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Satisfied, she leaned over and kissed my cheek, and then wrapped her arms around me tightly, and I felt how much she didn’t want to let me go. “As much as it terrifies me that you’re here, I’m happy to see you, querida. I’ve missed you.”
“Me, too,” I said, fighting tears. “I’m so heartbroken about Papá. I can’t believe I’ll never see him again.”
She wiped my tears. “Yo tambien, hijita. I loved him so much, and I know you were his whole world. Nothing would have made him happier than to have you here with us, and if things had been different, we would have brought you with us. I hope you know that. Your uncle has been slowly going down this road for a long time.” She shrugged helplessly. “We haven’t been getting along for years, constantly fighting, every day another argument. It was no place for you.”
“All the same, I wish you would have brought me.”
“Maybe it was a mistake not to.” Her eyes tracked over every line and curve of my face. “You’ve grown up, Inez. I see so much of your father in you.”
“But everyone says I look like you.”
She smiled, and it was almost wistful. “It’s the wisdom in your glance, the stubborn jaw, and unruly hair. You’re more like him than me. Always wanting to learn, and socurious. Every year on your birthday you wanted a new book, another sketch pad, bottles of ink, or a train ticket to another country. You’re here because you are your father’s daughter, Inez.”
My mother stood and wrapped a thick, dark scarf around her head. “I’ll come back to you when it’s safe, and when I’ve finalized a plan. Be careful until then and speak of this to no one.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
“And you mustn’t tell Whitford you’ve seen me.”
“Perhaps if you told him what you know about Tío Ricardo? He might believe you.”
She hesitated, unsure, her movement frozen. Reluctantly, she slowly shook her head. “No, Inez. Swear to me that you’ll keep my secret.”
I nodded.
She went to the entrance, her fingers gripping the fluttering curtain. Her voice dropped even lower, and I strained to hear her. “There’s one more thing you have to do for me.”
“What is it?”
“You must pretend to love your uncle.”
I recoiled, unable to disguise a full-body shudder. “But—”
“Love him, Inez,” she said. “Work to earn his approval. Strive to get to know him without revealing anything of yourself to him. He’ll use whatever weakness he finds against you. Treat him like family. He must never suspect you know the truth.”
The morning came with extraordinary splendor to the Nile. Lavender stripes reached from one end of the river, heralding the fiery burn of the sun’s rising. Egrets dotted the banks as the fishermen set off for the day’s catch. I yawned hugely, wiping the grit from my eyes. Sleep evaded me all through the night. I pulled the curtain shut and stretched, enjoying the cool touch of morning.
Everyone else had risen early.
Half the crew prayed with the rising sun, a sight familiar to me since my first morning in Cairo where the sound of hundreds of mosques signaled the time for prayer, the Azan, five times a day. The other half of the crew were Coptic Christians, and they moved quietly, preparing for the long work ahead.
I made my way to the roaring fire, rubbing my arms to fight off the chill. One of the crew took an elegant fountain pen and shook the ink into the fire pit. Flames erupted from the splatters of dark liquid, embers dancing in the air from the ink droplets. Tío Ricardo nursed his drink, watching the others, and avoiding looking in my direction. One of the women serving our party placed a warm cup of coffee into my hands. I sipped the strong brew, my sketch padtucked under my arm. Whit stepped out of his room, his blue gaze unerringly finding mine. His face was remote and closed off. I recognized it for what it was. His armor was back in place, a knight defending a vulnerable fortress.
His engagement was the moat surrounding it.
I couldn’t pin the moment when I wanted more than a friendship with Whit. I’d have to forget what I had begun to feel for him, and instead focus on what annoyed me the most. He was high-handed and exasperating, secretive and closed off. He’d made his feelings clear last night.
But I remembered the way his mouth had felt against mine.
I looked away, remembering my mother’s plea. The distance was for the best. I only wished my heart felt the same way. He couldn’t be trusted, I reminded myself for the hundredth time. He’d retreat behind the orders given to him by my uncle, and keep me at arm’s length with his meaningless flirting and roguish winks.
He was my uncle’s man, through and through.
Tío Ricardo pointed to the empty seat beside him, and I settled onto the mat. “Buenos días, Tío,” I said. My pulse jumped in my throat; I was sure that he’d see through my nonchalant behavior. Disgust mixed with my fear. He wasn’t honorable or decent. He was a liar and a thief.
“Did you sleep well?” Tío Ricardo asked.
“I did.” I’d brought out my sketch pad and flipped to what I’d completed the day before instead, telling myself that I had a mission.
