Sand and Tears

Sand and Tears

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Universal Pictures. There are more of them than there were in the last part, too.

Summary: It was nearly three years until I saw him again. Three years, almost forever, but then, I wasn't in love with him at the time. In fact I'd almost forgotten about him during those years, but there are some things you just never forget. He's one of them. Heaven have mercy; I don't know what I'll do without him now. Ardeth gets playful (and somewhat scary) and Laura gets angsty. I get to question what it means to be Ardeth, what he thinks, how he acts and reacts, and how that smile got so damned sexy.

Author's note: A sequel to the first piece, Counsel, this sprung up on me and preyed upon my mind until I agreed to write it out in full. It's not really researched, but I do know a bit about Egypt. Also, please be aware that I am taking the title of this piece back into its original meaning, 'exacerbate' meaning 'to embitter' but also meaning 'to make worse,' as it is equally appropriate. With that in mind… read on.

Sand and Tears

Part Two: Exacerbation

It was nearly three years before I saw him again. Three years, almost forever, but then, I wasn't in love with him at the time. In fact, during those years I'd almost forgotten all about him. Almost. There are some things I could never forget: the sound of his voice, the deep compassion in his eyes, the way he says my name. But I suppose I need to explain what I was doing in those very dull eight years first.

I got a job cataloguing artifacts at the library-quasi-museum in Cairo, befriending and apprenticing a rather accident-prone young woman by the name of Evelyn Carnahan. Jim passed away months after Sarah, alcohol poisoning being the cause of death, and left me more money than I knew what to do with as well as a huge estate to take care of. I rented out most of it for wealthy tourists and successful treasure-seekers, because it was more convenient than having to look after the place myself and gave me another source of income. I was somewhat unwilling to spend the Rutherfords' money unless I absolutely had to. Charity from dead people is still charity. Besides, there was nothing worthwhile to spend it on.

Anyway, eventually Evelyn was put in charge of the books and I the artifacts, which suited both of us. There's nothing you can learn from a book that you can't learn better from hands-on experience. We were rather good friends, and I spent a lot of time around her and her brother Jonathan, a scoundrel and a boozehound if there ever was one. Still, he was fun, and though I never would have told Evelyn, undeniably handsome.

Nothing ever came of that, though that's not to say that he wasn't interested. I used to wonder if I was disappointed about this, but if I'd known then what I know now- let's just say Jonathan will find someone to put him in his place eventually. It will never be me. Probably some American thrill-seeker. But that's not important to this particular story.

What is important is that, roughly two years after I started at the library, Evie went off on an archaeological dig to Hamunaptra, the City of the Dead, once lost, with the prison warden, one of his previous wards, and her brother. I didn't find out about that until afterwards, of course; one day I walked in to find the library a disaster area and Evelyn missing, and that was the end of that. When she came back to pick up after herself she was married- to the former prisoner, and an American at that; how very unlike Evie- and had all sorts of enchanting and horrifying experiences to share with me. I guess I was lucky in that respect- it was with her and her husband that I went on my first dig a few months later.

Understandably, there are some things I didn't mention in the above paragraph. One is that Evelyn was almost sacrificed to make room for the lover of one of Pharaoh Seti I's priests. Two is that this priest was condemned to be mummified alive for committing adultery with Seti's whore and conspiring with her to kill him. Three is that, unwittingly, Evie herself resurrected him from the dead and let him wreak havoc on Egypt. I suppose those probably should have been mentioned in reverse order, but never mind, what's done is done, and anyway, if you're still reading, I applaud you. If I were you, I certainly wouldn't believe me. But Evie was never any good at lying. Anyway, this Imhotep priest bloke nearly killed her, but Rick and Jonathan kicked his ass just in the nick of time, saving Evelyn and taking off with several bags full of gold goodies from the City of the Dead. Not too shabby- lucky Evelyn escaped with her life, a dashing husband, and a fortune. Some girls have all the fun.

