Lady of Heaven (17 page)

Fox chuckled.
“Morgan Earp was a lawman, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“So you take
after him not only in name, but in career choices.”

She grinned, her
dimples deep. “If you know anything about Old American West history, then you
know he was murdered by outlaws.”

Fox made a
horrific face. “God, I can’t even think about it,” he shuddered, eyeing her as
she strolled beside him. “Are you sure I can’t talk Officer Sherburn into
taking a desk job after we’re married?”

She snorted.
“First of all, it’s Sergeant Sherburn and secondly, my name probably won’t be
Sherburn unless you’re comfortable with your wife keeping her maiden name.”

His eyebrows
flew up. “You’re a sergeant?”

She nodded. “I am,”
she said, amused. “Why do you look so shocked?”

Fox’s jaw was
hanging open. “Well… well,
because
,” he didn’t want to offend her but he
had a big opinion to share. “You’re such a pretty little thing, love. You
should be a movie star or a super model, not a constable.”

She shook her
head, smiling. “Yet I’m not,” she lifted her shoulders. “I told you that you
would have to get used to it. I am what I am.”

“Now you sound
like Popeye the Sailor.”

Morgan laughed.
“Good one,” she wriggled her eyebrows. “I’m hip to your American cartoon
references.”

“Believe it or
not, we’ve seen a few American cartoons in England.”

They laughed at
each other, Fox eventually falling silent because there really wasn’t much more
he could say on the subject of her profession without risking offending her.
He’d already expressed enough concern about it. So he kept his mouth shut as
they moved into a large section of merchant stalls, basically no more than
shanties with piles of local and imported merchandise. 

This was a more
chaotic section, a sort of low-rent district, and Morgan was assaulted by a ten
year old girl who sold her a giant straw bag for about two American dollars.
Fox shook his head at her for being a sucker until the same little girl plied
him with merchandise until he ended up buying Morgan a gorgeous sundress made
from a gauzy lavender material. He bought her some scarves, too, piling them
all in the new giant straw bag. Morgan wondered aloud who was really the sucker
between them but had at least stopped fighting him about buying things for her.
He seemed very happy about it so she let him.

The large, open
market packed with stalls emptied into an old building that was also set up
with several ancient and mysterious shops. Fox took a corridor that led to the
left, taking her down a narrow, arched walkway, passing a couple of shops,
until they came to an arched doorway that looked as if it was hundreds of years
old.

The open door
was splintered and warped, anchored to the wall with ancient hardware.  Fox led
her inside the shop but that’s as far as they got; Morgan was immediately
interested in all of the beautiful merchandise so he left her inspecting the
goods as he made his way into the smelly depths of the shop.

Morgan had her
hands on a beautiful vase, listening to Fox call for someone. It wasn’t long
before his calls were answered and suddenly, a handsome, slender man in flowing
white robes appeared in the door at the rear of the shop. He saw Fox and his
eyes bulged.

“Fox!” the man
boomed. He rushed at Fox, grasping the man by the arms and trying to kiss him
on both cheeks, but Fox was so tall that he had to bend down to assist. “It’s
been years, my friend, years. Where have you been keeping yourself?”     

The man was
chattering non-stop as Fox patted him on the shoulder. “In England, buried in a
museum,” he said, smiling. “How have you been? You look well.”

Allahaba ibn
Sula still wasn’t finished patting, hugging or otherwise touching his long-lost
friend. He was average in height, in late forties, with a neatly trimmed beard
and mustache, and moved with the agility of a cat. And it was clear that he was
very happy to see Fox again.

“Life is good,”
he informed Fox. “Allah is kind.  The children are growing up and I am growing
old. And you? How have you been?”

“Great,” Fox
motioned to Morgan, who put the vase down and made her way to him. “My work
with the museum is going great and life has been really good. In fact, I want
you to meet someone.”

