“How’s it going?”
“Good. We’ve been working on words. She said ‘walk’ very clearly.”
“Did she?” Georgia looks at Ella with such love it’s almost painful to witness. “That’s a new one. You’re a good teacher.”
“She’s a good student.” I stand, dusting sand off my pants. “And she seems to like the new toys.”
“The new…” Georgia notices the toys for the first time. “Calvin, did you make these?”
“They’re rough, but functional. The blocks help with motor skills and spatial reasoning. The pull toy encourages walking. The texture board is for sensory development.”
She picks up one of the blocks, running her thumb over the sanded edge. “These are perfect. Calvin, this is… this is really thoughtful.”
The compliment makes me uncomfortable in a way I don’t understand. “It was just something to do. I had time.”
“Still.” She sets the block down carefully. “Thank you. Really.”
Ella has started pulling on Georgia’s pants, wanting attention. “Mama! Walk!”
“Yes, baby, walking.” Georgia scoops her up. “Say thank you to Calvin.”
“Tank!” Ella says, waving at me.
I find myself waving back, a smile tugging at my lips. “You’re welcome.”
After they leave, I stand in the empty play area, surrounded by the crude toys I made, feeling… strange. Content, maybe. Useful in a way that has nothing to do with money or business acumen. I find myself wondering about Ella’s father. What kind of man walks away from this? From this smart child? From Georgia and the family they could have been?
Then I catch myself. It’s none of my business. Georgia’s past, her choices, Ella’s father. All of it is completely irrelevant to this project. And why would I care, anyway? I’m here to find a temple, not to get involved in my employee’s personal life.
But as I walk back to my tent to clean up before dinner, I can’t shake that image of Georgia’s face. The wistfulness. The sadness. And the uncomfortable realization that I want to understand it. Want to know what put that expression there. Want to, maybe, find a way to make it go away.
CHAPTER 14
GEORGIA
I’m exhausted as I trudge back from the excavation site, my clothes stiff with dried sweat and dust, my back aching from hours of crouching. But it’s a good exhaustion. The kind that comes from productive work.
We found more pottery today. More evidence that Henry was right. That this place was sacred, significant, exactly what he theorized.
I can’t wait to tell Ella about it someday, when she’s old enough to understand.Your mama helped prove something important. Your mama did work that mattered. And you were there, too.
I’m so lost in these thoughts that I almost don’t notice Calvin and Ella, sitting on the ground near our tent. Slowing my pace, I stay where I am. They haven’t noticed me; they’re so absorbed in what they’re doing. Calvin is crouched down at Ella’s level, a tin cup in his hand, showing her how to pack sand into it and turn it over to make a shape.
His voice carries in the evening quiet, soft and patient. “See? You press it down like this. Then flip it over. Ready? One, two, three, flip!” He demonstrates, and a small sand tower appears.
Ella claps her hands in delight. “Gain! Gain!” she demands.
“Again? Okay, but this timeyoutry.”
He hands her the cup, and she immediately dumps sand everywhere, laughing. Instead of getting frustrated, Calvin just chuckles—this man who’s been wound tight as a spring since we arrived—and helps her try again.
“That’s it. Pack it in. Good. Now flip—wait, wait, let me help.”
Together, they create another sand tower, and Ella’s shriek of joy makes my chest tight.
This is Calvin. The same man who couldn’t stand Ella’s crying on the plane. Who looked at her like she was an inconvenience to be tolerated. Who snapped at me just this week about babysitting duties. And now here he is, watching Ella for the second day in a row.
And no one asked him. No one coerced him into it.
