2.

"I should have borrowed [his] mummy costume and carried you off into the desert!"*

~~

It's a miracle I made it this far.

I'm not talking about the whole mummy-walking-plague-dead-guys-with-really-bad-breath thing. That, I knew I'd come through okay. Takes a hell of a lot more than a few corpses to keep Rick O'Connell down. Give me anything--a gun, a sword, a pointy stick, a rock--and I'll take on a whole legion of the undead if I have to. But put a woman in front of me--especially a smart one like my Evie--and I turn into a complete gibbering idiot.

We walked in the garden--just walked, not much else. It was a nice, breezy day, which meant there were lots of people out. Which meant we had an audience everywhere we went. Mostly old ladies whose doctors had told them to come here for their health; the majority of them had probably never seen Egypt, the real Egypt, but they'd go home and swear that they had.

Evelyn was talking a mile a minute, with me throwing in an occasional "Uh-huh" and "Oh, yeah", for variety. I tried to listen, I really did. But all I could think about were the sweetly rounded curves hidden beneath her loose-fitting blouse and respectable librarian-type skirt. The clasp on her locket had gotten broken at some point during the whole Hamunaptra disaster, so instead she wore the amulet Jonathan had given her the day before, on a fine gold chain. It lay against her creamy skin, just above the soft swell of her breasts, like a little arrow: this way to paradise.

"You'll love the house, darling," she was saying. "It was in Father's family, of course, but my mother was the one who really made it a home. She and father travelled all over Europe on their honeymoon, and she picked out all of the finest things in the house. There's a big garden out back--a proper English lawn. Jonathan will teach you how to play cricket; you'll like that, won't you? Oh, and the view..."

Yeah, I got a great view of the whole package that night on the riverbank. Poor kid, standing there shivering, soaked to the skin... all she had on was that thin nightgown. I would have given her my coat if I had one... although I guess that would have been wet too. Anyhow, I was glad those Americans were on the other bank. Me staring, that was one thing. A whole gang of guys looking her over would have made me want to kick their asses clean back to the good old U.S. of A. I'd underestimated her when I'd dismissed her as "not a total loss". The first time I would underestimate Evelyn Carnahan, but not the last. She continued to amaze me, even now.

"...I thought if we could dig in the Valley of the Kings we might 'discover' the majority of the treasure there. People would quite easily believe that, especially since the discovery of Tutankhamen in the same area, and the place is positively riddled with tombs that haven't been properly explored. We'll have to get a camera, of course, to record our findings. That can be Jonathan's job..."

God, she was smart. I could be pretty sharp myself, sometimes, but I knew I'd have grey hair and a cane before I ever learned to read ancient Egyptian. I had a hard enough time with English, never mind a language that doesn't have any damn vowels and can be pronounced seventeen different ways.

"...and none of the staff are any use at all, most of them just run when they see me coming, or pretend they can't understand me when I speak Arabic. It's taken me almost a month to clean up that little mess I made in the library before we left..."

I was so far gone it was pathetic. Even the way she said 'library' bewitched me. I may have been in love with her for her brilliance, her defiance, and her ability to create a disaster area almost anywhere she went (the day before, she'd knocked over three stalls in the market while trying to buy a scarf), but just now I was infatuated with her mischievious little nose. The way her smile was just a little bit crooked, giving her a coy look even when she was being completely straight with me. The way she covered her mouth with her hand and squeaked delightedly when I said something that shocked her. That little sashay in her walk, the one that came out only when she thought no one was watching. And the way she moved her... now we were back to the nightgown again. Mmm.

"Rick, are you listening?"

I managed to wipe the goofy grin off my face. "Hmm? Oh, uh, yeah. Of course I am, honey."

Bad move.

She stopped walking, her little flower face turned up to mine. "What were we talking about again?" she asked, sweetly.

"I--you know, it just flew right out of my head."

"Hmm, yes, funny thing, that."

"Yeah, funny."

But she wasn't laughing.

"Hey, I bet you're thirsty--we could go to that tea house you like, with the flowers, and the terrace, and the snooty waiter guys... no?"

"Rick, if you can't even pay attention to what I'm saying for five minutes, how are we supposed to spend the rest of our lives together?"

Oh, boy.

"Look, Evelyn, I got a little distracted, okay? It's not you. I'm just not as good as you are at the whole talking thing." It was true: Evelyn and her brother--Jonathan especially--seemed to have been born with the gift of gab. The two of them had been able to talk their way into Cairo Prison, claiming to be missionaries, and Evelyn had bargained with the warden for my life--and won. My most meaningful conversations usually involved my fists.

She slipped her arm through mine, leaning close. Not for the first time, I was struck by how tiny she was. Even in those impractical (and, for Evelyn, downright dangerous) heels she wore. Then she smiled that coy, crooked smile. "Well, why don't you talk for a while, then, and I'll just listen?"

Oh, great. Talk about out of the frying pan, into the fire... now I had to come up with something.

"What were you thinking about?" she asked. Across my mind's eye flashed the picture of Evelyn in the soaking wet nightgown. I shook my head to clear it. Don't think about the wet nightie. Don't think about the wet nightie. Don't think about the...

"Swimming," I replied. Damn it.

"Swimming?" she echoed suspiciously.

"Yeah. Don't you like to swim?"

She folded her arms. "As I said before, I can, when the occasion calls for it. It's not something I particularly enjoy."

"Then you're not doing it right. Ever been skinny dipping?"

Rather than being shocked, as I had expected, she squeezed my arm and flashed me a cheeky grin. "Sure I have."

Not the answer I expected, that was for sure. "Oh yeah?"

"Well, only in the bathtub," she admitted.

I laughed out loud at that one. "The bathtub."

"My own private oasis. Give me a few candles and a good book and I could spend all day in there."

Now we were talking. "Enough room for two in your oasis?"

"Now, how would I know that, Mister O'Connell?" she inquired demurely.

"Maybe I oughta join you some time, and we'll find out."

"Well, the weather is lovely this time of year," was her solemn reply.

She made a little squeal of protest as I grabbed her around the waist. Shoving me away, she scolded, "Now, none of that! I wanted us to talk, for once!"

"For once? Hey. Give me some credit." She gave me a look. "Okay, okay... conversation." After floundering for a couple of seconds, I hit on the perfect subject to get Evelyn going. "Read any good books lately?"

She looked excitedly up at me. "I have, actually. You?"

Damn. "I... uh... no."

The light in her eyes went out again. "Oh," she said softly.

I meant the next part as a statement, but it came out more like a polite inquiry. "I... love you?"

"You don't sound too certain of yourself, Rick. I don't know, do you?" She made a face.

I made one back. "I don't know, do I?"

"Well?"

"Well?"

She folded her arms, shoulders squared, body unbending. "Wellllll?"

I grinned. "Baby, you can share my bathtub any time."

"Ooooh," she said, glaring at me.

~~

* quote altered so as not to reveal plot details.