“No. I want to teach them that sometimes excavation requires cleaning up what you find, and that archaeologists often improvise when they’re looking for the right tool for the job. Talking of improvising—” she glanced over her shoulder “—can I take a few spoons from the kitchen?”
“Help yourself.” Philip rose to his feet. “I presume that’s not so you can eat dessert?”
“You can dig with a spoon.” She picked up the small backpack she’d brought with her with some of her equipment and walked with him out of the barn. “What exactly is Zach’s role here?”
Philip gave her a cautious look. “He didn’t tell you?”
“No. I know he’s living in Seagull’s Nest.”
“He—” Philip paused. “He helps with the sponsorship program.”
“Tapping his rich contacts for money?”
“Something like that.” His answer somewhere between vague and evasive, Philip led her towards a group of eight children sitting in a circle. “These are the Seagulls. Seagulls, meet Dr. Forrest.”
With no time to give any more thought to Philip’s answer, she dropped her backpack down and joined them in the circle. “Call me Brittany. I was a Seagull when I was your age. It’s the best group.”
ZACH LEANED AGAINST the tree, watching. She was friendly and natural with the children, answering their questions and engaging them in conversation.
Camp had been part of her summer routine growing up and the year she turned eighteen, the summer they finally got together, she’d helped out with the younger children. She’d taken groups kayaking, taught archery and forest skills, and they’d loved her.
It seemed nothing had changed.
Within minutes of Philip’s introduction, they were bombarding her with questions. All except Travis Whitelaw. Travis had barely spoken since he’d arrived at camp a week earlier. He was part of the sponsorship program and Zach knew Philip was concerned.
Not that the boy was disruptive. He wasn’t. But he said nothing and made no attempt to integrate with the group.
When it came to activities he did what needed to be done and nothing more.
At Philip’s request, Zach had taken him up in the Cessna, but even that hadn’t induced Travis to talk.
Zach knew social workers were involved and he felt a pang of sympathy for the boy who trusted no one.
He knew exactly how that felt.
Brittany had obviously noticed the boy at the edge of the group, too, because she delved into her bag and handed something over, trying to draw him in.
She included Travis even when he made no effort to include himself.
Zach eased upright. Even as a teenager she’d sought out the kids who were on their own; the awkward, the homesick, the unpopular.
That was how she’d first got talking to him.
He’d hovered, silent and detached on the edge of the group, observing a life that wasn’t his. It was like looking through the window into a party to which you weren’t invited.
Brittany had ignored the fact he was older and pretty much a social leper. She’d talked to him as if he was someone worth knowing. To begin with he’d assumed he was being patronized. Then he’d noticed that she was the same way with everyone. Friendly and interested. Confident.
Realizing that any moment now he was going to be caught staring, Zach was about to walk away and return to the woodshop where a group of older children had spent the week constructing a raft, when Brittany glanced up and saw him.
It was too late to move. Too late to pretend he hadn’t been watching her.
The sounds of the forest faded away, as did the laughter of the children and the sounds of excited chatter.
There was only her.
And he saw something he’d never seen in her eyes before. Uncertainty and confusion.
She didn’t know what their relationship was anymore.