Eviskar Island (31 page)

“Morgan,” she turned to him and smiled, “I’m sorry for inconveniencing you like this.  It was my own stupid fault I got hurt.  I know how important your research is, and I’m afraid I’ve ruined your summer.  Thanks, though, for coming so quickly to rescue us.  You really are my knight in shining armor.”

He gave her hand a squeeze.  “Nonsense, everyone here, the entire excavation team, wanted to help when they found out you were in trouble.  They’re a superb bunch.  Doc Strøm says that you really owe a debt of gratitude to your students, in particular to the young girl Marcie, for the care she gave you.  He was impressed—said she did everything right.  He even intimated you might not have survived if not for her.”

He loaded his pipe bowl and drew a deep breath—marvelous.  A colleague had gifted him two hundred grams of a wonderful Danish tobacco blend called “Asgard Gold.”  He was dying to light it, but Strøm would crucify him for smoking in the presence of his patient.  Content to savor the pleasant aroma without setting it afire, Morgan let out a satisfied sigh.

“So tell me what’s been going on here since we’ve been gone,” Debbie asked.  “You seem pretty happy.  I take it progress has been good?”

“Good?” he chuckled, “Good is an understatement.  I don’t mean to sound boastful, but we’ve been darned lucky on this trip, yes sir.  Right after you left, one of the fellows ran a routine metal detection scan through sector nine.”  Morgan leaned forward, his eyes bright, animated.  “You’ll never guess what we dug up.”  He paused for dramatic effect.  “A foot below the surface we found an axe head and what appears to be a ladle.  Deb, you can’t imagine the excitement that generated.  Think of it, the first metal objects we’ve unearthed so far at this site.  And what a find!  The form of the axe is period for the 12
th
century.  Gosh, it’s exciting.  I wish the students we brought along could have shared in that, but I think they’ll be suitably impressed once I show them.  Heh, heh…a lecture is probably in order as well, one that addresses the success rate of finds like this.  I don’t want them to get the idea that such extraordinary discoveries are the norm.”

“Sorry I’ve made such a mess of things, sweetie.  I don’t want to take you away from here when things are going so well.”

“Actually, you won’t.  The Danish vessel that brought us here is due to pass through the day after tomorrow.  They’ve kindly agreed to take you to Reykjavik.  I was going to go along, but two of the Greenlanders, Ittuk and Nunni, will accompany you instead.  It seems they’ve just been informed of some urgent business they have to address.  I feel bad for them—just when things are getting exciting around here they have to leave.”

Debbie had closed her eyes.  Morgan could tell she was exhausted.  He stared at her, trying to imagine the hell she’d experienced on that cold desolate ridge.  Four cracked ribs, a broken wrist and a shattered lower leg, serious injuries that were life threatening.  A shudder went through him as he realized how close he’d come to being a widower.  She was safe now, though.  The serene expression on her face and the regular, unlabored breathing of sleep, told him all was well.

Morgan’s gaze shifted to the piece of leather lying on the ground by her bed.  The litter the students had made for her had been a clever one, constructed out of twine and one of their sleeping bags.  This leather piece had been placed under the bag to serve as reinforcement for the arduous trip from the accident site—a harrowing climb up over a cliff, followed by a long hike to the beach.

It was flexible and tough, and it bore a strange pattern of spots.  Several containers they had unearthed the previous summer, satchels that had contained grain a thousand years ago, were made of the same spotted leather.  The coincidence pointed to a local source for the material.  But what?  Had the students killed and skinned a large animal during their three day exodus?  Most definitely not, Morgan concluded.  A more plausible explanation is that they found a dead animal near the shore and harvested the hide—some sort of pinniped, most likely.  Morgan guessed it was either harp seal or walrus.  Both species had been spotted along the island’s coast.  His thoughts wandered to the diet of the ancient Norsemen who’d lived on this shore and a thin smile formed around the ubiquitous pipe stem lodged between his teeth.  The idea for yet another scientific publication was forming in his mind.

* * *

Two tender vessels from the
Stjerne
were beached on the sand near the Eviskar medical tent.  A hundred yards offshore the parent ship lay at anchor, bobbing in heavy chop.  The wind was incessant and the seas were rough.  A storm was moving in.