By this time,
Morgan appeared at Fox’s side, smiling at the dark-skinned merchant.  Fox put
his arm around her shoulders.

“Al, I’d like
you to meet Morgan,” he felt a great amount of satisfaction introducing her.
“Morgan and I are getting married. Morgan, this is my good friend, Allahaba ibn
Sula.”

Allahaba, in an
uncharacteristic Muslim greeting, shook Morgan’s hand gently. His tanned face
was alight with surprise and delight.

“Morgan,” he
repeated the name as if he rather liked it. “It is a pleasure. I am so happy to
meet you.”

Morgan’s dimpled
smile grew. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

Allahaba shook
her hand a moment longer, as if inspecting her, before releasing her hand and
looking to Fox. “She is very beautiful,” he said. “You are a fortunate man.”

Fox nodded,
feeling puffed up with pride. “Believe me, I know.”

“When is the
happy occasion?”

Fox cast a
glance at Morgan. “Well,” he began. “I was hoping in the spring, but to be
honest, all I’ve done is bully her about it. I haven’t even officially asked
her.  I don’t even have a ring yet but I was….”

Allahaba
suddenly threw his hands up, startling Morgan so that she actually flinched.
“Wait!” he exclaimed. “I have something for you!”

In a rush, he
sprinted to the rear of the shop, leaving Morgan and Fox looking somewhat
curiously at each other. Fox simply shrugged his shoulders, listening to
Allahaba rummage around in the back. There was some banging going on, something
fell to the floor, and somewhere in the chaos was a muttered word that sounded
suspiciously like a curse. It was fairly comical and Morgan struggled to suppress
her giggles, lowering her head when Allahaba bolted back in their direction so
he wouldn’t see her smiles.

“It’s here!”
Allahaba held up something neither Fox nor Morgan could see. “I thought perhaps
I had moved it, but I had not. It was well-hidden.”

They still had
no idea what he was talking about as he rubbed the edge of his sleeve over
something they couldn’t make out. Finally, a small wooden box emerged in his
hand and he held it up, mostly to Morgan. When he spoke, it was with less
enthusiasm and more intensity.  The change in his manner was evident.

“My family has
been traders for generations,” he told Morgan, his dark eyes glimmering. “My
ancestors brought caravans across the desert into Egypt to sell wares and
treasures from far-away lands. The treasure in this box is no exception; my
grandfather’s grandfather purchased it from the last of a great noble Roman
family, a treasure that had been in their family for centuries.”

Morgan and Fox
watched curiously as Allahaba took the lid of the box, revealing the trinket
inside; it was a magnificent gold ring with a massive diamond crowning it.
Morgan gasped with delight as Allahaba pulled it out of the box and carefully
set it in the palm of her outstretched hand.

“The ring is at
least two thousand years old,” he told her, watching the thrill in her
expression. “When my grandfather’s grandfather purchased it, it was without the
stone so he set a great diamond within it and hoped to sell it, but alas, he
did not.  This is a Roman wedding ring, something that has survived the
centuries as a symbol of strength and everlasting love. I want you to have
this, Fox.  It is my gift to you for your wedding.  It will bring you luck.”

Fox was
stunned.  He took the ring out of Morgan’s hand to inspect it; the band was
about six millimeters thick, with exquisite vines and tiny grapes, all of it
embracing the brilliant diamond on the crest.  There were even tiny horse-heads
and a miniature banquet scene etched along the band. The detail work was
astonishing on the dark and very yellow gold. All in all, it was an absolutely
exquisite piece. He looked at Allahaba.

“This is a
magnificent artifact,” he said. “It belongs in a museum.”

Allahaba shook
his head. “It belongs on your wife’s hand. You are an archaeologist, Fox. You
understand the meaning of all things old and timeless.”

