The countryside was beautiful, I could say that much. And as the days passed, it seemed as though Professor McCall was going out of his way to make sure that I felt comfortable, which was nice; the last thing that I wanted was to be sharing a room with a professor who thought I was a total idiot. I did my best, however, keeping my head down and working nonstop, doing my best to prove that I was a worthwhile member of the team.

The rest of the staff was intimidating, to say the least. There was a professor from Stanford who'd arrive with a trio of serious-faced interns, all seeming to know have more knowledge of archeology in their little fingers than I had in my whole head. Another team from the University of Chicago was there, all decked out in the latest site-surveying technology. They mostly kept to themselves, which was fine with me- I was here to work, not to make friends.

"Good news," said Professor McCall, coming in from the balcony at our hotel the third evening back in town. "I found a bed and breakfast in town that's going to be available starting tomorrow. It'll be almost an entire house for just the both of us."

"Oh, really?" I asked, pleased by the news. "That sounds a pretty posh."

Professor McCall took a seat on the couch that'd been serving as his bed for the last couple of nights.

"Turns out the mistake was from some idiot from administration back at the school. They'd actually reserved a room in another city."

"Goddamn interns," I said with a smirk.

Professor McCall smiled at this, a sliver of pearl-white teeth showing through his full, sexy lips. I was still a little irked at him for putting me through the paces like he'd been, but now that I was finding my footing, I was ready for him and me to get on somewhat friendly terms.

"So, as of tomorrow, we'll have our own bedrooms, finally. That is, unless this arrangement was working for you."

I was going to protest, but then I remembered that Professor McCall's sense of humor was very much on the drier side, which was a surprise. It turns out that pretty much everything he's said that I thought was him being a glib jerk was just him having fun in his own way. He was kind of smartass, in a way.

"This has actually been working for me so well that I was thinking about asking if you wanted to just split a studio back in Columbia. Think of the money we'd save."

"Yeah," he said, "it'd be great until one of us attacked the other with a kitchen knife."

I let out a snort at this. But before I could retort, Professor McCall's phone rang.

"Excuse me," he said, picking up his phone and stepping out onto the balcony, shutting the door behind him.

I knew that I shouldn't listen in on someone else's conversation, but I was beyond curious about just who Professor McCall really was. Even though I'd been getting to know him a little bit better, it seemed like just below his exterior of cool professionalism was a layer of playful sarcasm; who he was below that layer was something I really wanted to know.

"Hey, Dee," I heard him say. "How's Annie?...Oh, really?"

Dee? I wondered. My first thought was that it was a girlfriend, but I hadn't heard him mention anything about that to anyone. Plus, I doubt he'd be so keen on staying in the same room as a twenty-one-year-old coed if he was seeing someone back home.

"…Yeah, let's hear it…"

Then a bright, full laugh sounded out. His tone with whomever he was talking to was different; it was softer, warmer. He chatted for a while, sounding more friendly and at ease than I'd ever heard him to be.

"OK, Dee," he said. "Good night; Daddy loves you."

With that, he hung up the phone.

A daughter! I thought, realizing the sense it made.

Putting it all into the proper context, I realized how sweet he sounded. It was clear just from listening to the little one-sided snippets of conversation that he really loved her. I watched as Professor McCall stood on the balcony, leaning forward against the raining, his gaze off somewhere in the middle distance.

Rifling through the minibar, I grabbed a half-bottle of red wine and a pair of glasses. The drinks in hand, I knocked on the glass of the door. Professor McCall turned to me, gesturing for me to come out with a small tilt of his head.

I opened the door, stepping out into the warm summer air. The coal-black sky glittered with stars, the moon full and round above. Before us stretched the city, a smattering of small, old-style houses all aglow with lit windows.

"Nice night," he said, turning his attention back to the vista.

"It is," I said. "Beats Midwestern summer humidity."

"No kidding," he said.

Then his eyes fell onto the wine in my hands.

"Now, I haven't been a professor for long, but I know that drinking wine with an underage student has got to be against some kind of conduct code."

"I'm not underage," I said. "My twenty-first birthday was a couple of weeks ago."

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, happy late birthday."

I opened the small bottle and poured the two of us some wine. I wasn't much of a drinker, but now seemed like as good a night as any.

"Cheers," I said, raising my glass.

"To new discoveries," he said.

We clinked the glasses and took our sips.

"I couldn't help but overhear," I said, standing next to Professor McCall and looking off into the distance, "but was that a daughter you were talking to?"

He nodded as he sipped from his glass. "That's right. Her name's Darla. Eight-years-old, though she's got a brain like she's twice that."

"And…no mother?"

I don't know why I felt the need to ask such a personal question. I guess I just wanted to know more about him.

"No," he said, shaking his head softly. "Not for a while."

I didn't pry for any details beyond that.

"Well, speaking of Darla," he said, "you'll be meeting her here in a couple of weeks. She's going to be visiting once we're settled in."

"Oh?" I asked.

I wasn't put off by this, but it did make me feel a little nervous; I never felt like one of those people who had a natural way with kids. I always felt like I was stiff and awkward around them.

"She's great," said Professor McCall. "You'll be fine. And if she gets annoying we can just lock her in the closet."

He flashed another sly smirk; there was that smart-ass streak of his again.

"I'm glad you came," he said. "You seem to be taking to the work. If all goes well, I'll be more than happy to give you a reference, should you be considering graduate school."

"Oh, thanks," I said.

Truth be told, I didn't share his confidence in my abilities, and I wondered if he was just being nice.

Who am I kidding, I thought. If anyone wouldn't be shy about criticism, it'd be him.

Then there was silence. A strange sort of energy seemed to be in the air between us, and though I wanted to talk more, to get to know Professor McCall, I was also happy just to be in his company.

So we stood together, drinking our wine, and listening to the sounds of the evening in the town below.

I couldn't help but have a very good feeling about this summer.