Chapter 5
GEORGIA
After unpacking the essentials and changing Ella into fresh clothes, I can’t resist the lure of the hotel courtyard I spotted from our window. The fountain I stopped Ella from touching in the lobby has an even more beautiful twin outside, this one surrounded by lush plants.
“Come on, baby girl. Let’s go exploring.”
I pick Ella up and head downstairs, leaving Lois to rest. The older woman looks exhausted after the flight, and I insisted she take a nap before dinner.
The courtyard is magical. Turquoise tiles line the fountain, and date palms shade the whole area. The evening call to prayer echoes from somewhere in the distance, haunting and beautiful.
“Wa-wa!” Ella points at the fountain with delight.
“Yes, water. Pretty water.” I set her down carefully, keeping a firm grip on her hand as we approach.
I’ve wanted to visit Jumayah my whole life, but work just never brought me here, and neither did downtime. But now I’m here. Leading an excavation in the very region Henry spent his last years obsessing over.
The weight of it settles over me, but I don’t feel suffocated by it. Instead, I feel uplifted by the importance of the project.
Ella pulls toward the fountain, and I let her get close enough to see the water dancing over the tiles but not close enough to climb in.
A few other hotel guests are scattered around the courtyard.
There’s a couple having tea, a businessman on his phone, a family with children who eye Ella curiously.
And there’s me. I’ve left my safe little cottage, my quiet life, my comfortable routine that I’ve been in for over a year. I’ve brought my daughter halfway around the world to camp in the desert and dig in the dirt.
What am I doing?
But then I look at the fountain, at the palm trees gently bending, and I know. I’m doing what I was meant to do. I’m following my passion. And what better lesson to teach my daughter?
“Mama, down!” Ella tugs at my hand, wanting to toddle around.
“Okay, but stay close,” I say, though I’m aware that likely means nothing to her. I might as well tell the sun not to rise before I try to keep a toddler in one place.
She makes a beeline for the plants, naturally, and I’m about to redirect her when I hear raised voices near the hotel entrance.
One of them is Calvin’s.
I scoop up Ella and head toward the commotion, curiosity getting the better of me.
Calvin is standing in front of a street vendor who’s set up a small cart just outside the hotel gates. The vendor is holding up various items and speaking rapidly in Arabic. Calvin is shaking his head, trying to respond, but it’s clear he doesn’t understand.
“No, I don’t… I’m looking for…” He pulls out his phone, trying to use a translation app, but the vendor is talking too fast. “Dammit.”
The vendor, an elderly man, switches to broken English. “You buy? Very good price. For wife?” He gestures at the scarves. “Beautiful, yes?”
“No, I’m not… I don’t need…” Calvin looks genuinely flustered, which is oddly endearing on someone usually so composed.
I can’t help myself. I step forward.
“As-salaam alaikum,” I greet the vendor.
His face lights up. “Wa alaikum as-salaam!” He launches into Arabic, relieved to have someone who speaks the language.
I turn to Calvin. “He’s asking if you’re looking for anything specific. He also wants to know if I’m your wife and if he should be offering scarves or something else.”
Calvin blinks. “You speak Arabic?”
“Fluently. It’s kind of necessary in my line of work. Though I’m pretty rusty.” I turn back to the vendor. “Ana bahith ‘an shi’ ma’ayyin?”
Calvin clears his throat. “Tell him… ask him if he knows anything about the old temple sites. The ruins outside the city.”
I translate, and the vendor’s expression becomes more serious. He launches into a long explanation, gesturing toward the desert with one hand.
“He says yes, he knows the area. His family has lived here for generations. He says there are many sites, but most are picked over or dangerous. Unstable structures. He’s warning us to be careful if we’re planning to go out there.”
“Ask him about the site that we’re going to.”
I do, and the vendor nods enthusiastically, speaking quickly.
“He says that’s different. That land is special.
His grandfather used to tell stories about it.
He said there was a temple there dedicated to lovers, a place where people would come to pray for their marriages.
He says no one has properly excavated it because the regulations are too complicated, but…
” I pause, listening as he continues. “He says if you’re going there, you should bring offerings. Dates and honey. For good luck.”
Calvin is watching me with an expression I can’t quite read. “Thank you. That’s… helpful.”
The vendor pulls out a small brass pendant shaped like an eye. He presses it into my free hand, speaking urgently.
“He wants us to have this,” I translate. “It’s a protection charm. For the baby. He says the desert is not always kind to children, and this will keep her safe.”
