The Temple of Indra’s Jewel:

by Rachael Stapleton

  “To you, Sophia.” She lifted her glass, and I turned to Cullen, who grinned.

  “No, to Cullen,” I said, and I toasted him and then her.

  Cullen’s grin deepened, and he raised his glass. “Slainte. Oh, that reminds me. We’ll be in need of some silverware shortly, won’t we?”

  Lucille looked down at the tablet screen on the table.

  “Going home so soon?”

  “Yes. I love it here, but I need to get back.”

  “I’ll drink to that. We’ve been down here wanderin’ for a month. Cullen and Liam just joined us last week, but we’re all heading home shortly. Cullen’s off on one of his business trips, and the rest of us are heading back to Dublin.”

  “Is Liam going back too? I thought he was accompanying Morai somewhere?” Cullen asked, lifting the grill lid and letting the mouth-watering smells out to further tease my appetite.

  “Oh, well, maybe it’ll just be the two of us then,” Lucille said, looking up lovingly into her husband’s face.

  “I can deal with that, to be sure.”

  “Awe, Jackie.” She pecked him on the cheek.

  Cullen set a plate full of steak and shrimp in front of me. “Sorry, folks, but we’ve run out of meat. I didn’t know you were joining us. You want me to throw a couple more on?”

  “No, we had dinner with Aunt Shay, remember?”

  “This smells delicious,” I said.

  “Tastes good too,” said Cullen, stuffing one of the shrimps into his mouth before taking his seat.

  “Cullen, you’ll get indigestion,” chided his mother.

  “Oh, Lucy, he’s all grown up. Leave him be.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Lucille said, standing. “My wine is empty anyway. John, wasn’t there that thing you wanted to show me?”

  “What?” John looked up, perplexed.

  “That thing—you know.”

  “I don’t remember any thing, unless you want me to model my new swimsuit for you upstairs.”

  “Oh, John,” Lucille said, tugging his arm. “Let the kids be. Come on.”

  “All right by me,” John said, standing quickly and sweeping Lucille into his arms.

  “Goodnight,” Lucille called, giggling as John carried her into the house.

  “Your parents are amazing.”

  “The old ones are something else, to be sure,” Cullen said, cutting off another huge chunk of meat.

  “To be in love like that after so many years.”

  “Oh God, let’s not be after talkin’ more about them. They do enough of that themselves.”

  I finished my dinner, pushed my plate away and pulled my towel up around my shoulders, wrapping it tight to my body. The air had cooled, and I was beginning to feel chilled in my bikini.

  “Are ye cold?” he said. He suddenly got up and flipping on the outdoor lights. Flames shot up and lit the fireplace to my left.

  “You have an outdoor fireplace?”

  “What did you think it was?” he said, laughing and disappearing into the kitchen.

  It even crackled like a real fire.

  Cullen returned, covering me with a velvety soft black blanket. He topped up my wine.

  “Thank you. You’re spoiling me.”

  “Maybe you deserve to be spoiled.”

  I blushed and looked down at the patio stones.

  “So, what’s the craic?”

  “Pardon?”

  “What’s happenin’? You know, like what’s up with that fella from the hospital? Is that your man?”

  “He was. Not anymore.”

  “Ye’re better off. He seems like a real cad.”

  I smiled, unsure if it was electricity crackling between us or the fire.

  “I’m just thankful you pulled me from the water.”

  “What fella wouldn’a?”

  “Plenty.”

  For what seemed like an eternity he just sat there looking at me. Then he stood up and came and sat in the chair next to me.

  “I know we don’t really know each other, but—” he said, stopping short.

  “It feels like we do,” I said, finishing his sentence.

  “Yes.”

  I took a quick breath and thought about his conversation with his brother. Sapphira. His dream.

  He leaned forward, and I realized he might kiss me. I jumped to my feet, almost spilling my wine.

  “Well, it’s getting late. I should go to bed.”

  He let out a deep breath and set his glass down on the table with a clack.

  “Yeah, it’s been a long day, hasn’t it?” Standing and stretching his legs, he moved around the table, walking so close behind me I could almost feel his breath on my neck as he gathered up the plates.

  “Did you get your flight booked?” he asked before carrying our dishes into the kitchen.

  “Yes. Sorry, I meant to ask you if you knew a car service I could use tomorrow.”

  “I’ll take you. What time?”

  “Noon, but you don’t have to do that.”

  “It’s all right. I want te.”

  I helped him load the dishwasher, and he walked me to my room, lingering for a moment before walking away.

  I imagined what it would be like to kiss him but shook the idea away. With everything going on, I didn’t need anything to further complicate my life.

  I closed the door, and then I pulled down the sheets; fatigue tugged at my eyes. I was asleep before my head even sunk into the pillow. My last impression was of the faint smell of tobacco lingering in the air.

  He stood in the shadows, puffing away and running a hand through his dark hair. Yesterday had changed everything. She’d gotten away from him in the hospital. The bitch! He wasn’t about to let that happen again. He’d hung around all night, near enough to overhear the conversations in the backyard yet far enough away to be hidden by all the trees and shrubs. He rolled his shoulders in an effort to dislodge the growing tension and took a cleansing breath that brought with it the waft of tobacco.

