Reading the Bones by Gina McMurchy-Barber Page B

like the soft place on a new baby’s head.
    Now, many years after, his hair still has not grown over the spot. But at least the pain is gone.
    Eddy and I worked for a long while. I hadn’t noticed that the light had turned dim from the low marine clouds that had moved in from the Pacific Ocean. When we finally stopped for the night, the entire skeleton was exposed and sitting neatly on top of the dirt.
    â€œI need to get some photographs of the entire burial, but the lighting isn’t any good,” Eddy said. “Let’s just cover it up for the night and I’ll take pictures in themorning. Once that’s done, we’ll be able to remove the bones and take them where they’ll be safe.”
    â€œI can cover up the burial and put things away,” I offered.
    â€œThat would be great, Peggy. I want to try to make it to the store before it closes and buy my grandson a birthday present. He’s turning seven tomorrow.”
    I walked out front with Eddy and waited until her red truck rumbled to life and drove off down the street. When I returned to the backyard, I was alarmed to see my aunt’s cat, Duff, inside the burial. “Duff, scoot! Get out of there!” I lunged at him, waving my arms at the same time. I startled him, and he darted out of the hole, glaring at me as he scampered up the stairs.
    When I glanced back at the burial, I saw he had kicked up some of the dirt and pushed the skull from its resting place. “Stupid cat,” I muttered. I could see how the speckled earth still formed a rounded indentation where it had cradled the skull and decided I should put the skull back in its original place. As I held it, I was surprised how heavy it was. I ran my hand over the smooth surface and let my fingers trace the edges of the eyes and the sharp and cracked bridge of the nose.
    When I lowered the skull into the cup-shaped dirt, I noticed a small, perfectly round stone. It must have been buried in the soil until Duff had kicked it out of place. Gently, I put the skull down and picked up the round stone, ignoring my thumping heart. It was probably just an ordinary rock, I told myself.
    The smooth black disc was a little larger than an Oreo cookie. But when I turned it over to study the other side, I almost dropped it. There, staring up at me,were the delicate features of a tiny face. Above the fine and gracefully carved face was a tiny hole drilled clear through to the other side. As I held the smooth stone in my hand and turned it over and over, the oil in my fingers deepened the gleam and the details of the face became clearer and even more stunning.
    I imagined Eddy’s reaction when she saw the tiny carving for the first time. Then I remembered what she’d said only last week: “It’s the artifact in situ that tells you the most.” As I gazed at the gleaming object, I hoped Duff and I hadn’t destroyed too much information. Quickly, I returned it close to its original resting place. Just after I replaced the skull, I heard footsteps coming from behind.
    â€œHello, little Miss Archaeologist. Now what are you up to?”
    Mr. Grimbal was standing behind me. Before I could retrieve the tarp and cover the excavation pit, he bent down and started jabbing at the bones and skull. My heart almost leaped into my throat as his hand got closer to the small carving underneath.
    â€œI don’t think you should be here,” I said. “Eddy wouldn’t like you touching the burial.”
    Mr. Grimbal didn’t seem to take notice of me. He just grinned. “So what did she do with that nice little awl you found the other day? Bet the old biddy’s already stuffed it in some dusty drawer at the museum, along with dozens of others just like it. Find anything else?”
    I was afraid that Mr. Grimbal could read my mind.
    â€œOh, sure you did,” he answered for me. “Burials like this usually have several things — stone and bone