Birthright

dated to the Neolithic era. Human bones nearly six thousand years old were discovered by a backhoe operator during excavation for a proposed housing development—”
    “Yes, I know. Dolan. I . . .caught the report on the news,” Doug added and scanned the people at work over Leo’s shoulder. “I thought there was a Callie Dunbrook heading this up.”
    “Dr. Dunbrook’s the head archaeologist on the Antietam Creek Project, with Dr. Graystone as head anthropologist. We’re segmenting the area,” Leo continued, gesturing behind him, “measuring off by square meters. Each meter will be given a number for reference. It’s one of the most vital steps, the documentation. As we dig, we destroy the site. By documenting each segment, with photographs and on paper, we maintain its integrity.”
    “Uh-huh.” Doug didn’t give a flying fuck about the dig. “Is Dr. Dunbrook here?”
    “I’m afraid not. But if you have any questions, I can assure you either I or Dr. Graystone can answer them.”
    Doug glanced back, caught the look. Jesus, he thought, the guy thought he was some moron dropping by hoping to hit on a woman he’d seen on TV. Smoothly, he switched gears. “The only thing I know about this stuff is what I’ve seen in Indiana Jones. It’s not like I expected.”
    “Not as dramatic. No evil Nazis or chase scenes. But it can be just as exciting.”
    Couldn’t just walk away now, Doug realized. Questions were expected. And, God help him, small talk. “So, what’s the point? I mean, what do you prove by looking at old bones?”
    “Who they were. Who we were. Why they lived here, how they lived. The more we know about the past, the more we understand ourselves.”
    As far as Doug was concerned, the past was over, the future was later. It was today that ran the show. “I don’t feel like I have much in common with—what was it?—a six-thousand-year-old man.”
    “He ate and he slept, he made love and he grew old. He got sick, felt cold and heat.” Leo took off his glasses, began to polish them on his shirt. “He wondered. Because he wondered, he progressed and gave those who came after a road to follow. Without him, you wouldn’t be here.”
    “Got a point,” Doug conceded. “Anyway, I just wanted to take a look. I used to play in those woods as a kid. Swam in Simon’s Hole in the summer when I could.”
    “Why do they call it Simon’s Hole?”
    “What? Oh.” Doug looked back at Leo. “The story is some kid named Simon drowned there a couple hundred years ago. He haunts the woods, if you’re into that kind of thing.”
    Lips pursed, Leo slipped his glasses on again. “Who was he?”
    Doug shrugged. “I don’t know. Just a kid.”
    “There’s the difference. I’d need to know. Who was Simon, how old was he? What was he doing here? It interestsme. By drowning here, he changed lives. The loss of anyone, but particularly a child, changes lives.”
    A dull ache settled in Doug’s belly. “Yeah. You got that right. I won’t hold you up any longer. Thanks for your trouble.”
    “Come back anytime. We appreciate the community’s interest.”
    It was just as well she hadn’t been there, Doug told himself as he started back to his car. What could he have said to her, really, that wouldn’t have made things worse?
    Another car pulled up behind his. Damn tourist attraction now, Doug thought bitterly. Nobody ever left things alone.
    Lana jumped out, gave him a cheery wave. “Hi there. Taking a look at Woodsboro’s latest claim to fame?”
    He placed her. Hers wasn’t a face a man forgot quickly. “Bunch of holes in the ground. I don’t know how it’s any better than Dolan’s houses.”
    “Oh, let me count the ways.” Her hair tossed in the breeze. She let it fly and put her hands on her hips as she looked toward the dig. “We’re already starting to get some national attention. Enough that Dolan won’t be pouring any concrete slabs anytime soon. If ever. Hmmm.” Her lips pursed. “I don’t see Callie.”
    “You know her?”
    “Yes, we’ve met. Did you take a tour of the site?”
    “No.”
    She shifted slightly, angled her head. “Are you naturally unfriendly, or have you just taken an instant dislike to me?”
    “Just naturally unfriendly, I guess.”
    “Well, that’s a relief.”
    She took a step away, and cursing under his breath, Doug touched her arm. He wasn’t unfriendly, he assured himself. Private was different from unfriendly. But rude was rude, and