Chapter Eleven
Charlotte
Egypt, 1937
While Charlotte was sorry her parents couldn’t meet the new baby, she didn’t regret her decision to stay in Egypt. She and Henry were living in the middle of a bustling, cosmopolitan city, surrounded by fellow Egyptologists, and she had a baby who hardly fussed, just looked up at her with golden-brown eyes bordered by thick lashes. Henry was a very hands-on father, although he had his own unique approach to child-rearing, preferring to soothe Layla to sleep with a chronological recitation of the pharaohs of the Middle Kingdom. Most of the time, Charlotte had to admit, Layla fell asleep much faster on his watch.
As the weather finally cooled, though, Henry became fidgety again, his attention less focused. One night he came home and absent-mindedly kissed Layla before rifling through his briefcase, as if Charlotte weren’t even in the room.
“Did you forget something?” she asked.
“Yes. I meant to bring back a description of a stela that needs to be reworked. I swore I put it in here.”
She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward her. “No, dummy. Me.”
Henry dropped the bag and enveloped her in his arms. “I’m sorry, my love. It’s a mess at the museum. I can barely stand it anymore.”
She knew it was more than that. Soon, the digging season would start back up, and the scholars, researchers, and archaeologists would descend upon the ancient sites like ants trailing each other to the anthill. “You want to get back out in the field.” It was a statement, not a question.
He released Charlotte and sat at the kitchen table. “Of course. I was thinking, maybe I could go until Christmas, then come back to Cairo.”
“You’d leave me behind?” The highlight of Charlotte’s day was hearing Henry talk about what had gone on at the museum, what objects he was documenting, the latest news from the other archaeologists. As it was, her brain felt underused, mired in a lethargic stupor of feedings and naps. If he went away, she’d completely lose her connection with that world.
“I won’t subject you to locusts and tar, not with a child.”
“We can live right in Luxor. You’ll have longer to travel each day, but at least we’ll be together.”
He hesitated. “I’ll think about it, all right?”
“Maybe I can work as well, if we find a baby nurse.”
His face settled into a frown. “No. Layla needs you right now.”
She didn’t want to push too hard. “Is Leon going back?”
“Of course.”
Henry and Leon had been meeting after work for some time now. When she was pregnant, Henry’s movements were a hazy part of her life, as her focus was on the child growing inside her. But now she noticed he had dinner meetings or late hours several times a week, always with Leon.
“How’s Leon doing? He’s not trying to one-up you all the time, is he?”
“No. We’re working well as a team these days. He’s tempered in his old age.”
“Or the fact that you’re not a woman, showing him up.” She still held on to her distrust of the man, but maybe Leon had changed.
Or, now that she was a mother, Charlotte was probably no longer seen as a threat.
Which made her want to get back to work even more.
In the end, Charlotte got her way. By November, they had settled in a small house just across the river from Luxor, surrounded by palm trees and a garden full of jasmine, deep within the green oasis that spread out from either side of the Nile, a stark contrast to the sandy rock cliffs in the Valley of the Kings less than two miles away.
Most mornings Charlotte nursed Layla outside in the garden to the sound of doves cooing. While Charlotte was utterly exhausted from waking every four hours to feed the hungry child, the baby was growing quickly. Henry had been right; there was no way she could have left her behind to go to the dig, and no way she could bring her along. Instead, she sat in the garden and marveled over the baby she and Henry had created and tried to be content with all that she had.
Her body had changed since the birth. Her hips were wider, her feet half a size larger. Henry was still acting distracted, and they hadn’t slept together since the baby’s birth. One afternoon, Charlotte left the baby with Mrs. Jankowski for an hour and wandered the town’s center. She found a shop selling cotton dresses and bought one in a deep lavender. That evening, she planned to make a fancy dinner and seduce Henry, let him know that she was still his wife, not just the mother of his child. But when she returned home, Mrs. Jankowski was pacing the living room.
