The Unearthing of Blackstone Read online

  “That is where I was heading out to when I received your voicemail, and I’m running late actually. It is such a blessing to be able to connect with people such as yourself who want to acknowledge and help! We need more people like you because we need more scientists of color to get the acknowledgment and credit they so deserve.”

  A pang of guilt seized Ace.

  Damn this lying tongue!

  But it was part of the job…

  Wait a minute… Maybe where she is going tonight can help me rub elbows with some people who may know Lynne.

  “Uh, Ms. Hamel, just out of curiosity, who is the woman that is being honored this evening and where is it taking place?”

  “Her name is Brooklyn Greene. She is the one being honored this evening at the Chicago Museum of Natural History. Even though she didn’t attend my school, I have a lot of respect for her. I’ve tried several times to get her to speak at my university, but she doesn’t do public speaking engagements for some reason.” The woman sighed. “That’s why I’m so anxious to see her tonight. Anyway, I think more press should’ve been shared about this event, and no offense to you, Mr. Blackstone, but that is typical of white media…”

  “How do you know I’m not black?” He smirked when the woman started to stumble and stutter.

  “Well, I guess, I suppose I don’t, you just…you don’t sound…you know, you don’t sound black…” And she went on and on…but she’d left Ace with yet another golden kernel to grip tight in his eager hands.

  “She doesn’t do public speaking engagement for some reason…”

  He sniffed and turned his back to the computer, focusing now completely on Ms. Hamel. “Is this fancy? Like a black tie event?”

  “You bet it is! This is a prestigious award. I bought a dress specifically for this event. It’s not every day one of our own receives such acknowledgement and —”

  “You know what?” Ace interrupted. “Ms. Hamel, you’ve been a great help! Thank you so much for calling me back. It means a lot. I will go to the library and check out that list.”

  “You’re welcome, and…”

  He abruptly disconnected the call and thundered towards his bedroom, beating a path down the long hall with pure determination. Opening up the expansive closet doors, he shuffled through the neatly hung attire, searching for anything that looked semi-pressed and workable for such an affair. It was far too late to get a tux. He’d simply have to make do.

  Acey boy! Looks like you’re going to a banquet dinner tonight!

  At least while there, I can be up close and personal with some of the people in this field. I can schmooze with the guests, rub elbows. I know it’s a long shot that this Ms. Greeen is the one I’m looking for but she may know Lynne, or someone who does. What do they say? It’s not what ya know, it’s who ya know!

  ~***~

  Brooklyn could feel her updo curls swinging about as she leaned over the back balcony, staring into the star-filled night. With her delicate white knitted shawl wrapped tightly around her frame, she gripped the material into a ball with both hands and disappeared inside of herself. She needed to get some air, take a deep breath. She’d run from the thoughts for so long, but tonight they’d caught up with her and wrestled her to the ground. This was the type of event that people she loved should’ve witnessed. She missed her family so badly.

  So many times she’d pick up the phone, hoping they hadn’t changed the number, and hang up before pressing the final digit. Everything she’d gone through would be in vain if she threw it all away during a moment of weakness. Besides, it was now her own burden to bear. If she stayed put and kept her distance, no one got hurt…

  Swiping moisture off her left eye, she forced a grin as she focused back on the most important thing: she had herself. She could hold her head high, knowing it was all worth it in the end, no matter how damn terrible it felt. Standing straight, she looked over her shoulder. People moved to and fro, holding glasses filled with bubbling champagne and rich red wines as classical musical played in the hall. Boisterous pockets of laughter traveled through from beyond the two black wrought iron open doors. The night was filled with joyous enchantment. Well, at least everyone else is having a damned good time…

  She felt an edge of nervousness, though she wasn’t prone to bubble guts. Nevertheless, so many issues, memories, theories, hopes and dreams were riding on an evening such as this. Taking a deep breath, she sighed and made her way back towards the museum doors. For a few moments, all she could hear was her own breathing and the clicking of her shoes against the cobblestone patio. Soon, her steps sounded a tad more muted when she stepped on the marble floors of the main hall area. The tables had been dressed with rich raspberry table clothes, as well as gray and ivory plateware and beautiful, yet whimsical white pen plumes at each place setting. Finding herself unable to suppress a mischievous smile, she chided herself. She had to talk herself out of racing away to the safety of her own office, huddled in the back of the museum like some hidden cave. She’d dive into her work and possibly not come out again until the shindig was over.

