The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [137]
“There is no work a woman cannot do,” I said. “We must have a little chat about that one day, Bertha. Just now you can help me best by continuing to search your memory. Anything you recall may be of importance, even if it seems meaningless to you.”
“I am trying, Sitt,” she murmured.
“And don’t call me Sitt! Miss Peabody will do, if you cannot twist your tongue around my given name. Come away now. The injured man is in no need of services you can provide.”
A little gasp of what sounded like amusement issued from her lips. It must have been a stifled cough, I concluded, for nothing I had said could have provoked laughter.
By the time we assembled for the evening meal, Kevin had already ingratiated himself with René and Charlie. I did not know how he had managed it with René, but he had won Charlie’s heart by professing a passion for motor cars.
“They are the wave of the future,” Kevin exclaimed enthusiastically. “Daimler’s internal-combustion engine—”
“But have you seen the Panhard?” Charlie interrupted. “The sliding-gear transmission—”
They went on talking unintelligibly about things like clutches and gears, while Bertha hovered at René’s shoulder and Emerson glowered impartially on all of us and I … I looked at Emerson. It seemed to make him rather nervous, but I saw no reason why that should deter me.
He had hardly spoken to me since that thrilling encounter in the tomb, except when the loss of his temper over the advent of Kevin overcame his reticence. At first I had been a trifle discouraged by his apology and ensuing silence; I am something of a romantic myself, and I had hoped that that passionate embrace would burst the bonds that held his memory in thrall. Schadenfreude had said it would not; in fact, he had warned me, most vehemently, against applying any such procedure. Apparently the doctor had been correct.
However, as I thought back over the incident, I felt it offered some encouragement. It might be interpreted as marking a step forward in the relationship I was, according to the doctor’s instructions, endeavoring to re-create. Annoyance had replaced Emerson’s initial indifference; he was now sufficiently interested to follow after me and risk himself to save me. That he would have done the same for Abdullah or any of the other men I was prepared to admit; but no combination of relief and anger would have prompted him to behave to Abdullah as he had behaved to me.
However. The kiss might have meant less than I hoped. As I had good cause to know, Emerson is a hot-blooded individual. The mere proximity of a female who, if not irresistibly beautiful, has been regarded by some as worthy of admiration, might have been sufficient to inspire such a response in a man who was under considerable emotional stress.
Dare I admit the truth? I see no reason why I should not, since these journals will not be read by other eyes until I can find a publisher worthy of them (a more difficult procedure than I had believed) and then not until after considerable revision. I hoped and prayed Emerson’s memory might be restored, but what I really wanted restored was his love for me, whether it came by recollection or by being forged anew. That marriage of true minds, based on mutual trust and respect (and on another kind of attraction whose importance I would be the last to deny) was all in all to me. By one means or another I meant to regain it, and I did not really care how it was achieved. It might be a little difficult to explain to a man who has just proposed marriage for, as he believes, the first time, that he already has an eleven-year-old son. It would be an even greater shock to receive the full impact of Ramses all at once, instead of getting used to him a little at a time. However, I could and would deal with greater difficulties than that, if only…
So my emotions swung back and forth like the pendulum of a clock, now rising, now falling. So absorbed was I in my thoughts, and in contemplation of Emerson’s splendid, scowling physiognomy, that I was unaware of Cyrus’s approach until a gentle cough made