Chapter Thirty-Six
Sadie
I know it’s mean, and I wouldn’t wish it on her, truly, but the days Riley is away from the dig are bliss. I do miss Simon and Jeremy and their joking around. But having a few days without having to watch out for those little verbal darts is nice.
Since there are only three of us it’s pretty quiet. Ethan decides to work beside Bart and me in our section, which is both great and terrible. Terrible because from the corner of my eye, I can see every flex of his thigh muscles, every drip of sweat running down his tanned neck, every brush of his gloved fingers against the sand. All of which threaten to overheat me in a way the sun doesn’t quite manage.
Great because while he’s working with us, he spends the morning explaining some of the techniques he likes to use when digging, and talks about finds he’s made on previous digs. I think I’ve found my kink. Competence. Ethan could write the book on competency porn. Which just makes my head even more jumbled. Heart, head, body. They’re all getting in on the act now. Damn them.
I wish every word out of his mouth didn’t make me admire him even more. If only he was a PhD student himself and not a professor, maybe things could be different. Or if he wasn’t still grieving the death of his wife. Or if I didn’t have bone-deep trust issues. So many reasons to keep my distance. And yet, almost as many not to. I just have to try and keep my mother—as unpleasant as that is—front and centre in my mind.
The evenings are quiet since nobody is eating and they’re all in bed by the time the sun sets. It’s good to get in a few early nights, although lying in bed listening to the sound of vomiting coming from the tiny bathrooms we all share, or over the side of the boat, is not at all restful.
On Thursday morning, everyone except Riley, who is no longer vomiting but is still ‘too weakened to work’, is back at the dig. Pale and quiet, but back. So it looks like the planned trip to Asyut might happen.
I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about the consistency and colour of the soil I’m digging, or maybe it’s the hollow-ish sound it makes as I gently work my trowel into it. Either way, the hair on the back of my neck stands up, and there’s a low-level buzzing in my ears. Like the air pressure has changed. The ever-present chatter of the local workers fades to white noise. I shake my head. I can hear someone calling, as though from very far away, although I don’t recognise the language.
Instinctively, I swap from the trowel I’ve been using to a brush.
I sit back on my heels and take in what I think I might be seeing. The buzzing gets louder and there’s an echoing, not unlike the sensation I experienced at the Pyramids. It’s as though all the breaths, all the thoughts, all the dreams from this place are speaking to me across the years. And that voice is calling me on.
I remember what Freyja’s friend Diana said to me in Bangalay. About how I’ll know when I’ve found it. Because I’ll hear it calling to me. It didn’t make sense then. Maybe it does now. Which is ridiculous. It can’t be. Yet it is.
“Bart,” I whisper as though speaking too loud will somehow cause the illusion to disappear. “Bart,” I say again.
He turns, eyebrows up and something about my face must alert him. Because I don’t say another word, but he’s up and racing across the dig site towards where Ethan is conferring over the site map with Tarek.
Ethan’s head comes up, and he’s moving before Bart even reaches him. It’s like some magic has been unlocked and everyone’s aware something big is happening without a word being exchanged. Maybe they can hear it too. But it seems to be calling just to me.
It can’t be more than thirty seconds before Ethan is kneeling beside me. My face is awash with tears. And I’m laughing too.
Because I’ve found something. It might not be a whole something because only a small portion is visible. In fact, it probably isn’t whole. But it’s something. And it’s stunning. And I found it.
Ethan is beaming from ear to ear.
Work on the site has stopped, and everyone is looking towards me, holding their collective breaths.
“What do I do?” I ask Ethan, terrified of doing the wrong thing. Terrified it’s not what I think. Terrified I’ll break it or mess it up somehow.
“You know what to do.” Ethan nods towards the terracotta rim sticking out of the sand.
“Shouldn’t you do it?” He’s the dig director, after all.
“This is your find, Sadie,” he says, clicking his fingers for Tarek, who is already heading our way with the high-resolution camera. “Bart, get your phone out and record every second of this.”
The other students have gathered at the boundary of my little dig area.
I swipe my arms across my face, smearing the tears with sand, and get back to work. First with the large brush, working around the likely edges of the pot if we assume it’s whole. Then switching to a smaller brush and working my way inwards. I look at Ethan with every move I make, and he acknowledges with no more than a nod and a smile. He’s leaving the decisions to me. It feels wonderful and terrifying.
Centimetre by centimetre, a jug or vessel of some kind starts to take shape. It’s a rich terracotta colour with delicate, pale blue decorations. The lines the Egyptians used to represent water, lotus flowers, garlands and geometric patterns. It’s a superb representation of Amarna blue pottery, and the more I expose, without a visible crack or break, the more I start to hope, to imagine, that maybe it’s whole.
Lunchtime comes and goes. I stop to gulp down some water and wipe away the sweat now pouring down my face. There’s patient silence around me, apart from Ethan, who occasionally murmurs words of encouragement.
“You’re doing well. Keep going. This is amazing work, Sadie.”
The sun is low in the sky, way past our normal quitting time, by the time the small, perfectly intact pot sits exposed. The bottom is rounded, sloping up to a narrowing neck before spreading to a rim the same diameter as the body. The proportions are perfect. The decorations are intricate, and there is nothing more than one tiny hairline crack at the rim.
Tarek has brought over one of the padded boxes we have on hand to store anything we might find, along with a fresh pair of cotton gloves. Body oils can damage such ancient artefacts.
Ethan hands me the gloves which I swap out for the digging gloves I’ve been wearing.
“Go on. Lift it into the box.”
A sob breaks loose, and I start to shake. I was the first person to lay eyes on this ancient piece of art in maybe four thousand years. And now I’m going to be the first person to touch it. Hold it. Be responsible for the world seeing another example of the extraordinary craftsmanship of these ancient people.
I sit back for a moment, willing the shaking to stop and my heart rate to slow. My watery gaze connects with Ethan’s, and what I see is pride and belief and confidence.
“You’ve got this, Amira,” he whispers, for the first time using the nickname the work crew have given me. “Deep breath.”
I’m not aware of anyone or anything but my hands, the pot, and Ethan silently supporting and trusting me.
I do as Ethan suggests, take a deep breath, and slide my gloved hands under the pot. There’s a moment of panic when the sand seems reluctant to give up its treasure. Then, with a slight wobble, the pot comes away. Ethan holds the open edge of the box beside it, and I slowly slide the pot onto the padded surface and into the box. In one piece. I secure the open side, place the box safely in the larger box Tarek is holding and collapse back against the sand, crying and laughing as a wild cheer goes up.
Ethan helps me to my feet, and in the seconds before we’re engulfed in a massive group hug, he pulls me to his chest and simply whispers in my ear, “Well done.” I couldn’t ask for higher praise.
I can’t believe I found such an exquisite artefact. Intact. This has been the greatest moment, the greatest day, of my life. And Ethan was right there beside me. Supporting me but never overshadowing. Encouraging me, but never taking over. No matter what happens between us in the future, no matter where either of us ends up, we’ll always be connected by this discovery.