  But she knew better, and besides, Ivy would never forgive her.

  What type of person wants to brush bones instead of dance the night away? She sighed. Me, that’s who…

  She loved that she had the type of occupation that didn’t feel like work at all to her. It felt like her very own blood, kept her alive. She couldn’t imagine not working in her field. Taking this path was the best choice she’d ever made. Everything she had previously done had seemed always so deliberate, so contrived, but in the spur of the moment, things had lined up just so. This blessing sort of fell upon her. So she embraced it and realized it was her true calling. She could thank her surrogate mother for putting the idea in her head. That woman had a way of seeing what she needed. May she rest in peace…

  She gently pushed her elbow into a colleague’s side, a researcher.

  “Hi Beatrice!” She grinned shyly, batting her lashes just so.

  The short, skinny woman donned a show-stopping dark blue dress. Her vibrant hair color complemented a fair skin tone — a flowing reddish brown mane. The woman grabbed Brooklyn around the waist, held her close and gave her a friendly peck on the cheek.

  “Brooklyn! I’ve wanted to speak to you all night! Congratulations!”

  “Thank you so much…”

  She looked out into the sea of people, surprised that guests were still arriving. She had no idea this would be such a big deal.

  All of these people are here for me? This is just amazing…

  ~***~

  Ace was certain his pants were high water. Should a flood come running through the Chicago city streets like aquatic gangbusters, he’d be safe from the torrential rain. He’d checked himself out a dozen times in any reflection he could catch along the way — building windows, shiny car reflections… He even tugged and pulled at them, double-checking they didn’t show his black dress socks. He wasn’t accustomed to going to fancy places that required such clothing, at least not often. He’d struck gold upon tearing his closet up, creating a mountain of discarded apparel deemed not appropriate. Then, he found an old tuxedo stuffed in the back of his wardrobe from Eli’s wedding all those years ago and it still fit like a dream. The only problem was, the pants were doing something odd, riding up into his crotch and hugging his nuts in an unflattering way, and if that weren’t enough, they twisted a bit at the ankles. Ace blamed it on the drycleaners he’d taken the damned thing to after the wedding. Grunting, he tugged at his balls before racing up the steps of the museum.

  He stopped short at the doors, caught his likeness and fixed his faux hawk. A damn hair had escaped the gel slap and dared to peel back like a banana. He grinned at himself, enjoying the fact that he looked damn good in a suit, then pulled on the heavy gold-framed door. As soon as he entered, he was immersed in what one could only describe as a world of intellectual elites. He knew their look, their posture, their mannerisms.

  “Oh
boy.” He ran his hand over his cufflinks as he continued to survey the area. “I’m drowning in a pool of Brainiacs,” he murmured with a lopsided smile on his face as he waved here and there to people, pretending to know who the hell they were. His black Prada perforated toe blucher shoes clicked against the shiny, recently glossed floor. He stopped short and looked down, noticing an insignificant piece of dark blue lint twirling past. As if on a whispering wind, he turned his head to the left and noted a statuesque blond standing with a navy blue gown, her back towards him. She was engaged in conversation with two polished looking gentlemen, one of which wore glasses the color of a pumpkin. Ace raked his gaze along the hem of the dress until he noted a tiny sewing glitch. The damned thing was unraveling and would become a mini-skirt if she didn’t watch her step. He continued to make his way through the crowd, then noticed a row of tables under an in-door style canopy, lit up elegantly with white lights.

