Lady of Heaven (22 page)

November 6, 1923

            Louis
has agreed to bring William and we will all travel south to Luxor, where Mr. Sula
believes the start of our search for Isis will begin.  I am hoping we can find
the Ape’s Claw mentioned on the papyrus as our first landmark.  Mr. Sula is a
very nice man and feels strongly that he knows where it is.  May the Gods and
Luck go with us!

~FS

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The door to the
Blue River shop wasn’t even open when Fox and Morgan arrived early the next
morning.  Chains and an old lock held the warped door shut and Fox knocked
heavily on it a couple of times before he began to hear someone stirring.

He looked at
Morgan beside him, winking at her when their eyes met. He took a moment to
inspect her as he heard someone coming for the door; he’d already inspected her
about a hundred times since they woke up but the truth was that he couldn’t
keep his eyes off her.  She was dressed in a pair of slender jeans and a
gathered, pink-colored shirt that, although it didn’t cling like most shirts
she had, still accentuated her beautiful shape.  Her blond hair was long down
her back, the stylish cut with long bangs that draped down over one eye, and
she wore one of the scarves that Fox had bought her the day before.  It was
multi-colored, matching the pink shirt perfectly. 

She smiled wanly
at Fox as someone on the other side of the door began fumbling with the locks. 
He touched her cheek affectionately, shifting the artwork case containing the
papyrus on one massive shoulder as he stepped back so the door could open.
Morgan stepped back also, clutching her big purse with Fanny’s journal shoved
deep inside. They had come prepared.

The door lurched
open and Allahaba’s smiling face greeted them. “Good morning, my friends,” he
greeted pleasantly. “It is a beautiful day today.”

Fox put his hand
on Morgan’s back and entered the shop behind her.  “Yes, it is,” he replied.
“Sorry we’ve come so early, but Morgan was hoping for a word with Fanny if
she’s awake.”

Allahaba already
knew why they were here.  He had Fox had discussed it long and hard last night.
They both knew that Morgan would want to see her great-grandmother, so he was
prepared. When he spoke, he was fixed on Morgan.

“Mrs. Fox,” he
said softly. “I realize the story you have been told is surprising and I
understand your need to see your great-grandmother, but there are a few things
you should know about her.”

Morgan glanced
nervously at Fox as she spoke. “What’s that?”

Allahaba began
to lead them towards the rear of the shop. “First of all, she is very old.
Very, very old. And she is completely blind. But her mind is mostly sharp.” He
looked at Morgan. “I have not told her you were coming. The time in her life
when she met my grandfather is a time in which she still lives; although my
grandfather has been dead for twenty-five years, she still speaks of him daily
and speaks as if he is still living with us. That has not changed for her. I am
not sure how she will react being introduced to her great-granddaughter from
her first husband so we must proceed carefully.”

Morgan eyed him
as they moved around the displays, trying not to bump into anything. “You speak
as if you care about her,” she said softly. “Given her history with the family,
I’m honestly surprised to hear that you’re taking care of her.”

Allahaba
shrugged. “She is my grandfather’s wife,” he said simply. “She is family. And
if you must know the truth, I have become fond of her over the years.”

Morgan paused as
they came to the rear entrance to the shop; there was a courtyard beyond and
stairs leading to a second level.  She looked at Allahaba.

“Then I hope you
know that I don’t want to upset her,” she said, her arms folded across her
chest; to Fox, she seemed ill at ease. “If there’s a chance she’s going to get
upset, I’ll pass on the meeting. But if she is completely blind, I… I just want
to see her.  She won’t know even know I’m there.”

Allahaba nodded,
urging her forward towards the courtyard and the stairs. Fox put his arm around
her shoulders and all but pushed her through the doorway.

“I have been
thinking to simply introduce you and Fox as my old friends,” Allahaba said.
“Perhaps it will be easier on her that way. She does not need to know who you
truly are and if we feel after a time she can accept the truth, then we shall
tell her.”