Dr. Strøm, accompanied by Morgan and the four students watched Debbie’s transfer into the nearest boat.  Her two Greenlandic chaperones climbed into the other craft, assisted by another man who was heavily bundled against the weather.  The man walked with a pronounced limp, and a high collar and long-brimmed hat hid most of his face from view.  To those on the beach he looked like a sailor from the
Stjerne
, assigned to help transfer the patient and the two researchers.  To the men on the ship he appeared to be a fourth passenger.  Only four of the people who stood on the beach in the bracing wind knew the man’s true identity, and they were not about to divulge that knowledge.  He and the two Greenlanders would see Debbie safely to the hospital in Reykjavik, and then all three would book passage on the next flight to Nuuk, the capitol of Greenland.  A sensitive meeting among top government officials and selected University faculty was scheduled for the instant they arrived.

XVIII.

              Icelandic Airways flight 3219 from Reykjavik touched down at New York’s JFK international airport in the early morning of September 2
nd
.  The four weary High School students on board, those returning from three months of dirty, backbreaking excavation work on Eviskar Island, waited for the other passengers to exit before hoisting their bags and heading for the gate.

              The flight had been a pleasant one for Marcie Van Wormer.  It hadn’t been completely full and Marcie had been lucky enough to find herself next to an empty seat.  The fellow seated next to Spencer had been eager to swap seats with her, grateful for the extra privacy and elbow room.

              As a cost saving measure, Morgan figured his charges could sleep on the plane, and had therefore booked their flight home for the morning after their water transport docked at Olafsvik.  After four hours of bus ride across Iceland, they’d gone straight to the airport to wait for five more hours prior to leaving for the States.  All were travel weary, but the excitement of their return home denied them sleep on the plane.

Anticipation of the imminent reunion with her folks, had charged Marcie with a mix of excitement and apprehension.  Three months was a long time for any young person to be separated from her family, but it was especially so for someone as young as fifteen.  So much had happened in that time, it seemed as though an eternity had passed, and in a strange, non-chronological way, it had.  Marcie knew she had changed, all of them had.  The stresses and hardships they’d endured on the island had been life-altering.  A bond now existed among the four of them that was as strong, if not stronger, than that of siblings.  Their close ties had been forged in the furnace of ordeal, developed over the stressful, life-threatening three days they’d been trapped in the island’s forbidding interior.  Marcie, in particular, considered her fellow students to be her best friends, and it was going to be difficult for her to say goodbye.  Throughout the long ride to Reykjavik and on the return flight home, she’d been aware that the end to this eventful summer was fast approaching.  That end was now only moments away.

              There was a long line at customs.  Another full aircraft had arrived shortly before theirs—an early morning plane out of Paris.  The tired students from Eviskar stood waiting to be processed in lines in front of each customs agent that snaked through several switchbacks in the huge, crowded room.  At the moment, Jack’s line ran along one wall.  He was seated on his rucksack leaning against the wall trying to doze.

              Jocelyn was in heaven.  She’d maneuvered into a line containing a French tour group and was listening intently to snippets of conversation.  It was a wonderful opportunity not to be squandered.  As a student of their native tongue, she listened for subtleties in pronunciation, diction and colloquialisms.  She also enjoyed hearing the thoughts and perceptions of these tourists as they prepared to set foot in the United States.

              The two younger students had become inseparable.  Both wanted to spend as much time together as possible which, for Marcie, afforded her the opportunity to broach a sensitive subject, one she’d postponed raising until they were off the plane.  In letters to her father she’d mentioned it, and now it was time to discuss it with Spencer.

              “Hey, Spence, mind if I ask you something?  It’s personal, so if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s cool.”  He gave her a questioning look.  “It’s about your foot.”

              “What about it?”

              “Well, my dad’s an orthopedic specialist, and…”  She took his hand in hers.  “He’s treated a lot of kids with talipes, you know, ‘club foot.’  From what I gather it’s real common.  I was wondering if you, uh, might want him to look at it.”

              “First of all, I don’t mind you askin’ me that, Marcie.  It’s really nice of you.  But from what I’ve read on the web, I think I’m too old for treatment.  My bones have grown ‘an I think it’s too late.  Like I said, though, thanks for the thought.”

