A YEAR IN THE LIFE
CHAPTER 1
Lara turned the corner and made her way down the long hallway that led to the former Servants' quarters, idly trailing her fingers along the wooden panelling as she went.
The Manor had once housed over a dozen staff, though there had never been anywhere that many in Lara's lifetime. Aside from Winston, the brunette could vaguely recall one or two part-time help from childhood - their names, if she'd once known them, had long since dissipated from memory.
Her father had never made the Estate's upkeep a priority, that she knew from her earliest memories.
Nor, she mused, had his immediate predecessors, given the dilapidated condition that plagued large swaths of the Manor. And yet, the Englishwoman was strangely content.
Perhaps even...happy?
It was not a sensation she was accustomed to.
She'd begun the process of hiring contractors with the aim or restoring the most heavily damaged sections of the Estate, the building's sheer sprawl enabling the workmen to come and go out of Lara's sight: on most days, it was hard to tell there was even a work crew present.
But that wasn't the reason for the archaeologist's unusually high spirits.
For most of her life she'd looked upon the Manor with melancholy, those few happy memories from childhood slowly being squeezed from consciousness by an endless series of tragedies.
Returning to the Manor had proved a double-edged sword: true, it provided a measure of stability and financial security - but at a cost. The Estate had come to represent a symbol of loss, a constant reminder of the Fates' cruel sentence.
A childhood cut short.
Isolation. Loneliness.
She'd moved back in shortly after her return from Siberia, though it had been with a brooding mindset. The heart-wrenching discovery of her mother's tomb had only exacerbated matters, even if it had answered long-held questions: there were times when the Englishwoman's insatiable quest for Truth hit too close to home.
The archaeologist had lived alone in the Manor's silent and gloomy expanse for nearly a year before Sam forcibly shoehorned herself back into the archaeologist's life, having turned her back on her own family in the process.
For Lara, it had proved to be a turning point. So much had changed in the three years since.
The archaeologist hummed softly as faint voices drew her further down the former servants' wing.
For the first time in Lara's adult memory the Manor had life. Voices other than those in her head. The patter of feet that were not her own. The eclectic sounds of music, television and computer games. The clanging of kitchenware. The popping of the toaster.
The venerable, musty edifice, so long silent, now practically radiated with energy.
A new family resided at Croft Manor. Not Crofts - at least for the most part - and not related by blood - but a family nonetheless
Her family.
Sam. Elsie. Even Doppie, unthinkable as it might've seemed just a year before. And with standing offers to Kaz and Jonah, it stood to grow even larger.
The Manor had become Lara's home once more - but now it actually felt like one
The Englishwoman gazed up at the servants wing's comparatively plain ceiling, stretched her arms out the width of the corridor and smiled.
I could get used to this...
The Universe had tried to break her since she'd first come into the world; Lara had been forced to fight for her very survival in her very first minutes of life. Undeterred, the universe had continued its efforts to claim her soul ever since with ever increasing determination - and it had very nearly succeeded.
But she'd won in the end.
It was strange, mused the brunette, how one seemingly insignificant, random encounter in the Maine wilderness, of all places, could've changed her life so profoundly.
Lara slowed her pace, the voices ahead becoming more distinct. They were coming from the largest of the former servants' rooms, the one into which they had squeezed two queen-sized beds together for their communal weekend sleep-togethers.
"Geezus, what a clusterfuck."
Lara smiled.
Elsie.
"Well, we did want to brighten things up," piped up Sam's voice. "Although this is getting borderline psychedelic."
"Why is it doing that?"
"No idea," said Sam. "But I don't think Lara will be keen on the Austin Powers motif."
"Yeah, baby, yeah."
"I told you we should've read the instructions."
"Instructions are for wusses."
"And for people who like to know what they're doing."
"Those too."
A sigh, which Lara recognized as the former filmmaker's.
"Though in our defense, there's no way this should be this complicated."
"I know, right?"
Lara stopped a few feet from the door: Sam and Elsie were somewhere within, doing - what, exactly?
"Do you think we can fix it before she gets back?"
"Not a chance," replied Sam. "She'll be here in a couple of hours...that is, unless..."
"What?"
"Hang on...just got an idea."
Lara slid her hands into her pockets and slouched back against the wall. She could simply saunter into the room and see what was going on first hand - but eavesdropping was distinctly more fun.
"Who're you calling?"
"I'm gonna try and - Jonah? Hey, it's Sam. Listen, can you stall Lara for a few hours? We ran into a bit of a snag with - what? Seriously? When? Shit!"
