Free Rebel Betty by Carla Michaels Page A

number of times they begged my father to put me on medication.”
    “Good for him, that stuff is poison.”
    She snorted. “Maybe. But in my family, I got the mechanical aptitude and Will got the brains. It always seemed backwards to me.”
    "Hey," he reached over and touched her hand, "You need to stop talking like that."
    "Like what?" She asked, wiping sweat away from her forehead. They were so close that he could see the line of moisture that was gluing her shirt to her spine. Her hair was pulled back in a red bandanna, and the soft strands brushed against his hand as he leaned it.
    "Like you think you are mentally deficient. People learn in different ways, and we all have different strengths. I know plenty of people with Ph.D.’s who are incapable of something as basic as changing their own oil or balancing a checkbook. You may roll your eyes, Larry, but it's true. And being a good teacher is not about being a genius. It's about loving your subject, and being able to share that with others."
    Lara carefully did not meet his eyes; her voice was constricted. "Some of the teachers thought that I was, you know. That stupid Foster girl. I heard it so many times."
    "And you are old enough that their opinions should no longer matter. And more importantly, you have a little girl who looks up to you. If she hears you talking like that, she will come to see it as acceptable behavior."
    "But Mackenzie is a brilliant little girl," Lara protested. "She already knows all her ABC's and can count..." She blew out a breath and the edges of a smile curved her lips. "Your point is taken."
    "Good. Now tuck in your shirt before I see that black lace bra one more time or I will not answer for the consequences."
    "Why Professor, are you planning on doing another type of excavation?" Her tone was a flirtatious, Mae West drawl that made him simultaneously wish to laugh and screw her senseless.
    "Not until August, but if you keep this up..."
    "I thought that was your job."
    He glanced at his lap. "Mission accomplished."
     
    By the end of the end of the week, he had reached a level of culturally sterile soil in the first section and was able to move to the next square while Lara back filled it with the dirt she had run through the water screen. The sight of her with mud spatters up the toned length of her arms never failed to make him smile, as did the emergence of a light spattering of freckles across her cheeks as her skin tanned in the sunshine. 
    The second quadrant yielded more results almost immediately. It contained a depression that dipped down as it neared the creek, and after removing the first six inches of soil with the flat bladed shovel, he switched to the trowel and then the brush as a crumple of small objects became recognizable. When she came over to retrieve the five gallon bucket filled with soil, he called her over.
    “Look,” he said, pointing with his pick to the crumple of small objects.
    “What are they?” She asked, taking another pick and teasing away more of the soil.
    “Nut casing,” he said, excitement reverberating in his voice. “And here,” he pointed to a pointy object no bigger than a small coin though with jagged edges, “another pottery shard.”
    She looked at the small depression, her eyes tracing it back to the mound. "The water would flow down it like a drain," she mused. “It'll be like digging through a trash dump.”
    “That we should be so lucky,” Thad said, bending to brush away more dirt. After a few minutes, the sloshing sound of the water screen and the roar of the generator were interrupted by a hoot of excitement from Lara that brought him running. No more than a quarter of an inch long, the smooth wooden cylinder was marked with bisecting lines.
    "What is it?" She said, holding his arm and hopping up and down in excitement.
    "An arrow shaft," he said, looking back to where he had just been digging. He handed her the clipboard and the camera. "It's your find."

Chapter 9
     
    Some