“I think there’s a bigger story behind the effigy,” she said.
Snead rolled his eyes. “Now you sound like Dr. Peet.”
Lori took that as a compliment. Dr. Peet was more than just her professor. He was a mentor. It only seemed fitting to hear his words echoing through her studies.
Find the story behind the find.
Every artifact had a story, whether it be its very creation, its uses in the past, or its final deposit into the present. Stories could be exhumed through scientific theory and discovery. An object’s history invariably contrasted with its significance in modern time, and Lori, like Dr. Peet, believed archaeology brought equilibrium to its multi-generational existence.
Ironically, Dr. Snead, dean of the anthropology department, seemed less inclined to accept such a tedious and time-consuming quest.
“Why can’t we let artifacts simply be the beautiful specimens that they are?” he asked. His fingers impatiently tapped on the desk. “Which brings me to the purpose of our little meeting.”
He rose to his feet and as he paced to the window overlooking the manicured campus lawns, Lori sensed a resolute shift in his composure.
“What concerns me, Miss Dewson, is the future story of the effigy. What will become of it now that the research is all but finished? We can’t very well leave it in a box hidden away in some moldy old closet. That effigy is priceless. It was meant to be admired by the public.”
Snead turned from the window. Though not a very tall man, his abrupt posture leant him a looming presence. Lori held her breath.
“I’d like to recommend a donation to the museum.”
Lori shifted uncomfortably in her chair. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen this conversation coming. She just hadn’t expected the proposal so soon.
“Your family will be recognized for the donation of course,” he continued, “but more importantly, the effigy will be secure where the public can enjoy it. What more honorable fate can come to such a priceless piece of history?”
Lori hesitated. She had to agree that displaying the effigy in a museum would be better than locking it away in storage, but only after one condition was met.
“What about the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act? Shouldn’t we first ensure there are no existing heirs before we retire the effigy to the museum?”
Snead frowned. His expanding forehead deepened into heavy furrows as he paced back to his chair. “And who would those heirs be? There are no conclusive lineal descendants of the Anasazi.”
“Then we look at people culturally affiliated with the effigy,” Lori said.
“In that case you could be looking for some bygone tribe from Mexico,” he argued. He was lapsing into that mousy voice of his—the nervous tick that surfaced whenever he got excited. “Even if such people exist, NAGPRA doesn’t extend outside the United States.”
“There’s still a chance there are descendants out there who should have the right to inherit the effigy,” Lori insisted. “That’s why we need to keep studying it.”
Snead leaned back in his chair, the tip of his index finger stroking his chin. He stared at her as though calculating a strategic move against an adversary, and it made Lori uncomfortable.
“Study the effigy if you must,” he finally said with a flick of his fingers. “That is, if you can get your hands on a lab key. There won’t be any more loans until summer classes begin, but I’m afraid you’ll be out on your field study by then.”
Lori sank back in her chair. “But I was hoping—”
“Let me guess. Because you found the effigy and technically maintain ownership you were hoping that you’d have free access to it?”
Lori shrugged. That was exactly what she was hoping for, although her access to the effigy thus far had been extremely limited, despite finder-keeper details.
“I’m afraid, Miss Dewson, that when you entrusted the artifact to the university, you granted us a great responsibility in ensuring its security. Therefore, no student can simply have free access to it, and that includes you. If you need to study an artifact, you must comply with the university’s guidelines, and that includes the rental of lab keys.”
Lori crossed her arms defiantly. “If I have to wait for the new semester, then I’ll wait.”
“But what good is a lab key when the effigy’s contained in the museum’s storage?”
Her temper flared. “So you’ve already donated the effigy for me,” she snapped.
Snead tried to diffuse the strained moment with an edgy grin. “No, of course not. But surely you didn’t expect me to store a highly valuable artifact in common storage at the lab. The museum is the most secure location to hold such items.”
Lori bit back her frustration. She’d waited months for her chance to contribute to the effigy’s research but it seemed she’d have to wait even longer due to a stubborn technicality.
“Is there no other way I can look at it before the field study? I only need a few hours. A day tops.”
Snead leaned forward, his elbows perched upon the gleaming desktop. There was a thin smile partially concealed behind his folded hands.
“I tell you what,” he said. “I’ll make you a deal. You donate that effigy to the museum, and I’ll grant you all the access you need.”
Library
The benefit of summertime study in the campus library was the lulling void that encouraged research. The distractions of students coming and going were gone. The computer stations were empty. The book aisles silent. Of all the buildings on campus, thankfully the library didn’t shut down for the summer.
Lori might have appreciated the silence a little more had she not been preoccupied with the idea of donating the effigy. As she approached the idle circulation desk with a stack of books cradled in her arms she knew she was far from reaching a decision. She hadn’t actually expected to give the artifact to anyone until all possible research had been satisfied. Snead considered it done, but then again, he was a short-sighted and impatient man.
By the time she reached the checkout counter she was so consumed by her dilemma that she didn’t notice anyone behind her until a hand lighted on her shoulder.
“How about a private study session? My apartment. Tonight.”