  He pointed to it, making a mental note that that was where the dinner would more than likely take place. He’d expected to be stopped at the door, asked for his invitation and all that that entailed. He had his lie well rehearsed but was pleasantly surprised that hadn’t happened. He immersed himself into the scene. After awhile, someone stood at the top of the stairwell and made an announcement that the award would now be presented to Ms. Brooklyn Greene. He ran his hand leisurely across his suit jacket, glanced at the closed gift shop off to his right, and checked behind him to see where the crowd was herding. Following the masses, he took a seat in one of the rows of chairs. Clearing his throat, he accepted a glass of white wine, smiled and tipped it to his lips while he waited for others to get settled.

  Boy, these people really do it big for these nerd awards, huh? This is nice. Fancy shit, indeed…

  A stout man with graying hair and thin, dark glasses approached the podium. His rotund stomach jetted out like the ceiling of the Superdome, straining his black double-breasted tuxedo to the max. He reminded Ace of a pheasant stuffed with rice and cranberries just in time for the holidays.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen…”

  Does he really have to sound like Alfred Hitchcock and favor him a bit, too?

  “It is with great honor that we present the Gold Medal Award for Distinguished Archeological Achievement to a woman who has brought a special contribution over the years to our field of expertise, that of archeology. Ms. Greene graduated from Illinois State University with honors, and received her Masters in historical archeology. She went on to establish herself as a knowledgeable expert in her field of anthropology archeology, her focus in the last twelve months devoted to Central and Southeastern Europe. Previously, she spent several months studying the Bobo and Ashanti tribes, Brazilian culture.” The speaker paused, ran a hand leisurely down his vest and continued. In that moment, it was so quiet, a light snore would have sounded like a dinosaur’s roar. Everyone sat quiet, expectant.

  “Her focus has detailed historical finds tied to the cultural aspects and ethnic diversity of each area she tours. Her understanding and special exploration proficiencies, as well as teaching skills, have led her right where she is today,” he said gravely as he stuck the podium before him with his index finger, “… amongst us, receiving this noble award. Without further ado, Ms. Greene,” he turned and looked behind him at someone who wasn’t quite visible to Ace, “on behalf of the Archaeological Institute of America, we would like to present to you, the Gold Medal Award for Distinguished Archeological Achievement!”

  The crowd erupted in applause, jumping from their seats as if the woman was some super star. Ace looked around at the folks, astonished.

  They take this shit seriously…This is no damn joke.

  He got to his feet and gave a light applause, then a more feverish one as he fell into his role a bit deeper. His eyes got heavy as he stifled a yawn. And then, a woman approached the podium, her skin light brown, like caramel, with an unforgettable glow. Her lips shone glossy and red, her hair black, thick and piled high in an elaborate up-do with soft, cascading ringlets that brushed against her oval shaped face and brought further attention to her deep, dark brown eyes — the whites, whiter than snow. Ace almost lost his balance as he stepped a bit forward, drawn to her, ridiculously aching to reach out and touch the woman. His tongue tied, his mouth dry, he sighed.

  Oh my God.

  “Oh, sorry…” he whispered to the man standing next to him as their shoulders brushed together. He swallowed. Hard.

  I don’t believe this…it’s her. It’s really her!

  ~***~

  Brooklyn looked out into the sea of people who applauded her as she accepted the gold medal and a gracious hug from the host. Soon, everyone was seated and she was left swimming in silence, gathering her thoughts.

  “I do not plan to make this a terribly long acceptance speech.” She glided her index finger along the podium and directed her gaze at the audience now sitting below. “I will get right to the point and say, ‘Thank you’ to each and every one of you in attendance this evening. Because of you and your support of people like me, we have worked as a cohesive team, without even knowledge of one another. We are tied together by a global love of our field of choice, the desire to want to decode the human condition, from past to present, across state, country and continent lines. Since I was a little girl, I’ve always looked at other human beings and been fascinated by culture. I then looked at myself and wanted to understand my own roots.