“What is it? Did something happen to Layla?” Charlotte should never have left her alone. She dropped her tote bag and began to race to the nursery, but Mrs. Jankowski stopped her.
“No, the baby’s fine, she’s sleeping,” said Mrs. Jankowski. “I just heard the news that we’re leaving.”
“Who?”
“The entire team. Things in Poland are getting worse; we should be with our families.”
“Of course.” Charlotte was ashamed at how relieved she was that it was Hitler’s aggression that had Mrs. Jankowski so upset, not Layla’s well-being. “What happens to the excavation?”
“When we come back, we’ll start where we left off.”
Just then, Henry burst through the front door. He and Mrs. Jankowski spoke quickly to each other, and then the woman left.
“What’s going on?” asked Charlotte. Her plans for a quiet dinner for two dissipated.
“We’re leaving. Now.”
“Where?”
“America.”
“We’re not Polish. Our families aren’t threatened.” It wasn’t like Henry to get caught up in a panic, but the logic didn’t make sense, either. The thought of getting from Luxor to New York with only a moment’s notice seemed as crazy as heading to the moon.
“Trust me, it’s time.”
“Why, though? What’s the rush?”
Henry began gathering up papers on his desk, refusing to meet her eyes. “I don’t have time to explain. We’re taking a steamer from Luxor to Cairo, leaving tonight. From there we’ll board a ship to New York.”
“I really think you’re overreacting.”
“Leon will meet us at the dock. Grab what you can and leave the rest in the trunk. I’ve arranged to have it picked up and shipped separately. There’s a cart and donkey waiting outside.”
Henry’s panic came across as way out of proportion. It wasn’t as if Hitler was going to invade Egypt tomorrow; their lives weren’t at stake. He was keeping something from her. Or maybe she was still wrapped up in the dream world of being a mother and had lost her perspective. Reluctantly, she did what he asked.
The ship was long and narrow, with two floors of accommodations and public rooms and a sundeck on top. Their room was small but comfortable, dominated by a bed with a copper frame. She placed Layla in the center of the bed and began unpacking. The trip would take a few days, and maybe, by the time they arrived, she’d have gotten to the bottom of whatever was going on with Henry. Once they reached Alexandria, she’d send a telegram to her parents with the news they were returning home. She worried about the reception they’d receive, but there was no going back now.
As the ship pulled away from the dock, Charlotte stayed in the cabin with the baby. Henry arranged for their dinner to be brought to the room, and the food was decent, if bland. Layla fell into a deep slumber, aided by the gentle rocking of the ship and the vibration of the steam engine.
But as she and Henry got ready for bed, a crackle of thunder made Charlotte jump. It rarely rained in Egypt, and at first she wasn’t sure what the sound was. Soon after, the wind picked up, howling outside their cabin door like a clan of hyenas. Charlotte eventually fell into an uneasy sleep beside Henry.
At some point in the night, a loud crunching sound jolted her awake. She wasn’t sure where she was for a moment, in Cairo, or maybe the house in Luxor? No, she was on a boat. And there was screaming coming from the promenade outside their cabin. The sound of doors opening and slamming shut was followed by footsteps and men’s voices, the wind howling over the chaos. Henry leaped out of bed and put on his trousers. “Stay here, let me see what’s going on.”
The baby woke and let out a soft cry. Charlotte picked her up and held her to her chest, hoping the pounding of her heart would soothe rather than upset the girl.
Henry was back in a flash.
“We’ve hit something. Another ship, it looks like. Get dressed now.”
Charlotte’s mind whirled with confusion and fear. If she got dressed and went outside, it would mean she’d have to face the expanse of water that separated her and Layla from dry land. Better to stay here and pretend that everything was fine. She couldn’t do it; she couldn’t. She imagined the water reaching her feet, and then her waist, before finally enveloping her in its suffocating kiss.
“Charlotte. Now.”