Lori felt the hot breath tingling her ear. A sporty aftershave overwhelmingly hung in the air. She knew that voice, she knew that smell, and she’d played this game before.
“I’m flattered,” she said in a teasing tone of her own. “But I’m afraid my boyfriend’s the jealous type.”
She turned around and sure enough, there stood Derek Riesling, smiling with that slanted, cocky grin of his.
“Is that your latest pickup line?” she asked.
Derek shrugged. “It seems to fit the situation.”
That was Derek’s way. Up front. To the point. No beating around the bush. Lori assumed that was how journalists worked, for he seemed to have already mastered the profession.
“If that doesn’t float your boat, then why don’t we go out and celebrate our first date?”
Lori laughed and turned back to the counter. With Derek it was always their “first date.” Sure, they’d had several outings together in the six years they’d known each other, but that was all they really amounted to—outings.
“I’ll have to take a rain check,” she said, hefting her books onto the counter. “I managed to get some lab time this afternoon. This might be my last opportunity until fall classes start and I have a lot of work to do.”
“There’s always work to do. That’s been your excuse since ANTHRO 1010.”
Lori laughed again. It seemed like ages since the two of them sat together in those introductory anthropology classes. At the time Derek was working on a Bachelor’s degree in archaeology but his aspirations didn’t include becoming an archaeologist. That line of work was too slow-paced for him. Instead, he had plans of getting a second degree in journalism, determined to become a traveling freelancer for archaeological publicati
ons.
After those first four years of their collegiate careers, Derek moved on to his journalism courses while Lori continued her post-graduate work. They became two students from opposite ends of campus, but that didn’t stop him from bumping into her from time to time, mostly to ask how her studies were going and if the department had acquired any new artifacts. He was always looking for his next contribution to the school’s paper and if possible, a date.
Derek leaned in against the counter, angling his solid chest toward her. “Give yourself a break,” he said. “Classes just got out for crying out loud.”
Lori sighed. As inviting as a relaxing summer vacation sounded, she knew she couldn’t afford to lose time with her ceramic studies.
“I can’t,” she said. “I still have my dissertation to work on before the field study starts.”
“Don’t tell me you’re headed out with Quickie Peet again.”
The student aid behind the circulation desk bubbled to life as she slapped the last book shut. “You’re going in the field with Professor Peet?” she asked. “He’s so hot!”
Lori sighed inwardly. Was she the only person there who’d outgrown spontaneous bouts of sophomoric hormones? Unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time she’d suffered through infatuated chitchat focused on Dr. Peet. His good looks were known across campus. For a man approaching forty, he still had a youthful attractiveness—and he was single.
“Are you going back to dig up that skeleton?” the girl asked. “You know. The one buried with that Mexican idol.”
Lori collected her books. “Not this year.”
In a perfect world, the summer’s field study would be back on the ranch, finishing the excavation of the Anasazi grave. Then again, in a perfect world, the grave would’ve been completely excavated last summer.
Unfortunately, the world was far from perfect. By the time Dr. Peet received last year’s permit, they barely had time to retrieve the effigy before fall classes began. So, having securely backfilled the dig site, they’d made plans to complete the excavation this summer.
At least, that was the plan.
As it turned out, archaeologists weren’t the only people interested in the effigy. As soon as their discovery went public, complications arose. First, two small New Mexican tribes, whose ties to the Anasazi were questionable at best, stepped forward to claim ownership of the effigy, tying the research down in NAGPRA legislation.
Then came the protesters.
Not everyone was excited about the excavation of the effigy. To Lori’s surprise, an unfavorable public opinion arose, labeling her extraordinary find as grave-robbing archaeology. It was hard not to take the accusations personally. It wasn’t as though she planned to keep the effigy for herself. Her intentions were just the opposite. The effigy was a find like no other, perhaps representing a missing or misunderstood chapter in the history of southwestern peoples. How much more enriched would a culture be when a long-forgotten secret was returned to them?
Obviously there were those who didn’t see it that way. The publicity was placing the university, and archaeology in general, into a negative light, making Snead inconsolably nervous. He canceled the department’s plans to finish excavating the grave and that meant postponing Dr. Peet’s proposed field study on the ranch. With that brash decision Snead managed to prolong everyone’s desire, protestors and researchers alike, to reunite the effigy with its rightful descendants.
“Dr. Peet decided to take the field study back to ChacoCanyon this year,” Lori explained.
The librarian clicked her tongue and smiled encouragingly. “Well, I still think you’re lucky to be on Peet’s team,” she said. “I’d follow that fine ass anywhere.”
Lori forced a smile and carried her books to an empty table at the far end of the room. Although she may have escaped the enamored librarian, she had yet to elude Derek, who was mumbling something about the girl ignoring his own posterior.
“I don’t believe you,” he said, snapping back to Lori. “Use your celebrity, girl.”
Lori snorted as she placed her books on the table and slung her bag to the floor. “What celebrity?”
“Why didn’t you tell her that you found ‘that Mexican idol?’”
