He jerked his head toward the muffled cry. The stained canvas lumped in one corner moved slightly. On silent feet, he rounded the wagon bed and yanked the covering into the air, allowing it to billow to the ground at his back. Two brown eyes looked his way, not quite finding his face.
“Lurking about again, are you?” He folded his arms. Penny Inman may be a dark-haired version of Eva, but that was where comparison stopped. Eva never would have been so bold to have stowed away on a wagon full of men. “What were you hoping to accomplish tucked beneath a tarpaulin like that?”
She sat upright, picking pieces of straw from her hair. “I wasn’t planning on staying beneath it all day.”
“Then what were you planning?”
“I wanted to hear what it sounded like on a dig site.”
Which reminded him entirely too much of himself at that age. “Is your interest in archaeology so very keen, then?”
“It is. And I know you found something.” She scrambled to the side. “What is it?”
He smiled at her eagerness. The little sprite was a kindred spirit. “Would you like to see?”
She nodded vigorously.
“Then scoot yourself to the edge, and I’ll meet you there.” He retraced his steps to the back and pulled the lamp from the corner, then waited for Penny to dangle her legs over the open gate. Gently, he set the relic in her upturned hands. “I should warn you this hasn’t been properly cleaned yet so you will get dirty.”
“Pish! I don’t mind in the least.” She explored the surface and as far as her slender fingers would reach inside. Closing hereyes, she lifted the relic to her nose and inhaled deeply several times, as if the past were a scent she might remember. She bowed over the ancient oil lamp like a prayer, pressing it against her cheek, tendrils of her hair flying to the heavens. His own heart squeezed in response. Were he an artist, he’d capture this passion for all to experience the holy innocence of the moment.
“Thank you,” she whispered, then her eyes flashed open. Carefully, she held it out for his retrieval. “And do be careful of that small crack on the inside of the spout. Any more pressure could break it into pieces.”
He angled the lamp so sunlight could climb down the spout. Sure enough, a whisper of a hairline marred the inside. “Good catch.” He pulled the rag from his pocket and began wrapping the little lamp. The piece would be better served by cleaning it back at the manor than out here in the elements. “Did you notice any other blemishes?”
One of her feet swung back and forth, the hem of her skirt swishing with the movement. “No. But holding it made me feel sad and kind of empty inside.”
He frowned. Such an incongruous answer compared to the bliss on her face a moment ago. “Why?”
“I can’t have been the only girl to have ever held that piece in my hands. And does anyone remember that other girl now? She’s gone. Never to feel this same wind on her cheeks.” She lifted her face to the breeze. “I ache for her.”
He stiffened, unsure what to do with such unbridled depth of feeling. Yet here he was, the sole recipient of a young girl’s tender emotions.
And he had no idea how to respond.
Clutching the lamp in one hand, he rubbed the back of his neck with the other. Part of him admired her willingness to be so transparent, even longed to be genuine himself, but that would never do. He’d learned at a young age such a vulnerability could be turned against him. No. This world was a cold place, filledwith ruthless men. The only way to survive was with a grin and a cheeky remark. And though it had never really bothered him before, somehow, here with this blind girl on a fallow field, he felt as empty inside as Penny.
But he couldn’t very well tell a child that. He’d be hanged if he told anyone.
“You’re wrong, you know.” He tousled her hair.
“About what?”
“That other girl isn’t forgotten. You remembered her, and now so have I. One of the best things about archaeology is that it honours the past.”
A smile brightened her serious face. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
“I usually am.” He reached for her arm. “Come. Let’s get you back to the house, and this time you can ride up on the seat with my uncle.”
“Oh, please, can’t I stay? I’m already out here so there’s no sense in you wasting time to drive me back. I can be of help. I know it!”
He grinned. It was astounding, really, how sightless eyes could turn all puppy and pleading. “I don’t know. Won’t your sister worry about you?”
“She won’t even know I’m gone.” She tossed back her loose braid. “She was entertaining visitors when I left.”
Absently, he ran his finger along the lamp’s spout, debating what to do with the girl. Naturally she’d be no help whatsoever out in the field, and yet she had proved valuable in pointing out a hairline crack he’d not noticed. And as she’d said, she was already out here. Perhaps he could give her something to do, especially since Uncle Pendleton would be away from the dig for a few hours.
“All right, then.” He grabbed her by the arms, helping her to the ground. “I shall set you up in the tent, where we’ve accumulated several relics already and will likely add more today.You can use that heightened sense of touch of yours to examine the items and identify any peculiarities such as the crack you discovered in this lamp. Then you may dictate your findings to one of my students. How does that sound?”
