The Useless Degree | Page 17

“Why was she apart from the others? I mean, why were there no other bodies found near hers?” Fiona asked

“Maybe she’d gone on an errand and was attacked by an animal,” Kurt said.

“Or a person,” Jackson said.

“A man,” Fiona said.

“It’s definitely possible,” Tom said.

“What if the carbon dating proves she’s not ancient at all?” Fiona said

“Then we’re fucked,” Kurt said.

“Nonsense. We found her, we dug her up. We practiced the techniques we’ve learned,” Jackson said.

“Grant money isn’t for practice runs,” Professor Harris said. He took a long, leisurely pull from his flask. “Besides, if she’s not what we think she is, then she’s something else, at least,” he said.

The men laughed. Professor Harris did, too, once he realized how stupid that had sounded.

“What you mean, I think, is that even if she’s younger than we thought, it’s still noteworthy. Say she’s only five hundred years old. What do we know about the people who lived here then? We’ll need to find out. It’s a win-win either way,” Jackson said.

Professor Harris nodded his approval.

“My mom will be glad. She thinks it’s all very murky, living off grants. She says I should have gone into business with my dad,” Tom said.

“What’s he do?” Professor Harris asked.

“Sells paint.”

“Mine taught third grade. Hard profession back then for a man, surrounded by women all day long,” Professor Harris said.

The night deepened, and the sky was thrown with stars. Fiona wondered what the others thought when they looked up and saw them. She’d never been one to make wishes. The woman they’d found—Estrella, Fiona called her—would have looked above to her namesake and wanted to tear one down from that black vault and hold it, just for a moment. She wouldn’t need to keep it forever, knowing that anything from nature belongs forever to nature and to nothing else. She wasn’t a possessive person, Fiona decided. Larceny or covetousness did not cause her death. She’d been the object of someone’s unrequited love. When the affection wasn’t returned—because her heart was for another—she’d had no choice but to leave and make her way alone in the desert wilderness. Her would-be lover tracked her down. Even as his weapon was held aloft, he said if she relented and became his, he would spare her life. She wouldn’t. Her refusal was the end of her.

She was aware that someone was speaking to her.

“Your family,” Kurt said to her.

“What?”

“He asked about your family.”

“Who did?”

“Tom.”

“Oh. Well, my dad’s retired. He was a civil engineer. Dams. ‘Damn dams,’ he used to say. My mother’s an artist, sort of. They still live in Seattle. They wish I’d move back. That my brother would, too.”

“Where’s he?”

“Pasadena, selling cars.”

“To the little old lady from Pasadena.”

“Huh?”

“The Beach Boys song.”

“Ah.”

Silence fell. Fiona tasted her beer. It wasn’t horrible, though it had warmed up in her hand. She forced it down. She knew she’d need it later, somehow. Something was going to happen tonight. Something big. Maybe she would declare herself to Tom, for whom her feelings were stronger than ever. And there was hope. He’d complained that very day that he didn’t think Maricelle would be all that glad to see him. The others had teased him, saying it would be because he’d look like shit after living outdoors for almost a month. But there was genuine concern in his eyes. They must have quarreled before he went away. She hadn’t wanted him to go, and he’d gone anyway, saying it was his future that was at stake. Maricelle might be used to more money than Tom was likely to earn as a professor or researcher. She’d had a better offer in his absence. That was easy to see. Tom had shown them all her snapshot. She was a stunning brunette, as olive skinned as the native women they saw walking along the roads.

“What’s your brother’s name?” Tom asked. Fiona’s heart leapt.

“Finn.”

“As in Huckleberry?”

“Yeah.”

“Finn and Fiona. That’s quite a mouthful,” Professor Harris said. The others laughed.

Fiona finished her beer and went to the cooler for another. The ice had melted. The carton of eggs Professor Harris had obtained was soggy. Fiona took the beer and returned to the group. She felt funny, all loose in the head. It was the beer, she knew. She avoided alcohol as a rule. She was enjoying its comfort now, as people throughout time had. Estrella must have had her version of it. What did she drink to forget? Or to remember? For suddenly Fiona was flooded with memories. She and Finn, trying to outdo each other playing badminton, or throwing horseshoes, or shooting darts in their father’s private study. Finn always won. She went in tears to her mother, who told her not to compete with boys. She should learn how to sew or paint pottery. Her mother’s plates and vases were all over the house, not very well made, but lovingly turned on the wheel and carefully glazed. Once, in a state of unnamed misery, she’d thrown a few to the floor, then refused to clean up the pieces until Fiona’s father ordered her to.

Fiona was aware that the men had stopped talking. Their unshaven faces were still, bathed in dim firelight. Fiona stood up. She wavered. She went to her tent, which she shared with Kurt. She sat on her cot. Despite the beer, she was too keyed up to sleep, so she went into the tent where the bones had been laid out. She set her battery-powered lantern on the ground, then sat down next to it. Even though she was missing so much of herself, Estrella looked stately. Fiona was mad to know what kind of clothes she’d worn, if they were plain or rich with color. And what about jewelry? Even simple women loved jewelry, though she was sure that Estrella hadn’t been simple at all, but calm and totally self-possessed. Fiona put on a pair of latex gloves from the box in the corner and picked up the skull. It had a hole on one side, probably her fatal blow. She stared into the ridged, empty eye sockets and conjured a pair of warm brown eyes with long, inky lashes. Estrella would have been beautiful, far more winning that Fiona was, though Fiona wasn’t ugly and she knew it perfectly well. She just had no dash. Nothing that drew attention.

“You need to get a life,” Estrella’s skull said. Fiona shook so much that keeping a grip on the skull required great effort.

“Stop living through other people, and just do your own thing,” Estrella said.

“I don’t know what my own thing is.”

“You’ll figure it out soon.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Who else am I going to tell? Those lunkheads out there?”

Fiona sat with the skull in her lap. It stayed quiet for a long time. Then it said, “Go to bed. Strong women need their rest.”

In the morning, Kurt gave a quick yelp when he realized Fiona was on her cot with her arm curled around the skull. He summoned the others. Professor Harris said not to wake her and ruin the moment.

“Wish I had a picture,” Tom whispered. Professor Harris motioned for him to go get his camera. Fiona opened her eyes before he’d even left the tent in search of it.

“What the hell are you all staring at?” she asked.

“You and your little friend,” Jackson said.

Fiona picked up the skull and stroked it lovingly.

“She was lonely, lying over there all alone,” she said.

Fiona got up. Her hands were sticky from wearing the gloves all night. She returned the skull to its proper place in the adjacent tent. The men followed her and waited outside while she put it down.

“That was pretty fucking badass,” Kurt said.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” Tom said.

Fiona snapped off her gloves. She was hungry. She asked who was going to make eggs. Professor Harris volunteered.

Everyone in the Anthropology Department had heard about Fiona’s night with the skull by the time they returned. No one disapproved. In fact, her reputation soared. She had nerve, she had guts, and what about that totally unexpected off-beat sense of humor? She was just the kind of person you needed out there in the field.

As for Estrella, she turned out to be older than anyone expected, over two thousand years. She shed new light on the history of the native people in that region. Professor Harris quickly applied for and received another grant. Fiona was the first team member he approached. But she wasn’t interested. She was giving up anthropology in favor of her first love, geology. When her father once again objected, she told him she wasn’t asking for permission or even money, since she was okay with going into debt for something that important. He was so surprised, he said nothing, and for once Fiona had the last word.

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