“Whatever you
think is best,” Morgan replied.

As they ascended
the stairs, Morgan was wrought with indecision. She was excited to meet her
great-grandmother but fearful the intrusion would upset the woman. Last night,
she had thought only of herself when demanding to meet Fanny but upon
reflection, she should have been more sensitive. In fact, she should have been
more sensitive to everyone. She had plowed through this entire endeavor as if
her feelings and needs were the only ones that mattered and was coming to feel
some uncertainty and remorse.

As they reached
the top of the stairs, the double-wide doors to the apartment were open and she
could see people beyond. The walls of the apartment were whitewashed, lumpy and
uneven with age, and the floor was terracotta tile that had to be decades old,
but in spite of the age and leaning floor, it was very clean and airy. Morgan
stopped before they could proceed any further, turning to Allahaba and Fox.

“Look,” she said
quietly. “I just want you both to know how extremely grateful I am for this
opportunity.  Allahaba, you’ve been utterly gracious and kind since I’ve known
you, even when we figured out how you and I were related, and I want to thank
you. Please know this means the world to me and I won’t ever forget your
kindness.”

Allahaba smiled.
“You are always welcome in my home,” he told her. “Now you have made me related
to one of my dearest friends, Dr. Fox. You are the tie that binds us.”

She
half-grinned, glancing at Fox’s smiling face. “Let me see,” she said
thoughtfully. “Your grandfather married my great-grandmother, which makes us
third or fourth cousins, I think.”

Allahaba laughed
softly. “My family will be thrilled to have an American movie star in the
family.”

Morgan snorted.
“I’m not a movie star.”

Allahaba waved
her off. “All Americans are movie stars,” he motioned for Morgan and Fox to
continue following him to the apartments. “My children will think you are an
angel because all angels have golden hair.”

Morgan grinned
at Fox, who bent down to kiss her on the head as they continued in to the
apartments.  Inside, it smelled strongly of bread and coffee as the morning
meal was underway.  Allahaba led them into the living room space and
immediately began shouting at his children, who were rushing around like mad. 
He started grabbing them as they ran by, forcing them to stand and face Fox and
Morgan, who smiled somewhat hesitantly at the growing collection of children. 
When all was said and done, seven girls stood in a row and Allahaba indicated
his daughters.

“My children,”
he said proudly, indicating the girls in order. “Abia, Aisha, Amala, Hala,
Fadila, Lina and Kalila.”

Morgan waved at
the girls, who gazed back at her with mostly open curiosity. The two older ones
looked particularly interested while the youngest girl waved back.  But that
all ended when Allahaba snapped at them and they scattered, running for dishes,
hair brushes, and anything else they needed. Morgan grabbed on to Fox as the
girls rushed past and disappeared into various rooms like mice into a hole.

“I feel like I’m
caught in a tornado,” she quipped, listening to him laugh.

Allahaba noted
their amused expressions as his daughters disbursed. “They are good girls,” he
said. “Foolish, but good.”

“They’re all
beautiful,” Morgan told him.

Allahaba smiled
proudly and motioned for them to follow.  He led them down a corridor that
paralleled the balcony outside; a couple of orange-painted French doors were
open, letting air into the apartments. At the end of the hall was a door,
slightly ajar, and Allahaba slowly pushed it open.

The room was
bright from the early morning sun and it smelled strongly of bleach.  Morgan
followed Allahaba into the room, noting it was sparsely furnished with a bed, a
dresser, a chair and little more.  There were white curtains on a set of
windows that were cracked open, letting a small amount of air inside, and the
floor was clean-swept terracotta tile.   Morgan spied the bed almost
immediately after entering the room and stopped, staying by the open door as
Fox stood beside her. Allahaba continued on to the wooden-framed bed.

“
Jadda
,”
he said softly. “Are you awake?”

