Blessings of the Curse

chapter 5

Cynthia checked her watch again. 8:15 p.m. Thirty seconds past the last time she checked. She hated running late! But now the school was coming in to view so she slowed the car back down to the limit. Already the parking lot was full from parent's cars. There was nothing she could do about that now. Oh well, at least she was here. She'd lost track of time at the museum. Again. She was mad at herself this was the children's night. Her second -grade art students had worked hard to clean up and make new projects to show off to their parents. Parent/teacher conferences just seemed too formal, but an art show gave her a chance to meet some of them and discuss their children's work and do a little bragging on them. And if she was lucky, stir up a little more hype for the museum. Couldn't hurt.

After all the time, blood, sweat, and labor, they deserved to have a little luck. The community and museum itself had spent thousands of dollars to remodel and update it to try and get some new blood infused. She and the other administrators had put almost a year into the alterations and finally they could reap the fruits of the harvest come opening night, whenever that would be. The date had already been pushed back three weeks for the usual reasons of late shipments, space requirement's, and new hiring's for all the work.

She pulled into her teacher's parking space and was halfway to the front door when her student/teacher, Joyce Green, came out with an exasperated look.

"Forgot, didn't you?"

Cynthia just sighed, "Sorry- got busy and-"

"Hey, it's okay. You didn't really miss anything. They're already inside and mingling anyway. So, what was late this time? The paintings, or the goth stuff?"

Cynthia rolled her eyes to the sky, "Don't even start with that!"

The "goth stuff," as Joyce said, was one of the major new editions. It was devoted to the occult.

"Honestly, Miss Larkin, I don't know how you can find the time for anything between teaching the art class and being the curator at the museum."

"Well, you want to know my secret? I have no life."

As they came to the door, Cynthia saw one of her favorite students, nine-year-old Michelle Athen, standing alone by the wall.

"Hey, cutie!" Cynthia said, "What'cha doing out here?"

The little girl just shrugged.

"Ya' waiting for your mom?"

"She's coming tonight, okay!", she retorted, "She's just... running late that's all."

She nodded to her, "Okay, I'll see you inside."

Cynthia understood her pain. Michelle's parents were divorced and she lived with her mother who didn't pay her much attention. It was students like her that got Cynthia into teaching. The children were a clean slate she could start with. They weren't mired in historic beliefs that could have been unfounded but taken as truth incorrectly, as so many of her peers.

After four years in the field she was already causing a stir among the archeological society with her contrary thinking and aloof ideas that she had no problem putting to the test and backing up. But she still felt that she wasn't accomplishing anything by trying to prove new theories to an older community that was set in their ways and didn't like change. There were few in her field that allowed scientific curiosity to dictate where the research went, but luckily that small number was growing. She had met and worked with many that followed a specific hypothesis and set out to prove it based on their beliefs. There are many a stubborn scientist that will bend ideas and rules so that they will be looked at in favor, rather than following the evidence of time and coming to a conclusion afterwards once all the facts are present. That was her belief in studying the past. She liked to work up somewhat outlandish ideas on something, then set out to prove herself right or wrong, not caring which she was, and only basing the case on what was presented to her. It was the first step in detective work. Eliminate all possibilities and the only one left, no matter how unlikely, was correct.