“Yes, but I am going to fight them if it goes to court.”
He made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. “Let me think for a second.” There was another noise, like the tapping of a pen. Mackenzie had stopped laughing, so Lara pulled the swing to a stop.
“You done, sweetie?”
“Yep. Go a sandbox.”
After Lara lifted her down, the child zoomed over to the sandbox and began industriously burying her feet in the warm golden sand. Keeping an eye on her, Lara went and retrieved her glass of iced tea and sat down in one of the chairs scattered around the patio. She had been up since before dawn, and keeping up with a toddler was quite a workout on its own, without the responsibilities of caring for a farm. Thank God for Maria. Her Mexican-American housekeeper was a lifesaver, a grandmotherly person that Mackenzie adored, who managed to keep the house spotless and allowed Lara to care for the farm. And her food, when Lara allowed her to cook instead of doing the chore herself, was outstanding.
“Lara? What if it's just me?”
“Excuse me?”
The chair protested again, the sound of metal grinding, and Lara had to bite back a desire to gift the professor with a can of WD-40. Honestly, how could he stand that noise?
“Would you let me do a small excavation? Frankly, I am concerned with the area that is closest to the creek. I noticed some signs of soil erosion, and with all the rain we have been having, the site could become unstable. One flood and several feet could easily wash out, and the record would be destroyed. I could excavate only that area, lay down the grid, run tests, and if everything pans out the way I think it will, we could be ready to do a full scale dig next year. It would take maybe three to four weeks.”
“You would have to speak to Kenzie’s case worker and do the background checks.”
“That would not be a problem,” he said. “I am a tame, fluffy bunny type of guy. Not a spot on my record.”
Fluffy bunny. Ha. “I'll take your word for it. But where would you stay? The commute would be a long drive for you, and there are no hotels left in town.”
Lara could almost hear the gears turning in the professor’s head as he paused, obviously trying to decide what to say.
“Professor Gilbert, I know you have already thought of something. Out with it.”
He laughed. “You have me pegged. If you would allow it, I have a small trailer that I use for excavations that I could leave in the field, short term. Then I could conduct my research without disturbing you. And I would pay a site rental fee, naturally. ”
“You need to stop offering me money. I don’t need it.”
“OK then, I’ll let you buy me lunch to seal the deal.”
There was more than just amusement in his deep voice. He was flirting with her over the phone, and so subtly that at first she had not realized it. Just as she had not realized that her face was lit by a big smile. Talking with him made her happy. It was part amusement at his dry humor, and part of it was the zing she felt at the memory of his handsome face and toned body.
Lara stood up and walked to the end of the desk, looking northwest to where the mound waited.
“On the north side of the barn there is a 30 amp outlet and a concrete pad. There is no water hookup, but we could run a hose from the faucet in the barn.”
“That sounds perfect. Give me a couple weeks to prepare a research design and get things ready around here and I will be in touch.”
“That sounds fine.”
Lara knew that she should disconnect, but was reluctant to do so.
He seemed to share her reluctance, and the silence hung between them. It was not uncomfortable; rather it was like the happy silences that sometimes existed between friends who had grown up together, where words are not always necessary. She watched Mackenzie playing in her sandbox, building fragile castles while chatting with her collection of Barbies.
“Lara?”
“Hmm?”
“Are they going to take the little girl away?”
Lara sighed, wishing that she had a glass of wine. “I don't think so. The Randolph’s are decent people, even though Ned has had three DUI’s in the last 5 years, which is why they didn't place her with them in the first place. But Becky was their only child, and I know that they want custody. They have her every other weekend now.”
“I have a brother who works for a firm in Cleveland. I could ask if he knows someone that could help.”
“That is a really sweet thing for you to think of, but I got myself a pit bull lawyer when I saw the way the wind was blowing. If it comes to a legal fight, I stand a really good chance. My brother asked me to care for Mackenzie and she has been with me for the better part of a year. That counts for a lot.”
Mackenzie stood and began dusting the collected sand off of her tiny overalls. “Wanna go inside.”
“I better let you go then,” Thad said. “It’s been nice talking with you. I will call in a few days when the proposal is ready.”
Lara thought that it had been very nice talking to him as well. Had they met under different circumstances, she could have seen herself becoming very interested in all that the handsome professor had to offer.
Chapter 6
May was giving way to the warm humidity of June by the time that he returned to the farm, surveying equipment loaded into the back of his Jeep . The appointment with the caseworker had been scheduled for late morning, but he was eager to use the opportunity of a visit to get some of the other work out of the way.
He enjoyed making the trip by the changing light of dawn, watching as it slowly bathed the countryside in golden light. He’d taken the back roads, slowing down to pass tractors on their way to working the fields. Half million dollar tractors driven by farmers who made less than minimum wage. Before too long the archaeologists would be studying them as well, the tractors and tools of the small family farmer, on the verge of extinction. The thought saddened him. Dim memories of his grandparent's farm in Minnesota intruded on his thoughts; the sticky humidity of summer mornings and lakes, endless days spent finding mischief with three younger brothers. The mammoth trout he had pulled from a river. The first taste of a girl's lips, like honey in the sunshine.
