“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. Theproportions 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.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ethan
The party starts the minute we have the pot safely secured in the storage locker where we keep the finds, despite how frail the students are still feeling. This is a cause for celebration transcending a dodgy belly.
“Where have you been?” Riley asks as we clamber aboard theDoma, hours later than usual.
“Sadie made a find,” Simon shouts, racing to the cooler and grabbing a handful of beers and passing them around. “And it’s spectacular.”
“A completely undamaged pot. Amarna blue. It’s gorgeous,” Garret chimes in.
“I’ve never seen anything like it outside a museum.” Jeremy chugs the better part of the beer Simon hands him.
“And Sadie found it?” Riley asks. The boys all nod.
“Ha. Ofcourseshe did.” Riley’s tone is so snide everyone stops talking for a moment.
“Put the claws away, Riley. Nobody’s interested. This is amazing news for the dig,” Bart says, and as one, they all turn to Sadie, who seems unfazed by Riley’s nastiness.
“Let’s party,” Jeremy yells.