The tiny lump on
the bed stirred, moving beneath the white bedspread.  Allahaba stood next to
the bed, peering down at the figure. When he touched the bedspread, a thin hand
suddenly appeared from underneath the covers and smacked him.

“I’m awake,” the
voice was thin and faint, but most decidedly British. “How can I not be awake
with your herd of animals running through the house?”

Oh, but the
voice was sharp and so was the mind behind it. Morgan’s wide eyes tried to
catch a glimpse of the woman on the bed, struggling to sit up as Allahaba
bellowed for his wife. As a Muslim, he would not touch another woman other than
his wife and therefore did not reach out to assist. But rather than wait for
Ziva, Morgan rushed forward and grabbed hold of the elderly woman as she
struggled to sit up in the bed.

“There,” Morgan
had hold of her wrist while she shoved a fat pillow behind the woman’s back.
“How’s that?”

The elderly
woman’s sightless eyes moved in Morgan’s direction. “It’s very well, thank
you,” she said. “And you are not Ziva.”

Morgan gazed
into the small face that was faintly similar to her own and the tears started
to come. Even the eyes were the same color, perhaps had once been the same
shape.  Morgan looked into the old woman’s wrinkled face and saw the beauty
from long ago, mesmerized by her first look at something she had only known as
a family memory.

“No, I’m not,”
she said quietly, struggling not to sound like she was about to burst into
tears. “My name is Morgan.”

“Morgan?” the
woman repeated. “Lovely. Who are you?”

Allahaba, a
little startled that Morgan had jumped in to assist with Fanny, recovered
quickly. “
Jadda,
I would like to introduce you to my friends, Dr. Fox
Henredon and his wife, Morgan.  Fox and I met each other in Edfu years ago. He
and his wife have come to Egypt to… visit.”

The elderly
woman smoothed at her wild white hair, like cotton, pushing it away from her
face.  Then she tugged at the top of her nightgown as if to make sure she was all
covered up and ready to receive visitors.

“I’m sorry
you’re not catching me at my best,” she said in her thin but firm voice, then
hissed at Allahaba. “You didn’t have to bring them to my room, you know.”

Morgan could
see, in those few gestures, that Fanny was indeed the woman that had been
described to her. There was so much bittersweet emotion in her chest that she
was nearly bursting with it.

“It’s my fault,”
she insisted. “We were shopping early and stopped by to visit. Allahaba has
told me so much about you and I… I felt compelled to meet you.”

The sightless
brown eyes moved in her direction; Fanny’s movements were sharp and bird-like.
“I’m honored,” she said in her clipped British accent. “Where are you from,
Mrs...?”

“Morgan,” she
said quickly, not wanting to reveal her last name for obvious reasons. “My name
is Morgan. I’m from Los Angeles.”

“Ah!” Fanny’s
face came alive. “A beautiful place, I’ve been told. I never made it to America
but I’ve seen many pictures of it.  I always wanted to meet Gary Cooper. Do you
know who he is?”

Morgan couldn’t
help the tears that were coursing down her cheeks; she could feel Fox’s strong
hand on her shoulder, comforting her.

“I know who he
is,” she whispered, struggling not to make crying noises that would alert Fanny.
“He was quite a stud.”

Fanny giggled
like a girl. “Yes, he was, wasn’t he?” her sightless eyes shifted somewhat. “Am
I to understand you’ve brought your husband with you?”

Morgan looked at
Fox, who reached up to silently wipe away the tears on her cheek. “Well, he’s
not my husband just yet,” she said. “We’re planning on getting married in the
spring.”

Fanny held out a
thin hand with tissue-paper skin covering the bones. “Frances,” she introduced
herself.

Fox took the
hand, so tiny and warm, and shook it gently. He was afraid he was going crush
it. “Fox Henredon,” he said. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Fanny suddenly
cocked her head at the sound of his voice. “British?” she said, almost
gleefully. “I am catching wind of a Manchester accent.”