Buried Secrets

by Kristi Belcamino

  Maybe she should see if women could wear them.

  By ten, Dallas had mapped out and staked off the area she thought most promising for them to dig. It was still a rather large area. She needed to narrow it down even more.

  “It looks like they did some excavation here before,” Abet said, pointing to a spot about three feet away.

  “Yes. But this one seems to line up with where the Isis constellation would have been at the time of Cleopatra’s death,” she said. “In ancient Greece, Isis was part of Sirius and part of the Egyptian holy trinity of Isis, Osiris and their son Horus.”

  He nodded.

  The foreman, a man with broad shoulders and a hooked nose named Eban, handed her the small pick axe. “You make the first shovel.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  Before she struck the ground, Dallas looked up at the sky squinting and withdrew the ankh on its leather strap from under her blouse. Holding it between her fingers she closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure she believed in God. But she said a prayer to whatever or whoever might be there to help her find the tomb. Just in case.

  Without a word, she leaned over and scooped up the first shovel full of dirt.

  The crew whooped around her and then started digging on their own.

  Dallas couldn’t decide which spot to stay at so she took turns between the two groups. The heat was stifling. Sweat dripped off her brow in a never-ending stream. The digging was slow going.

  Unearthing artifacts was a marathon, not a sprint.

  Everything had to be done excruciatingly slow and methodical. Well, excruciatingly slow to Dallas. The men seemed used to it and did not appear to be in a hurry.

  * * *

  Shortly after lunch, Dallas heard shouting over at the dig site near the pile of rubble. A group of men surrounded another man in a gray turban who was red-faced and cowering. The other men were pointing at him and yelling. Eban grabbed the man by the arm and jerked him onto the ground.

  Dallas shot Colton an alarmed look and without a word they both ran over.

  Breaking through the circle, Dallas shouted, nearly out of breath. “Stop. Stop. What is going on?”

  Abet was at her side, huffing and puffing from his own run over.

  “Let me talk to them.”

  Dallas exhaled loudly and nodded, backing out of the circle. Colton took her arm. “What’s going on?”

  “Abet’s going to find out.”

  They stepped back from the circle. She couldn’t understand what they were saying since it was in Arabic. All Dallas knew was that all these men were angry. And that the man in the middle was Dallas he wasn’t being stoned. It seemed that tense.

  After a few minutes the circle parted and Eban and Abet emerged, each holding tight to the man in the gray turban’s forearms.

  When Dallas met the man’s eyes she saw sheer terror.

  It sent fear spiking through her. Her mouth was dry and when she swallowed it seemed like a lump was stuck in her throat. What the hell was going on.

  “Ms. Jones, this man was caught attempting to smuggle an artifact. Another man saw him put it in his pocket. Under Egyptian law, he faces a prison term with hard labor and a fine of up to $50,000 pounds.”

  Dallas, for once, was speechless.

  Eban handed her a small ceramic statue covered in dirt. He placed it in Dallas’s palm.

  She glanced down and her breath caught in her throat. It was a statue of a cat. It was about the size of a bottle of nail polish and was broken, missing its tail. Even broken it was a valuable and exciting find. The man closed his eyes and bowed his head.

  “What do you have to say for yourself,” Abet said, prodding the man.

  The man looked up and spoke to Dallas without taking his eyes off her.

  Abet translated. “He says he is very sorry. Please forgive him. His oldest daughter needs surgery. Otherwise she may die. He was going to sell anything he found here at the temple. He took this job so he could smuggle artifacts. He said he has no excuse. His intention all along was to be a thief. His daughter’s surgery will cost $8,000 pounds.”

  Dallas’s heart went out to the man. She held the man’s gaze as she spoke and Abet translated.

  “Tell him he will be driven back to town immediately by my driver. He is no longer employed at this dig site.”

  She paused. The man nodded and spoke.

  “He wants to know if you are taking him to the police station.”