  She walked past the window, turning away as she undid her bathing suit top. He felt himself harden. He could see the muscles clearly defined in her back as she slipped a white nightgown over her head. It was her—he’d found her, and that meant he’d found it, the Purple Delhi Sapphire.

  With a low moan, I forced myself from a sound—and admittedly, slightly drunken—sleep, jerking upright. My cell phone was ringing.

  “Hello?” I croaked out, spotting the familiar floral patterned curtains framing the moonlight in the O’Kelleys’ guestroom.

  “Sophia, honey, did I wake you?”

  I recognized Gigi’s concerned voice and looked around the room for a clock.

  “No. Well, yes,” I said, trying to clear my head and think straight.

  “Are you okay? You don’t normally go to bed before 11 p.m. You sound upset.”

  “I’m fine. I just lay down for a minute, and I must have crashed. I had a nightmare, that’s all.”

  “Awe, sweetie. Big hugs. Was it the same one?”

  “No. This one was new. It’s nothing. Probably just too many scary movies,” I said, trying to fake it. I hated scary movies and Gigi knew that, but she let it go. “Anyway, what’s going on? How come you’re calling? I thought I was going to call you.”

  “Oh, I know. Everything’s fine. I just have to go into the hospital tomorrow so they can run some tests.”

  “What? Tests? What’s going on?”

  “Sophia, now don’t get all worked up. It’s no big deal. I just knew you were planning to call tomorrow, and I didn’t want you to worry when you didn’t get an answer.”

  Right, like I’m no t worried now.

  “Well, what are the tests for? Who’s taking you?”

  “Well, actually, Greta’s in
town.”

  Alarm bells went off in my head. Greta Woods was Gigi’s daughter, my grandmother, or simply Greta, as she liked me to call her—a self-absorbed woman who moved to California after her first failed marriage to pursue a career in acting. Finding my mother, who was 4 years old at the time, a hindrance, she begged Gigi to take her, and of course she did. Greta never made it as an actress, but she landed herself a rich oil tycoon and moved to Texas, sending money and cards on our birthdays.

  “They’re just double-checking something,” Gigi replied calmly.

  This was probably the most involvement Greta’d had in her own mother’s life in ten years.

  “Greta wouldn’t be in town for no reason. How serious is it?”

  “You’re being silly, girl. It’s fine. They found a little lump, that’s all. At my age nothing grows quick, even tumours; don’t worry yourself. I’ll call you when it’s all over.”

  “I got my passport. My flight leaves at noon tomorrow. Maybe I should come directly up to the Lake House.”

  “Now, you don’t have to rush. I’m—”

  “Gigi.” I cut her off. “Please, I need to see you. I need to talk to you about some things, and it sounds like there are some things you need to tell me as well.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  As I pulled up to the beautiful Muskoka cabin I’d called home since the age of sixteen, I spotted Gigi waiting patiently by the window. I barely had time to pull my suitcase from the car and climb the stairs before she tugged the side door open and pulled me into her arms, hugging me fiercely. She was shaking. I pulled back to look into her face.

  “Gigi, don’t cry. You’re going to make me cry,” I said, too late. Tears welled and spilled onto my cheeks.

  “I can’t help it. I just love you so much, and I can’t bear to lose you too, not like the rest of them.” I knew she was thinking of her family members, who always passed tragically, even my own mother.

  “It’s like we’re cursed.”

  My lips trembled as she cradled my face in her hands and brushed away my tears.

  She let me go with one last squeeze. “Well, come on, girlie, get your stuff off and settle in. You want a drink? You hungry? I can heat up some pasta for you.”

  “No, thanks, Gigi. I grabbed a pita on the way here. I’m really just super tired.”

  “Me too. I’m hittin’ the hay myself soon as I finish up here.”

  She had photos laid out all over the table.

  “Are you making a scrapbook?” I reached out and picked up one of the photos of her and her sister.

  “I figured it was high time I organized all this junk. Before I kick the bucket, you know.”

  The comment brought unexpected emotions and reminded me of the tests she’d had done. Knowing Gigi and not wanting to push, I waited for her to broach the subject.

  I handed her a photo of her sister, Zafira. “Where was this photo taken?”

  “This was taken at the county fair in… hmm, when was that?” she asked herself, turning the picture over. “Ahhh, here it is… the year before my mother died. That’s Zafira. You know, you look and act so much like her sometimes it frightens me.”

  This was something Gigi had said to me often, but she seemed to like to repeat it. Her past was plagued with tragedy. Her paternal grandparents died in a car accident around the same time her own mother died. I picked up a leather-bound diary and fingered the initials on the cover. E. B.

  “What’s this, Gram?”

  “That’s my father’s journal; I must have read it a thousand times. He recorded his journey over from the old country in it.”

  “That’s strange. I’ve never seen it before,” I said, realizing she didn’t speak of her father all that openly.

  “Why did you and your sister go into an orphanage anyway, if your father was alive, I mean?”

