“Gold,” she said on a long sigh. “Oh, I do love jewelry. I had to sell everything I had after Jian died, but I fought long and hard to keep my gold wedding ring. It was the last to go.”
“I’m sorry,” Rowan said, hit again with another one of those urges to be heroic. He frowned at the very idea of him making a grand gesture to impress Sophea—he knew full well the sorts of tragedy that could result from such experiences, and he wanted nothing to do with any such idea.
“For the fact that I’m a widow or that I had to sell my wedding ring?”
“Both. Perhaps the latter more than the former, if I’m being truthful, although naturally, I am saddened by your loss.”
“It’s all right,” she said, her gaze on her plate as she pushed the sausage through the mound of sauerkraut. “We were only married for a few minutes before he got run down. It was horrible, but not…”
“World changing?” he suggested.
“Oh, it changed my world all right—I’d quit my job to go live in L.A. with Jian, but then he got run down as we were leaving city hall, and there I was, suddenly alone. I didn’t know who his family was, and the embassy didn’t help. My boss was furious because I’d left, and refused to give me back my old job. I had the money in Jian’s wallet—once the police gave that to me—but it was barely enough to cover burying him. It was surreal, to be honest. I’d met a man, fallen in love with him, and married him all in a few days, and then he was gone and I had no idea who he was. No one ever came forward who knew him. I left word with the Chinese embassy, but when I last inquired, no one had even asked about him. It was as if he never existed.”
Rowan fought the need to protect her from the sorrow she clearly grappled with. It wasn’t his place, he told himself, and then was immediately ashamed. What was wrong with offering sympathy to a woman who grieved her dead husband? What was wrong with showing basic human kindness? He placed his hand on hers, giving her hand a sympathetic squeeze, wishing he could take her in his arms and make her forget her sadness. “It must have been a horrible time. But you lived through it.”
She nodded, her eyes tinged with sadness. “It was horrible. But you know what’s the worst?” She looked embarrassed for a moment. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this. But after the séance… well, it kind of feels good to talk about it. Cathartic.”
“He has released you,” Mrs. P said with a nod, and filched the wine list. “It is time you speak of it and let go of the guilt.”
“Guilt?” Rowan asked, still struggling with his urges. Sexual interest, he understood. Hell, it wasn’t just awareness that Sophea stirred in him but downright lust, and he had his own sense of guilt about feeling lust for a widow. “What do you have to feel guilty about?”
“Surviving,” she said simply. “That and not grieving the way I should have. You see, I’d only just met Jian a few days before he died. We had a whirlwind romance, so I didn’t really have much of a chance to get to know him as a person. As bad as I felt that he had been so tragically killed, I spent most of my time after his death worrying about what I was going to do. I see now that I wasn’t mourning the man so much as I was the future we were going to have together. And that’s why I feel guilty. Felt guilty.” She gave a little smile. “I guess it’s time I accept that part of my life is in the past, and move forward.”
He gave her hand another squeeze, then released it when he realized he’d much prefer to continue holding it. “If you don’t think it’s too presumptuous of me to say so, you’re making a good start by being here.”
“In Egypt, you mean?” she asked, tsking at Mrs. P and replacing the bread plate on the table.
“Yes. How is it you two found each other?”
“Oh, that was Jian’s cousin.” Sophea’s brow wrinkled.
“His cousin? I thought you said you couldn’t find any of his friends or family?”
“I couldn’t.” Her frowned deepened. “Now that’s odd. I never really thought about it, but you’re right—no one ever responded to the obituary notice I had placed in a bunch of California papers. How did the cousin—man, I wish I could remember his name—find me? And why didn’t he come forward before?”
“He didn’t think of it,” Mrs. P said enigmatically.
Rowan glanced at her, feeling she wasn’t nearly as scatty as she led people to believe.
Sophea was clearly going through the events of the last few days. “He called me up two days ago… no three, and said he was Jian’s cousin, and that he was in the area only briefly, and could I escort his grandmother to Egypt. I don’t—honestly, I don’t know why I didn’t see it was so very odd, but I do now. How did he find me? Why didn’t he ever come forward when Jian died? And what was his name? Gah!”