Page 8 of The Voice of Wild Places
Cornelius stood abruptly.“Wait, Mrs.Fawcett!”
Nina glanced over her shoulder, brow raising at his exclamation.“Yes?”
“You—" Ever so slowly, Cornelius rested his palm on the journal entrusted to him.“You’ve no idea who I am, not really.How could you trust someone like me, a stranger, with your husband’s work?”
Nina hummed, allowing a hint of that mischievous smile to return.“Because he told me I could.”
And then she left, taking Watt with her.He turned to shut the door behind him, and his eyes met Cornelius’.Watt’s lips parted, then he ducked his head and closed the door.The silence left behind was deafening.
Cornelius filed away his disappointment, and anger, for later.The treasure beneath his fingers wouldn’t allow him to linger on anything else but satisfying that itch called curiosity.He meticulously prepared another cup of coffee, having finished his first one without memory of doing so.He sat down at his desk and took a sip of the warm, bitter brew.Bracing himself, he opened the journal to the first page.He wasn’t sure what he expected it to contain, but a romantic dedication to‘Cheeky’in microscopic handwriting was not it.
Sweet praise for his wife’s support of his adventures filled the first page, along with his sincere declaration of love.Cornelius never knew Fawcett personally, but in that moment he could feel the man in the room, whispering words of gratitude that read like goodbye, all to a woman who was here only moments before.Breathing, living.
Left behind.
Cornelius took a breath, and turned the page.
A Shame
March4th,1930
Common sense dictated it was rather stupid to engage with someone who recently shattered your nose, but Watt had never been one for things like common sense.He couldn’t help but obsess over the next day’s impending meeting.He wished for so many things, including the ability to redo the entire last week, but knowing what he knew now.He didn’t know whether to hope for Cornelius’s agreement, or further refusal.
The person he’d known would have dug their heels into the ground out of sheer spite, but Watt didn’t know Cornelius Sawyer.He knew Annie Tremblay.And while he expected adulthood and all its traumatic facets to change her—him, he hadn’t expected such a drastic change.Watt had so many questions that he dared not inspect any of them too closely, for they gave way to other curiosities that he shoved deep within himself long ago.
But he wasn’t Callum.He wasn’t an unkind man, and he wasn’t so naive as to not be familiar with the concept of gender versus sex.He held no ill will towards Cornelius, and wanted to do his best to respect him, regardless of the man’s decision to participate in the expedition or not.
He and Nina toured the University that morning, meeting with J.Mason and the aforementioned Esther Mazur.She was a remarkably clever woman of middling age, and it was clear that she had great potential.She was friendly, but when she spoke directly to Watt there'd been a distinct caution in her tone.Subtle, but there.But that’s how it was with most who held an affinity for morals, and had an idea of what he’d been part of in Egypt.It only made him respect her more.Archaeologists and their cousins were a mixed bunch, many didn't see the harm in what Watt's team had done in Luxor.To be fair, Watt had not been part of the distribution of artifacts, simply part of the team who had found the tomb.
Mason introduced them to Louis Shotridge, Assistant Curator of the Museum.They hadn’t met before, but he knew of Shotridge due to his work with Sapir and Boas on their research of the Tlingit people in Southwestern Alaska.He was a Chilkat Indian, who were part of the Tlingit, and had a strong jaw and dark hair cut in the same modern style as Cornelius’.Short on the sides, with a thick length on top swept back fashionably.He was a sturdy and quiet man who reminded Watt much of himself.He was kind, and happy to see Watt again.Like Mason, he gave Watt kind words to pass along to his Columbia colleagues.
Shotridge gave them a tour of the Pacific Northwest exhibit, which he was the curator of.Watt admired the Klukwan Village model, which was Shotridge’s own village and crafted by his own hand.It was fantastic, with houses and trees, everything to scale.There were artifacts such as clan emblems, a wolf helmet and a wolf baton.There was the ceremonial regalia that Shotridge used to wear in his early days, back when he taught programs for children, and what seemed to be an infinite number of hats.Grizzly bear helmets and painted basketry hats, and a knife with a wolf head as the handle.The exhibit was a well tended labor of love, and it temporarily made Watt forget about his aching heart.It was marvelous, archaeology as it should be.