Their farm was gone now, of course. He doubted he would even recognize the place, twenty years after it had been sold to pay a mountain of medical bills. It was one of the things that he respected about the Foster family. To keep a farm of that size together for 160 years was an amazing achievement, and took an appreciation of history, and legacy.
Even though he had not been back to the farm in the past weeks, he had already begun the background work on the site and the area. A call to the local historical association had yielded a storehouse of information, including the name of another archaeologist who had conducted a dig nearly fifty years before. That site had been dated to the Woodland period, and a call to the museum in Cleveland had gotten him a copy of the research and results.
There had also been several trips to the county seat in search of old surveys and maps, and the clerk had given him the name of an aged librarian who dabbled in the Native American history of the area. He had treated the man to dinner and a beer, and was rewarded days later by the delivery of a large box, loaded with his accumulated research. One of the more interesting items was a newspaper clipping from the Kennedy Era, when an enterprising young reporter had done a series on the histories of the mounds in the area. The Foster Mound was mentioned in the article, and Thad was stunned to see the picture of a young man, obviously Lara’s father, holding up a spear point. Except for the black hair, William Foster looked very much like his daughter, with piercing dark eyes and an angular bone structure.
The turn to the farm was approaching. As always, he scanned the land for any of the other signs that would signal another settlement, another place to dig. The land rippled here, like choppy waves on a lake. The only rise of any size that he could see was in Lara’s pasture.
Rainstorms had pounded the a
rea for the last week, resulting in muddy fields and swollen streams. Around the larger collections of water that soaked through the grass he could hear the thrumming roar of frogs.
Thad climbed out of the Jeep and took his survey equipment to the back field. After a comfortable few hours of work, laying down the grid coordinates and simply walking through the land, getting a feel for it, he returned and walked up the driveway.
There were two new vehicles in the driveway next to Lara's truck. One was an older Lincoln, meticulously clean. The other, a battered Toyota, waited in the spot next to his jeep, its rusty frame held together by bumper stickers and prayers. As he passed by, he peeked inside the vehicle and the reek of cigarettes made his nose crinkle. Files were stacked on the passenger sheet next to fast food containers, which had spilled over to the floor. Energy drink cans and discarded paper coffee cups were scattered everywhere. Ten to one, this was the social worker's car.
He walked up the path, and his knock on the glass was immediately answered by a harried-looking Lara, who had lines of stress etched into her face.
“Come on in, Dr. Gilbert,” she said, her voice carefully polite.
Dr. Gilbert, eh? “Not at all, Ms. Foster,” he said, and followed her inside. He was pleased that he had thought to dress for the interview. Although he wore jeans, they were dark, and his button-down shirt had been starched so heavily that it maintained its perfect creases despite the hours of work and the humidity, a trick he had picked up in the Marine Corp.
Lara led him through the back porch into the kitchen. The room was a surprise; almost luxurious, it boasted all the amenities of a gourmet kitchen while still retaining its classic farmhouse feel. Wide expanses of variegated granite counter-tops flowed into distressed oak cabinets, and there were dozens of antiques forming a display at the top. It was a cheerful, eclectic room with walls the bright color of an egg yolk and red and white checked draperies.
Lara paused in the doorway, giving Thad the opportunity to observe the caseworker, who was ensconced at the table with Mackenzie, their heads bent together as they looked at a photo album with a worn leather cover.
"Who is this?"
"Daddy."
"Do you and Aunt Lara ever talk about Daddy?"
"Um hum. He in heaven, with Mama. Larry says he not come back but I don't believe her. Daddy come back. He always come back."
Masses off graying ginger hair shifted as the caseworker jotted down a note in a legal pad.
Lara stepped forward, her fingers twisting about one another as she made the introductions.
"Helen, this is Dr. Thaddeus Gilbert, the archeologist I told you about."
After a quick handshake and an exchange of pleasantries, Thad sat down, and found himself the object of an intense gray stare. Years spent as a social worker had left their mark on the woman's face; she looked tired and cynical, with frown lines etched deeply around her eyes.
A white pen with a black cap tapped against the table. "Now where have I seen you before?" She mused, and then her face brightened. "That program on Vikings in America!"
He nodded.
"Cool. You are like Indiana Jones, only without the fedora."
"I only bring that out for special occasions."
The caseworker laughed, then bent her head and began leafing through the large stack of papers. “Another smartass. I like you already. Now, I am sure that Lara has told you, we will need some information from you if you are going to be staying at this residence for the summer. Are you willing to do this?”
“Of course.”
“You will need to have a background check and be fingerprinted...”
Reaching into his satchel, he produced a folder that contained a receipt for his up-to-date background checks as well as letters of personal recommendation from the chair of his department and from the youth group where he volunteered at during the school year.
Helen took them without a word, leafing through the stack in the practiced manner of one who lives surrounded by paperwork. She withdrew one of the letters and skimmed through it. The frown that had played around the edges of her lips, thin and lined from years of smoking, deepened.
