Read Online Rebel Betty by Carla Michaels - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carla Michaels
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have to worry about appearing on a social media site half naked.
And it was also pleasant not to have to worry about the constant stream of flirtatious students and volunteers who invariably clogged up a site. As a healthy man, he was not averse to the attention, and he had been tempted more than once to take them up on their offers. He was not vain, but he knew that he was a decent enough looking guy. The Gilbert boys all looked alike, and the amount of attention his brothers received from women had been always been a family joke.
But men who abused their authority had always been a sore spot with him. From snatches of overheard conversation, he knew that his mother had been molested as a child. After her death and needing to find as much information about them as possible, he had gone back and located the records, discovering in the documents a family history that shocked and horrified him. Years of abuse had been uncovered when his mother became pregnant at 13 years old. His grandfather, a prominent businessman in St. Paul, had died in prison, the victim of a prison population who considered child rapists to be the lowest of the low.
The knowledge of what his mother had endured and her early death colored his relationship with women. Years of bad relationships and a divorce had finally taught him the futility of always trying to rescue the women he dated.
Jesse had been one of the women he had thought to save. Tiny, pixie-faced Jesse, who bounced from one thing to the next, always looking for the next cause to embrace, the next battle to fight. Her passion for protecting the environment had drawn them together when he had excavated a site near where a protest was being staged. They had met for coffee one day, and he was bailing her out of jail the next.
He was so consumed with thoughts of Lara that her sudden appearance, walking over the field, made color flood his face; he hoped it was disguised by the heat of the day.
“You’re coming right along,” Lara said, handing him a tall glass of homemade lemonade, complete with thin slivers of lemon and ice.
“Yep,” he agreed, draining the glass in a single long swallow and then handing it back to her with his thanks. “Now comes the fun part.”
Lara’s face was skeptical. “Shoveling? I can see where that might be fun for about an hour, but then your back starts to hurt.”
"The excavating is the fun part. It's what makes all of the research and documentation worth it. We take it down, layer by layer. The shovel is only for the top, and then we get out the trowels and brushes and picks.”
“What about the top layers, though? Couldn't there be things in there that you miss?”
Her quick grasp delighted him. “That’s why everything goes through a sieve or a screen.” He nodded at the large sieve that he’d set up, a rectangular frame supported by a thick steel tripod. "Some of it might go through the water screen I have next to the trailer."
Her nose crinkled. “It seems very inefficient to take the dirt back to the trailer. Why can’t the water screen be set up here, using the creek water?”
Thad scratched his chin. He’d thought of it, but asking her to allow him to set up a generator and pump had seemed grasping. She’d already been so helpful and kind that he did not wish to test her goodwill, and a generator made a lot of noise. “I’d need another person to operate it.”
Excitement flickered in her eyes. “Could you teach me? I mean, I know that I don't have a college degree or anything…”
“A lot of volunteers don't have degrees. But are you sure? What about Mackenzie?”
An enthusiastic grin was stretching across her face. “I could come out in the afternoons. Kenzie doesn't usually take naps, but she will play in her room while Maria is cleaning.” She looked down, and her expression darkened. “It helps if we have a break from each other.”
A second person would make the dig go much faster, and he would jump
And it was also pleasant not to have to worry about the constant stream of flirtatious students and volunteers who invariably clogged up a site. As a healthy man, he was not averse to the attention, and he had been tempted more than once to take them up on their offers. He was not vain, but he knew that he was a decent enough looking guy. The Gilbert boys all looked alike, and the amount of attention his brothers received from women had been always been a family joke.
But men who abused their authority had always been a sore spot with him. From snatches of overheard conversation, he knew that his mother had been molested as a child. After her death and needing to find as much information about them as possible, he had gone back and located the records, discovering in the documents a family history that shocked and horrified him. Years of abuse had been uncovered when his mother became pregnant at 13 years old. His grandfather, a prominent businessman in St. Paul, had died in prison, the victim of a prison population who considered child rapists to be the lowest of the low.
The knowledge of what his mother had endured and her early death colored his relationship with women. Years of bad relationships and a divorce had finally taught him the futility of always trying to rescue the women he dated.
Jesse had been one of the women he had thought to save. Tiny, pixie-faced Jesse, who bounced from one thing to the next, always looking for the next cause to embrace, the next battle to fight. Her passion for protecting the environment had drawn them together when he had excavated a site near where a protest was being staged. They had met for coffee one day, and he was bailing her out of jail the next.
He was so consumed with thoughts of Lara that her sudden appearance, walking over the field, made color flood his face; he hoped it was disguised by the heat of the day.
“You’re coming right along,” Lara said, handing him a tall glass of homemade lemonade, complete with thin slivers of lemon and ice.
“Yep,” he agreed, draining the glass in a single long swallow and then handing it back to her with his thanks. “Now comes the fun part.”
Lara’s face was skeptical. “Shoveling? I can see where that might be fun for about an hour, but then your back starts to hurt.”
"The excavating is the fun part. It's what makes all of the research and documentation worth it. We take it down, layer by layer. The shovel is only for the top, and then we get out the trowels and brushes and picks.”
“What about the top layers, though? Couldn't there be things in there that you miss?”
Her quick grasp delighted him. “That’s why everything goes through a sieve or a screen.” He nodded at the large sieve that he’d set up, a rectangular frame supported by a thick steel tripod. "Some of it might go through the water screen I have next to the trailer."
Her nose crinkled. “It seems very inefficient to take the dirt back to the trailer. Why can’t the water screen be set up here, using the creek water?”
Thad scratched his chin. He’d thought of it, but asking her to allow him to set up a generator and pump had seemed grasping. She’d already been so helpful and kind that he did not wish to test her goodwill, and a generator made a lot of noise. “I’d need another person to operate it.”
Excitement flickered in her eyes. “Could you teach me? I mean, I know that I don't have a college degree or anything…”
“A lot of volunteers don't have degrees. But are you sure? What about Mackenzie?”
An enthusiastic grin was stretching across her face. “I could come out in the afternoons. Kenzie doesn't usually take naps, but she will play in her room while Maria is cleaning.” She looked down, and her expression darkened. “It helps if we have a break from each other.”
A second person would make the dig go much faster, and he would jump
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