He moved out of the tomb, back into the brilliant sunlight of midday. The priests came out, still sprinkling water, and the masons moved to wall up the entrance of the tomb.
Before him, in the sunlight, Amenhotep could see that food for the mourners had been placed out in the courtyard of the building that he had constructed, years before, above the tomb.
He walked through a small garden of sycamores and palm trees and sat in one of the newly decorated rooms of the building. He had always thought that Roudidit would be the one to sit there when he crossed over to the other world. He had never thought that he would be the one left behind on earth.
A harpist came forward from the entrance and thanked all of the mourners for coming, singing that Roudidit was happy in the world beyond. Another harpist picked up the melancholy strain, and sang:
The song was not meant for Roudidit, Amenhotep knew, but for him. The gods were telling him that he must go on with his life, that his lovely wife was safe and happy in the land of the west, and that he must turn to human concerns.
He smiled and motioned his servant to pour him wine, to bring him food, and he noticed that his sisters smiled at his sudden enthusiasm. Then he stood and raised his cup to his lips, and over the cool rim, he studied one woman, a maidservant, who had come to beat her breast, rend her garments, and mourn the passing over of his wife to the other side.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JENNIFER SAW HERSELF FLOATING above her body. She was dead, she realized, but the thought caused her no pain or fear. She felt only free and oddly happy. All her guilt was gone. She regretted nothing. She missed no one. Not Tom. She would have liked to have said good-bye, but that was all.
How wonderful death was. Why did people fear it? She watched the team of doctors hovering over her body, inserting tubes and needles. She felt nothing. She had always been so afraid of injections, but now she smiled, and her smile bubbled up into a laugh. It was as if she had drunk too much and was losing control. But now there was no control to lose.
The doctors were blocking the view of her face, and she moved into a different position. It seemed as if she were hang gliding, surrounded by the silence of the wind. Doctors and nurses were shouting to each other. She was aware of their urgency, but she didn’t listen. The details they were discussing no longer mattered to her. It was so much easier to have died this way, without any pain, without any long illness, without having to see her life slip away year after year as she grew older. She had died young, that’s all. It was no big deal.
And then she felt pain. A wedge of excruciating pain took her breath away. She saw her face on the table reflect it.
“It’s not time, Jennifer,” a voice said, a voice that she recognized although it had been years since she heard it.
“Danny! Danny! Where are you?” She looked around, but the world she floated in was gray with clouds.
“I’m here. I’m here.”
She understood him, but there was no one speaking to her. Somehow, she just knew what he wanted to tell her.
“Let me see you, Danny,” she begged, still scanning the grayness for a sign of life.
“You would not know me, Jennifer. I’m not as you knew me. That was another life, another time for me.”
“Oh, Danny, I don’t understand. I don’t know what’s happening to me. Please
” She sounded like a little girl, as desolate as the day Danny had disappeared from her life, gone off to die in Vietnam.
“You will, honey. You will. And I’ll be there to help you.”
“I love you, Danny. I love you, and I’m sorry you were killed.”
“It had to happen, sweetie, and it’s all right. You know that now. You know it means nothing to die.”
“I don’t want to live, not anymore. Let me stay with you.”
“You can’t, Jennifer. It’s not your time. But we’ll be together again in another time. Go and fulfill your destiny, what your soul chose for you.”
“I thought I understood
” Jennifer was weeping again. She had a piercing headache centered between her eyes.
“You will in time.”
“I’m sorry you were killed. I didn’t want you to die. I loved you, Danny. You’re the only one I’ve really loved.” She reached out for him, although she couldn’t see him, then realized she was moving, falling, slipping away from the safe place of her death, down and down into her very own body.
She struggled, she fought it, but the battle was over; she was slipping back again, into life.
“Okay, we’ve got her,” one of the doctors shouted, eyeing the gauges of the life-support system, seeing that the flickering needle was responding. “We’ve got life here.”
“Thank God,” one of the nurses was whispering. “She was really gone.”
“I know. I know,” the doctor said, unsnapping a rubber cord from around Jennifer’s right arm, “but we got lucky this time. Clean her up and take her upstairs.” As he turned away, Jennifer fell asleep, feeling no more exhausted than if she had had a tough day at work; but she had been on the emergency-room table for over an hour.
When she woke, Tom was with her, dozing in the chair near the hospital window. She watched him while he slept. The sunlight was on his face, and he had not shaved. He had on his old blue Oxford button-down and gray cords. He had kicked off his Adirondack moccasin shoes and was wearing the pair of thick red wool socks she had bought him for Valentine’s Day. She realized she wanted to hold him, but when she tried to sit up, she was too weak to move. Her wrist was taped and she was being fed intravenously.
“Tom,” she whispered, and at the soft sound of her voice, he stirred and blinked his eyes open and quickly came to her, lifting her hand to press her soft palm against his cheek. She could feel the stubble of his dark whiskers. “Tom, I’m sorry,” she told him.
“It’s okay. Hey, you were mugged.” He was smiling at her, his gray eyes cloudy with sleep, but soft, too, and tender. “You’re going to be fine. Just fine.” He kept smiling.
“I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you.” She began to choke on her tears, and he stood quickly and pressed the buzzer for the nurse.
“I spoke to the cops. I’m having this room guarded.”
“Honey, it wasn’t your drug dealers.”
“Don’t try to talk, sweetheart. Don’t say anything,” Tom said urgently. He glanced at the doorway, then called out “Nurse! Nurse!” in a loud, panicky voice.
“It’s okay. I’m okay,” she told him. “Come and sit by me.” She wanted him close.
“You’re fine, darling. Everything is going to be fine now. I love you. I do!” He leaned closer still to kiss her eyelids.
“I want you to listen. Please,” she pleaded. “I saw Danny. I mean, I talked to Danny. And he’s all right. He’s happy.”