Our dig, however, was not to be anything quite so risky. A sandstorm had unburied an isolated temple about three miles outside of Thebes (or Luxor, if we're to use the modern name), dedicated to Set the god of chaos, if I recall correctly. (And after all, how could I forget?) Rick (Evie's husband), the Queen of Egypt herself, and I, along with Jonathan, set off for the long ride across the beautiful but harsh landscape and, after getting really tired of riding camel-back, we arrived at our destination, full of sand. Maybe it's just some of Evie's clumsiness rubbing off, but… well, I had sand everywhere. Literally. Even in places that should logically have been protected by clothes and undergarments. Not that that's necessary to the plot, or anything.

Well, anyway, at first we didn't find much. No juicy, gooey mummies, nothing with obvious dark connotations, no spells other than the usual ones adorning the walls and no evidence of any foul play. The place hadn't even been raided yet, which was something of a surprise for such a large temple. More surprising, to the historians among us, anyway, was the location- generally, Lower Egypt (that is, the northern part) was more closely associated with Set.

By the end of the first day, we were all achy from stooping over and even more full of sand. I realized that the sun would be setting soon and left the three of them inside to finish up while I went to set up the tents.

"Bugger," I remember growling with feeling. If I didn't hurry, I'd lose what light there was left, and I'm something of a bad hand when it comes to things that require skills like pitching a tent.

"Laura!" Evie yelled at me suddenly from the doorway to the temple. "Come and look at this!"

Curious, I stood up, making sure that none of our equipment was in danger of blowing away, and turned back to the entrance.

And shouted aloud when someone grabbed me roughly from behind. "Jesus Christ!" I yelled, biting the hand that tried to clap over my mouth. No use- it was gloved and whoever-it-was probably barely even felt a tickling sensation. I squirmed violently as one arm tried to tighten around my midsection, then I went slack. The arm overcompensated and I took a step away, digging my elbow backwards roughly.

It encountered a hand, which grasped it firmly and spun me around. With no time to aim I pulled the hardest punch I could, only to have that caught, too, so I took aim with my foot-

I've never been gladder not to have landed a blow. The whoever-it-was swept my other leg out from under me, caught me before I hit the ground, and swung me over his shoulder. Unfortunately for him, this meant that he could not cover my mouth at the same time. Cursing loudly and insulting his family line in my less-than-perfect Arabic did not seem to be getting me anywhere, however.

Before he'd even carried me past the pillar to the city, where undoubtedly I'd be drugged or otherwise incapacitated until the rest of the team could be captured, there was the sound of the safety being taken off of a rifle. "Put her down," Evie commanded, first in flawless Arabic and then in English.

Tall, Dark, and Muscular turned around abruptly, which was a surprise. Oh, and it wasn't good for my head. Too much abrupt motion when one's hanging upside-down from a strange man's shoulder… "Evelyn?" I started. There was something about his voice…

"Ardeth!" she exclaimed, discarding the weapon immediately. Oh, good, I thought, cataloguing the name. A friend of a friend is a friend of mine. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Are you going to put me down now?" I asked, dazedly, still speaking Arabic. It was all the blood flow to my head. This sensation was immediately reversed as Ardeth flipped me right side up again and set me on the sand. I sank down, dizzy. "Thank you," I said dumbly, in English this time.

"What are you doing here? This is not the place for newlyweds, especially not you two." Well, he certainly knew what he was talking about. And I still couldn't place his voice. Damn it!

Evie flushed, whether with anger or embarrassment or indignation I never found out. "Well, we're not raising any mummies, and we certainly don't need you to baby-sit us-"

He cut her off. "Have you found anything?" The way he stressed the last two words made me wonder if Evie might indeed be in danger of resurrecting something. She didn't meet his eyes. "That's what I thought," Ardeth said, sighing. "Will you never learn?" I recognize now the teasing light his eyes had taken on. At least he'd gotten there before something drastic happened.

"Well, I-"

"'No harm ever came from reading a book,'" Rick quoted, wiping sand from his hands onto the back of his trousers as he emerged from the temple. "Good to see you, Ardeth." He looked at me. "What are you doing on the ground?"