Fox wasn’t sure
what to say.  He looked at the ring again, at Morgan’s face as she inspected
it, and felt a little overwhelmed. “Of course I do,” he groped for words. “As a
scientist, if I had the means to buy any ring at all for my wife, it would be
something like this. I look at it and all I can see is immortality.  That’s
what every marriage should be; immortal.”

“Then you will
take it. I insist.”

“It’s priceless,
Al.”

“Give it to
her.”

Fox scratched
the back of his neck, almost nervously. “I told you; I haven’t even officially
asked her yet,” he said “I’m not sure this is….”

Allahaba threw
his arms up again, causing Morgan to flinch for a second time as he went
tearing back through the shop and out the back entrance. He left Morgan
standing there, confused, with the ring still in her hand and Fox wondering how
on earth he was going to accept such a priceless artifact as a wedding gift. 

Truthfully, the
ring was perfect. Fox couldn’t have selected something better had he traveled
the entire world looking for it. He wasn’t exactly sure he could turn Allahaba
down, however; the man was insistent and, in fact, the artifact did belong to
him. He could do with it as he pleased. As Fox internally debated the
situation, Morgan stirred beside him.

“What do we do?”
she whispered.

Fox shook his
head. “I have no idea.”

“Where did he
go?”

“Beats the
bloody hell out of me.”

She was trying
not to giggle again. “Has he always been that flighty?”

Fox nodded,
making a bit of a bewildered expression. “Always,” he said quietly. “But he is
one of the most honest, generous people you’ll ever meet.”

“I believe it,”
she whispered, looking at the ring again. “Have you ever seen anything like
this in your life?”

He shook his
head slowly. “Not outside of a museum.” He studied her expression as she looked
at the ring. “Do you like it?”

She couldn’t
take her eyes off it. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Suddenly, voices
arose from the rear of the shop. They could hear Allahaba chattering in Arabic
and a woman’s voice chiming in. The voices began to rise in tone and a few
things were slammed around, causing Morgan and Fox to look at each other in
concern. But Morgan couldn’t help the giggling when a woman began yelling in
Arabic and there was a loud slapping sound.  She almost lost her composure,
gripping Fox’s forearm for support as giggles overwhelmed her.  Fox, too,
fought off a grin as Allahaba appeared in the rear of the shop with a short
woman in tow.

The woman wore
the traditional
burqa
, covering everything but her face. Allahaba had
her firmly by the arm, dragging her with him until they reached Fox and Morgan.
The woman fussed and slapped at him until they came to a stop, at which time
she looked rather chagrined when she realized she had an audience. Allahaba
indicated the woman at his side.

“Dr. Fox, you
remember my wife, Ziva?” he said.

Fox nodded. “
Salaam
,”
he greeted the woman.

She smiled shyly
at Fox, nodding her head slightly at Morgan as if very embarrassed by the
behavior these people undoubtedly heard. Allahaba shifted his grip on the
woman, putting his arm around her shoulders as his brown eyes twinkled.

“My wife and I
are honored to witness your proposal,” he said. “Now that you have a ring,
there is no longer any reason to delay.”

Fox looked at
Morgan, surprised, as Morgan gazed back at him with wide-eyes. But there was
humor in her expression and Fox broke into a weak smile.

“I’m not sure I
wanted spectators when I did this,” he whispered.

She fought off a
grin. “Feeling rushed?”

He scowled
gently. “God, no.”

She just looked
at him, expectantly, and he knew it was because he had been intimating or
otherwise suggesting marriage since practically the moment they met. Now, with
the spotlight on him, he was hesitant and she found it very funny.  Maybe she
even thought he would back off. 

He was about to
disappoint her.

October 23, 1923

            Today,
Mr. Arak took us to a friend of his at the Khan el Kalili bazaar.  We were
introduced to Mr. Sula, a man whose family has been in the antiquities business
for three hundred years.  Imagine that! Mr. Sula presented us with a papyrus
that is said to describe the tomb of the goddess Isis.  Dare I believe him? I
must convince Louis to purchase it for me!