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Authors: Kristen Heitzmann
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understood. She kept her tone light so he wouldn’t sense the tension he already suspected. He had helped process the hurt, and must guess how hard this was. For a brief moment she acknowledged the irrationality of keeping secrets from her therapist, then shrugged.
“Okay. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, Tessa.”
She pocketed her phone, took hold of her spade, and stomped the blade into the ground. She lifted a chunk of sod and then another and another until the stone surface appeared. She got down on her knees and used the hand trowel to clear enough to get a look. The bordering walls rose about two feet, and though covered in sod, they had made the pattern visible to the knowing eye. She stood and applied the shovel once again.
It didn’t matter that her skin prickled like a lightning storm if Smith got too close, or that she turned everything he said over and over, looking for innuendo and alternate meaning. It didn’t matter that the feeling of being watched had not gone away. All that mattered was the labyrinth. Call her obsessive. She didn’t care. She couldn’t wait to see what lay beneath the centuries of sod.
Nothing would frighten her off, and she would not let her issues with Smith get in the way, when this could be the fulfillment of a longing that had been with her longer than any other.
Smith didn’t know what to think of Tessa’s working like a laborer. With her qualifications, she should never have to touch a shovel. Did she not understand delegation? Her part, like his, was to visualize, conceive, and direct others to bring those plans to fruition. Yet there she was, digging in the field all by herself.
She said she’d never recovered an ancient labyrinth before, but even if it were a dig, she could have workers uncover the site. He shook his head. Not his business. As long as she completed her design and executed it on schedule, she could do as she liked with the labyrinth—as it seemed she was.
Deeply focused, she appeared oblivious to his approach, though that could be intentional, he supposed. He stood four feet away when she finally noticed him with a sudden, searching gaze that made him want to run far and fast.
He cleared his throat. “Everything all right?” The question could have opened delicate areas better left alone, but thankfully she merely nodded.
He motioned to the spade. “You’re really going to dig it out by hand?”
She brushed the hair back from her face. “I’m trying to see what’s here. These side walls have held the troughlike shape of the path”—she dug in again—“for a long time. It looks like the stonework survived the fire.”
“So it seems. The wooden structure burned readily enough.”
“I wonder what started it.”
“I’m guessing that would be who . According to Gaston’s records, the religious feuds in this area got nasty.”
She turned. “Didn’t the Maryland colony pass a religious tolerance act—like a precursor to the First Amendment?”
“To start with. But others came in who disagreed. When they came into power, they destroyed churches and schools before religious tolerance was restored.”
“So it wasn’t an accidental fire.”
“Records are sketchy on this exact one, but from what I’ve read generally, the odds are in favor of intent. Especially since it wasn’t rebuilt. I’m not sure what you’ll find digging around in there.”
Her hand recoiled from the shovel. “You don’t think people were in the labyrinth when the hedge burned.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time hatred in God’s name had deadly results.”
A shudder passed over her, but with only a slight hesitation, she repositioned the spade. “Thanks for the warning.” She stomped it into the earth. It sank with a distinct metallic clang.
He tipped his head. “What was that?”
“Not a skeleton.” She tossed the clod aside.
“Here, let me.” He took the spade and maneuvered its blade close to her last cut. His also hit metal. She knelt
“Okay. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, Tessa.”
She pocketed her phone, took hold of her spade, and stomped the blade into the ground. She lifted a chunk of sod and then another and another until the stone surface appeared. She got down on her knees and used the hand trowel to clear enough to get a look. The bordering walls rose about two feet, and though covered in sod, they had made the pattern visible to the knowing eye. She stood and applied the shovel once again.
It didn’t matter that her skin prickled like a lightning storm if Smith got too close, or that she turned everything he said over and over, looking for innuendo and alternate meaning. It didn’t matter that the feeling of being watched had not gone away. All that mattered was the labyrinth. Call her obsessive. She didn’t care. She couldn’t wait to see what lay beneath the centuries of sod.
Nothing would frighten her off, and she would not let her issues with Smith get in the way, when this could be the fulfillment of a longing that had been with her longer than any other.
Smith didn’t know what to think of Tessa’s working like a laborer. With her qualifications, she should never have to touch a shovel. Did she not understand delegation? Her part, like his, was to visualize, conceive, and direct others to bring those plans to fruition. Yet there she was, digging in the field all by herself.
She said she’d never recovered an ancient labyrinth before, but even if it were a dig, she could have workers uncover the site. He shook his head. Not his business. As long as she completed her design and executed it on schedule, she could do as she liked with the labyrinth—as it seemed she was.
Deeply focused, she appeared oblivious to his approach, though that could be intentional, he supposed. He stood four feet away when she finally noticed him with a sudden, searching gaze that made him want to run far and fast.
He cleared his throat. “Everything all right?” The question could have opened delicate areas better left alone, but thankfully she merely nodded.
He motioned to the spade. “You’re really going to dig it out by hand?”
She brushed the hair back from her face. “I’m trying to see what’s here. These side walls have held the troughlike shape of the path”—she dug in again—“for a long time. It looks like the stonework survived the fire.”
“So it seems. The wooden structure burned readily enough.”
“I wonder what started it.”
“I’m guessing that would be who . According to Gaston’s records, the religious feuds in this area got nasty.”
She turned. “Didn’t the Maryland colony pass a religious tolerance act—like a precursor to the First Amendment?”
“To start with. But others came in who disagreed. When they came into power, they destroyed churches and schools before religious tolerance was restored.”
“So it wasn’t an accidental fire.”
“Records are sketchy on this exact one, but from what I’ve read generally, the odds are in favor of intent. Especially since it wasn’t rebuilt. I’m not sure what you’ll find digging around in there.”
Her hand recoiled from the shovel. “You don’t think people were in the labyrinth when the hedge burned.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time hatred in God’s name had deadly results.”
A shudder passed over her, but with only a slight hesitation, she repositioned the spade. “Thanks for the warning.” She stomped it into the earth. It sank with a distinct metallic clang.
He tipped his head. “What was that?”
“Not a skeleton.” She tossed the clod aside.
“Here, let me.” He took the spade and maneuvered its blade close to her last cut. His also hit metal. She knelt
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