"Recovering from almost being kidnapped," I said sarcastically, grudgingly accepting the hand this Ardeth character extended to help me up. Then I looked up into his eyes.

Big mistake- they were large, warm and inviting and wise and beautiful, and I realized for the first time that this was probably the most exquisitely gorgeous human being I had ever laid eyes upon. He had dark tattoos on his cheeks, possibly henna, and an immaculate goatee. And that voice- and the profile-- everything clicked into place. "You!" we exclaimed together, and let go of each other as if we were hot coals. I didn't want to stop looking at him. Good Lord. Had I really once thought of him as Shadow Man? He was seductive even in broad daylight. Heaven have mercy.

I turned to Evie, painfully aware of the fact that I had ended up on my rear in the sand again. I really was losing face that day. "You know this fellow?"

She looked even more surprised than I felt and turned to Ardeth. "You two know each other?"

"Oh, yeah," I said bitingly, pulling myself up off of the sand. "He and I go way back, right? Ardeth, is it?" I grinned and extended my hand. Just because I was sarcastic all the time didn't mean I was unfriendly. "Laura Rutherford. Nice to finally meet you where I can see you. Although the circumstances could have been better." Like maybe if we'd been the only two there. Whoa, wait a second, you just met the man, something in me cautioned.

Ardeth grasped my hand firmly. It was bizarre, but somehow I anticipated it when he brought it to his lips. "A pleasure."

No bloody kidding. That's all I was thinking about, anyway.

Things might have gotten even more awkward, but luckily Jonathan chose this moment to emerge from the tomb. "Hello, what have we here? My dear Laura, we do make friends fast."

I glowered at him. If he were sand, he might've melted into glass. "Jonathan. I assume you know him, too."

"Well, I suppose that depends on which 'him' you're referring to." I turned around, and suddenly behind Ardeth there were three others loaded down with weaponry and somewhat sinister expressions.

I blinked, wondering if they were hallucinations. "Aren't you going to introduce us?" I asked meekly.

Ardeth turned and said something to his warriors in rapid Arabic. Then, in English, "You should pitch your tents soon- the sun will be setting." He paused, then said, "Evelyn, I would like to see what you have found."

I grimaced, somehow sensing that if he saw it, I never would, then volunteered to go with them. Rick and Jonathan were better at setting up camp, anyway. The three of us went back into the temple.

I'll never forget the look on Ardeth's face when Evie showed him that scroll. He was scared- damn scared- and I rarely saw him look like that, even afterwards. The scroll itself was innocent, but the writings on it were not- it decreed that every thousand years on the lunar solstice Set himself would visit this temple. What were the odds that the lunar solstice was three weeks away? And naturally, that year would be that thousand-year interval. Don't things always work out that way?

The scroll went on to describe a somewhat gory sacrificial rite in exquisite detail, something about the essentials of an illegitimate child, to invoke Set's favor, and possibly bring about the next apocalypse. (Sounds cliché, doesn't it? I laughed out loud. Ardeth didn't think it was very funny. He growled at me. And he took away the blasted scroll, too. Evie was really mad; I just wanted to learn more about the curses and apocalyptic events.) Anyway, five minutes later, Ardeth and his tribal lackeys were riding off into the sunset, sans moi, which I was only mildly perturbed about.

I grabbed a blanket and draped it around my shoulders, taking a seat close to the fire. "Let me guess," Evie said. "We're leaving in the morning."

Rick nodded, passing Jonathan a bottle of something that looked deadly. "You guessed it."

"But, Rick," she protested.

Rick cut her off. "No buts. Remember what happened last time, Evie. I'm not taking chances with you again, especially," he took on a nearly paternal tone, "with things the way they are. Ardeth will be back in the morning to make sure we've gone, you know he will, and he will not be happy if we show no signs of moving when he gets back."

The paternal tone is what got me. Then I thought, Hell, they've been married almost six months, and with those two, did you really expect something different? "Am I sensing that some sort of congratulations are in order?"

They both grinned, faces pink in the firelight. That was all the answer I needed. "How do you three know this Ardeth fellow, anyway? I somehow get the impression he's not exactly a social butterfly."