“How much?” Calvin reaches for his wallet.
“La, la, hadiyya.” The vendor shakes his head, refusing payment. He speaks directly to me, and his words are so earnest I feel my throat tighten.
“He says it’s a gift. His granddaughter died last year. He wants Ella to be safe. He wants all children to be safe.”
I blink back unexpected tears and press my hand to my heart in thanks. “Shukran jazeelan. Allah yerhamo.” Thank you so much. May God have mercy on her.
The vendor nods, his eyes misty, then waves us away gently, turning back to his cart.
Calvin and I stand there for a moment in the twilight, the sounds of the city washing over us. Ella reaches for the pendant, and I let her hold it. It’s too big to pose a choking risk, but it does look fragile, so I keep my hand underneath to make sure she doesn’t drop it.
“That was…” Calvin starts, then stops.
“Yeah.” I look up at him, and for a moment, his professional mask has slipped. He looks moved. Human.
“Your Arabic is excellent.”
“Thank you. I spent two years in Egypt and another year in Jordan. You pick it up fast when you’re working in the field. Of course, it’s different anywhere you go. I’m not fluent in Jumayan Arabic, but apparently I know enough.”
“I should have thought to learn some before coming here.”
“You still can. I can teach you some basics if you want. At least enough to be polite.”
He meets my eyes, and something passes between us. A connection. A spark.
My heart does a small, traitorous flip.
Stop it, I tell myself firmly. He’s your boss. This is a work arrangement. Do not make this complicated.
“I’m not polite?” he asks.
I raise an eyebrow. Is he baiting me? “I haven’t seen enough of you yet to know whether or not you’re polite,” I point out. “But I meant enough to be polite in Arabic.”
“We should head in,” Calvin says, breaking the moment. “The team will be gathering soon.”
It’s not lost on me that he didn’t accept my offer. Or turn it down. He just chose to not respond at all, which is incredibly rude and has my cheeks turning hot.
Whatever. I offered just to be nice. But between Ella and my work and somehow finding time to shower, eat, and sleep, I won’t have time to play teacher anyway.
“Right. Yes. Let me just run this upstairs so we don’t lose it.”
I practically flee upstairs, my cheeks still warm. Lois is coming out of her room, and she takes one look at me and raises her eyebrows.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. We just… ran into a street vendor. Calvin needed translation help.”
“Mm-hmm.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “And that’s why you look flustered?”
“I’m not flustered. I’m warm. It’s hot here.”
“It’s evening and quite pleasant actually.”
“Just watch Ella for a few minutes while I freshen up?”
Lois grins but takes Ella without comment.
I escape to the bathroom and splash cool water on my face. So he looked at me for more than two seconds with something other than detachment. So what? He’s an attractive man. I’m a heterosexual woman. Basic biology. It doesn’t mean anything.
But when I look in the mirror, my eyes are bright, my cheeks pink, and I look more alive than I have in months.
Dammit.
I change into a clean blouse, do my best to tame my curls with some mousse, and head back out. Ella is playing with blocks on the floor while Lois reads.
“Better?” Lois asks innocently.
“I’m fine. I was always fine.” I kiss Ella’s head. “Be good for Miss Lois. Mama will be back soon.” I turn to Lois. “I’ll have the kitchen send you two dinner.”
Lois holds up a menu. “Calvin already took care of it. The room service here is supposed to be quite nice.”
Of course Calvin already took care of it. He’s on top of his game, that’s for sure.
Downstairs, I find Calvin in the hotel restaurant, which has been transformed for our meeting. There’s a large table set up in a private section, and three people are already there, chatting among themselves.
Calvin stands slightly apart, checking his phone, his jaw tight.
“Everyone,” he says as I approach, “this is Dr. Georgia Halford, our lead archaeologist.”
The three people turn toward me with smiles.
“Georgia, this is Edmond Davies, our structural engineer.” A tall man with a warm smile steps forward to shake my hand. “He’ll be assessing site stability and handling any structural concerns.”
“Pleasure,” Edmond says in a British accent. “I’ve read your work on the Byzantine sites in Jordan. Fascinating stuff.”
“Thank you.”
“This is Dr. Layla Akkhad, our medic.” A petite woman in her forties with sharp, intelligent eyes gives me a nod. “She’s worked on remote excavations all over the world.”
“Happy to be here,” Dr. Akkhad says. “Though I’m hoping for a boring six months. No emergencies would be ideal.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I say with a laugh.