  Dallas shook her head. “No.”

  The man dropped to his knees and grabbed at the cuffs of Dallas’s pants crying. Abet and Eban started to yank him back up, but Dallas held out her palm. They backed up.

  She crouched down and took the man’s arms and helped him back up. Not letting go of his forearms she continued to speak, her eyes locked on his.

  “Tell him to go to the front desk of the Happy Hotel tonight after eight. There will be an envelope waiting for him. It will contain enough money for him to pay his daughter’s medical bills. Tell him I wish her a speedy recovery.”

  The man had tears running down his face as Abet led him toward the parking lot.

  Dallas turned toward Eban. “Tell the other men he will be adequately punished for his transgression.”

  Eban hesitated. He was frowning. “Are you certain? I mean about your decision regarding Afrim?”

  She hadn’t even known that man’s name.

  “Yes,” she said. “I am one hundred percent sure.”

  Eban tried to hide his smile. “Okay.”

  He turned and walked back to the other men who were still speaking angrily and spitting on the ground. After a few minutes the men seemed to calm down and went back to work, looking for more treasures where Afrim had found the broken piece of a cat statue.

  She and Colton returned to the spot where they’d been digging.

  “How much is $8,000 pounds in U.S. dollars?” Colton asked.

  Dallas shrugged. “Dunno. About 500 or 600 bucks I guess. Why?”

  He smiled. “Let me get half.”

  She smiled back. “Thank you.”

  A few hours later, one of those same men whooped loudly and Colton and Dallas ran over again. This time the man held up a small piece of jewelry—a gold earring.

  The crew spent the rest of the day carefully excavating it, documenting it, following all the rules and regulations for digging in an ancient site.

  Excavations took place centimeter by centimeter in gridded trenches.

  The dig area was only 10 by 10 meters as specified under law. That way every inch could be documented. Eban was handling the documentation, carefully mapping out the area and showing where the cat was found and where the earring was found.

  At one point, another piece of jewelry was found. A small broach or pin shaped like a serpent. Dallas heard the traditional whoop and raced over.

  Abet pointed out the piece where it lay on a small piece of tarp.

  “Unbelievable.” Dallas couldn’t stop, smiling.

  “This is good, no?” Abet said.

  “It’s great,” Dallas said. But she also knew every small find delayed her finding the tomb. What she needed was a big find.

  She was running out of time.

  Excavation rules in Egypt required them to not only document for artifacts found, but they also had to record and note other clues to the environment and life at the time, such as animal bones and seeds that may indicate the diet of the people who lived and were buried at the site. She explained all this to Abet.

  “Aha.” Abet said. “So, you are saying that while this is good, two weeks may not be enough time.”

  He walked away before Dallas could answer. She hated hearing it out loud. Because he was right.

  But still, the find filled Dallas with hope. If they could show the piece of jewelry was from the same time period that Cleopatra lived, that meant that Dallas’s theory was still very viable, even more viable than before.

  However, Dallas would still need even
more proof if she was going to get the minister to approve the permit.

  Dusty and sweaty, after the sun set, she called it a night and she and Colton piled into the backseat of the Volvo. For once, Abet sat up front with the driver.

  Formalities had apparently been ditched in the lingering heat. The thought of the three of them squeezing in the back had been distasteful to more than just Dallas apparently. As much as she had liked her thigh pressed up against Colton’s the day before, today, all she wanted was to not be touched until she’d showered. The thought of contact on her hot, sticky skin made her skin crawl.

  But she kept her mouth shut. She was going to be the last one to complain on this dig. After all, it was a dream come true. That didn’t mean a shower wouldn’t feel heavenly, though.

  Both she and Colton were quiet on the drive back to the city. The two men up front kept a low chatter in their own language. Dallas recognized a word here and there—something to do with politics. She tuned it out.

  With plans to meet again bright and early the next morning, Colton and Dallas said goodbye to the men in front of the hotel. After a quick discussion with the hotel desk clerk to make arrangements for the money to be left for Afrim, they headed upstairs.