Jonathan snorted. "You'd be right. He's the leader of a huge clan of desert warriors that are constantly preventing meddlesome librarians like Evie here from accidentally bringing about the end of the world. No big deal." He looked at me curiously, and slightly drunkenly. "How do you know him?"

I noticed the way Evie was looking at me and squirmed uncomfortably. I can't keep secrets from her. It's impossible, even with an audience. "Well, I wouldn't say I know him, exactly. We've met… once… two and a half years ago. It was dark," I explained, "and so I didn't recognize him at first, just his voice…"

I must have sounded like a lovesick puppy, and looked it, too, by the expressions on their faces. Evie had a hand clapped over her mouth and I could see that she was straining with the effort not to laugh. Well, she wouldn't be laughing later. But I didn't know that then. I'm just lucky I had a friend like her to get me through it all.

As it was, I had a hard time sleeping that night. A chill wind blew outside my tent, and the cold seeped in through the canvas. When I did drift off, my dreams were haunted by a man whose face I couldn't see but whose voice called to me from the depths of my soul. A little melodramatic, maybe, but essentially true. Suffice it to say that I was not at my most chipper point the next morning.

Ardeth, true to his word, returned the early the following day, alone, just as we were finishing packing up. He was on horseback again (unsurprising; I couldn't imagine him riding a camel), and this time I noticed subtle things about the animal itself- spirited but silent, obviously high-strung but very obedient, it clearly had no question of who was the master. I also decided that it could very well have been the same horse that I hadn't noticed that night in the graveyard so long ago. It was a remarkable creature.

Not so remarkable, perhaps, as its master, and though a good deal of what I am telling you is hindsight, I can say with all honesty that I was more than struck by his impressive figure again that morning.

He didn't say much, though, which I learned was pretty much standard. He waited with Evie, Rick and I while Jonathan pulled himself together and rolled up his tent. The silence was thicker than wet sand, although there was no real reason for it to be so awkward. Evie's eyes kept darting between Ardeth and I, despite the glare I was giving her. When she did catch on to it, she just smiled wider and kept doing it.

Eventually Rick thought of a way to torture me (us), which was nothing other than inquiring, with a knowing sort of smirk on his face, how it was that we first met. Talking around the knife he was holding in his teeth (he was also whittling something out of a piece of sandalwood he'd gotten who-knew-where), "So Ardeth," pause while he switched tools, "we've heard Laura's side of the story, but I want a man's view. You don't exactly get out much. When and how the hell," Evie looked only mildly affronted, "did you meet?"

I did not even need to use all of my people-reading skills to see that Ardeth was uncomfortable with the question (although I didn't know exactly why at the time). I suddenly felt inclined to rescue him, which was somewhat irrational of me since the last person who could possibly ever need saving is Ardeth. Unless that saving includes saving him from himself, which he needs every once in a while. He's something of a workaholic and can take things far too seriously. "What's wrong with my version of the events?" I asked, feigning indignant and hoping my act wasn't totally transparent. By Evie's expression, it probably was. "Don't you believe me?"

I didn't miss the curious look Ardeth was giving me. There was some relief there, too, hidden under his proud mask. I guess I must have been getting good at reading him.

"Sure I believe you," Rick said good-naturedly. "I want to know if I believe Ardeth. Out with it."

I'm fairly sure I glowered at him, but Ardeth answered steadily, "It was nearly three years ago, in a graveyard in Cairo." He looked at me for a long moment and I was sure that my face was burning red. Possibly literally; once again I'd forgotten to put on a hat.

"Uh-huh," Rick intoned, setting down his tools and crossing his arms over his chest. "So I've heard."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Rick, you are not a subtle man. Don't pretend." I almost had time to wonder I was relieved before she continued, "And you two. Don't think for a moment you can escape the interrogation I'm going to give you. I just happen to have more tact than my husband." She elbowed him in the stomach. "But we should get going before it gets much later."

We did, and so it came to pass that Ardeth Bey walked out of my life again.