Lara heard what sounded like a sheet of newspaper bring crumpled.
"Okay...okay, no, we'll, uh, we'll figure something out...okay, thanks Jonah!"
"What happened?"
"She left London over an hour ago," replied the filmmaker, her voice edged with anxiety.
"Crap!"
"If she came straight home she could be here, well...now!"
Lara quietly chuckled at the stress in her friend's voice.
"Okay, time for plan B," replied Elsie.
"We have a plan B?"
"We will as soon as we think of one," amended the blonde. "We just gotta figure out a way to keep her out of here for the next couple of days."
"It'll have to be good," countered Sam. "Otherwise she'll smell a rat."
"What if we...no, that won't work...oh I know! If we...ah, crap."
The room grew quiet.
"I smell something burning."
"Oh, hush."
The archaeologist smiled. Her two friends had a definite rapport. By all accounts, their unusual arrangement should never have worked - yet their bond had only gotten stronger with time.
"I know!" exclaimed the blonde. "Asbestos!"
"How's that?"
"Asbestos!" repeated Elsie excitedly. "We'll tell her they found asbestos in here and -"
"Sorry to burst your bubble, but that one's dead on arrival," countered the filmmaker. "Even if there was asbestos in here, why would the workmen even be in this wing? She'll see right through that."
"Oh...well then, how about a leaky roof? We can say it started dripping and we had to move out so -"
"We're talking about a girl who'll trudge through a fetid swamp to get to a pottery shard," pointed out the Asian-American. "I don't think a few drops of water will be much of a deterrent."
Lara smiled again.
You exaggerate, Sam. I would not go through all that for a simple shard. Now a piece of Roman mosaic, maybe...
"Dammit...stop shooting holes in my ideas!"
"Well, come up with better ones!"
The sound of fingers snapping.
"Wait, I got it! Infestation!"
"Infestation? Of what?"
"Doesn't matter," replied the blonde excitedly. "Spiders. Ants. Moths, whatever. We'll tell her we had the room bug-bombed and we can't go back in for a couple of days."
"Hey, that's not bad," mulled the Asian-American. "It's at least feasible...it might actually be worth a shot."
Lara stroked her chin. Well played, Elsie...however I'm afraid there's already a spanner in your works.
"Hey, where're you going?"
"Gonna grab some of that yellow construction tape," replied Elsie. "Those worker dudes must have rolls of it lying around -"
The blonde ran into the hall and immediately skidded to a stop, her pale grey eyes popping in alarm at the sight of the Englishwoman.
"YAAGGHHH!"
Lara had barely arched an eyebrow by the time Elsie had fled back into the bedroom and slammed the door shut - the girl was mouse-quick.
"Okay, so either there's a T-Rex on the other side of that door," remarked Sam dryly. "Or she's here already."
"The second one," replied Elsie breathlessly.
"Yeah, I gathered."
"Damn that Doppie!" cursed the blonde. "So much for warning us!"
"Shoulda bribed her."
"We're out of pancake mix!"
Lara approached the old sage-painted door.
"Good afternoon, ladies."
The door's weathered surface remained resolutely silent.
Fine, then.
Lara twisted the doorknob, to no avail.
Locked. Seriously?
"Look, do I really need to break a door down in my own home?" asked the Englishwoman.
Frantic, unintelligible whispering seeped through the wooden paneling.
There followed a mechanical creak as the doorknob slowly rotated.
Lara stepped back as the door finally opened a few inches, just enough to allow Elsie to squeeze through. She was quickly followed by Sam, who promptly shut the door behind her before the Englishwoman good get a good look.
"Hey sweetie," said the filmmaker innocently, smiling at the archaeologist. "So how was your meeting?"
"Cancelled at the last moment," returned Lara idly, nodding at the closed door. "So tell me, what were you two doing in there?"
In truth, it was rather obvious - both Sam and Elsie were clad in two of Lara's well-used (and now paint-splattered) tank tops.
"Oh, uh, we had the room bug-bombed," said Sam.
Lara smirked. "You're going to stick with that story?"
The Asian-American looked in desperation to her co-conspirator.
Elsie shrugged sheepishly. "Nah, we're working on a better one."
"Keep working," advised the archaeologist, crossing her arms and tapping her foot with mock impatience.
The blonde glanced at Sam. "Yeah, we'll uh, let you know."
Lara twisted her features into a look of annoyance.
"Right, then," said the Englishwoman as she spun around on her heel and strode purposely down the hall. "You'll tell me when you're ready, I suppose."