  “As an African American woman,” she ran her fingertips across the bottom of her neck, catching her delicate diamond necklace in a light grasp, “I wanted to know the what, when and how, before slavery. At the age of six, I began to do some research on my own. I lived inside of my local library. I was there so often, I should have been paying rent.”

  This elicited a soft roar of chuckles.

  “I wanted to know about my family tree. I didn’t just want to know what plantations my ancestors were on; no, that wouldn’t have sufficed. I wanted more, so much more…My history was deeper and richer than that. I also wanted to know what tribes my ancestors came from. What music did they enjoy creating and listening to? What tools did they create to use to gather things and to eat? How did they care for their children? What clothing did they wear? What were their spiritual practices? What did they do for fun and amusement? What did they look like?

  “Unlike many other cultures in comparison, the African Americans here in the United States have a jumbled past, with bits and pieces unearthed here and there. We are a stew, a hodgepodge of this and that. Unlike many other cultures that can be directly followed and traced in almost a straight line, African Americans do not have that point A to point B history; and furthermore, none of us has the exact same story. African American is a broad term…

  “Black is even broader. Records were not always kept, and some of the existing ones were later discovered to be inaccurate or incomplete. So, it took people like Dr. Rachel Watkins—”

  A sudden burst in applause at the mention of the woman’s name caused her to pause.

  “…one of the first black women I ever met in my field, to show me that I wasn’t the only one with the need to know. My interest in this field began because of my natural curiosity and my preoccupation with other people from varying backgrounds that lived around me. Not in a negative sense, but in a sense of wanting to explore culture, what it means and what it entails.

  “John Wesley Gilbert, the first black archeologist, became my idol. I studied his life extensively. His thesis, ‘The Demes of Attica’, I have read more times than anything else I’ve ever gotten my hands on. Whatever this man did, I wanted to do, too. He studied in Greece, so I went to Greece and subsequently, learned the Greek language. If I was told he ate a fried toad skin, then I’d want to try it, too.”

  She smiled as the audience came alive with chuckles.

  “I couldn’t do what I love and not delve into race and racism, because it affects what we find!” She couldn’t control the pa
ssion running through her, which bubbled forward like an erupting volcano. “For instance, those of you in sociological studies know and understand that poverty is directly tied to disparity. When we find the remains of a person that starved to death, seldom is it a king or queen or a noble person, and that also fascinated me. I wanted to understand why so many cultures had these caste systems, if you will, that then affected their very DNA after years of inadequate diets and living conditions. I felt undisciplined, flittering all over the place, hopping from one topic to the next — but I didn’t understand until I met others like me, who felt the same way I did. We do what we do, because we… love… people. We are enamored with history, and solutions.

  “In order to understand one’s full potential, you must first step into their past and dig with a shovel…” She grinned as more light banter came forth. “Dig…dig…dig, until you exhume the answers. So,” she swallowed and held the medal bestowed to her a bit tighter, “though I have been accused of keeping to myself, being a bit of a wallflower, I am so glad to be celebrating this with all of you this evening. It is not my accomplishment, it is our accomplishment. It…it is such an honor to be around such dedicated people who simply want to help tell the story, weave the blanket, piece by piece, of human existence. Thank you all so very much.”

  The crowd gathered to their feet once again, whistling and applauding.

  Brooklyn turned away and took her seat, soon feeling the warm arms of Ivy enclosing her. She gripped her assistant close, hugging her tight as her body shook beyond her control. What a bittersweet moment, a moment she wouldn’t soon forget…

  ~***~

  Ace dangled a toothpick from his mouth. It danced in a sideways tilted circle as he chewed the tip nervously. The dinner of roasted potatoes in a peach glaze and filet mignon had been mouthwatering, yet the portions miniscule. The only other option was the vegetarian choice, and he wasn’t in the mood for grilled white asparagus with a sprig of mint. He’d have preferred a heartier meal, but he wasn’t there to dine; he was there to find.