The three and a half weeks that followed before he reappeared unannounced (as he was prone to do) were uneventful and dull. Work in the museum seemed to have lost its appeal. I was easily distracted, there wasn't much to do, and I couldn't even talk to Evelyn at work to ease the boredom because she didn't work there anymore. She'd gotten huge numbers of better offers, but wasn't working at all just then because (although I doubt she'd ever admit this was the reason) she was pregnant and Rick was obsessively worried about her.

On this particular day, I had just finished drafting summaries for a new series of historical objects (relatively benign and innocent ones compared to what darling Evie had dug up) when I heard someone talking with the curator. The language was Arabic, and while most of it was too fast for me to catch, I would have known that voice anywhere. At the time, I thought my imagination was running away with me. After all, what in the five pillars of Islam would Ardeth Bey be doing in a museum? If he wanted to see stuffy old dead blokes he could go right to the source any time. I was just about to think up an excuse to go back into the library and main reception area when the curator called me over.

Unsurprisingly, my ears had not deceived me into thinking I was hearing Ardeth's voice. "Miss Rutherford," the curator was saying, "this is my nephew-" My mental exclamation cut him off as I stopped hearing his words. I couldn't believe I hadn't made the connection between them- 'Bey' isn't exactly a common name.

"We've met," I said dryly, extending my hand to Ardeth. "How do you do, Mr. Bey?" I asked in my clumsy Arabic.

Ardeth took my hand and shook it, earning a curious look from yours truly. So he had reservations about being a scoundrel in front of older relatives, did he? That was certainly interesting. "Well, thank you," he answered back. I noticed a fresh scab along his jawline and had to wonder if anyone could be crazy enough to actually engage this man in any sort of physical confrontation.

Reluctantly, I turned my attention back to the curator. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

The curator nodded and gestured to Ardeth, who withdrew a familiar-looking scroll from his robes.

Lucky scroll, I tried not to let myself be distracted.

"This scroll," the curator intoned, taking on the tone he usually did when talking with foreign women, "is now your be-all, end-all of responsibilities." Well, of course, I thought, after all, in the wrong hands it could bring about the next apocalypse. "That includes dating, translating, cleaning, preservation…" I started tuning him out. Ardeth was distracting me. "…And guarding it with your life."

Really. With my life. I was hardly about to die for a scroll. Deciding that it couldn't hurt any to let the curator know that I already knew about where it had been found, I ventured a question. "Shouldn't this be conveniently lost somewhere? I mean, what with the temple and the sacrifices and the apocalypse and everything…"

I suppressed my satisfaction at the curator's disbelieving look. Shadow-Man looked like he was holding in a laugh. "The temple is gone," Ardeth said without any particular significance.

Well, that would explain it. "Oh," I said stupidly, then reached out and took the scroll. "I guess I'll get to work." I cursed myself for not coming up with an excuse to stay longer and turned to leave.

Ardeth probably thought I didn't know he was following me, and to be sure, I wasn't a hundred percent certain, but like I said before, you learn to trust that tingle after a while. "Is there something I can help you with?"

I turned around and was fairly alarmed to notice that he was a lot closer than I'd expected. Apparently he was very experienced at sneaking up on people. Proximity decreed that every nerve fiber in my body tingle. Ardeth had one of his insufferable little smiles on his lips and it was slowly killing me. "I think so," he answered, capturing my hand and pressing it to his lips again. The tingling sensation decided to migrate to my spine and I shivered. Damn him. How was I supposed to sleep at night?

I tried to restrain my errant mind from answering that particular rhetorical question, but to no avail, and flushed bright red. Ardeth's superior smile widened a little. I wanted to scream. Instead I forced the blood to flow away from my face and raised an eyebrow. If he wanted to play that way, I was game. "Very well, Mr. Bey. What's your pleasure?"

If I thought that was going to provoke the same kind of visible reaction in him that he had in me, I was going to be sorely disappointed. I almost anticipated it when he answered, "What's yours?"

