A Time to Seek, page 9
“You assumed I was up to no good.”
I shrugged. “I’m not interested in being put on display. And I have work to do.”
“Fair enough. How about we compromise?”
I sighed. I didn’t want to make any deals with this stranger. And I very much wanted to be alone, to think about the unbelievable thing that just happened.
“What kind of compromise?”
“How about I agree to keep you out of the papers, if you agree to show me the sights, keep me out of trouble while I shoot some photographs.”
Keep him out of trouble? The idea sounded impossible. Jack Moretti clearly liked to get himself into places he didn’t belong.
Just like you.
Well, yes, but for different reasons. I followed my curiosity. Pursued the research. Jack seemed like the kind of man who fell into adventures simply for the fun of it.
“Come on, Sahara. Don’t think. Just say yes. You could stand to have a little more recreation in your life, I’m guessing.”
“Archaeology is serious business, Jack.”
“Absolutely.”
I made a face, an attempt at a scowl which ended up a smile I tried to cover with my hand.
“There we go.” Jack pointed. “That’s the Sahara I’m looking for.”
My heart skipped a little at the phrase.
Jack lifted his camera and snapped the shutter.
“Fine. I’ll be your tour guide. But only in my free time.”
I could take the opportunity to ask a few more questions about the mysterious Giada Moretti. Who was she? How well did she know my parents? And had she followed them to Venice?
“So… “ Jack grinned. “Starting now?”
No, not starting now. I had to think. I was going to lose my sanity if I didn’t get a chance to evaluate this whole crazy traveling-through-time impossibility.
“Sunset,” I said. “I’ll meet you at the American House an hour before sunset. I’ll show you the best Egypt has to offer, and you can take some photographs while the light is warm.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Sound’s like you’ve got an artist’s eye.”
I shrugged. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
Indeed.
Jack insisted on accompanying me back to the house, but left me at the verandah with promises to be back in a few hours.
I had to cross the sitting room, and was immediately accosted by Frances Breasted. She and her husband James, an Egyptologist from Chicago, had been here only a week, but Frances and Minnie Burton had made short work of getting to know each other.
“Oh, my dear!” Frances clutched my sleeve. “You look positively peaked!”
“Yes, thank you. I mean—just a headache. Excuse me, please.”
I escaped to my room, finally alone with my thoughts, and secured the door behind me.
I shoved aside the worn copy of Jane Eyre that lay face down, pages spread, on my bed. I’d read myself to sleep last night after the botched evening with Jack, finding solace in my favorite novel of the orphaned misfit Jane. Had it only been last night? Today’s events could fill a journal.
Now, propped against my bed’s headboard, pencil and notebook in hand, I stepped through the entire experience again.
Had I truly been mistaken for my mother?
I chewed the end of my pencil, already gnawed down from previous musings.
And if so, when had she been there?
My father’s letter, referring to the possibility of traveling back to Hatshepsut’s time, was dated 1904.
I doodled “1904?” in my journal with the word “Hatshepsut” beside it.
But did it matter when they had left?
A sudden realization pulled me upright, heart pounding.
Could I somehow intersect with my parents in the past, before they died?
The thought propelled me from my bed, started me pacing across my room.
I would have to know where, and when, to find them. And how could I possibly know?
Another thought washed over me, weakening my knees and dropping me into a chair.
Could they have been there today? Even if they had traveled back to ancient Egypt from, say, ’04, did they travel to that day—the same day I had visited—and somehow we were all there together? Had I missed them? Missed my opportunity to see them again?
My stomach rolled at the thought, and I blinked back tears.
I was a grown woman. But somehow when I thought of my parents, I still felt like the lonely fifteen-year-old girl they left behind in England.
I dropped my head into my hands.
Think, Sahara.
If it were truly possible to intersect with them—somewhere, sometime—how would I do it?
The Valley of the Kings was littered with tombs, many of which had been uncovered before ’05 when they died. What if they had visited some of them? All of them?
I could systematically work my way through each possibility, traveling from funeral to funeral—odd thought—looking for traces of them.
Jack’s smile flashed in my thoughts. And the man thought my life was boring!
I had at least a fortnight before Lord Carnarvon arrived and we would open the tomb. Howard needed me to make preparations. Could I take the time to… But no, perhaps that didn’t matter. Would any time pass while I was gone? Could I travel back in time right now, stay for a month, and return to this spot in my room as if it never happened?
My mind twisted and threatened to splinter at this, so I pushed the idea away. In fact, if I were going to keep going down this path, I needed to push away all ideas of logic, and of cause-and-effect.
I returned to pacing, following the knife’s edge line of sunlight that crept across my floor.
I stopped at my bookshelf and scanned the volumes. Which tomb first? Where would they have been most likely to go?
But then a brief flash of common sense. Who was I becoming? I never did anything half-prepared. Did I really want a repeat of today? Look what had happened when I didn’t have all the answers before launching into a crazy adventure. I’d been stabbed today, for glory’s sake.