As she turned the corner and the sighs of relief receded behind her, Lara's facial muscles could no longer suppress a burgeoning smile.
~ oOo ~
Lara's nervous pacing betrayed her anxiousness. Not that Sam needed the clue.
"Sweetie, relax!"
The archaeologist forced herself to come to a stop near the study's window. But repressing her anxiety's physical manifestation only made it worse.
Standing still was most definitely not one of her strengths.
"You're in my light," said Elsie, hunched over a corner of the large oaken desk, magnifying glass in hand.
"Sorry," blurted Lara, quickly moving from the window. She paused near her father's old safe, tracing a finger along its recessed edge.
Elsie had been examining the document for only a matter of minutes, but for Lara the wait was excruciating. Still, she reminded herself it was infinitely more convenient than having to take the manuscript to a university or laboratory for authentication - having someone in-house that could perform the task was a definite boon.
The blonde finally straightened up and placed the large magnifying glass onto the desk's leather blotter.
Lara's shoulders drooped: Elsie was regarding her with trepidation.
"I hope you didn't pay a lot for this...?"
"That bastard!"
Lara grasped a stapler from the desk and flung it across the room in anger, the device striking the far bookshelf before clattering to the floor.
"Oh, sweetie..."
It wasn't the waste of money that angered the archaeologist, but rather the cruel extermination of yet another hope.
Another opportunity squandered.
Lara began pacing across the study with renewed agitation before whirling on the blonde.
She pointed to the weathered manuscript. "That IS medieval parchment. I'd bet my LIFE on it!"
"And you'd win that bet," answered Elsie. "Because you're right. It almost definitely is medieval."
Lara's hand flopped to her side. "Well then, what?"
The blonde hesitated for a moment, clearly not wanting to distress the Englishwoman further.
"Lara...you can get blank sheets of medieval parchment off the Web," explained Elsie gently. "Vellum, even. It's not hard. I bet I can buy some off Amazon right now for maybe five bucks a sheet."
Sam pushed off from the corner chair and joined her friends at the large desk. "Seriously?"
Elsie nodded solemnly. "In my old job we used to get people trying to pawn stuff off all the time...it was one of their tricks of the trade."
She looked to Lara apologetically. "Sorry."
The archaeologist sighed.
"It's not your fault," said Lara. "I just...I thought that...what clued you in?
Elsie ran her fingers across the weathered document. "Well for one, this doesn't look like iron gall ink to me," explained the blonde. "It looks more like modern brown ink someone used to simulate long term oxidization."
"Two, this being insular script, we shouldn't be seeing any W's. Back in those days it was written as a literal double V or U, it only evolved into the recognizable W we see today in the Eleventh century."
For Lara, it was the parchment's killing blow. She spun on her heel and struck her palm hard against the wall.
"Blast it!"
"There's more, but...well, you get my drift."
The Englishwoman closed her eyes and tried to bring her angry breathing under control.
She'd been duped. Perhaps not knowingly, but that detail did little to alleviate her frustrations.
The archaeologist grasped at one last gossamer straw.
"Elsie...please don't take this the wrong way, but...is there any chance -"
"- I could be wrong?" finished the blonde, anticipating the Englishwoman's question. "Of course."
Lara turned to her friend. Her answer had been given so easily, without hesitation, so much so that the brunette's hopes briefly revived.
"Really?"
"Sure," returned Elsie. "We all make mistakes...God knows I've done some doozies in my time."
Lara edged closer. "Just...how confident are you?"
The blonde chewed her bottom lip.
"Be realistic," urged the archaeologist. "Don't tell me something you think I want to hear."
Elsie blew out her cheeks.
"Well, if I was still at the Gallery and someone brought me this," said the blonde, waving at the rolled out parchment, "I wouldn't give them ten bucks for it."
Sam sat on the desk corner. "That bad?"
Elsie nodded solemnly.
"There's just too many red flags," said the blonde. She turned to Lara. "Sorry."
The Englishwoman felt herself go limp.
"But look, I can have Gellis mail me some test strips," quickly added Elsie. "We can test for iron in the ink...if there is none, we'll be a hundred percent sure."
"Instead of ninety nine percent," returned the archaeologist dispiritedly.
Elsie's eyes were filled with compassion. "Pretty much, yeah."
Sam slid off the desk and wrapped an arm around the Englishwoman.
"Oh sweetie...cheer up, we'll be in Brazil next week. Focus on that."
Lara smiled sadly. "Thanks, Sam. I'm just...anxious to be doing something, is all."