Don't blush, I told myself furiously. Don't do it. Don't. I did. Damn him. Would this be a good opportunity to point out that I was just barely twenty years old at the time and very unused to the attention? As a direct result, I could not for the life of me think of something equally innuendo-laced to say back to him. Instead I think I said, "Are you always like this?"

"No," he answered (truthfully, I might add).

Wherein lies one of my key dilemmas. 'To thine own self be true.' Blast him and damn morals! And if my own conscience was going to stand in our way then damn it, too. I think he recognized exactly what I meant by that from our first ever conversation, because after a contemplative look, he left again without another word.

His other visits, while not infrequent, were always more serious. Although the teasing, playful side of Ardeth would show through fairly often, he always seemed more genuine after that. As time progressed it also became apparent that he was born to lead; he was so proud that he was nearly arrogant and sometimes I caught him almost swaggering rather than stalking about as he was much more prone to do.

This went on for years- three and a half of them, to be exact. I probably saw him at least once a month during that time. Sometimes I would wake up and find some more of those mysterious white flowers from the garden- heaven only knew where he was getting them from because I'd never seen them anywhere else before. I learned eventually that they were Calla lilies (I know, I know; what was Sarah doing growing lilies in Egypt? But I couldn't very well get rid of them…) and while they were a trifle expensive to keep, they were just so beautiful and had such sentimental value that there was absolutely no chance of me ever getting rid of them. But the Calla Lilies aren't really what the story's about…

Ardeth and I grew close; we finally learned to communicate properly. I learned that the delicious scar I'd first noticed as a scab on his jawbone was the result of an injury from one of Set's canine henchmen. I learned all about the reign of Seti I from the point of view of the Pharaoh's bodyguards themselves. In return, I told him about my childhood, life in Italy and Greece, and what I was doing in the graveyard that fateful night.

This was when he first began to tell me about his own troubles. The death of his own father, whom he'd loved dearly, and the circumstances surrounding it. The constant pressures, doubts and worries that plagued him because of his position. The unrelenting quest of his maternal grandmother to find him a wife. (I confess, some of those stories made me laugh so hard that I drew even more attention than usual.)

I know what you're thinking: Three and a half years. Years! And you didn't…? Well, the answer is no. We didn't. (Couldn't? Wouldn't?) After all, this is Egypt we're talking about. Not exactly the most forward-thinking of countries. I still wonder if this is part of the reason for what happened at the end of those three and a half years.

The memory is so fresh in my mind that it might have been yesterday. As a matter of fact these two years have been plagued with might-have-beens and almost-weres. But let me tell you about this particular day, which happens to be the last day that I saw him.

I remember that it was a Friday, because everything was closed. I found Ardeth in Sarah's garden at around nine o'clock in the morning and was met with a kiss and one of those blasted Calla lilies. They used to be popular for funerals, you know, but there's no way I was ever going to bring that up. There was something in the air that day, something I felt even then, something indefinable and indescribable and inherently good; everyone seemed to feel it and everything seemed much more alive because of it. I should have been able to see what was coming, but then, hindsight is always crystal clear.

We rode two hours by horseback (on the same horse, I should add; her name is Isis and Ardeth adores her; won't ride another) to the most beautiful and improbable oasis I've ever seen. It was lush and almost cool beneath the cover of the leaves; Ardeth said speculatively that Allah had smiled upon us to give us such a beautiful day together. What else could I do but agree? And yet I still hadn't figured it out.

We walked along beside a babbling brook until it turned into a perfect lagoon and there we stopped to rest. Ardeth led Isis to the water to drink and I laid back in the shade, unable to quell the ridiculous notion that that particular day was just ours, not to be shared with anyone.

Ardeth came and sat down beside me, and I noticed that he looked more apprehensive than ever before, but when I asked him he only smiled that infuriating smile that he has and told me that I would find out soon enough. I knew better by then than to press the issue. If it was meant to be a surprise, then it was meant to be a surprise, damn it. Besides, he would just tease me about my impatience if I brought it up again. He liked to think that I was young and inexperienced, whether that was true or not, and reminding me of it was one of his favorite pastimes.

