Impossible, because I wouldn’t be there. I cleared my throat and tried for a nonchalant tone. It just occurred to me that this would probably be the last time I’d be alone with Mr. Whitford Hayes. I met his gaze, knowing that I wouldn’t answer his question because I didn’t want to tell another lie. I was sick of the secrecy, the sneaking around, the heavy weight pressing on my shoulders.
I wanted to deal in truth—as much as I could stomach, and I wanted to start right then.
Then it could be over.
Over before it ever began.
“Whit, I’m going to tell you something, and I need you not to say anything. I don’t want to know what you think or what you would have said. I just want to tell you something true. All right?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going to like it, am I?”
“Probably not,” I admitted.
“Then don’t tell me.”
“I’ll regret it if I don’t.”
Whit flattened his mouth, his shoulders tensing as if preparing for a mortal blow.
I took a deep breath, and forced myself to meet his eyes. They were formidable and cold. I shivered.
“I’m attracted to you, Whit. More than I’d ever expected.” More than a friend, but I bit down on the words. I still had my pride, and she governed me ruthlessly. “There’s no tomorrow for us, we don’t even have today. But I wanted you to know how I felt. Even if you don’t feel the same way.”
He regarded me without saying a word. He kept quiet while I stood, and quiet while I gathered my things. It was only when I went to walk away, my legs trembling, that he finally spoke.
“Inez,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, “it goes both ways.”
I paused, shoulders stiff, wanting to throw myself in his arms. To give into what we both want. But we were impossible. He was going to be married. I clenched my jaw and walked out of the chamber and then up the stairs, my heart pounding the whole way back to my room.
In a matter of hours, I would be leaving with my mother, carrying hundreds of priceless artifacts to Cairo where they’d be safe from Tío Ricardo’s clutches.
I ought to feel relief. But I couldn’t stop thinking how I might have made a mistake in telling him how I felt.
Whit
The devil damn me.
The light from the torch cast flickering shadows against the wall as Inez walked away, her sweet scent trailing after her, slowly driving me insane. She held her shoulders straight, the weight of the world on them. It would have been easier if she hadn’t spoken, and I was a fool for saying what I did. No better than a lie. With shaking hands, I pulled my father’s missive and read each line, my heart in my throat.
Whitford,
I tire of writing the same thing over and over. Your mother is at her wit’s end. I don’t know how much more she can take. This will be my last before I come myself.
You will not thank me for the visit, I promise you.
Come home.
—A
A yawning pit opened inside me, threatening to devour me whole. I hadn’t found the parchment despite searching for weeks. It had been a futile, desperate wish. Nothing could keep me here any longer. I stood, a calm reserve settling over me, and walked to the guttering torch.
And set the letter on fire.
Capítulo Veintiséis
The moon’s reflection rippled over the water, the song of the Nile swirled around me. Frogs croaked, birds trilled, and every so often a sudden splash punctuated the still night. I stood on the bank, arms folded tight across my shaking chest, my large bag by my feet. Cold seeped under my linen clothing, and a chill skittered down my spine.
Mamá materialized from out of the darkness, her slight form taking shape high up on the bank. She waved, and I returned the gesture. My hand fell awkwardly to my side when I spotted a taller figure coming down with her. It was a man, dressed in a casual suit, his dark hair windblown. He had kind blue eyes, and a tentative smile.
“Inez, this is my friend I was telling you about.”
He held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Your mother has told me all about you.”
I pulled back my palm. There was an easy familiarity between them, and his relaxed manner loosened the knot of tension between my shoulder blades. But my mind burned with questions. When did they meet? How was he involved in our situation? Why did she trust him? Did he know about Cleopatra, my uncle, or Papá?
Mamá gestured to my bag before I could ask my questions. I held my tongue, knowing I had plenty of time during the ride back to Cairo. For now, we had to move quickly.
“Any more artifacts in there?” Mamá asked.
I nodded with a quick look at her friend. He seemed unsurprised by the question. “I managed to get six more.” I bent and rummaged through my neatly packed things and procured the jewelry, wrapped carefully in one of my shirts. I gave the bundle to my mother.
“My boat is just over there,” he said, using his chin to point. I followed his line of sight to a narrow boat, tucked within tall shrubs. I picked up my bag and trudged after them, my heart racing.
This was it.
On Christmas morning, Tío Ricardo and Whit, along with the rest of the crew, wouldn’t find me anywhere on Philae. As if I’d disappeared, vanished into another world like in a fairy tale. I had thought about leaving a note for Whit, but decided against it. I’d already said everything I wanted to say. I couldn’t tell him where I was going, and who with, nor what my plans were. There didn’t seem a point in leaving behind a message.
This chapter of my life would soon be over.
Mamá’s friend reached the boat first and he gently took my mother’s things and placed them within. Mamá patted her clothing, frowning. She turned around, her chin dipped, searching the ground.
“Have you lost something?” I asked.
“Yes, my small silk purse. It has my headache medicine,” she said. “I never travel without it.”
We all got onto our knees, searching the rocky beach. I came up empty, and then decided to retrace my steps. I glanced nervously in the direction of the campsite. Any minute, I expected to hear my uncle shouting at us. To see Whit running toward me, disappointment carved into his features.
“I might have dropped it higher up on the bank?” Mamá whispered, walking a few steps behind me.
“I’ll go look,” I said. “And then I’ll meet you by the boat.”
Mamá nodded and turned around, moving silently back to her friend. I raced up the bank, crouched low, and began the search. Thick groupings of prickly plants obstructed my view, but I picked my way carefully. Finally, a glittering bag shown like silver in the moonlight. I grabbed it and went down the way I came, slipping on a rock. I managed to keep my balance, and by the time I reached the shore, my breath was coming out in panting gasps. I looked for my mother, but found no one.
The area was eerily quiet.
I strode to the stretch of sand where I’d last seen Mamá and her friend, but saw neither. At first, I couldn’t comprehend what I saw. The shore stood empty; only their footprints gave any indication they’d been there. Panic pulsed in the air around me. Had my uncle discovered them? Or Mr. Fincastle? But I would have heard some commotion, surely. I walked up and down the shore, my dread mounting. My breath burst from my mouth in loud huffs.
Realization crept over me.