"I know," replied the Asian-American. "I'd say you're suffering from a mild case of cabin fever - I don't think I've seen you at home for two weeks straight since before Yamatai. Getting covered in muck and stung by bugs will do you good."
Lara had to chuckle at that - even though Sam's statement was no exaggeration.
Elsie pushed off from the desk chair.
"In the meantime, I'm gonna go make us some dinner," announced the blonde, running her hand playfully through the Englishwoman's fringe on her way out.
Lara sighed and leaned into the Asian-American.
"You guys are the best," whispered the archaeologist as she closed her eyes.
~ oOo ~
Lara's spirits had risen the following day, partly aided by the fact she and Sam were marking out their Brazilian itinerary on a large map in the study. Though the disappointment of the previous day still stung, the archaeologist found succor from the looming anticipation of her next excursion.
Just a few more days...
They'd circled a small town that would serve as their main hub prior to setting off in the rainforest when Elsie slowly shuffled into the study, barefoot and still clad in her Wonder Woman pajamas.
Sam chuckled. "Well, someone's looking perky this morning."
"Mister Coffee's dead," croaked the blonde, brushing back a mass of disheveled blonde hair.
"Uh oh," said the Asian-American.
"I'm sorry to hear that," voiced Lara, struggling to maintain a serious expression in the face of the blonde's wretched appearance. "Well, he had a good life, at least."
Elsie turned to the archaeologist. "Do we have any instant stuff stashed away somewhere?"
"Sorry, none."
"Nothing at all? Not even war surplus stuff?"
Lara shook her head. "Sorry."
Elsie's shoulders sagged.
"This sucks."
The blonde turned to leave.
Lara dropped her marker on the the map and straightened up.
"I can make you some Earl Grey, if you like," offered the Englishwoman.
Elsie continued her lethargic shuffle. "Not into tea, thanks."
"Don't think of it as tea," pressed the archaeologist. "Think of it as a nice warm cup of liquid caffeine. Any port in a storm, right?"
Elsie paused briefly at the study's doorway and grumbled before disappearing from view.
"Fine."
Sam turned to Lara and grinned.
"We'd better get a new coffeemaker quick."
~ oOo ~
Lara woke to a presence.
Though her eyes were still closed, the telltale depressions in the mattress on either side of her shoulders were sufficient confirmation she was not alone. The gentle, rhythmic breathing feathering her cheeks hinted at someone hovering only inches above her.
Of course, it wasn't hard to guess its identity - Sam and Doppie wouldn't be returning from London until evening.
The archaeologist slowly pried open one eyelid.
Her field of view was filled by two wide grey eyes staring back at her.
"Birrrrd."
Lara's second eyelid popped open.
"Eh...what?"
Elsie inched closer, the tip of her nose lightly nudging the archaeologist's.
"Birrrrrrrrrrrrrrd."
Lara blinked.
"Are you well?"
Elsie laughed and pushed off, scrambling to her feet at the end of the bed.
"Come on!" said the blonde as she bounced up and down, her long blonde hair flouncing wildly. "It's a beautiful morning! Let's go out and play!"
Lara lazily stretched and let out a yawn before flopping her arms back onto the mattress.
"How long have you been up?"
"Oh, 'bout an hour," chimed Elsie in between bounces.
Lara lazily shifted a leg that had escaped from under the covers.
"And just out of curiosity, how much coffee have you had so far?"
"Just three cups," replied Elsie happily, her bouncing continuing unabated.
Lara pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and sighed.
"Getting a superautomatic was a mistake," muttered the brunette more to herself than her bedmate. "I've created a monster."
"Come on!" pleaded the blonde once more, the mattress shaking with each recoil. "Let's go play!"
"In case you haven't noticed, we're not exactly infants," remarked Lara. "My days of playing down in the garden are - will you stop that, please?"
"Make me," said Elsie, bouncing higher in defiance.
"Oh, you little -"
The brunette snatched a pillow and flung at the blonde, who easily dodged the unwieldy projectile.
"Missed me!"
The bouncing continued, if anything with renewed vigour.
The Englishwoman flung a second pillow - it struck the dresser and fell limply to the floor.
"Missed again!"
Lara flopped back onto the mattress, her head now bereft of cushioning support. She could score a headshot at fifty yards with a bow yet couldn't hit a point blank target with a pillow - it was clearly a skill she had yet to master.
She had one trick left unplayed: but she would have to time it perfectly.
The archaeologist synced herself to the delays between mattress impacts.
Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.
"C'mon," repeated Elsie. "Time to get up -"
Bounce.
