for someone else’s wedding. Strange how her feelings for Carson were so different—admiration, an intellectual bond—while she felt Grant’s mere presence in her very bones. He radiated intensity, which shot little shards of heat through her. They sat together at the rehearsal dinner, sometimes talking with others but often only with each other. СКАЧАТЬ