“I don’t know. But I reckon that the river is still sacred to them. They’ve worshipped it for thousands of years. The ancient Egyptians had a god that governed its waters.”
Mattie leaned forward in her chair, thinking about her mother. “What else?”
“Well, I read somewhere that the pharaohs believed life began on the east side of the Nile, and ended on the west side. That’s why all the tombs are on the west side.”
“Why would they think that?”
“Because of the sun. It’s born in the east, and it sets in the west.”
Mattie lifted her binoculars and scanned the horizon for tombs, wondering if her mother might also be in the west. “Maybe the ancient Egyptians were right.”
“Maybe, Roo.”
Mattie continued to search the horizon. “Why did Egyptians build wonderful tombs for the people they loved, and back home we don’t build anything?”
“I—”
“Shah Jahan built the Taj Mahal for his wife. The Japanese have their shrines, right in their houses. But we didn’t do anything for Mommy. All we did was bury her. And I don’t think that was enough. I don’t think that was enough at all.”
Ian moved his chair closer to hers, putting his hand on her knee. “Easy on, Roo. We loved your mum as much as we could. As much as anyone has ever loved another person.”
“Then why didn’t we build anything for her?”
“Shah Jahan was the emperor, luv. He could spend whatever money he wanted to build the Taj Mahal.”
“So? He still did it. And we have money too. I’ve got more than four hundred dollars in my bank account. And I know that you have a lot more than that.”
Ian leaned forward, kissing her brow. “You fancy the thought of building her a shrine, right in our home, like the Japanese?”
“Yes. Just like them. With her picture, and a place for us to kneel and pray for her.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do, luv, when we get home. We’ll build her a lovely shrine.”
She nodded, removing her great-grandmother’s ring from her pocket, a dash of sunscreen still visible on her freckled cheek. “Thanks, Daddy.”
“Thank you, luv. It was your idea. And it’s a keeper.”
Mattie rubbed the ring, wishing that her fingers weren’t so small, wanting to wear what her mother had worn. A felucca passed in front of their ship, drifting toward the western shore, its captain a young man dressed in a white tunic. The sight of him and his boat, with the palm trees and desert behind him, prompted her to put the ring on her thumb and pull out her sketch pad. Within a minute she was drawing with a blue pencil, creating an outline of the Nile.
Ian watched her work, loving their moments together but also understanding that she needed more than just him. And, if he was honest with himself, he needed more than just her. She was his life, for certain, his reason to arise each morning. But one day she would grow up, fall in love, and leave him. He wanted her to be happy, of course, but the thought of that day saddened him. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, to remain loyal to Kate, he didn’t want to be alone. And when Mattie grew up, he would be.
As Mattie began to sketch the felucca, Ian thought about Georgia. He missed her. She had a steady, calming influence on him. She’d wanted to hold his hand, to touch him. She wasn’t intimidated by his enduring love for Kate. On the contrary, Georgia respected that love, and his efforts to honor it. She hadn’t pursued him, even though a part of her obviously wanted to.
Reaching into his day pack, Ian withdrew an antacid and popped it into his mouth. The Nile was widening as they headed farther downstream. The ruins of sandstone structures dotted the distant shore, and Ian found himself wishing that not only could Kate see the sight, but that Georgia and Holly could also share in it. He looked to the west and shook his head. Why, luv, he thought, did you send us on this walkabout? To bond? To make new lives? To spend time with Georgia and Holly? Did you want me to fancy her, like you said in your poem? I know you wrote those words, that your strength, your will put them on paper. But is that how you really felt? I started to fall for her, but then I saw our bridge, where you