Dragon Soul
Page 19

“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!”
“I do not have any children,” Mrs. P said with blithe indifference. “Thus, no grandchildren, named or otherwise.”
Sophea made a little face at Rowan. “As you can see, she needs someone to help make things go smoothly. Although that really is weird about Jian’s cousin. I can’t even picture him in my mind. He’s just kind of a vague memory.”
“So you don’t know anything about the ring?” The words were out of his mouth before he realized it. Immediately, he damned his lack of sleep for allowing him to be so obvious.
“What ring?” Sophea asked, just as he knew she would.
“It doesn’t matter. Forget I said it.”
“Oh, like that isn’t going to make me wonder all the more. Wait, this wouldn’t happen to be a magic ring that lets its wearer turn invisible, would it? Because if so, we’re back to The Hobbit.”
“I am finished,” Mrs. P announced, pushing away her plate. “If you are going to sit there talking rather than eating, we can leave.”
“Rudeness does not become you,” Sophea told her.
The old woman straightened her bent shoulders and gave a haughty look. “I am priestess of Heka, a vessel of Isis, and a hoochie-coo dancer extraordinaire. I am not rude!”
“Priestess of what, now?” Sophea asked.
With an effort, the old woman got to her feet. “I fear for the success of our journey if you refuse to acknowledge the truth. Your man will accompany me to my room if you desire to eat.”
“I will?” Rowan asked, setting down his fork. The look he received had him on his feet without thinking. He held out his arm for Mrs. P, who took it with a little nod. “I guess I will.”
“I’m done,” Sophea announced, sliding her plate away as she rose. “I’ll go up to the room with you so Rowan can finish his dinner.”
But they were already moving, heading slowly toward the rickety elevator. “Would you mind signing the check for me?” Rowan asked over his shoulder.