              “What if you’re wrong?  What if he could really help?”

              “Yeah, sure, I guess, but I gotta be honest wicha; my parents probably can’t afford it.  ‘An besides, I can live wit a slight limp.  It’s no big deal.”

              “Don’t worry about money.  My dad wouldn’t charge you, and if you’re too proud to accept charity, we could work out some sort of deal maybe.”  She looked away, somewhat embarrassed.  “You could tutor me.  I suck at math, Spence.  My grades in it have been okay, but I overheard my dad and stepmom discussing the possibility of getting me some help.”

              “What makes you think he’ll go along wit' that?”

              “Oh, he will,” she said with a sly smile, “I’m his daughter.  He has no choice.”

* * *

              Standing just outside the door from customs, Marcie’s father and stepmom waited expectantly for their daughter’s triumphant appearance.  Steven was trying valiantly to catch a glimpse of his daughter every time the exit door opened, but the crowds and chaos thwarted his attempts.  Gail could tell he was excited.  Although her husband prided himself on his self-control, always keeping tight rein on his emotions, the cold cup of coffee in his right hand revealed where his thoughts and feelings had been for the past twenty minutes.  She’d never before seen Steven allow a good cup of java to cool down.

              The moment Marcie exited customs, she spotted her folks.  As promised, they had brought with them two large suitcases, the bags Jocelyn had been prohibited from taking to Eviskar.  She ran first to her father and then to Gail, dishing out bear hugs along with the biggest smile either had ever seen.  She’d really missed them.  It was also apparent that she’d had a glorious, eventful summer abroad, but was overjoyed to be back.

              One by one, her colleagues emerged into the airport waiting area.  They too were dutifully welcomed by Steven and Gail.  Jocelyn offered heartfelt thanks to the Van Wormers for safeguarding her belongings.  After Jack and Jocelyn finished exchanging pleasantries with Marcie's folks, they loaded up with their mountain of luggage, preparing to depart for the main terminal to check in for their flights home.  Before they could get away, however, Marcie embraced each of them.   She choked back a sob while trying to smile, and admonished, “You guys better write to me or I’ll be pissed, and I expect both of you to come visit me if at all possible, capiche?”

              Jocelyn, in particular, reciprocated those sentiments.  She held Marcie’s hands in the manner of a loving older sister, and told her in heartfelt words how much she appreciated the time they’d spent together.   “You be sure to write to me too,” she said as she finally let go and hefted her rucksack, “that’s what best friends do.”

              Gail watched the interplay among the four students with considerable interest.  The pre-departure dynamic she’d noted back in June appeared to have changed significantly.  Of course, she’d read Marcie’s letters, and they had spoken briefly by satellite phone about every two weeks or so.  Their daughter had kept her and Steven well informed of what had gone on at the archeological site.  But Gail was the type of person who could learn far more about how Marcie's and the other students' lives had changed by watching the way they interacted, by reading between the lines.  She knew that, in general, her stepdaughter had enjoyed her time in that remote place.  However, she also knew how living in close proximity to a small subset of others, in a confined environment, always resulted in interesting friendships, interactions, and, oftentimes, conflicts.  This group, it seemed, had grown very close.

              One prominent physical change she’d noted right away, dealt with Jocelyn’s appearance.  Her hair was much shorter than it had been when she left.  A perceptive person like Gail knew it was a big deal for a woman to trim her locks like that.  Primitive bathing facilities could account for it, but there was something else about the girl that accompanied her new look; she seemed friendlier, more gracious, and it was obvious that she and Jack had grown particularly close.

              Gail also pondered the warm hugs Marcie had given the older students as a sendoff.  There was no remaining evidence of her crush on Jack.  And what circumstances had transpired to bring the four of them into such close friendship?  Gail Van Wormer knew something profound had happened on that island, something Marcie had yet to reveal.  But Gail wouldn’t pressure her stepdaughter to mention anything she didn’t want to.  “It may be best that what happened at Eviskar, must stay at Eviskar,” she thought.

There were also real indications of just how much more mature her stepdaughter had grown.  She wasn’t the naïve little girl who’d once fretted at length about which headlamp to buy or what songs she would download for the trip.  Now, she exuded real confidence and was considerably more outgoing.

