“I’m Cole,” I say, wishing I could get her autograph, but knowing it would not only be awkward here, but would require an explanation that I couldn’t give Dad.
“Cole?” she repeats. “What kind of a name is Cole?”
“It’s really Nicole. I never liked it.”
Her face brightens as if I’ve handed her something she recognizes. “Now, that’s a lovely name, dear. I knew a Nicole back in France. Beautiful girl.” She seems far away for a few moments, lost in thought about people who are probably long dead. She focuses her eyes on me again. “And who are your people?”
“I’m sorry?” I feel a little panicky. Has she already figured out I’m working for the Sekhem?
Drew leans in. “Cole’s Shewi, Sonia. Don’t hassle her.”
Sonia scowls at Drew and smacks him lightly on the hand. “I never hassle. What I meant was, who else have you met since you transitioned?”
“I only know a few other Akhet,” I explain, hoping that’s vague enough to get her off the subject.
“Mostly Sekhem,” Drew says, and I wince.
Sonia waves her bony hand in the air. “Dreary.” She turns her attention back to me, grabbing one of my hands in both of hers. “Who are these Sekhem?”
“Just a guy,” I say quickly, hoping I can steer the conversation away from Griffon. The last thing I want is to draw attention to the fact that I know Sekhem.
“Isn’t his mother Akhet too?” Drew says. I watch his eyes, but all I see is curiosity, not malice.
The skinny girl’s head snaps around as soon as he says that. “You said you know a Sekhem whose mother is also Akhet?”
I nod, suddenly on the alert. I glance at Sonia—she’s still holding my hand in hers, and I get a distinct feeling that she doesn’t like this girl.
“Griffon and Janine?” the girl asks. Their names seem to hang in the air. “I believe their last name is Hall in this lifetime.”
I search her face for some sort of deception, some indication that she knows more than she’s letting on. “Yes. That’s right. They live in Berkeley.”
There is a flash of pain or guilt behind her eyes, and she looks from me to Drew. “How is Griffon?”
“Fine, I guess,” I say slowly. I glance at Giselle, but I can’t tell if she’s paying attention. This girl is way too interested in Griffon for it to be anything casual.
“Good.” She nods her head. “Good. I’m glad he’s well. I knew he was in the area, but I haven’t made contact with him in this lifetime.”
“I’m surprised,” Sonia says, a touch of annoyance in her voice. “You seem to make contact with so many people.”
I relax a little bit and give her a tiny smile. Sonia doesn’t like her because she thinks she’s a slut, not because she’s dangerous. “So you knew Griffon before?”
“In Italy,” she says. “It was just as his awareness was starting. In the middle of the seventeenth century.”
“I lived in Italy too,” I say in Italian. “But later. In the late eighteen hundreds.” I glance at Drew, knowing that I haven’t told him the whole truth about me and Griffon and how we were connected in the past. I wonder if he can tell.
She doesn’t look surprised at all, but answers in the same language. “Is he married? Does he have a family?”
I smile. “He’s only seventeen. No kids that I know of.”
“Of course,” she says. “It’s so difficult to keep track.” She looks me up and down so pointedly it feels like I’m suddenly naked. “So you are the same physical age? Are you with him?”
I can feel my face get hot. “I . . . um . . . we went out a little bit,” I finally manage.
The woman looks off into the distance. “Back then he was a wonderful lover and a loyal partner. I can’t imagine that’s changed much.”
I stare at her. A wonderful lover? Who throws out information like that as if it’s no big deal?
“But not one who forgave easily,” she continues. There’s a pause. “Please tell him Chiara says hello the next time you see him.”
“I will,” I say, knowing that her message will never be delivered.
“Well,” Drew says, looking uncomfortable. “It’s always interesting to see how people connect.” He nods to a long table where the caterers have set out plate after plate of food. “Looks like it’s time to eat.”
It’s not until I’m halfway to the table that I realize we were all speaking Italian.
Twenty-Four
“. . . so then she says, ‘Don’t I know you from somewhere?’ and I didn’t have a clue what to say!” Everyone laughs as Sonia finishes her story.
We’re sitting in several large groups around the apartment, our dirty plates taken away almost magically by the caterers. For the first time tonight, Drew isn’t next to me, but I see him looking over at me from across the room, making sure I’m not sitting here all by myself. So far I’ve seen only a few indications that various people are hiding small things like the rift between Sonia and Chiara, but nothing big and revealing like Janine and the Sekhem are looking for.
The man on the couch shifts position as he talks to the woman next to him, not paying any attention to me. As an experiment, I reach out and put one hand next to his back to see if I can read him, if I can find any connection between this random stranger and Veronique, but immediately I’m drawn into a vivid memory of my own.
Ground fog lingers in the early morning light, and I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders. I bump into neighbors rushing through the streets as I hurry back into our cabin. My chest pounds as I scan the familiar faces, but none bear the features I’m looking for. I pull the heavy wooden door open, hoping against hope, but Mama is the only one to greet me.
“Quickly, child,” she says, gathering whatever she can grab and stuffing it into the wooden trunk. “Most of the others have already started out. We don’t want to be left behind. Your father is almost finished loading the wagon with supplies for the journey, and Elias said that the army is setting fire to everything that’s left and that they’re getting closer by the hour.”
I look around at the four walls that have been my home my entire life, memorizing every crack in the chinking that holds the logs together. The small wooden pallet that I’ve slept on since I was old enough to leave my mother’s side. The table and chairs that Papa made as a wedding present for Mama. How can we possibly choose what to take and what to leave to the flames? I pick up Sadie from the small shelf above my bed and tuck her into a tiny corner of the trunk.
Mama plucks the dingy cloth doll from her hiding place and holds her out to me. “Aren’t you too old for dolls? What use will she be in the new settlement?”
I snatch the doll and place her gently back in the trunk, smoothing the black yarn hair and delicately beaded dress that Mama sewed over many hours bent in front of the fire. “Sadie is not for playing with anymore,” I say firmly. “But I cannot leave her to them.” Just picturing their white, hairy hands on my treasure makes me feel physically sick. Even worse, what if one of the soldiers gave her to his own yellow-haired daughter to play with? The thought makes me shudder.
Mama smiles as though she’s reading my mind. “Very well. Sadie may come. But the rest is only for necessities. It is a very long journey to the new settlement, and we have no need of luxuries in the wagon.”