Anyway, I'm a little unclear on what happened next. I'm fairly certain I fell asleep just lying there and talking to him, but I'm never really sure. The next thing I remember, we were headed back to Cairo again, the sun low in the sky. I don't think we've ever had a quieter two hours together. I was so completely in awe of- everything…

But enough of that nonsense. Nothing sadder than a sappy Irish woman, and I'm getting dangerously close. Never mind dangerously close; I've been over the edge for quite some time. Just let me tell it like it is.

Was. I've got to remember to use the past tense, too.

At any rate, it was just past sundown when we got back to the Rutherfords' somewhat pretentious estate. Funny how I never really thought of it as home without them. Well, maybe not so funny. But I'm digressing again, which isn't that unusual; you should have heard the story as I first told it to Evelyn. Let's just say she was a little frustrated with my inability to get the facts out in any particular order.

Where did I leave off? Ah, the door. The back door, that is, to avoid prying eyes, I suspect. I was anticipating the kiss- soft, lingering, and completely enthralling, although I'm sure you don't want to hear me go on about it- but what happened directly afterwards would leave me scarred for years. Ardeth pulled away slightly, just enough that all I could see was the fathomless depths of my own soul reflected in his eyes. Damn but that sounds dramatic. Yet all of this was just useless jargon in my brain as I felt him fasten something around my neck.

"Marry me," he whispered, threading fingers through my hair as I stood there, stunned. "Please."

In years to come I could never think of him without hearing him say the words. He loved me. He wanted me to be his wife. And I… Oh, I

I was scared, and it showed. I found myself leaning against the door for support. He wanted to marry me. Me! How would his family react? How would I react? Would I be able to cope? What if it didn't work out? I had so many doubts, so many questions, and yet there was only one answer: It didn't matter. I loved him. I needed him. I still do.

When I opened my eyes with a shaky smile the last vestiges of residual sunlight were gone from the sky. I have no idea how long I had stood there.

I also have no idea how long he waited. By the time I opened my eyes again, he was gone with the sunlight, leaving behind only the faint scent of sandalwood and exotic spice. I haven't seen him since.

I don't know what I'd have done if it weren't for Evelyn. Little Alex- the son that came of the pregnancy I mentioned earlier- was just about three and certainly a handful; Evie and Rick were contemplating moving back to England to lead somewhat more normal lives, but what mattered was that they weren't gone yet and I needed the company. That first night when I told Evie everything, she cried harder than I did. Actually, I don't think I cried at all, but I don't remember. Those times are… something of a blur to me now.

Just because I didn't see Ardeth afterwards doesn't mean there hasn't been evidence that points to him seeing me, of course. That funny sixth sense I sometimes get will sneak up on me at the strangest times: at the marketplace, in the museum where I still work, in my own garden and at the graveyard I visit every Tuesday with white Calla lilies. Sometimes I still wake up to the scent of sandalwood and spice and when I open my eyes I'll see that someone's left the window open.

There were never any more flowers, though. Not until now. I try not to wonder what it means, but I can't help myself. I mean, I've tried drying Calla lilies before. A lot of times, actually. But they always withered and crumbled and were never really preserved. Yet I know, beyond any and all shadow of a doubt, that that flower…

That blasted flower. It first appeared in my life with a mysterious shadow man and was originally intended for my adoptive mother's dead son. Now it's reappeared to remind me of a love that has also grown old, one that used to be the very sustenance of my life. How morbidly appropriate.

I can't risk touching it. If I touch it, it will become real, or it will fade away as a part of a future I'll never have. Either way it will bring my two years of attempted living crashing down on my head. It will mess up my life in ways that I cannot even fathom. Touching that flower, I realize suddenly with a pang of intense agony, cannot bring him back.

So I sit there, and I watch it, as the sun sets in Cairo. Errant rays of sunlight refract through the glass windowpanes and caress it before succumbing and then the shadows come. Yet still I watch. Waiting; for what, I do not know. Whatever it is, it doesn't happen while I sit there.

I fall asleep sitting in that chair by the window. Before I lose consciousness, I feel my fingers curl around the lily's stem and I, too, succumb.