Grim Shadows

EPILOGUE

JANUARY 1929, ONE YEAR LATER

HADLEY SQUINTED INTO THE morning sun as she approached the porter loading their luggage onto the waiting train. The Twin Peaks station was bustling with travelers going to and from San Francisco, and she was both ecstatic and nervous to be one of them. She’d dreamed of this trip since she was a small child. Her stomach was a riot of butterflies and she couldn’t stop smiling.

“It’s just that I also noticed two last names, sir,” the porter was saying to the unusually tall man with wheat-blond hair. Hadley stopped behind him, out of sight, and listened for his answer.

“You’re a perceptive fellow,” Lowe told the porter conspiratorially. “Yes, it’s true. We’re bound for an Atlantic-crossing steamer ship, see. And Miss Bacall is a famous newspaper journalist who’s been sent along with me as a traveling companion to write my memoirs. Distant lands, exciting adventures. That sort of thing.”

“Oh,” the porter said, eyes wide. “Well, forgive me for being blunt, sir, but her luggage is tagged with your compartment number. Should I put it in the neighboring compartment with the child and her caretaker—Mrs. Geller?”

Arms crossed, Lowe rocked on the heels of his riding boots before leaning closer to the attendant. “No, the luggage is marked correctly. Miss Bacall’s should go to my compartment. She’ll be taking a lot of notes, if you catch my drift.”

The porter slowly raised his brows. “I do, indeed. And is there—Mrs. Geller and the child, and Miss Bacall and you . . . Is there a Mrs. Magnusson making the trip as well?”

“Just the four of us.”

“I see,” the porter said, looking positively shocked. “Not to worry. I’m discreet.”

Hadley stepped to Lowe’s side and gave him a sidelong frown.

“Ah, here she is now,” Lowe said, placing a firm hand on her back.

“Yes, it’s me. Your traveling companion,” she said dryly. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten to pack a typewriter, Mr. Magnusson.”

“I hope your longhand’s good,” he said as his warm palm slid down to cup her rear.

“Did I hear you mention an extra sleeping bunk in Mrs. Geller’s compartment?” she asked the porter, struggling to pry away his hand without drawing attention.

“He said it would be far too crowded in there,” Lowe said quickly and let go of her to fish out a ridiculously large bill for the porter. “Keep the assignments as they are. And if you could personally ensure our service is top-notch all the way to New York, there’s more where that came from.”

“Yes, sir. Anything you need, I’m your man,” he said before carting the luggage away.

“So it’s ‘Miss’ Bacall, and we aren’t married now?” Hadley said when the man was out of earshot.

“He noticed you weren’t wearing a ring—”

She couldn’t travel with it. The thing was so big and showy, they’d be robbed before they made it out of the state. It was currently hidden in a panel inside their bedroom closet.

“—and our last names.”

For professional reasons. She’d kept Bacall for her career, nothing more. Explaining this to strangers was almost more trouble than it was worth. For her, at least. For Lowe, it was an opportunity to invent a new madcap story at every dinner party they attended. God only knew what he’d told his fellow professors at Berkeley. Their staff at home had believed Hadley to be some sort of royal princess when she’d first moved in after the wedding.

“You know that’s going to spread through the train like wildfire,” she said.

He waggled his brows. “Nothing more exciting than salacious gossip.”

Before she could decide if she wanted to wallop him on the arm with her handbag or lean into the kiss he was pressing to her temple, the rest of their party appeared: the entire Magnusson clan, her father, Mrs. Geller, and Stella—who dropped Mrs. Geller’s hand and bounded for them, slinging her arms around Hadley and Lowe’s legs like they were a jungle gym. She gave a little squeal of excitement into Hadley’s skirt before grinning up at both of them.

“Enjoy it now, sötnos,” Lowe said. “Once you get your first bout of motion sickness on that train, you’ll wish Uncle Lowe and Auntie Hadley had done the responsible thing and left you at home.”

Stella pushed dark curls out of her face and made the humplike sign for “camel” with her hand.

“Yes, we’re going to ride a camel,” Hadley said, smiling down at her. “I’m excited, too.”

“Satanic beasts that stink and spit,” Lowe mumbled, but his eyes twinkled with merriment. He ran a hand over Stella’s head. “I swear, that is Adam’s smile exactly.”

And it was. The girl looked more and more like Adam with every passing week. Hadley worried Lowe might be disappointed with this realization, but it only seemed to strengthen their bond. The adoption went through three months ago, making their small family of three official.

It had taken a while for Hadley and Stella to warm up to each other. Mostly Hadley’s fault. She’d never been so nervous about her specters. Number Four was one thing, but a small child without nine lives was quite another. Thankfully, the girl couldn’t see them, and over the last year, Hadley had rarely been upset enough at home to draw the Mori’s attention.

Funny how someone she’d once considered the most irritating man she’d ever met could now be the source of so much serenity.

Even when he was spinning tales to train porters.

“You sure you have everything?” her father asked. “You packed the revolver?”

“We’re staying in luxury hotels and going to major tourist sites, not digging up treasure in the desert,” Lowe reminded him. “If I thought anyone might be shooting at us, I wouldn’t be escorting a five-year-old and my wife there. And you, Mrs. Geller,” he added.

The gray-haired woman looked more titillated than wary. “Don’t worry, Dr. Bacall. I’ve packed a small wooden club in my steamer trunk, just in case we face bandits.”

Lowe had lured Mrs. Geller away from the Pacific Hebrew Orphan Asylum to serve as Stella’s live-in tutor and nanny. She’d been teaching the child sign language at an astonishing rate. And as someone who’d never crossed the California state line, she was positively exuberant about accompanying them on the trip to Egypt—which was a miracle, considering all the garish stories Lowe had shared with the woman about his last trip there.

“No one will be raiding our hotel rooms except the maids taking away dirty linens,” he assured everyone.

“Better safe than sorry,” Winter said, slinging his arm around his spirit medium wife’s shoulders. Their small infant was wrapped up in a stroller and being cooed over by Astrid. Bo stood next to her, watching both of them.

“It will take you two weeks just to get to Europe?” Astrid asked.

“A little less. Four days by train to New York,” Lowe said, counting the time off on his fingers. “Six days on the S.S. Olympic to England. A ferry to France, then a train ride to the coast the next morning to catch another three-day steamer to Alexandria.”

Hadley stopped herself from mouthing the schedule along with Lowe; she’d memorized every leg of their journey weeks ago. “Which means that exactly two weeks from now, we’ll be stepping foot on Egyptian soil.” Just thinking about it made her stomach flutter.

“Be sure to take lots of photographs at the pyramids,” Bo said.

“And at the museum,” her father added. “You have my letter to Director Amir inviting him to San Francisco?”

“You’ve asked me twice already, Father.” A stronger relationship between their museum and the Egyptian Museum in Cairo could help bring touring exhibits to San Francisco. Hadley was eager to meet the director and discuss opportunities.

Eager for that, and eager to see the country that birthed the civilization she’d spent her life studying, and that changed her family’s lives so profoundly. Without it, her world would be so different. She wouldn’t have lost her mother nor been cursed with the Mori. But she also wouldn’t be running the antiquities department, and she wouldn’t have met the man at her side.

And those gifts alone made her curse feel almost like a blessing.

The first whistle sounded to announce the train’s impending departure.

“Adventure awaits, Mrs. Bacall,” Lowe said, smiling down at her. “You ready for this?”

She threaded her arm through his and linked elbows. “Darling, I was born ready.”