Page 19 of Troy Story
Stuart hadn’t intended to get up at 5:00 a.m. Like everyone else in the crew, he’d set his alarm for six. But once he was awake, he couldn’t fall back to sleep. It didn’t help that he’d woken with a bad case of morning wood, brought about by a steamy dream. He’d been with Dusty at her parents’ condo in Boston, and they’d been on her couch, naked, their bodies entwined. But before they could do the deed, he’d jolted awake, as if his conscience had shaken some sense into him and said, “What’s wrong with you?”
Clearly, he’d been affected by his chat last night with Dusty. Even if he’d intended to help her with her dissertation, they hadn’t spent much time discussing it. Instead, they’d talked for hours, in a way they hadn’t since last summer. Teasing and sharing stories and reestablishing their friendship after months spent in different cities. Amid all the joking, he’d felt a stronger connection with her than usual. A feeling that she wanted something more. That if he made a move, she’d be receptive to it.
But he couldn’t dwell on that now, not when he needed to focus on his responsibilities. After yesterday’s problematic site tour, he was plagued with insecurity over the first day of excavation.
He dragged his tired butt out of bed and sequestered himself in the research library, where he spent the next hour reviewing the logistics of the dig. Switching to organization mode was a surefire way to tame his troubled thoughts. By the time he’d created a series of spreadsheets, a little of his self-confidence had returned. He went into the kitchen to make the coffee, only to find Dusty had already brewed the first pot.
She lifted her coffee mug in a friendly greeting. “Morning, bud.”
“Morning, Dusty.”
She looked as cute as ever in a faded Wonder Woman T-shirt that hugged her curves. When she raised her arms to reach for the mugs in the cupboard and revealed a sliver of pale skin just above the waistband of her shorts, he pulled his eyes away, not wanting to ogle her. Instead, he laid out his spreadsheets on the breakfast bar and admired them. Why couldn’t everything in life be this tidy?
She raised her eyebrows. “Look at you, trying to organize every facet of the dig.”
“Too much?” He’d compiled an inventory of all the tools in the shed, itemized the food in the pantry, made a schedule for their grocery runs, and arranged the crew into two excavation teams.
“Not at all. It’s admirable.” She peered at the crew list. “Though I notice you put me in the same trench as TJ.”
“I couldn’t put him with Em because I was afraid they’d kill each other. I also separated you and Em to avoid any mischief.”
“Spoilsport.” She poured the contents of the coffeepot into the large urn. “Just kidding. I’m fine with TJ as long as I don’t have to listen to him rehash all his adventures in Jordan.”
By six thirty, the entire crew had assembled in the kitchen, dressed and ready to go. Dr. Hughes was the last to arrive, looking far less cheerful than the others. He filled his mug from the urn, took a sip, and sputtered in anger. “Who made this swill? It’s too strong.”
Stuart spoke up. “Sorry about that. I’m still getting used to the pot.” When Dusty caught his eye, he gave a quick shake of his head, hoping she wouldn’t correct him. She already had enough strikes against her. He handed his boss a spreadsheet. “I went ahead and assigned the teams, but you can make adjustments if you want.”
“Should be fine.” Dr. Hughes set it down. “Who’s driving us to the site?”
“I’ll take one of the Land Rovers. Dusty can take the other, or—if you’d rather drive—she can handle the truck.”
“One of the Turkish students can take the truck. How are we supplied for tools?”
Stuart gave him another print-out. “Here’s our inventory. We should be all right for now, but we’ll need to do a supply run at some point.”
“More paperwork?” Dr. Hughes gave a snort. “Are you always this organized, Carlson?”
The guy made it sound like it was a character flaw. Maybe he was the type who flew by the seat of his pants, but Stuart couldn’t work that way. In his mind, the only thing standing between him and chaos was his passion for Excel spreadsheets.
Once Dr. Hughes had finished his coffee, he ordered everyone to pack up and head out. With three vehicles at their disposal, there was more than enough room for all of them, along with their tools and equipment.
When they arrived at the site, Kerim and Mort were waiting for them by the café. Standing beside them were a group of men who looked to be in their twenties or thirties carrying shovels, picks, and buckets. These were the local laborers who’d be helping them excavate the site. As Dusty started chatting with them in Turkish, a surge of guilt rushed through Stuart. He’d planned to brush up on the language before he left, but his frantic schedule hadn’t left him enough time.
He turned to greet Mort, who was clad in his khaki outfit, complete with matching safari hat. “How are you doing? You look like you’re prepared for a day in the field.”
“I’m more than ready. But it’s a hot one.”
Oh no.If Mort thought it was hot now, he’d be miserable by noon. Stuart made a mental note to check up on him every few hours, just to make sure the older man didn’t overexert himself.
With the help of the workmen, they gathered up everything they’d need for a day in the field and loaded it into four wheelbarrows. Not just their tools, but two large coolers filled with food for the morning break and jugs of water for drinking and washing up. After trekking to the western edge of the site, they left the boardwalk and followed Kerim until they came to the area designated as the lower city of Troy.
Stuart walked with Dusty, Emilia, and TJ to check out the section where they’d be digging, which was already roped off and marked with “No Trespassing” signs. Over the past thirty years, this part of Troy had been excavated intermittently, revealing stone foundations of densely packed houses laid out in rectangular city blocks.
“What do you think?” Dusty asked the others. “Looks like it has potential.”
“Agreed,” TJ said. “I’m glad we’re off the beaten path. Less chance for nosy tourists.”
Stuart scanned the site. “I wish there was more tree cover, though. This area’s a lot more exposed than the rest of Troy, and it’s going to be in the nineties today.”