“It says that you have been involved with the mentoring program for over 8 years. Can you tell me why? You would have been in your mid- twenties. What made you want to volunteer to help troubled young men?” Though her words were direct, the grey eyes were very kind, lacking any hint of suspicion, which was refreshing. Most people looked at him funny if he mentioned the amount of time he spent at the youth center located in the poorest section of town. Even his ex-wife had found his activities odd, and had once asked if he got off being around young boys. That had been near the end of their marriage.
“My parents were killed in a car crash when I was 17 years old,” he said, taking care that his voice stayed even. “I was not even out of High School yet. I have three younger brothers, and no family members willing to take us on. That organization reached out to me. Mike Blackwell,” he pointed to another letter in the stack, “became like a second father, keeping my family together. Because of them I have tenure in a respected university. I have two brothers in the military and one that was just accepted into the biggest firm in Cleveland. How could I not give back, after all they have given me?”
Though he sought to keep a measured tone, some of his emotions leaked through, coloring his words. The time between the accident and his entrance into the Marine Corp had been extremely stressful, and even now the mention of it raised his blood pressure. With no close family, there had been talk of placing his younger brothers into foster care. But Mike, who had been a teacher at the same high school as his father, had opened his home to the mess and chaos of four teenage boys with a generosity of spirit that still left Thad amazed.
"That's wonderful. If there were more people like him, my job would be a lot easier."
"I wish there were more people like him, too."
After a few more questions, the case worker seemed satisfied.
"As long as your background checks come back clear, I have no problem with you staying on site to conduct your dig. Hell, it might do some good. It would be nice if there was something on the news besides the number of deaths from heroin overdoses."
Helen stopped speaking abruptly, and flashed an apologetic look in Lara's direction.
"Don't worry about it," Lara said, looking past his shoulder to the next room, where Mackenzie had ventured when the adult conversation had ceased to hold any further interest. The toddler was humming to herself while connecting wooden pieces of train track on the floor.
Lara stood, and excused herself from the room. Through the walls, Thad heard her speaking to the housekeeper, asking her to take Mackenzie into town to pick up something for supper.
"Pizza!" Mackenzie squealed, running for the door.
Lara returned and put a tea kettle on the stove. "Lots of new children taken into custody lately?"
Helen nodded her face full of sadness and anger. "So many. Three new cases in the last week alone, one of them a little baby born addicted." There was grief in her eyes, but she collected herself and glanced down at her phone. "I have to go soon, but I have one thing that I need to speak with you about."
"Shoot."
"Do you and Dr. Gilbert have any relationship besides what you have described?" The gray eyes looked from Lara to Thad then back again, her gaze measuring.
"You mean are we dating or sleeping together?" Thad asked.
She nodded.
Thad looked at Lara and smiled. "No, although Lara is unquestionably lovely. We’ve only met a handful of times. I am here because of an artifact which she brought to my attention that might have historical significance for the state of Ohio, not because of any other reason. Although from what I have seen, Lara is a wonderful person, and devoted to that little girl."
Helen nodded, looking satisfied. "That is probably for the best. I don’t think we should be the sex police, but I have spoken with some of my co
lleagues and not everyone is thrilled with this situation. Mackenzie has lost both of her parents and she is looking to fill those gaps. She could see Dr. Gilbert as a potential father-figure only to experience another loss when he leaves. That would not be fair to her."
"No, it wouldn't. That’s why I haven’t dated in almost a year."
"Now don't look so glum. You are doing a wonderful job, Lara. I wish your daddy could be here to see you, he would be so proud."
Lara seemed uncomfortable with the praise. "I am not doing anything special."
"For that little girl it is. Just keep your chin up, sweetie. This will all be over soon."
"Nice lady," Thad observed as they listened to the wheezing rattle of her car recede into the distance.
"Yes, she is. It was a lucky break when she was assigned to be our caseworker. Some of the other people in that department..." Lara shook her head. “Do you want something else to drink?” Lunch time had passed, but anxiety killed any trace of an appetite.
“I’d take a beer, if you have one.”
She opened the stainless fridge and pulled out summer ale. She handed it to him with a longing glance.
He twisted off the cap, inhaling the fragrance of citrus and hops. He took a sip, and then offered the bottle to her. A ray of light caught the crystal angel suspended on the window ledge, sending rainbows dancing through the kitchen. One of them played in the warm length of her hair. “Not even a sip?”
“I'd love one, but not until Kenzie is in bed,” she declined. “And I could give you all sorts of germs. Who knows where I have been?”
“Apparently nowhere in the last year. And here I thought I was experiencing a dry spell since my divorce.”
Lara choked on the tea and snickered. “What, no sexy co-eds catch your eye?” She teased.
He groaned. “God, you have no idea how often I get offered sex in return for better grade. Everything from girls fresh out of high school who look 16 to guys who offer to show me things no girl could ever dream of. Some of them are not even in my classes. It’s ridiculous.”
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