“There,” Calvin says suddenly. He’s pointing toward the generator area, partially hidden behind my tent. He walks over and crouches down. “Hey there, Ella. Whatcha doing back here?”
I run over, my legs shaky with relief and residual terror.
Ella is sitting in the sand behind the generator, completely absorbed in examining a stick. She looks up when Calvin approaches, startled to be discovered, her eyes going wide.
“Cav-cav!” she says.
“Yeah, it’s me. You wandered off, little one. Your mama’s looking for you.”
He picks her up gently, and she immediately starts to whimper, sensing my panic before she even sees me.
The moment I reach them, I take her from Calvin’s arms and hold her so tightly she squeaks in protest. “Ella, baby, you scared Mama so much. You can’t wander off like that. You have to stay where I can see you. Always. Do you understand?”
She starts crying, responding to my frightened tone, and I’m crying too, my whole body shaking with the adrenaline dump. I’m so stupid. Why am I even telling her to stay close? She’s too young to understand. She’s my responsibility, and I shouldn’t have looked away for even thirty seconds.
“She’s fine,” Calvin says quietly.
“But she could have…” My voice breaks. “What if she’d gone further? What if she’d reached the equipment area, or the excavation site, or…”
“But she didn’t. She’s safe.”
“Because you found her!” The words come out harsher than I intend. “I’m her mother, and I lost her. I was supposed to be watching her, and I got distracted and?—”
“Georgia.” Calvin’s hand lands on my shoulder, warm and steady. “Stop. You didn’t lose her. She wandered when you were only a few yards away. It happens. Every parent I’ve ever met has a story about a kid who disappeared for a few minutes and gave them a heart attack.”
“You don’t understand?—”
“No, I probably don’t. But I do know you’re doing the best you can. And I’m sorry.”
I look up at him, surprised. “What?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t help sooner. That I made you feel like caring for her was an inconvenience. That I’ve been…” He pauses, searching for words. “An ass, basically. You’ve been managing a professional excavation while solo-parenting a toddler in the desert, and instead of helping, I’ve been criticizing. That was stupid. Really stupid.”
The apology is so unexpected, so genuine, that I don’t know what to say.
Ella has calmed down, sensing the adults are calm now. She’s sniffling against my shoulder, one hand clutching my shirt.
“You babyproofed the camp,” I finally manage. “And made her toys. And watched her. Youhavebeen helping.”
“I should have started helping the day we arrived.” He removes his hand from my shoulder, but the warmth lingers. “You asked me once if I wanted to replace you. The truth is, this project would fail without you. You’re brilliant, Georgia. No one in the world could replace you.”
My throat is tight. I’m still coming down from the fear, and now I have to process… this. Calvin being kind. Apologetic. Seeing me for the first time.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Everyone okay?” Dr. Akkhad calls from near the tent.
“We’re fine,” Calvin calls back. “False alarm. She was just exploring.”
The team disperses, relieved, returning to their after-dinner routines, but Calvin and I stand in the growing darkness, Ella between us.
“I should get her cleaned up and put to bed,” I say.
“Right. Of course.” He hesitates. “If you need anything… I’m around.”
“I know. Thank you. Really.”
He nods and walks away, and I carry Ella back to our tent.
