Page 6 of Third Time's the Charm

Cynthia held out the bag and I carefully dropped the bottle inside it. “I cannot believe you found a pristine goddamned Fountain of Youth bottle in a trash pit. You are so lucky.”

That’s the other thing about archaeologists. We don’t usually have the pleasure of finding anything fun, like in the movies. And even when we do find something interesting, it’s usually broken.

So when you came across something perfect, it was pretty much like having an Indiana Jones moment, except it’s not valuable, the only people who will care are twenty archaeologists at the annual conference, and the only person chasing after you is the grad intern who needs more hours.

“Yeah, well, Mrs. Townsend really loved to throw crap away.” I used the tip of my Marshalltown trowel to tease away some broken emerald green glass. The trash pit was a treasure trove of discarded items. We knew a lot about this part of Mistletoe Key. For instance, we knew Mrs. Charlotte Townsend owned this small house where the remains of the cistern were barely visible above the ground. We knew she lived here from 1832 to 1841. We know she left, along with everyone living on the island at the time, when the Seminole attacked during the Second Seminole War.

What we didn’t know was what life was like for her. So last year we excavated the cistern and found not a whole lot. So we did some non-destructive subsurface testing and located five sites of interest. Turns out the old woman didn’t like to wander too far to throw things away, and had a pit right outside her kitchen window.

And now it was mine to study!

“How much more are we going to push today?” Cynthia asked, dutifully labeling the next bag for me.

I checked my watch. “Shit. I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.” Luckily it was the dry season, so we were able to cover the pit at night and not worry about the elements too much. It was why I preferred excavating in the winter. That and it wasn’t so bloody hot.

We covered the unit in plastic, then a blue tarp, using some wood and bricks to weigh it all down, loaded our equipment into the back of the pickup truck, and made the short drive back to the offices where we cleaned the equipment and stored it for tomorrow.

I was halfway through a bottle of water when Cynthia decided to speak. “So I saw Jack this morning.”

I spit half the water out. “You waited all day to drop that on me?” I coughed and choked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

My no good ex-husband was in town for Christmas. I knew this. Intellectually speaking. I hadn’t seen him in person.

She shrugged. “You think I wanted to spendall daywith you in a mood?”

I glared at her.

“Did you know he was here?”

“Yep. He texted to give me a head’s up.” He lived here for several years with me. Plus his mom lived here. There were plenty of things that tied him to Mistletoe Key that had almost nothing to do with me.

But it still felt raw and intense when he was around. Like a wound that simply wouldn’t heal. This was why I avoided him at all costs. I really didn’t need to rip open my metaphorical knife wound and bleed all over Christmas.

It’s also probably why I threw myself into work today. It’s not like I could run into Jack while crouched in an excavation pit.

“Are we getting drunk tonight?” Cynthia offered.

“Why? Jack’s spending Christmas with his mom. I’m spending Christmas with my sister’s family. There’s nothing to be upset about.” Except that on an island this small we were destined to run into each other.Blargh!

I just had to put my armor on, ignore him if I see him, and remember that none of this will matter in a couple of short weeks.

Cynthia frowned, eyeing me. “If you change your mind, you know who to call.” Cynthia was single and lived next door to her parents so she could help care for them. She liked to joke that single life on the island was like a nonstop game of Fuck, Marry, Kill (where no one was actually killed. This isn’t an Agatha Christie themed island.)

“As if I’d party without you.” I set my empty bottle next to the sink and stretched my back. Everything was always sore and cramped after a day of excavating. “I’m going to take a bubble bath, drink a glass of wine, read a book, and wait for Ryker to get home.”

“You going to the boat parade tonight?”

We lived in the strangest, most wonderful place in the whole world. Mistletoe Key, accidentally named after the invasive Brazilian pepper trees that look strangely like mistletoe, is the island that “celebrates year round.” A lot of it is Christmas themed, but there are also Hanukkah, Kwanza, and even Festivus parts to the island. And if an island like this were to exist, where else would it be but Florida? And not even Florida, but down in the Conch Republic.

And even though the island celebrates year round, the month of December is a non-stop frenzy of daily rituals and festivals. Today’s big event: the boat parade! What is a boat parade? It’s a parade on water. Basically everyone goes all out decorating and lighting up their boats, and then they drive them around the island (while everyone proceeds to get absolutely smashed.) There are a lot of beads and very little clothing. Body paint is popular. But the “adult” stuff is kept on the east side of the island, while the family friendly stuff is given the west side of the island. This isn’t Key West. It’s more like Gasparilla in Tampa. There is a time and place for everything!

“I think I’m going to skip it this year.” I really just wanted my bath and some wine.

And to not accidentally run into Jack.

“Yeah. It’s a lot.”

It was basically the last big party before everything settled down into traditional holiday celebrations. Caroling, tree lightings, cookies and chocolate milk, the Santa contest, the great gift exchange...things like that.

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