  Colton froze as they approached the door to their room.

  “Dallas? Hold on.” He reached an arm behind him with his palm open. Dallas froze. “Did you close the door all the way when we left?”

  “Yes, I’m pretty sure, why?”

  “It’s ajar.”

  Dallas was already at his side, frowning. “You gotta be kidding?”

  She took the toe of her boot and nudged the door, it swung open with a loud creak. They could see most of the room from the doorway. Everything seemed in order. That’s when Dallas saw a neat stack of fresh towels on the bottom bunk.

  “Room service?” she said.

  Colton nodded but headed straight for the bathroom. “Nothing in here.”

  Dallas shrugged. “We’ll have to tell them we don’t need room service. At least not every day.”

  She tried to remember if the room had been cleaned after her first night here. It hadn’t. Maybe it was an every other day thing here.

  “I call shower,” she said, scooping up some clean clothes out of her pack and plucking one of the towels off the bed.

  In the shower, Dallas’s stomach grumbled. After they ate dinner, she was going to hop on her laptop to study the pictures of the piece of jewelry found today and compare it to pieces worn by Cleopatra and the citizens of that era.

  After they’d both showered and changed, Dallas grabbed her cross-body bag and jutted her chin at the door. “Let’s go eat.”

  This time, their wanderings led them to a different restaurant on the waterfront.

  The table was in the corner away from the other diners.

  Soft Persian music filtered out of hidden speakers and the entire patio was strung with small white lights. The tables were dotted with candles casting everything in a warm, flattering glow.

  Dallas suddenly wished she’d brought something nicer than cargo pants and a tank top to wear to Egypt. Colton had shaved and his hair was still a little damp. It was brushed back and his white button-up shirt seemed dressy in the candlelight.

  “After dinner, I’m going to search online and find proof that the earring found today was from Cleopatra’s time,” Dallas said, her voice brimming with excitement.

  Colton smiled at her. “I have no doubt.”

  When the server came, Colton took charge. Dallas liked that. She was so used to being the bossy one her whole life. The decisive one. But he was still sweet and deferential asking her, “Would you mind if I ordered for us?”

  Colton told the server to bring her favorite dish. “We want what you like, if that’s okay?”

  The woman smiled and smoothed her black apron. “I know the perfect thing,” she said.

  “What’s this called again?” Colton said, taking the last bite of some Egyptian version of macaroni and cheese combined with lasagna.

  “Macaroni Béchamel,” the server said. Her brow creased. “Do you not like it?”

  “I love it,” he said.

  She smiled and finished filling up their wine glasses. “More wine?”

  “Sure!” Dallas said.

  At one point, Colton got quiet and stared at her.

  “What’s your greatest fear?” he asked.

  “I guess it’s a fear,” she said. “Or a phobia. Water.”

  “You do realize you now live in Minnesota, land of 10,000 lakes?”

  She nodded. “Yup.”

  “What do you think caused your phobia about water?” Colton asked.

  “I know exactly.”

  “Do you care to share?”

  She swallowed. She’d never told anyone the story before. What the hell? Colton was the best friend she ever had. She looked around. They were the only two people left on the patio.

  They’d killed one wine bottle and were partway through a second one. Dallas couldn’t remember the last time she’d had that much to drink.

  She took a deep breath.

  “First off,” she said. “I was always ‘big-boned’ as grandma Nelson used to say. So, when my mom insisted I pack my bathing suit for summer camp, it was the last thing on earth a 13-year-old girl wanted to do. I didn’t want anyone to see my baby fat—which is a nice way to say I was chubby. I packed it but I was going to do anything, make up any excuse to get out of the swimming we were supposed to do every day after lunch.”

  Dallas told Colton that driving to camp she imagined most of the other girls her age would be svelte blonde girls with shiny hair and perfect teeth and lean bodies. She was right.