Now!
Lara kicked out, striking the blonde's feet just as they left the mattress.
Elsie squeaked in surprise, flailing wildly as she fell forward before landing face-first into the Englishwoman's chest.
"Oof!"
Prepared though she was, Lara still gasped at the force of the impact. If it hadn't been for the blonde's willowy build the brunette might well have had the air knocked out of her. As it was, it was Elsie that appeared to take the worst of it: she lay sprawled atop Lara, her face buried in the archaeologist's chest.
And unmoving.
"Elsie? Are you all right?"
A muffled reply.
"Mm-hmm."
Lara let out an amused huff.
"Um...didn't you want to go out?"
A slow sigh.
"Nah," breathed the blonde into Lara's cleavage. "Imma gonna stay right here..."
~ oOo ~
Sam had worked a small miracle. Again.
Getting everyone's paperwork ready for a flight to South America was challenge enough, to say nothing of the gear sent ahead and the supplies earmarked along their route. For once Lara would be embarking on an adventure with a full kit from the outset.
The filmmaker was nothing if not a masterful organizer.
But there remained one problematic journey before they could even set foot south of the Equator - navigating London's congested streets.
"The Sisteen Chapel," blurted the Englishwoman. "Not the sixteenth."
"No, it was the sixteenth," countered Elsie. "He used the first fifteen for practice."
Lara rolled her eyes.
"This is the Statue of Limitations all over again," muttered the archaeologist as she depressed the brake pedal, stopping the car at the intersection.
Elsie took advantage of the halt to lean out the window and renew her bleating, the throngs of pedestrians looking on with confusion.
"BAAAAH!"
"Not again," groaned the Englishwoman.
"BAAAAAAAAHH!"
"Elsie, please!" barked Lara. "Enough!"
"BAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"
Lara huffed in frustration. The sidewalks were teeming with midday crowds, most of whom were eyeing the car's driver - Lara, in this case - as much as her seemingly deranged passenger.
"In case you haven't noticed, there is a distinct lack of of sheep in central London."
"Ya never know," returned the blonde.
"We're a mile from Piccadilly Circus!" exclaimed the archaeologist.
"Oh, let her have her fun," said Sam from the front passenger seat.
"We look like bloody lunatics," grumbled Lara, certain her cheeks were flushing.
"What's the harm?" asked the Asian-American.
"We're disturbing the peace!"
"In downtown London?" queried Sam dubiously. "What 'peace' are we disturbing?"
"You tell her, Sam!" said Elsie before sticking her head once more out the rear passenger window. "BAAAAAAH!"
Lara swore under her breath.
"Doppie, will you restrain her, please?"
"You can't be serious," said Sam in disbelief, straightening up in her seat.
Elsie leaned further out the window.
"Help! Help! I'm being repressed!"
"Stop that!" snapped Lara. "For God's sake, someone might take you seriously!"
"Twenty quid," returned the doppelgänger from the seat directly behind the archaeologist.
Lara glanced at the redhead in the rear view mirror. "Wha - you would extort me?"
"I prefer to think of it as a service fee," replied the doppelgänger. "You are asking me to impede an individual's right of self-expression, after all. That rightly carries a price."
"Well, bugger off, then!"
"BAAAAAAAAHH!"
"Arrgh," groaned the archaeologist through gritted teeth. "Five!"
"Fifteen."
"Ten! And not a penny more!"
"All right."
Sam craned her neck in the direction of the back seat. "I'll give you eleven to leave her be."
"Done," returned the doppelgänger, settling back into her seat.
Lara shot a look at her front seat companion. "Et tu, Sam?"
The Asian-American grinned at the Englishwoman. Lara recognized the well-worn expression.
Oh, no...
The filmmaker thumbed the window switch on the armrest.
"No," pleaded the archaeologist. "Sam, don't..."
The Asian-American stuck her head out the front passenger window.
"BAAAAAH!"
"Sam!"
The bleating resumed from the back seat, echoing that from the front.
"BAAAAAAAHH!"
The Englishwoman tilted her head downward, trying to conceal her face from the renewed pedestrians' stares in her direction.
"BAAAAAAAAAHHH!
"BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"
"BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"
Lara shook her head amidst the cacophony. Of course they had to be sitting at what appeared to be the longest red light in all of London.
The Englishwoman rapped her fingers impatiently against the steering wheel. "I'm never taking you lot out. Ever. Again."
"Bet you will," teased Sam, her eyes sparkling mischievously.
The Prius' front wheels squeaked shrilly as the traffic light finally turned green.