Page 15 of The Voice of Wild Places
“I have.”Cornelius allowed, stepping closer.
“And I think,” Giovanni lowered his voice conspiratorially, “that if anyone can do this, it’s you.I really do.”
“You do?”Cornelius asked in a surprised whisper.He considered Giovanni’s word to be ironclad, and while he didn’t believe in the sentiment a hundred percent, it edged him closer to fully accepting that he might actually find out what happened to Fawcett.That at the very least, there was a chance.
“Yes, I do.”Giovanni tugged Cornelius into a hug.He rested his chin on Cornelius' head and just held him for the longest time.It was grounding and wonderful, even if they were both sniffing a little afterwards.Giovanni patted his back once before pulling away.“Now, let’s eat, dinner’s getting cold.”
Cornelius smiled to himself.He enjoyed a night full of food and music with Giovanni, packing the memory into his heart for later.
Too Late
NewYorkCity
March 8th, 1930
Watt was quite sure if Cornelius knew who the main benefactor to this expedition was, he would refuse to go.And he was also sure that if Callum knew he was paying for Cornelius’ passage, and who he was, he’d refuse to do so.
As a young man, Watt had never received an answer from his parents in regards to the questions that plagued him for years upon years.Why did they abandon their vacation spot at Harbor Point, and why did his father forbid him from speaking to the Tremblays?
He knew in his heart the questions were connected, and that something had happened while he was submerged in the fever delirium of measles.He remembered Cornelius sitting at his bedside, nursing him back to health with photographs and stories of the town.Always talking, always there.Having already survived measles, Cornelius was the only other person Watt saw during that time, besides the medical staff and his parents.Well, he didn't really remember seeing them, but surely they checked in on him.That time was one of several gaping holes where his memories should’ve been.
He’d survived, and lost his best friend for reasons unknown.The moment he was able to be moved, the family fled Harbor Point and never returned.
Watt needed answers, but by God he did not want to ask questions.
Watt sat in the dining room of his parent’s townhouse, a beautiful manor on a sprawling estate in Midtown.Besides the three summers Watt spent in Harbor Point, this is where he grew up.His father and mother sat at opposite ends of a Victorian era dining table, and Watt filled the space between them.His father wore an old fashioned tuxedo, while Watt wore a double breasted evening suit.His mother shone in a rose colored dress that came to rest around her ankles, and her signature pearls hugged her throat.This evening was dedicated to Watt’s upcoming journey, or more importantly, what could be gleaned from it.He'd been told it was a celebration, but it was only them.The Johnsons attended many social events and were held in high regard, but they had little in the way of what Watt considered to be true friends.
Watt’s accomplishments were not his own, they belonged to the Johnson family.Not only his success, but his failures as well.Or what his Father viewed as failure.Leaving archaeology for anthropology had been a disappointment, but paired with Watt’s abrupt departure of Carter’s team before their ultimate discovery, the move was a personal blow to his Father’s reputation, especially during the height of mummy fever.He made this clear to Watt on a regular basis, and any new projects that Watt took on would always be cast in the shadow of what could have been.That would explain why tonight’s affair was mild.They ate in affable silence, as important conversation could not be held until after dinner had been consumed.After the staff cleared the dinner service, Callum Johnson affixed Watt with his full attention.He said, “Now, Walter.Tell us how your man hunt played out.”
Watt tried not to flinch.“Very well, sir.Dr.Sawyer has agreed to join us.”
His old man scoffed.“Well of course he has, what fool would say no?”
People often told Watt that he looked just like Callum, and Watt tried to find himself in the deep frown lines surrounding his father's mouth.He could allow the broad forehead and stubborn jaw, expected and even welcomed the thick head of silver and bronze, but he hoped to God he never developed such a permanent expression of distaste.
“Sawyer … I dare say it rings a bell, but I cannot place the man.What’s his first name?”Callum asked, dark eyes contemplative.
‘Anyone with a lick of sense would've said no,’Watt thought.He had to go about this next bit carefully, and he tried not to let his apprehension show.He said, “He worked under Woolley, sir.I believe that was his first dig before doing some survey work in Peru and Colombia.Dr.Cornelius Sawyer.”
“Cornelius Sawyer …” Callum studied Watt’s face for a long moment, then shrugged.“Must not be noteworthy, but if it is he who Mrs.Fawcett desires to accompany you, then accompany you he shall.”
“Yes, sir.”Watt nodded, nearly sagging with relief.If Callum decided to withdraw his funding, it would’ve put a real damper on things.
“Come now, Watt.Tell us something about him,” Alice said.She had a particular look in her eye that Watt knew all too well.She had something to say, but wouldn’t in Callum’s presence.“I’d like to know what type of man will be gallivanting in the jungle with my son.”
Callum frowned.“They’ll hardly be gallivanting, Alice.”
“All the more reason,” she replied, keeping her cool gaze on Watt.She was father's opposite, pale with dark hair, willowy and petite.Her health had always suffered in the city, which is why they vacationed for most of the year in the country.Before attaining the manor upstate, they’d spent that time in Harbor Point, the scenic tourist section of Harbor Springs.
He didn’t have a friend in his mother, per say.She treated him the same way she treated her husband.Distant, and aloof.As he understood it their marriage was a love match, but if there had been any sentiment between them it’d fled by Watt’s early childhood.And so Watt found it odd, her sudden interest in his life.
Carefully, he said, “It is in my opinion that you cannot find the true measure of a man in such a short visit, Mother, but from what I can tell he seems to be honest and knowledgeable.”He stared into her sharp green and yellow eyes.“Someone I can rely on.”
Alice Johnson evaluated him for a long moment.Finally, she said, “Good.”
March 14th, 1930
Central Park was freezing, but Watt hadn’t missed Frederick’s birthday in over ten years and didn’t plan to now.