  Every day after lunch the kids at camp had pool time. The goal was for them to be able to swim the length of the pool on the last day of camp. One by one the other kids did it. When it got close to Dallas’s turn, she was so nervous she was shaking. The kids were starting to laugh as she got into the shallow end and began to traverse the pool by propelling herself along in some awkward combination between dog paddling and frog swimming. It was slow going, but she made it to the other side, exhausted. That’s when she realized she had to go all the way back, too.

  At this point her arms and legs ached and her lungs burned. The kids were all laughing at the chubby girl who couldn’t swim.

  Giving it all she had, she took a deep breath and pushed off from the wall. But she sank straight to the bottom. As her feet touched the concrete floor ten feet underwater, she began to panic.

  She flailed her legs but nothing happened. Then she ran out of air. Although her legs and arms flailed, she made no ground. The edge of her vision began to close in around her. The next thing she knew, she was lying on the pool deck coughing up water. A cute, yet overzealous, camp counselor was pushing on her chest and then bent down to lock his lips on hers. He blew into her mouth hard and the air filled her stomach. More puke and water rocketed up out of her belly spewing into his face and open mouth. He leaned back and gagged as the kids—who now realized she wasn’t dead—began to laugh and jeer.

  Even though that had been the last day of summer camp, she was certain she would carry her new nickname with her forever. Hot Lips.

  When she was finished, she looked up at Colton.

  “I’m so sorry. I had no idea,” he said it in a quiet voice.

  “Nobody does. You’re the first person I’ve told.”

  He reached over and took her hand in his. “Thank you for trusting me with that story.”

  He hid a smile. She frowned and said, “I didn’t know it was a funny story.”

  “Oh, it’s not,” Colton said quickly. “I’m laughing at what I’m thinking.”

  “Do tell.”

  “I was just thinking about how jealous I am of that lifeguard.”

  Colton was staring at her intently, no longer smiling or laughing.

  Dallas smiled back and tossed her hair. She began an internal dialogue with
herself, scolding herself for her behavior and then defending it:

  Oh my God. Was she flirting? Yes, why yes, she was, in fact flirting. What of it?

  “I was just thinking … you are … well, there’s no other way to put it, really damn beautiful,” Colton said, his voice slurring slightly. “I mean I’m not talking about just how you look, even though, whew, I know I’m not the only guy who thinks this. I’m talking about you. Like who you are. What you are. Everything.”

  Dallas couldn’t hide her smile. He liked her. He really liked her. The kiss wasn’t some drunken, horny play for sex.

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” Dallas said. She was feeling no pain. Then he brought up a party they’d both attended the summer before. At one point, they’d been alone in a dark corner of the backyard. The sexual tension had been off the charts. But nothing had happened. Someone else had walked over and the moment had gone.

  “You know that night at the party? I really wanted to …”

  Before she could answer, the server came with the bill.

  After they paid, Colton looked at her with hooded eyes. He was quiet for a second and then said, “What now?”

  “We go back to our room.” Even saying ‘our’ sent a thrill through her.

  Colton reached across the table and took her hands in his.

  “Dallas?”

  Her heart thudded in her chest. “Yes?”

  “You know that I’m your direct supervisor, right?”

  She shrugged. “Sort of. Maybe. In a way. Depends how you look at it.”

  “No, I … I think I am.”

  Inwardly, she cringed. She hated the sound of that. And the meaning of it. She could see where this conversation was going.

  “That’s debatable.”

  “I like you a lot,” he said.

  She pulled her hands out of his grasp. “I like you a lot too, Colton. What’s your point?” Her voice was harsher than she’d intended. She could tell by the small grimace that flashed across his face.

  “As you know, I’m technically your boss.”

  “So?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  She blushed. She did. They were on the verge of more. So very close.

  “I’ll quit.” She winked and smiled to lighten the tension, but Colton didn’t bite. He shook his head.