Birthright

of the dig.
    She needed the horizontal method if she was going to verify and prove that the site had once been a Neolithic village.
    She could admit, to herself, that she needed Jake for that, too. An anthropologist of his knowledge and skill could identify and analyze those artifacts and ecofacts from the cultural viewpoint. Best of all, he could and would build theories and expand the box with those finds, and leave her more time with the bones.
    Digger was already working at his square, his hands as delicate as a surgeon’s as they finessed the soil with dental probes and fine brushes. He wore headphones over his signature bandanna, and Callie knew the music would be blasting through them. Despite it, his concentration on the work would be absolute.
    Rosie was one square over, her pretty toffee-colored skin sheened with sweat. Her hair was a tight black buzz over her skull.
    The two college students carted buckets of spoil over to the sieving area. Leo and Jake manned the cameras for the moment. Callie chose the far end of the first grid, nearest the pond.
    They were going to need a project photographer, she thought. A finds assistant. More diggers. More specialists.
    It was early days yet, but in her mind it was never too early to forge a strong team.
    There was too much going on in her mind. She needed to concentrate, and the best way she knew how was to separate herself as much as possible from the group. To think only about the work, one specific square.
    As she worked she moved the dirt from her square into a pan for sieving. Now and again she stopped to document a new layer by camera and on her record sheet.
    As mosquitoes whined and gnats swarmed she focused on what she could do, inch by methodical inch.
    When she uncovered bone, she continued to record, to brush the dirt away, to pour it into the pail. Sweat dripped down her face, down her back. At one point she paused only to strip off her camp shirt and continue working in the damp tank beneath it.
    Then she sat back on her heels, lifted her head and looked over the site.
    As if she’d spoken, Jake stopped his own work and turned toward her. Though neither spoke, he began to cross the field. Then he stopped, looked down, squatted beside her.
    Deep in the boggy soil the bones lay, almost perfectly articulated from sternum to skull. She would continue to excavate the rest.
    The remains told a story without words. The larger skeleton with the smaller turned close to its side, tucked there in the crook of the elbow.
    “They buried them together,” Callie said at length. “From the size of the remains, the infant died in childbirthor shortly after. The mother, most likely the same. The lab should be able to confirm that. They buried them together,” she said again. “That’s more intimate than tribal. That’s family.”
    “Leo needs to see this. We’ll need to excavate the rest of these remains. And the rest of this segment. If they had the culture to inter this intimately, these two aren’t alone here.”
    “No.” It’s what she’d felt all along. “They’re not alone here. This is a cemetery.”
    Had they loved each other? she wondered. Did the bond forge that quickly—mother to child, child to mother? Had Suzanne held her like this, moments after she’d taken her first breath? Close, safe, even as the birth pangs faded?
    What became imprinted in the womb, and in those first moments of life? Were they forever etched?
    And yet wasn’t it the same, still the same for her own mother? The same bonding when Vivian Dunbrook had reached out to take, to hold close and safe, the infant daughter she’d longed for?
    What made a daughter if it wasn’t love? And here was proof that the love could last thousands of years.
    Why should it make her so horribly sad?
    “We’ll need a Native American consult before we disinter.” Out of habit, Jake laid a hand on her shoulder as they knelt over the grave together. “I’ll make the calls.”
    She shook herself back. “Take care of it. But these need to come up. Don’t start,” she said before he could speak. “Ritual and sensibilities aside, I’ve exposed these to the air. They need to be treated and preserved or they’ll dry out and fall apart.”
    Jake glanced toward the sky as thunder rumbled. “Nothing’s going to dry out today. That storm’s going to hit.” Ignoring her resistance, he pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get this documented before it does.”
    He rubbed a thumb over the