  She let out a small gasp. She reached for it and started fiddling with the cover. “Papa was very distraught after Oma and Opa’s car accident. And then when Mama died, it was like he did too. He had to be hospitalized, and Zafira and I were sent to the orphanage. It was only supposed to be for a little while, but after he was released, he just disappeared. I guess he just couldn’t bear to look at us; maybe we reminded him of Mama.”

  “I’m sorry, Gigi. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  She wiped the tears away. “Oh, don’t be sorry, girl. You need to know the truth. I won’t always be around, and it’s about time I started opening up about the past.” Her eyes twinkled, and she stared off into space before returning my gaze. “But not tonight. You need your beauty rest, so get goin’.”

  I set the photo down and kissed the top of her head before heading for the stairs. “Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

  “Yes, granddaughter, I promise!” she said in a mocking tone.

  I walked down the hall. My bedroom was located at the end; the land outside the window came to a point in the bay, so I was surrounded by water. As I entered the room, I dropped my bags and went to the large windows that made up two walls. I was spent, emotionally and physically. As I observed how the lights of the other cottages lit up the lake, I thought about what a serene view it would be to fall asleep to. But I needed to close the drapes or risk being blinded when the sun came up. I stood for a minute, staring, before finally pulling the curtains together and falling into bed. I closed my eyes and relished my last image. Calm ripples caught the dying light, dazzling beneath the sky like diamonds.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I woke to a general mayhem of shouting, mixed with bouts of banging. I dove deeper into my duvet and wondered who Gigi could have upset. She had an ongoing feud with her neighbour over their dog, which she had nicknamed Sir Shitsalot, but I couldn’t see old Mr. Crawford banging like that.

  Unable to fall back to sleep, I climbed out from my blankets and peeked through the curtains, cursing under my breath. The sun flashed into the room, momentarily blinding me. It was daylight in the swamp, or so Gigi always said in the mornings.

  I didn’t really want to rejoin the land of the living, but I crept down the hallway anyway, preparing for battle in case Gigi needed backup. One of the windows upstairs was open.

  “I want to see her now!” said the voice behind the door. I listened hard, but I couldn’t hear what Gigi was saying. I knew it wasn’t pleasing our guest though.

  “Unlock that door, or I’m going to take that key right out of your hand and do it myself.”

  “Over my dead body.” This time Gigi raised her voice enough so that I could make out what she was saying.

  “Fine with me.”

  “Why, you arrogant little—”

  “She is my fiancée, and I have a right to find out where she’s been and who the hell she ran off with.” I recognized that riled-up voice. My limbs filled with adrenaline. I couldn’t face him yet.

  “Get your spoiled behind off my property, Nicholas, before I call the constable to drag it off.”

  I reached the window just in time to see Nick open his car door.

  No sooner did the words escape her mouth then he took off, spinning his tires in the gravel, kicking up rocks and dirt as he disappeared up the road behind the trees.

  I paused at the window and watched Gigi walk back inside, smirking.

  “Super-granny one, loser ex-boyfriend zero,” I said, smiling sheepishly as she returned.

  “He was always such an asshole. I never understood what you saw in him.”

  We both chuckled.

  “Yeah, well, maybe I should have just talked to him.”

  “And give in to the demands of that spoiled brat? Forget it—over my dead body. I’m gonna take the boat out. Do you wanna come?”

  She may have been old, but she certainly didn’t act like it.

  “Gigi, do you think it’s a good idea that you still row the boat every day? I
mean, what if something happened?”

  “Oh, Sophia. I don’t do much rowing anymore. I have my little trolling motor, but what do you think—I should just stop living life and crawl into bed ’cause I’m old?”

  “No, but you could take it a little easier.”

  “Hell, no. I’m not slowing down or giving in to anyone or anything, especially old age.”

  I smiled. “That better be a promise.”

  “What about swimming the lake beside me, like we used to?” she asked.

  “No, I think I’m going to stay here. I need to call work, and there’s a few things I need to check out online.”

  “Oh, that damn computer of yours.”

  I laughed. “I know! I’m sorry, Gigi. Let’s make breakfast together when you come back, and you can tell me all about those tests you were having done.”

  She looked at me hesitantly for a moment, like she had just swallowed poison.

  “Gigi?”

  “I already ate. There’s fruit in the blender,” she said sharply, and then she turned and headed onto the deck and down the stairs.

  I watched her go, feeling butterflies churn in my belly. I didn’t think she had good news in store.

  As soon as she hit the lake, I got dressed and turned on the computer, but I couldn’t focus with worrying about what she might tell me. I decided to just go and catch up to her. She was probably drifting around our favourite shore.

  I quickened my pace and reached the beach at last, but she was just a speck on the far side. She must have been heading down to have tea with the neighbour.

  Oh, well! At least the walk was nice, and the scene before me was picture perfect. Dark sand stretched out to kiss the surf. Lazy pines, mixed with cedar and white birch, swayed in the breeze. A mother goose with her babies strutted along the sand, at once elegant and gawky. A cat crept out of the trees, and a crow took flight.

  “Sophia!”

  I knew the voice. As I turned back, I trembled, both with fury and fright.

  “You disappeared from the hospital.”