“You say that a lot.”
For a moment, all she could do was glower up at him. The guy was impossible. They’d barely seen each other and here he was, already dismissing what happened as stupid teenager stuff. But how could she get through to him if she didn’t even know how to explain herself? How his presence was suffocating her, bringing back horrible memories against her will. Memories she thought she had conquered and forgotten.
“Look.” Xander dropped his arms and started pacing. “I’m just as shocked as you are. To be honest I didn’t even recognize you at first. Not until Soliman said your name. You were familiar but… different without the braces and the braids. And, um.” He averted his gaze. “Well, now you look quite, um… striking, actually.”
Her face grew hot and she clenched her teeth together. The last thing she wanted were compliments from him. “Oh, shut up.”
“And now we’re getting off on the wrong foot.” Xander stopped pacing and faced her. “We need to start over.”
“Start over?” Leila raised her eyebrows. “You think we can start over? After everything you’ve done?”
“Leila… about that.” He cast her a wary glance. “I’ve been thinking for eight years about what to say if I ever saw you again. And now you’re here.” His chest swelled as he drew in a breath. “And it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be. But—”
She clamped her mouth shut. No. She couldn’t talk about it. She was done if that’s the direction he wanted to take this conversation. Without another word, she began down the gravel path toward the restaurant.
Xander gripped her forearm then spun her around to face him. She gasped in surprise at the strength in his grasp. “Leila, stop, please.”
“Let go,” she growled. She tugged her arm back, but his grip only tightened.
“Don’t do this to me again. I tried to talk to you then, with broken legs and ribs, but you wouldn’t have it.”
“How could I? I made a huge mistake by trusting you, and I don’t intend to ever repeat it. You ruined my life. There’s nothing you could ever say to make up for what you did.”
“It was an accident, Leila,” he pleaded, dropping his hand. “I don’t need you holding it against me, as if I haven’t already done that enough myself.”
“You think you’re the tortured one?” she said in a low voice, her eyes narrowed. Did he not think, even once, about what she had gone through? “You’re an even bigger egotistical, backstabbing, mindless bag of scum than I thought you were.” Her breath caught in her throat. She shouldn’t have said that. Even if it were the truth.
“Think what you want of me,” he snapped. Straightening his shoulders, he stared down at her, his mouth flattening into a thin line. “I’m not asking anything from you except that we be civil to each other. For the excavation’s sake.”
She said nothing and focused on the peacocks pecking at the gravel. This time she had to agree with him. She just wasn’t yet willing to say it.
“In a few months, I’ll be gone, and you can happily go about your life again as if you never saw me.”
He was asking for the impossible. But she had worked too hard to get here. She couldn’t let Xander ruin this. It might not be the easiest thing for her to do, but it was the right thing. All she could do was try.
“Well,” she started with a raise of her chin, “I don’t know about you, but I am perfectly capable of acting civilly. And starting over.”
Xander gave her a half-smile and held out a hand.
She unfolded one arm and gave his hand a hurried shake. Gross.
“A pleasure. Looks like we’ll—”
That was enough. She raised a palm to cut him off. “Don’t push it.” She brushed past him, heading back toward the restaurant.
He let her go.
Leila returned to the table and sat back down like nothing happened. As she smoothed a cloth napkin onto her lap, Xander approached the table and slipped into his seat without a word.
“Sorry,” Emma said, the curiosity in her eyes unmistakable. “But I already ordered for you two.”
“Oh. That’s okay. I’m not too picky.” Leila leaned back in her chair, hoping she came across as relaxed. A few minutes later, the waiter set down a large platter of crispy dead fish on top of a mound of couscous in front of her. She glanced over at Emma, who picked up her knife and fork, slicing through her fish to expose the steaming, white meat inside.
After mouthing a silent apology to her dinner, Leila did the same.
Chapter Three
Under a dome of white light, shovels in hand, the digging began before sunrise. The team of archaeologists concentrated on digging a trench, searching for a long-lost mastaba, a rectangular-shaped tomb that had been a more common method of burial in ancient Egypt than the legendary pyramids.
The horizon soon began to glow a mix of reds and oranges as the sun slowly made its appearance. The rays warmed the air, quickly convincing the workers to shed their jackets and shut off the floodlights.
By mid-morning, they had their trench dug by several feet with a huge mountain of sand growing at one end. Leila, Emma, Hamza, and Karl began to work on the sifting, hoping to find anything that might resemble pottery, beads, or tools. Soliman didn’t want a single grain left unturned, so they had set up several large sifting screens hanging from tripods, which were settled underneath a makeshift shelter as protection from the relentless sun.
In turn, they each filled buckets with dirt, carried them to the screens, then dumped them out over the wire mesh.
By giving the wooden frame a few good shakes, the sand sprinkled through, leaving only the larger pieces. Each of the leftover rocks and bits of clay were thoroughly inspected in order to separate anything that showed promise.
With tender movements, Leila brushed and picked at the lumps until determining which pile they belonged to. Her pile of possible artifacts was pathetically minuscule compared to the heap of rejects. The tiny collection consisted mostly of what were probably rocks yet could be easily mistaken as broken shards of pottery. She put them aside to double-check later, just in case.
By mid-day, the temperatures had climbed into the hundreds. Leila carried her pan of “pottery shards” to the table and brushed off each piece again. Even though she was certain they weren’t artifacts, she dropped them into a small plastic bag and left them for Soliman to examine before he tossed them. It was unlikely they would find anything at all the first few days or even weeks. There was still a huge pile of sand to sift through and more digging to be done.
Leila dusted off her front, though she knew it was pointless. She’d been rolling in the sand all morning, and it wouldn’t end there. The muscles up and down her arms ached and the skin on the back of her neck tightened from sunburn, despite several applications of sunscreen and staying in the shade. She swiped at her hair, which stuck to the beads of sweat on her face. Eager for a little bit of relief, she snapped up her water bottle and dumped the remainder of the water over her head, even though she would be dry again within a minute.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Karl said from somewhere behind her.
“That’s new,” Leila quipped, glancing over her shoulder to see him setting down a pail full of sand. “About what?”
“Well, if aliens didn’t build the pyramids—” Karl huffed when Leila rolled her eyes. “Wait, hear me out on this. If the Egyptians didn’t have any help, then how come there are no records of the pyramids actually being built? And how did they move two-ton blocks by hand? And why are there paintings of flying saucers?”