She blinked away the darkness. If she followed Henry’s commands, they would stay safe. Charlotte gently placed the baby on the bed and pulled on her dress and shoes as Henry reached into the closet and grabbed an unfamiliar suitcase.
“Do we need the luggage?” asked Charlotte. “Won’t that just get in the way?”
“Only this one,” he said.
Charlotte didn’t recognize it. “Whose bag is that?”
“Leon’s. I said I’d store it for him.”
That made little sense. Surely Leon had more room in his cabin than the three of them did in this one. But there wasn’t time to ask questions. She bundled Layla in a blanket and followed Henry outside.
The darkness was like nothing she’d ever experienced. No stars, no moon, just pouring rain and infinite black.
The ship was listing, and the shoreline had disappeared in the storm. Someone shouted that there were too few lifeboats. No one knew where to go or what to do. Leon appeared, holding two life jackets. He handed one to Charlotte and one to Henry, but Henry insisted Leon keep it for himself. Henry held Layla while Charlotte lifted the orange vest over her head and fastened the straps with shaky fingers. She took the baby back into her arms—the bulk of the vest made holding her awkward—and followed the men to the ship’s stern. The wind whipped rain into their faces as the baby’s cries grew louder.
“The lifeboats here are full up,” said Henry. “Quick, let’s go up a level to the top deck.”
But as they approached the stairs, the ship gave another violent shudder, sending a crew member who was coming the opposite way hurtling into Henry. The suitcase fell from his grasp and spilled open. Inside were several objects wrapped in cloth. A few had come loose of their wrapping as they fell onto the wooden deck, including some small statues in ivory and faience and several pieces of jewelry.
One Charlotte recognized immediately. A broad collar.
The same one from the tomb that she’d discovered. She picked it up and checked the back for the cartouche of Hathorkare.
She looked up at Henry in shock. “What are you doing with this? Shouldn’t it be in Cairo?”
The baby yowled, and she kissed Layla’s soft head.
Henry grabbed the necklace and stuffed it into his pocket. Leon bent down to help, and Charlotte was almost certain she saw him surreptitiously stuff a handful of the items into his jacket pocket as well. They were like a pair of street urchins fighting for pennies. Henry closed the suitcase and clicked the clasps firmly shut. “I’ll explain later.”
Another shudder.
“We have to get off the ship!” yelled Leon.
Everything began to tilt, and Charlotte dropped to the floor so she wouldn’t fall with Layla in her arms. The child looked up with large, worried eyes, and Charlotte understood how stupid she’d been to put her baby in harm’s way by remaining in Egypt. They should be in New York, safe and sound. The passengers around them were screaming, the women crying. Charlotte thought of the crocodiles of the Nile. There weren’t that many anymore, she’d been told. But even so, the currents were swift, deadly.
A heavy wooden lounge chair slid along the deck, almost in slow motion, headed directly for Charlotte. She lifted Layla into the air and took the brunt force of the chair to her torso, moaning from the pain. “Take the baby,” she screamed to Henry. He crawled over and tucked Layla under one arm, still holding the damn suitcase in the other.
Meanwhile, Leon scrambled to get the chair off Charlotte, but gravity and the tilting of the ship worked against him. “Go up to the top deck with Layla,” yelled Charlotte to Henry. “We’ll meet you there!”
“No, I won’t leave you,” he yelled back.
Leon fought in vain to free the deck chair, which was now entangled with two others. Charlotte was penned in, trapped, her ribs aching with every breath.
“Go,” said Leon. “I’ll get her out.”
The baby wailed harder. Charlotte knew every one of her baby’s sounds: of delight, of hunger, of fear. This particular cry meant that her mother’s arms were the only thing that could calm her.
“Please, go!”
The boat gave yet another groan. The last thing Charlotte saw before a wall of water swept over her was Henry’s retreating back and her child’s chubby, sweet hand stretched out over his shoulder, palm open wide, reaching for her mother.