And there were still so many questions… My father’s letter with its odd warning of “dangers to mind and body.” Were things happening to me without my knowledge? And I couldn’t be certain I’d return with no time lost. What if I got stuck in the past for too long, and missed the opening of the tomb we’d found? My career would be over, along with my dream of being part of the reform the profession badly needed.
But didn’t I have to find them?
Three black holes had consumed my heart for the past seventeen years. A deep sense of being unmoored from the love and belonging of a family, a vague guilt over the death of my parents, and an illogical but desperate wish to change the past. How could I walk away from a chance to understand the truth of the past, not simply the history I remembered and had interpreted into meaning? Refuse a chance to heal everything that hurt?
But I needed a plan.
If it were true I could only visit each place one time, I didn’t want to ruin my chances of intersecting them again by blundering into a time and place before I was ready.
No, better to first visit a place where I knew they could not possibly be. A place that had not yet been discovered when they were in Egypt. A place that had already driven me nearly mad with curiosity…
The newly-discovered, still-sealed tomb that might just be the lost burial chamber of Tut-Ankh-Amun.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
1458 B.C.
Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut
Theban Necropolis, Egypt
"What are you doing in here? No men allowed!"
Renae looked up at the senior priestess’s barking shout toward the doorway of the columned Hathor Chapel on the west side of the temple. Then grinned at the sight of Alexander under the lintel of the door.
It still gave her a thrill, even after fifteen years, to see him looking at her with those dark eyes.
He lifted his hands in defense against the priestess Nashim’s ire.
Renae dropped the basketry she was weaving and slid out from behind the stone worktable.
With a quick glance at Nashim, she slipped past the group of chattering young girls, grabbed Alexander’s upper arm and pulled him through the doorway, out to the portico.
"Yes.” She tried to mimic Nashim’s stern tone. “What are you doing here?"
"I came to see my favorite priestess, hard at work."
“Well, you're going to get me in trouble." She glanced back into the chapel. "Nashim is very strict about our work hours. And you know today is a big day."
"You're the only woman I know who would keep strict work hours during her holiday.”
Renae laughed. ”Hmm, yes, why didn’t my holiday include sunbathing on the beach?”
"You have no one to blame but yourself, and you know it.” Alexander poked her side gently.
“But it’s the trip of a lifetime, that's for sure."
Renae looked down across the terraces of the mortuary temple, to the crowd building in anticipation of today's events. How amazing she and Alexander could be here for this moment. To honor the strongest female Egyptian pharaoh to ever rule this kingdom.
Alex circled her waist with his arm. “I know you would’ve liked to have met her.”
She shrugged. “Of course. But it would have taken too long. Hard enough to talk my way into the priestess role.”
“Oh, you could talk your way into anything you set your mind to, my dear.”
“Well, being here to witness this spectacle has always been the dream.”
Besides, we can’t stay much longer, or else…
Did Alex notice her sharp intake of breath at the sudden thought?
A burly man bumped against her as he passed. Then glanced at her. His face flickered in surprise.
“Ra-Ne-Hannu?" He glanced back down to the second terrace, his brow furrowed. "I thought –" He shook his head.
Renae gave him a half smile. The man was a brute, one of Nashim’s heavy lifters employed to corral the bulls for sacrifices.
"If you are looking for Nashim, she is inside the chapel."
Alexander gave a little snort. "Be careful though, she's not taking favorably to men today."
Renae elbowed him in the ribs.
Alexander turned her to face him, and locked his arms behind the small of her back. "Can you get away? I thought maybe we could get something to eat, and just absorb all of the excitement. I feel like we probably shouldn't stay much longer. I want to make sure you see everything you wanted to see."
Renae tossed her head back, shaking the oddly-straight hair that still felt like a wig, even though it was attached to her head.
“Sure, what's the worst that can happen? Nashim will fire me?"
Alex kissed the top of her head.
She hooked her arm through his and lifted her chin toward the platform. “Let's see what we can see."
They walked with linked arms down the steps, ready for a new adventure.
She loved that it had always been this way, since they found each other in their university days. More than fifteen years of jumping through history had not dulled the excitement every time they walked side-by-side into something new. Into the unknown.
The crowd parted slightly to give them space. Perhaps sensing she had some official capacity here. A little bubble of pride surged. She had been here only a week, and had managed to find a place and gain respect. Knowing the history, knowing where to go and whom to talk to certainly helped. But still, she could take a little credit, couldn't she?
They were descending against the flow of people crowding forward, toward the festivities that would soon begin in the colonnade above. The air hung heavy with ritual incense and earthy animal smells.
"Alexander?"
They slowed to a stop at the odd sound of his name being hissed through the crowd.
Renae searched for the speaker.
There—that woman—giving a little wave, and an uncertain half-smile.
“Alexander Aldridge! It is you! And Renae, right?"
Renae glanced at Alex in question.
He seemed briefly confused as well, but then his face cleared, and he smiled.
"Joanne?"