She plopped herself into a chair, giving Derek a knowing glance. With him, there were often alternate motives. “Don’t tell me you’re on your first assignment to get the latest info on the effigy. Or are you out of dates on a Wednesday night?”
Setting Dr. Peet’s looks aside, Derek had his own attractive qualities that came with his athletic solid build. He wasn’t bulky like a football player, but lean and hard as a middle-weight wrestler. He even carried the arrogant posture of a high school jock, the type that wouldn’t normally give Lori the time of day. Derek found his share of dates all right, but on the occasion when there was no one else to turn to he came looking for her.
“Actually,” he said, flipping a chair around and straddling it across the table from her. “I came to congratulate you on this.”
He reached behind him and pulled out a folded issue of Modern Archaeology from his back pocket. He slapped it on the table so that the dramatic picture of the effigy snarled at them from the glossy cover.
“Your first public recognition as an archaeologist, Lori. Out on newsstands last week. There’s a picture of you on page twenty-three.”
Before Lori could turn the cover he took the liberty himself and flipped straight to the article. The leading picture was another shot of the effigy, and in the bottom corner of the next page there was a picture of Dr. Peet standing at the podium before a lecture hall crowded with reporters, archaeologists and students. The professor didn’t look comfortable there with his hands braced against the podium, but then, he never looked as comfortable in a classroom as he did in the field.
Dr. Peet was lean and upright in his faded denim shirt with the sleeves rolled just past his wrists. The angle of the picture revealed his distinctive jaw line while the camera lens captured eyes sharply weathered by the sun. No doubt about it, Dr. Peet was a handsome man.
“See?” Derek said. “What’d I tell you? Your mug’s in every major archaeological publication in the country. How does it feel to be a world-famous archaeologist?”
Lori glanced at the picture again and thought she might have blushed had Derek’s praise hit a truer mark. Just as he said, she was there, sitting next to the elder Dr. Friedman near the edge of Dr. Peet’s picture.
“That’s not much of a recognition,” she said, finding the whole thing silly. “Besides, I’m not an archaeologist yet. And I’m not famous.”
Derek pushed her stack of books aside. “You are an archaeologist and you will be famous. You’re going to be on the covers of National Geographic and Modern Archaeology, and I’ll be the one to put you there! The whole world’s going to know who Lori Dewson is!”
“Don’t you think you’re exaggerating just a bit?”
“Not at all.”
Lori felt herself caught by Derek’s relentless eyes. She had to admit he could be convincing when he wanted to be. If she wasn’t careful, she might give in to all his talk of celebrity and fame.
“I’m not into archaeology for publicity,” she said. “I just want to find the Anasazi.”
Derek remained silent a moment. She became acutely aware of him studying her. His grin faded as he leaned forward, his elbows lighting on the table.
“You know, for an archaeologist who just made headlines, you don’t seem very excited.”
Lori reached for her material, feeling like an open book herself. She didn’t like the fact that people tended to read so much without her ever saying a word. It made her feel exposed, like there were no secrets she could hide.
“Oh, it’s just this dissertation,” she said in a moment of cornered frustration. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get my Ph.D. at the rate I’m going.”
“Maybe it’s not you,” Derek said. “Maybe your work’s being sabotaged.”
Lo
ri brushed the idea aside with a dismissive grin. “Who would do a thing like that?”
Derek merely grinned while his finger tapped the magazine.
She frowned. “Dr. Peet?”
“Maybe he wants to take all the credit for finding the effigy.”
Lori straightened in her chair, shaking her head. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Read the article,” Derek insisted. “Peet seems to be getting all the credit for that effigy while your name was reduced to—how’d they put it…” He spun the magazine around and quickly scanned the article. “Here it is: ‘a student who assisted with the recovery.’”
Lori rolled her eyes. She couldn’t care less about who was given credit for finding the effigy. She’d been there at the dig and she was there among the conference panel with Dr. Peet and Dr. Friedman. That was enough for now.
“You of all people should know they were just looking for someone with credentials to put in that article,” she argued.
There were benefits to media attention, but as Lori quickly learned, there were also downsides. The magazines may have given Dr. Peet credit for finding the effigy, but it was therefore Dr. Peet who the protestors targeted as the grave-robbing archaeologist.
“Besides,” she continued, “Dr. Peet doesn’t sabotage his students’ work. He likes to see us succeed.”
Derek snorted. “That’s not the only way he wants to see his students. Remember Quickie Peet?”
Lori remembered and the very suggestion shocked her. Dr. Peet’s turn as the featured professor in the Faculty Roast column of the school’s newspaper had sparked fraternizing rumors across campus. The article was intended to be a lighthearted jab at the faculty’s contribution to campus life, but the writers took freedoms with Dr. Peet’s name and found the subject of archaeology a wealth of material from which to draw their humor. One line even dared to suggest that Dr. Peet, when unable to attract the attentions of his students, resorted to bouts of necrophilia with the museum’s mummies.
“There’s nothing to those rumors,” Lori said. “I’ve taken a lot of classes from Dr. Peet and I never noticed him flirting with the girls.”
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