Reflections in the Nile Read Online Free PDF Page B

Lumière?”
    “Oh. Yeah,” I said, my disappointment about my necklace having knocked everything else out of my mind. “That would be cool.”
    Anton picked up his backpack and leaned toward me. I lifted my head, and he kissed my forehead. Just a gentle peck, like a brother. Then he left, the breeze blowing his faded green T-shirt against his lean body. I sat there, a bit dazed. I didn't want to admit even to myself that I was disappointed. I'm not easy, but who can resist a holiday romance? He was almost across the street when I shouted, “Anton?”
    He turned back to me, glasses on and his hand shading his face.
    “What was the time?”
    He put a hand to his ear and I cupped my hands, ignoring the looks I received. “The time? The astrological time?”
    I heard his response as if I were listening underwater. “The RaEmhetep,” he shouted. “The name for the eleventh hour of the night.”
    Waving absently, I walked back to my bench. Bizarre! I looked down at the necklace, at the tiny inscription on the one side. The writing was just as clear as it had been sixteen years ago. The silver had not worn at all, despite the fact I couldn't remember ever having taken it off. I mused, staring across the Nile.
    The RaEmhetep.
    Dismissing it from my mind, along with the ruggedly handsome man who had chosen
not
to kiss me, I put away my notepad and pencils and started to walk toward Luxor Temple, making my plans for the night.
    The mirror was foggy from the steam of my shower, but I could see enough to know I looked striking. With a long nose and squared jaw, my features have always seemed too strong for my coloring, but what could I do?
    I had bought the long black skirt, tank, and crocheted tunic less than six hours before my flight. It was from my favorite trendy boutique, an example of impulse shopping at its most dangerous. I put on some copper lipstick and pinched my cheeks. The dry air did wonders for my hair. It swung smoothly from my crown to just below my chin, the bright color reflecting gold and bronze highlights. The contrast of the black outfit and my rosy skin made my angled eyes look even greener and more catlike. I ran a tongue over my freshly brushed teem and stepped into my sandals.
    I made an appropriately dramatic entrance to the lobby and choked back surprise that the charming backpacker now wore linen trousers and a cashmere sweater. And glasses. He kissed me on the cheek and gave me a white flower, then we left on foot.
    “So, do you travel for fun or pleasure?” I asked.
    He laughed as we dodged a group of begging children, ignoring their cries of “Baksheesh! Baksheesh!”
    He looked at me intently for a moment. “Pleasure,” he said. “I am a biochemist, and my specialty is hematology. It is very, um, how do you say, intense? So each year I have several months of holiday and travel.”
    “Several months! Wow! You better keep that job,” I said. “I've never heard of a company giving months off at a time. Do you, uh, enjoy working with blood?” The whole idea grossed me out.
    Anton chuckled. “Yes, yes.” Enthusiasm filled his voice. “Blood is amazing. It is the essence of who we are as creatures, and it is what we need to live, yet we are quite unknowing about the effects modifying it can have on live beings. Life is in the blood.” He must have seen my involuntary shudder at his words, because he asked what I did.
    “I work free-lance, and fortunately the company I am contracting with now is run by a traditional Italian family who basically close down from December fifteenth to January fifteenth.”
    A cool breeze blew off the Nile as the first glitter of stars appeared low on the horizon.
    “How is it that you travel with no group? Americans always travel in groups, yet you are alone? Especially at this time of year?”
    “My sister is here,” I interjected.
    “Ahhh, yes, your sister,” he said glibly.
    “I'm, I mean, we're, a little bit different from your average American