Chapter 6 #2
I look up to see Grandad entering the library, a plate of food in one hand and a small parcel tucked under his arm.
Complete darkness is seen through the windows, as the sun has set ages ago.
Most of the room is unlit, save for the small table lamp glowing in front of me, which I must have turned on without realizing.
Grandad sets the plate on the table and takes a seat beside me.
“You are more than ready, my dear,” he says, a smile filled with pride and joy resting on his face. “Why are you still here?”
When it comes to Granddad, there's no point in lying. He knows me far too well.
I let out a deep breath, attempting to release the tension and stress balled up inside me.
“I’m worried I’m going to miss something when we’re at the site.
This is everything we’ve been working for, everything we dreamed of, and I can’t let us down when it’s my job to know its history inside and out.
Going through all of it over the past few days has made me question if I truly know it at all. ”
Grandad places his hand over mine, giving it a tight squeeze.
“Don’t start questioning yourself now, Thena.
You know the material. You’ve known it since you were ten, and you designed an astute strategy for us to tackle this dig site.
What you are feeling is self-doubt. This is the first time our knowledge of the Seven Wonders is being put into practice.
Do you think you’re the only one panicking?
I’m absolutely terrified of what will happen at Olympia.
But you are not alone. You have the team and me.
Together, we will do the best we can to find any discoveries that are awaiting us. ”
He takes the book from my hand, closes it shut, and places it on top of the stacks beside him. Grandad pushes the plate of food to face right in front of me. “Eat, my dear. I know you skipped luncheon today. I need you to have your energy for tomorrow.”
Knowing he is right, I take a bite of the meatloaf and steamed vegetables on my plate, then remember the parcel Grandad brought in.
I point to it with my knife in hand. “What’s in the parcel?”
He places the small box on the table and slides it over. “It’s for you.”
I can sense he is holding back his excitement.
Placing my cutlery onto the plate, I take the parcel and untie its string, removing the brown paper. In my hands rests a beautiful brown leather journal, secured with a leather buckle. My initials are engraved into its skin on the bottom-right corner.
“It’s a journal.”
A smile shines on his face as I stare at it with bewilderment. “Open it,” he urges.
I unravel the leather string and open to the journal’s first page. It’s no ordinary notebook of blank paper. While there are blank pages meant for annotations and observations, the first several sheets are what make it the most unique journal I’ve ever seen.
The first two pages are printed with a map of the Mediterranean and its encompassing countries. The pages that follow hold charts with empty sections for geographical measurements, notes, and findings. Shocked and astounded, I look back at Grandad, unable to speak.
“It’s a journal customized for excavations,” Grandad explains. “You can mark on the map our journey and its progress. As well, you can write down the exact geographic location of any discoveries in the chart.”
“Grandad…this is wonderful. Perfect even. How did you ever find someone who could make this?”
“I must admit it was Henry’s idea,” he says, scratching his chin.
“He thought a custom journal would help you to focus on being present at the site, rather than feeling overwhelmed and inundated with recording everything down. He knows of a bookmaker in Oxford who was able to make it. I commissioned it to be created. I wish I had a journal like this when I went on the expedition in Egypt. Ingenious idea, really. Not sure why it never occurred to me to make it.”
Realization suddenly hits me. “This must be the parcel that caused him to be late at our departure.”
Disbelief washes over me as I realize Henry was already helping before our voyage even started.
Placing the journal onto my lap, I give Grandad a hug. “Thank you,” I say over his shoulder. “I can’t express how much I love it, and how helpful it will be to have this.”
“You’re most welcome, my dear,” he says near my ear, giving me a kiss on the cheek as we break apart. “I must add, Henry did explain to me about your…history back at Oxford. Why didn’t you mention it back when I said he was joining the expedition?”
I tune out the hurtful tone in his voice, as I know he must feel guilty for not seeing my initial discomfort with Henry joining.
“It was hard to do so when you were so ecstatic to have him accompany us, Grandad. I didn’t want to cause a problem for the sake of the expedition.”
Grandad runs his hand across his face, a maneuver I know he uses to stop tears from forming.
“I can’t believe I was so oblivious. I could always read you like a book.
I’m so sorry, dear. Clearly, I let the expedition take front and center in my mind and pushed everything else aside.
” He takes my hand, his eyes full of apology as they meet mine.
“From here on out, I want you to be able to come to me with anything, no matter what it is, alright? You are what’s important, not this expedition. Don’t forget that.”
I nod, remembering he said the same words when he first announced our dream was coming true.
Nothing matters more to me than this, and I know it’s just as important to Grandad.
I forget sometimes that he always puts me first. Even though he told me weeks ago, I assumed it was only talk, and he would change his mind once we set foot on the ocean liner, once our dream became real.
And now, several days later, he still hasn’t.
How many times does he need to remind me that I’m always his top priority? Somehow, the idea of being someone’s priority no longer feels impossible to believe.
Now I’m the one who’s trying to stop tears from forming. “I promise I’ll come to you from now on, no matter what it is.”
He pats my hand and smiles. “Good.”
We sit in comfortable silence as I resume eating my plate. My hand reaches out to open the book I was reading, but my effort gets thwarted as Grandad speaks.
“You know, I’m happy you and Henry have cleared the air with each other.”
“I’m happy we were able to, as well.” I grab the napkin, dabbing my lips of any lingering sauce.
“You both will work very well together. I know it.”
I hope he is right about that, as I’m about to trust him to help me secure my spot in the post-graduate program.
Grandad rises, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Now, once you’ve finished eating, you are not to read another book. I saw you trying to open one up. You should get some much-needed sleep. That is an order.”
Even back at Wilcrest House, Grandad isn’t authoritarian—his concern comes from love. His worry makes me reconsider how hard I’m pushing myself. I promise I’ll take care, hoping to avoid the seasickness I felt on the first night and finally get a few solid hours of sleep.