Donna Hill - My Love At Last

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 According to historical documents, Elijah and Sarah Dayton arrived from Virginia at the turn of the century.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.