CHAPTER 38

  HOME SWEET HOME

  Both Mimi and I were glad to be home in the United States. We arrived in Boston by boat, then traveled by train and bus back to Iowa. That winter was cruel. Both the bus and the train were bitterly cold, and the trip felt endless. We developed colds along the way and wanted nothing more than to be home. Every minute seemed to drag. Severe winter storms delayed us further, and we missed Thanksgiving entirely, which only deepened our disappointment.

  What made matters worse was what we read upon arriving in Boston. We picked up a newspaper and found an article about Bayne and his project in Rome. The headline read: GIANTOLOGIST CLAIMS NO PROOF OF GIANTS LIKELY. The article reported that, through his work with the U.S. Embassy and Italian authorities, Bayne had been unable to locate the mausoleum in Sallust’s Garden. He claimed that history would offer no clear evidence that a giant race had ever existed, dismissing such accounts as anecdotal fiction.

  The article went on to say that Bayne had returned to Washington, D.C., where he was preparing to discuss his findings with the Smithsonian Institution. He was dedicating himself full-time to what he described as “highly important research.” It was apparent he was being offered a position there.

  I let the article get to me. It made me feel like a failure. Despite finding Mount Fillon and the coffins, I was still coming home without the bone—without the physical proof I needed. Every time I seemed to get close, I ended up empty-handed. I hated myself for feeling that way and had to remind myself that I had never pursued this work for fame or notoriety. It was insecurity, plain and simple. Perhaps being sick and far from home only made it worse.

  I was also disappointed that Bayne had vanished without a call or letter. I wondered why he hadn’t even tried to contact me. I told myself he had no way to reach me while we were in France, but the explanation rang hollow. I felt betrayed by Bayne, whom I had trusted, and by Gianni, who had partnered with him in Rome. Once again, I felt sorry for myself.

  I had called ahead and asked my teaching assistant, Colley, to pick us up at the bus station. This was not the homecoming I had imagined when we left for Greece nearly a year earlier. Still, it didn’t matter. Coming home had to mean a fresh start. I needed to look forward, not backward.

  I thought of too many professors I had known who became consumed by past failures. I promised myself I would not follow that path. I also refused to let Mimi see how defeated I felt. We were starting a new chapter.

  We both returned to teaching full-time at the university. We also agreed we would find a larger place to live, something suitable for a family. We even entertained the idea of buying a small farm outside of town. Mimi had loved her time on Vincent’s farm in France, but practicality won out. Two full-time professors had no business trying to run a farm.

  When the bus finally pulled into the station, it was late afternoon. There was no snow on the ground, but the pavement was wet and cold. Colley stood waiting in a brown overcoat and a wool hat. Colley Bristol had been my student and was now finishing his PhD in anthropology. He was a fine young man with little in the way of social skills. Unmarried and unlikely to change that anytime soon, he made an excellent teaching assistant. He knew my material nearly as well as I did, which had been a blessing for my students while I was away on sabbatical. We had allowed him to stay in our house while we were gone, saving him rent and giving us peace of mind that the place was being cared for.

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  As the bus came to a stop, our noses were running, and our eyes were glassy. We gathered our bags and stepped off. We were more than ready to be home.

  “Jack!” Colley called out, smiling. “Ma’am, let me get your bags.” He took them from Mimi. “I’m sure you’re both exhausted, so I won’t trouble you with my questions just yet. It’s been some time since either of you wrote.”

  Neither of us answered. The winter air burned our throats and eyes. We were too tired to speak.

  “And who do we have here in this cage?” Colley asked.

  “Oh,” I said, “Mimi picked up a friend in Greece. Her name is Mum.”

  “Well, hello, Mum,” he said kindly. “I’m sure you’re glad to be off that bus.”

  Mum looked as tired and listless as we felt. She had hated being confined during the long hours of travel. Colley led us to the car, and we rode in near silence, though he soon filled it.

  “It seems you may be picking up a few extra classes next semester, sir.”

  “Oh,” I replied, wiping my nose yet again.

  “With Dr. Bayne no longer at the university, the dean has assigned them to you.”

  “Oh,” I said again.

  “That is, if you’re planning to stay on here, sir?”

  Mimi turned to look at me. “Of course,” I said. “Where would I be going?”

  “There was some thought you might be joining Dr. Bayne in Washington.”

  “No,” I said. “I won’t be joining Dr. Bayne in Washington.”

  “That’s a relief,” Colley said.

  When we arrived home, the house looked smaller than I remembered. Inside, the feeling only intensified, as though the walls were closing in. Five months in Vincent’s farmhouse had altered our sense of space. The house was clean and well-kept. Colley had done a fine job.

  “I’ll leave you two to rest,” he said. “You both look like you need it.”

  “Thank you, Colley,” I said.

  “Yes, thank you,” Mimi added.

  After he left, we collapsed onto the couch. I let Mum out of her cage and took her outside. The cold frightened her. Surrounded by snow, she barked nonstop, unsure of what to do. I brought her back in and settled her in the bathroom with a blanket. The warmth and quiet soothed her.

  Mimi and I fell asleep side by side on the couch. The house was warm and still. The next few days passed in sleep, catching up on rest we’d been unable to get while traveling.

  That Christmas was quiet. The Iowa winter dragged on, bitter and unrelenting. We stayed in and saw no one. I did receive a letter from Vincent, who was planning a trip to England in search of dragons. It sounded exciting, especially from the confinement of our small house.

  I grew restless. The cold and the walls pressed in on me. Vincent encouraged me to join him, reminding me that England was rich in giant lore. I wanted to go, but I didn’t respond. I made my commitment to Mimi. I threw his letter and opportunity into the trash.

  My desk sat in the living room and faced the front street. Our yard was small, with a single evergreen standing alone in the center. I often found myself staring at it, wondering why anyone would plant a lone tree in such a space all by itself. Its trunk was frozen and wet, isolated in the snow, cut off from the rest of the world.

  The grant committee review went well enough. I was responsible for writing the final report on the Greece project, as Bayne had resigned his position by telegram. He never appeared before the committee in person. He still had not contacted me.

  By spring, Mimi and I had settled back into teaching full-time. I supervised master’s students and volunteered to teach summer sessions to rebuild our savings after Europe.

  By the following fall, Mimi was pregnant. Feeling increasingly confined, we moved into a larger rented home with two bedrooms and a separate study. The pregnancy progressed without complications. My routine stabilized. Everything seemed normal again.

  Then, all at once, it changed.