Next was the Egyptian exhibit, which brought Watt back to the present, a ridiculous notion since it should’ve brought him back to the past.But all it made him think of was the Valley of the Kings.Of greed in men’s eyes, and decadence beyond belief.And it was here, too.It was in the way these exhibits were larger, imposing and overfull with artifacts.There had to be an Upper and Lower Hall, six rooms in all.There were great slabs of stone with inscriptions upon them, plucked from the sands of Giza or Meydûm or elsewhere.Pottery, unpainted and otherwise.Arrowheads, hairpins, an ivory wand with an animal’s head.It went on, and on, and on.Despite his mood, Watt made sure he showed appreciation and asked questions.He didn’t want to slight Ms.Mazur, and was indeed fascinated.He would always be curious about new, or rather old, things.Archaeology could be good, if done right.
They also visited the Americas exhibit next.This was Mason’s domain, and he had an impressive amount of artifacts.Less than Egypt, but more than the Pacific.He had been to Mexico, Puerto Rico, Colombia, and all the little places in between.The man was happiest in the field, and he kept hinting at his next expedition to Guatemala, that there was plenty of room for extra hands.Watt answered in the same fashion each time, citing that he had plans this year, but perhaps the next.
After the tour they reconvened in Mason’s office, a beautiful space filled with plants.The others became deeply involved in a conversation that Watt had long lost the meaning of.He didn’t mean to, but sometimes his mind just … wandered.Something about Horace, the Director.He smoothly excused himself to use the facilities, and his departure was barely noticed.
He managed to find his way easily enough, and his heart raced as he stood on the other side of Cornelius’ office door.He needed to clear the air, broach the personal subject Watt had originally sought him out for.He needed to remove the weight from his shoulders.God, he hurt.He wished Maggie were here, to let him know it was all okay.He’d be okay.
Fingers shaking, he knocked on the door.
Nothing.
He glanced at the posted office hours and, seeing how he was supposed to be in, tried again and quietly called, “Dr.Sawyer?”
Nothing.He tried the door handle, and it was locked.
Watt sighed.It was clear that Cornelius wanted nothing to do with him, in fact he’d done a better job at pretending there was nothing between them than Watt had.And really,hadthere been anything between them?
All the unanswered letters and unaccepted apologies spoke volumes, if one read into the silence.And what were three summers in comparison to the lifetime they’d lived apart?
Watt joined Nina for dinner in a small Italian restaurant down the street from their hotel.Despite their simple meal, she wore a fine but simple dress and a pretty head scarf.This was how she preferred to dress, and had Watt found it endearing she insisted on dressing up to visit a bunch of professors.Then again, he’d tried to dress up a little too, hadn’t he?Yesterday, anyway.He’d been looking forward to the meeting, before.
Cornelius Sawyer was known as a dedicated and outspoken archaeologist, and he traveled in many of the same circles that Watt did, but out of sync.He was associated with great figures like Mason, Gordon, Woolley, and Louis Shotridge, for God’s sake.He was everywhere, hopping from one dig to another, but never at the same time as Watt.He’d never given it much thought, but now he wondered if that was the point.The idea that Cornelius actively avoided him was as upsetting as it was pleasing.At least Cornelius had been thinking of Watt, even if it was to steer clear of him.
Before … everything, Watt had wanted to ask about his astronomical studies, what it was like to study in Ur with Woolley, and if all the Colonel’s stories about Peru were true or greatly exaggerated.He wanted to know what to expect from the jungle and its rivers, to ask someone who had a true idea.Someone his age, at least.Because honestly, Watt was nervous about the whole affair.He owed the Colonel a favor though, and he’d be damned if he didn’t repay it.
