and elegance. To her, the Taj Mahal looked like a dream, an illusion of light.
“It was built, luv, in an age of patience,” Ian said, walking slowly forward. “When architecture was spiritual in nature.”
Mattie nodded. Her father’s voice, which she normally adored, seemed somehow out of place in the presence of the mausoleum. She continued walking along the edge of the reflecting pool, wondering who had imagined such a thing, embarrassed by the pride she took in her sketches.
As Ian gripped her hand, he mused over how the Taj Mahal appeared to be almost human in its demeanor—reflective and ambitious and original. Yet unlike any human, the mausoleum seemed perfect, in terms of both its design and its dimensions. One could not look at the Taj, he thought, and suggest ways to make it better.
His eyes continued to wander from one side of the mausoleum to the other. The bottom half was rectangular, filled with wondrous arches. Its top, of course, was crowned by a single white dome. A minaret, resembling a vast column, rose beyond each corner of the main structure, adding symmetry.
Ian pointed to the minarets. “Did you know, luv, that the architect designed those towers so that if an earthquake ever occurs, they’ll fall away from the mausoleum?”
“Wow.”
“A bloody genius, I reckon.”
Mattie realized that they were getting too close to the Taj Mahal. She wasn’t ready to lose the view from afar and she led her father to a nearby bench. “Can you tell me its story, Daddy?” she asked, sitting down.
“Sure, Roo. It’s a wonderful tale. A real dazzler.”
“What happened?”
He adjusted his traveling hat so that its brim kept the sun off his neck. “There once was a man named Shah Jahan. And he ruled India.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Oh, I reckon three or four hundred years ago,” Ian answered, watching her face as she studied the Taj Mahal. “He had a slew of wives, but his favorite was named Arjumand. It’s said that they were madly in love, and she went with him everywhere. She was his most trusted adviser.”
“Like Mommy and you?”
He smiled. “Like Mommy and me.”
“And what happened?”
“Well, she died in childbirth, which happened a lot in those days. And as she died, she asked him to grant her one wish, and that wish was to build her something beautiful, and then to visit this place on their anniversary and light a candle.”
Mattie’s forefinger started moving on her skirt, as if she were sketching. “And he built her the Taj Mahal?”
“That’s right, luv. He wanted to build her the most beautiful place the world had ever seen. Unfortunately for him, as soon as he finished, one of his sons overthrew him and locked him up for the rest of his life in a small room with one window. And through that window he could see the Taj Mahal, where Arjumand was buried. When he finally died, he was buried beside her. And they’ve lain together ever since.”
“Can I sketch it, Daddy? Before all the people come?”
“Absobloodylutely. Though I want to watch.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
Ian turned his gaze back to the Taj Mahal, remembering how Shah Jahan had wanted the mausoleum to mimic the loveliness of a woman. And it certainly did, reminding Ian of Kate in so many ways. He thought of her note, of how she had asked him to remember walking hand in hand through the structure. He wondered if somehow she could see them now. Might the world be so magical, so benevolent? Were Shah Jahan and Arjumand ever reunited, as he so wished?
Can you see us, my luv? Ian asked, pulling the shell she’d given him from his pocket and rubbing it between his fingers. Do you know how far we’ve come? I miss you. I feel like I’m trapped in a little room too, looking out through a single window. I’m trapped and I’m tired and I miss you so bloody much.
Tourists started to walk past, people from all corners of the world, most everyone talking softly, somehow hushed by the sight of the mausoleum. Ian turned to watch Mattie draw, following her fingers as they gripped a light blue pencil and she re-created the structure, making it appear as if it were reflecting the light of morning, which, Ian now realized, it was.
“You’ve got such keen eyes,” he whispered, not wanting to distract her. “You make me feel blind.”
She smiled but said nothing, her fingers turning blue and white. She filled the paper with the mausoleum, with its