Maybe it had to do with Marcie’s exploits in helping that poor woman, Debbie Holloway, who’d fallen and been hurt so badly.  Steven had been so worried when he’d found out about the accident, he’d begun to make arrangements to go to Eviskar himself.  However, once he knew she was all right, he’d settled down and cancelled his trip, and when the details came describing his daughter’s first aid heroics, that she’d saved the woman’s life, he’d swelled with pride.  That had been a watershed moment for both parents.  They realized that not only had Marcie survived that ordeal, she was the one who had stepped up and dealt with adversity in level-headed and life-saving fashion.

They had received a lengthy letter from Debbie several weeks after the accident, describing firsthand what had happened and how grateful she was for the remarkable care Marcie had given her.  Gail swore that the moment Steven read that letter was the greatest thrill he’d ever experienced, even surpassing the joy she’d seen in his eyes the day they were married.  Poor Marcie had no idea what her dad had in store for her on the train ride home.  The interrogation would be intense, relentless.

*  *  *

“Ladies and gentlemen, in a few moments we’ll begin boarding American Airlines flight 471 non-stop to Cleveland through gate twelve.”  The flight attendant summoned those travelling with small children and those requiring assistance, to the check-in podium.  Jack and Jocelyn stood and stretched.

“I’m going to miss you, Jack.”  There were tears rolling freely down Jocelyn’s cheeks as she helped him put on his backpack.

“Hey, we’ll see each other soon.  I’ve been told Corpus Christi is a lot warmer than Cleveland during the holidays.  Would you mind having a ‘Damn Yankee’ visitor around then?”

“I’d like that,” she beamed.  “I’ll have to convince my friends that you’re okay, though.  Some of them have this idea that Yankee visitors are like hemorrhoids:” She put her arms around his neck, “they’re a pain in the ass when they come down and it’s a real relief when they go back up.”

“If you’d prefer I didn’t come, then…”

“No, no, please, I want you to visit.  I’ll make sure we have plenty of ‘Preparation H’ on hand.  Everything will be fine.”

Jack smiled, “I hate to change the subject, but what are your plans for when you get back?  You can’t discuss any of the important stuff that happened back at Eviskar, not yet anyway.”

Jocelyn took a deep breath.  “The first thing I have to do is to make things right with some folks.  I owe apologies to a number of people.  Then, I’ll have my hands full, what with school work and applying to colleges.”

“Where have you decided to go?  I know your grades are first rate, Jossy.  I bet you’ll have your pick of schools.”

“Actually, I’m leaning strongly towards a small school up in Minnesota.  I’m pretty close with the wife of a professor of archeology there.  They have a strong biology department and some great study abroad programs for students who are interested in languages.”  She took Jack’s hand, “No pressure, but would you ever consider attending a school like that?  Debbie says they’re well known in physics and astronomy.”

Jack hadn’t expected the question.  He looked away, embarrassed, and caught the eye of an elderly woman, wearing a Cleveland Indians ball cap, standing behind him.  The woman smiled at him and nodded.

It’s impossible to carry on a private conversation in a crowded airport
, he fretted.  A sense of déjà vu swept through him as well.  Although he wasn’t particularly superstitious, he hoped the woman in the ball cap wouldn’t be seated near him.  Collecting his thoughts, he replied to Jocelyn’s question.  “That’s a great idea,” he said, “assuming I can qualify for enough financial aid.”

“And don’t forget about our date.”

“What date?”

Jocelyn rolled her eyes in mock aggravation, “Don’t you remember?  August 12, 2026, in Olafsvik, Iceland.”

“Oh yeah, I’d nearly forgotten about that.  Of course I’d like to go, but twelve years is a long time, Jossy.  Who knows what…”

She put a finger to his lips.  “Yes or no, Jacek Malinowski.  Nothing on this earth will stop me from going if I know you’ll be there.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, at this time we will begin general boarding of flight 471 starting with rows 29 through 36.  Will all passengers seated in those rows please present your boarding passes now.”

“That’s me,” Jack noted.  He and Jocelyn maneuvered towards the back of the quickly growing line.  He gave her a hug.  “I’ll be there.  You can count on it.”