Some Kind of Wonderful (Puffin Island 2)

And he couldn’t help her because he didn’t know, either.

BRITTANY WATCHED AS Zach walked away. That brief wordless exchange had unsettled her.

Shaken, she focused her attention on the kids who were bursting with questions.

“So you’re like a detective?” asked one girl sitting cross-legged, peering through glasses as thick as bottles. “You’re looking for clues about what happened a long time ago?”

“That’s right. Clues and answers. We’re asking ourselves how an ancient community survived. We want to know how they lived, what they made and what they ate. Sometimes the answers are buried in the ground, so we have to dig to find them.”

A girl who wore her hair in neat braids stuck her hand up. “My mom doesn’t like me to get dirty.”

“Well, you don’t do it in your party dress.” Brittany decided not to mention the time Spy had called her late in the evening about something they’d found and Brittany had gone there straight from a restaurant in a minidress. By the time she left the site her legs had been muddy and her dress ruined, but the find had been worth the sacrifice. “Of course that’s another reason archaeology is the greatest thing ever—” she rocked back on her heels “—it’s the perfect excuse to get dirty.”

One of the boys perked up. “How do you know where to dig?”

“Survey, mapping and excavation.”

“Are you allowed to dig anywhere? My dad went mad when I dug up his potatoes.”

Brittany grinned. “There are laws that protect the land, and in every country they’re different. That’s why we have national parks, to protect them, so no one can ever build on them. Before builders can build on a site, there has to be an archaeological survey.”

“So you might find treasure and then you’d be rich?”

“There are laws that protect archaeological artifacts from being removed from a country. Whatever you find in a country has to stay there. Here in the US whatever you find belongs to the person who own

s the land.”

“What do they do with it?”

“If it’s valuable, they might choose to give it to a museum.”

They fired questions at her. What was the most valuable thing she’d ever found? How far had she traveled? Did she have a whip like Indiana Jones? Had she seen the pyramids in Egypt?

At one point Philip Law came and sat on the edge of the group and Brittany saw the pleasure in his face as he witnessed the enthusiasm of the children.

She tried to find a way of explaining what she did in a way that would mean something to them. “When I used to come to camp, I kept a journal. Do you still do that?”

Two of the girls nodded. “We write it in the evening, after dinner and before campfire.”

“Archaeology is a bit like keeping a journal, only it’s a journal of human history. That’s why archaeologists don’t like artifacts to be removed from a site before they’ve seen it, because it isn’t just what we find that tells us about the past, it’s where we find it. Context. Do you know that word?”

She talked, expanded, watched their faces to see when she was getting too complicated.

One of the boys crept a little closer. “Have you ever found a dinosaur?”

“I’ve never found a dinosaur. Archaeologists don’t actually look for dinosaurs, but sometimes they might find one by accident.”

“I’d like to look for dinosaurs.”

“Then you need to study paleontology. Paleontologists are interested in the remains of plants and animals, whereas archaeologists are interested in humans and how they lived.” She answered their questions patiently and then Philip joined in. He suggested they mock up a site so that Brittany could give them a taste of what it meant to “dig.”

The morning passed quickly. The children were engaged, their excitement infectious and motivational. All except Travis. He said nothing. Even when Brittany made deliberate attempts to include him, he responded with the bare minimum.

Everyone had a story, she knew that. As an archaeologist she focused on the stories of those living in the past, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have an interest in people living in the present.

There was no doubt in her mind that she needed more information if she was to stand any chance of drawing him into the group.

THE CHILDREN HAD gone and Zach was sawing planks to the required length as a favor to Philip, when he realized he wasn’t alone.