I was about to ask if he had spoken to me or Whit, but I held my tongue. It didn’t matter who. “I know this was a shock, but I made my decision. My inheritance is my own, and you are released from all guardian responsibilities. I’m free to stay in Egypt, and I’ll hear not another word about it, or my marriage to Whit. It’s done.”
Someone knocked on the main door of the suite, and the noise momentarily threw me. We had seemed out to sea, cut off from land, the three of us trying to stay afloat when there was a hole the size of a crater in our raft.
Whit left the room and came back a moment later carrying something in his hand. He brought it to Tío Ricardo. “It’s a telegram for you.”
My uncle ripped it open and pulled out the sheet, reading the curt lines quickly and bellowing a loud curse. He flung it away, and it landed on the bed.
The note read,
I NEED YOU IN PHILAE STOP DISASTER COME QUICK STOP BRING A DOCTOR STOP
ABDULLAH
“I don’t understand,” I cried. “Is he ill? What could have happened?”
“He would never send such a message if it wasn’t serious.” Tío Ricardo stomped to his trunk and flung his shirts inside. He bent to retrieve his boots, but he let out a sharp groan, immediately touching his injured arm. I rushed forward to help him, folding his shirts to prevent additional wrinkles. Whit’s arm appeared across my vision as I packed, and I startled, lifting my gaze. Whit was handing me my uncle’s jacket, a pair of pants, and several pairs of socks.
“I can take care of my own things,” my uncle grunted. “I’mnothelpless.”
Whit and I ignored him, working together to finish the task. He threw in two pocketknives, matches, several Egyptian notes, my uncle’s reading glasses. I folded in his toothbrush and powder, along with clean bandage rolls.
“I think you ought to reconsider going,” I said. “You’re still recovering. Why don’t Whit and I go? I’m sure that we—”
“No,” my uncle interrupted. “Whit and I will go, and you’ll stay here.”
My uncle’s ability to annoy me knew no bounds. His repeated attemptsto leave me behind or send me away grated, as if he’d tried using a blunt knife against my skin.
“Where Whit goes, I go.”
My husband nodded imperceptibly. “Don’t forget his medicine, pocket watch, and that bottle of maple syrup. You ought to pack an extra blanket for the chilly evenings. He’s weaker from the wound.”
“Practical,” I said.
“Prepared,” he countered.
“Same thing.”
My uncle raised his voice, clearly tired of being left out of the conversation. “This won’t be a leisurely voyage up the Nile on a dahabeeyah, Inez.”
“We go together,” I said stubbornly.
Tío Ricardo grimaced and addressed my husband. “We need to get there quickly, so we’ll travel partway by train and the rest by camel.” He clenched his fist. “Remember what you owe me.”
Whit let out an annoyed huff and then motioned for me to follow him out of my uncle’s bedroom. I did so, dread pooling in my stomach.
I shut the door behind us for privacy.
Whit faced me, his hands deep in his pockets. “He’s right. You’ll slow us down, and the most important thing is we get to Abdullah in time.”
His words didn’t register at first. He wouldn’t say such nonsense to me, he couldn’t. I stared at him incredulously. “I’llslowyou down? I practically run everywhere.”
“You know what I meant.”
I stiffened. “I’m afraid I don’t. I have two legs same as you, don’t I?” Frustration made my eyes burn with tears.
He didn’t notice or he pretended not to see. Either way, he continued speaking, but the words seemed to blur together. “You’ve never ridden a camel,” he said. “The train ride is miserable and hot, and that’s just on the way to Aswan. Then we must trek through the desert, sleeping in tents. No, wait—one tent. Singular. We can’t carry too much.”
My lips parted. Whit was going to leave me behind, alone.
