“I think,” Dr. Akkhad says slowly, “that it will be challenging. But I’ve seen you work. You’re meticulous and passionate and brilliant. If anyone can make it work, it’s you.”
“And,” Khalid adds, “we’re a team. We support each other. That’s what teams do.”
The kindness in their voices makes my eyes burn with unshed tears.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
That evening, after Ella is asleep in our tent and the camp has quieted down, I stand outside staring at the excavation site. Calvin’s tent is lit from within, his silhouette visible against the canvas as he works at his laptop. He hasn’t spoken to me since our confrontation this afternoon.
I should probably apologize for snapping at him. Again. But I’m not sorry for my decision. I’d make the same choice a hundred times over. Ella is my daughter. My priority. And if Calvin can’t understand that, then working with him is going to be even harder than I thought.
But I didn’t come this far to give up now. Henry would have told me to trust my instincts. To do the work with integrity and passion. To remember why I became an archaeologist in the first place. So, that’s what I’ll do.
I’ll set up a play area under the work tent’s awning. I’ll keep Ella engaged with activities. I’ll do the most focused-oriented work during her naps, early in the mornings, late at night if necessary. I’ll prove that I can be both a devoted mother and a brilliant archaeologist.
I have to. Because the alternative… leaving, giving up, going home… it’s unthinkable.
This site holds answers. About Henry’s theories. About ancient civilizations. About love and devotion that lasted thousands of years. And I’m going to uncover those answers. I won’t be the first woman in all of history to get a job done with a child on my hip.
CHAPTER 10
CALVIN
It’s been three days since Lois left, and I keep waiting for the situation to implode.
It hasn’t. Not yet, anyway.
I watch from the shade of the dining tent as Georgia works at the excavation site, Ella’s playpen set up under a large canopy close by. The toddler has a collection of toys—blocks, stuffed animals, some kind of activity board that makes annoying musical sounds—and she’s surprisingly content to play by herself.
For now. I’ve seen firsthand how quickly things can go downhill with her.
Georgia moves between the excavation grid and the playpen with a rhythm she’s developed over the past few days. Work for twenty minutes, check on Ella. Brush away sand from a promising area, offer Ella a snack. Photograph findings, check Ella’s diaper and take her for a potty break. It’s a constant dance, and somehow, she’s managing it.
Not well enough, though. Not by my standards.
“Mr. Aarons?” Khalid appears beside me. “The supply truck will arrive on Wednesday. Do you want to review the inventory list?”
“Later,” I say, not taking my eyes off the work site. “I want to observe the excavation process first.”
Khalid follows my gaze and, wisely, says nothing. He’s learned over the past few days that I’m in a perpetually foul mood.
I walk toward the site, where Omar and Yasmin are working under Georgia’s direction. She’s crouched over a section of grid, carefully brushing away sand with movements so precise they’re almost meditative.
“Anything?” I ask, approaching.
Georgia doesn’t look up. “More pottery fragments. Consistent with the time period we expected. And there are more stone features emerging here.” She gestures to a section where carved blocks are barely visible beneath the sand.
“So, we have fragments and ‘features.’ Nothing definitive.”
“Calvin, it’s been three days. This is normal.”
Apparently, she’s decided she no longer needs to refer to me in a professional manner. And why should she? She knows I need her and consequently knows she can do close to whatever she wants.
“Normal isn’t good enough. We need to establish proof of concept. Confirm that there’s actually a temple here, not just random ruins.”
Now she does look up, and I can see the irritation in her eyes even through her sunglasses. “Thisisproof. The pottery, thecarved stone, the arrangement. It’s all consistent with a temple complex.”
“Consistent withisn’t the same asproof of.”