The woman moved toward them, circling a tightly-clustered family, her lips parted in surprise.
"Wow, how long has it been?" He turned to Renae. "Renae, you remember Joanne Walters. From Canterbury?”
The memory clicked. Renae smiled, then held out her arms for a quick embrace.
"Joanne! Of course! How funny to run into you here!"
Unbelievable, even.
"I know! What are the odds?”
The three stared at each other for a moment, as if no one knew how to begin explaining what had brought them all to this moment.
"Are you living here now?" Joanne was looking at Renae's priestess garb, and Alex’s more common knee-length, belted shirt.
Alex shook his head. "No, we’re actually working on the start of the Mentuhotep project.” He thumbed in the direction of the temple to their east.
Her eyebrows lifted. “With Carter?"
Renae shook her head. "No, he’s still in Cairo fighting those ridiculous Saqqara accusations. We're working with Naville."
Alexander reached a hand out and squeezed Joanne’s forearm, as if they were such good, old friends. "But how about you? What have you been up to, and why are you here?"
Joanne’s eyes shifted sideways. "Oh, I've always wanted to. You know, see this place in all its glory. Experience this festival day." She brought her eyes back to Alexander’s. Smiled, but only with her lips. "Just like you, I suppose."
Renae tried to keep her face impassive. Why the oddly evasive answer?
Alexander smiled in agreement, as if he sensed nothing of the strangeness.
Not too surprising.
"It's been what, ten years? Since we've seen you? Are you still living in London, working at the Petrie?”
"No, no, I left the museum years ago. I’m at a nonprofit in the States now. The Moretti Foundation. Have you heard of it?"
Renae’s stomach clenched in a sudden surge of nausea. Had she kept her face expressionless again? She slowly turned her head toward Alexander. Would he be able to contain his reaction?
“Moretti?”
That was all he said. Just that one word. Certainly Joanne would not be able to pick up on all the emotion behind it. The fear. The anger. Even confusion.
"Yes. My boss, the director of the foundation, Giada Moretti—she's doing great work, funding conservation and retrieval. Do you—wait—I think you all went to the same university. Back in Philadelphia, right? University of Pennsylvania?”
Renae kept her breath steady. Their alma mater, across the ocean in the States, boasted Ben Franklin as its founder. She and Alex hadn’t been there in years.
“You must know Giada,” Joanne was gushing, “she would've been there around the same time as you."
Alexander turned to Renae, as though searching his recollection.
Renae swallowed, fighting the nausea down. "Hmm… Moretti… Yes, the name seems familiar. Perhaps we did know her."
"Well, I'm certain she would remember you! She has that kind of memory, and besides, you two were… Well, you know." She laughed.
Renae forced a smile in return, and hoped it didn't look as much like a grimace of pain as it seemed from the inside of her head.
“Well," Alexander said, “we should probably keep moving. Renae has responsibilities, believe it or not.”
Did he just wink at Joanne, as if they shared a secret? How was he able to keep his cool?
"Of course, of course." Joanne was shaking her head, smiling, reaching out for a quick embrace and a kiss on the cheek for Alex, then for her.
"I'm sure Giada will be tickled to hear I ran into someone in this place, at this time, that she knew so long ago. People say it's a small world, but they really have no idea, do they?"
Renae was pushing her shoulder against Alexander’s shoulder. Start walking.
She tried to laugh. “Yes, they have no idea. So good to see you, Joanne. I hope your stay here is everything you hoped for."
They all waved small goodbyes to each other. As she and Alex walked down the steps, Renae kept her spine straight and her chin lifted, trying to negate the way everything inside her was turning to water.
“Alex, if she—”
Alexander tightened her arm against his side. "Not yet. Not yet."
They waited until they were halfway across the first terrace.
Renae dared to turn her head, to see if Joanne were following them.
If perhaps she and Alex were the real reason Joanne was here.
Had Joanne brought others? Others who would suddenly appear out of the crowd, grab them both, and undo eleven years of hiding?
"I don't see her." She studied the crowd around them. “I don't see anyone looking at us."
Alexander's breath released audibly.
They faced each other, and she felt their faces reflecting equal measures of horror over the absurdly coincidental meeting.
“Alex, if Joanne tells her—“
“Joanne doesn't know where we’re staying. She only knows we’re here in ’04.”
"No, we were stupid enough to tell her we were at Mentuhotep with Naville.”
Alexander's face darkened.
“She will find us, Alexander. She will find us and she will kill us.”
Renae took his hands in hers and pulled them to her chest. To her heart. Her throat tightened. “There's something else."
He looked into her eyes, his expression like marble, face taut.
She hadn’t wanted to make this announcement, not like this.
"I'm pregnant."
He pulled his hands from her grip and took a shaky step backward.
“I know.” She reached for him and blinked away tears. “Obviously I didn't mean for it to happen. Not again."
“You jumped while pregnant? How could you do that? Were you trying to—“
“I don’t know.” She covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know. Don’t ask me that.”
