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I nodded with a quick look at her friend. He seemed unsurprised by the question. “I managed to get six more.” I bent and rummaged through myneatly packed things and procured the jewelry, wrapped carefully in one of my shirts. I gave the bundle to my mother.

“My boat is just over there,” he said, using his chin to point. I followed his line of sight to a narrow boat, tucked within tall shrubs. I picked up my bag and trudged after them, my heart racing.

This was it.

On Christmas morning, Tío Ricardo and Whit, along with the rest of the crew, wouldn’t find me anywhere on Philae. As if I’d disappeared, vanished into another world like in a fairy tale. I had thought about leaving a note for Whit, but decided against it. I’d already said everything I wanted to say. I couldn’t tell him where I was going, and who with, nor what my plans were. There didn’t seem a point in leaving behind a message.

This chapter of my life would soon be over.

Mamá’s friend reached the boat first and he gently took my mother’s things and placed them within. Mamá patted her clothing, frowning. She turned around, her chin dipped, searching the ground.

“Have you lost something?” I asked.

“Yes, my small silk purse. It has my headache medicine,” she said. “I never travel without it.”

We all got onto our knees, searching the rocky beach. I came up empty, and then decided to retrace my steps. I glanced nervously in the direction of the campsite. Any minute, I expected to hear my uncle shouting at us. To see Whit running toward me, disappointment carved into his features.

“I might have dropped it higher up on the bank?” Mamá whispered, walking a few steps behind me.

“I’ll go look,” I said. “I’ll meet you by the boat.”

Mamá nodded and turned around, moving silently back to her friend. I raced up the bank, crouched low, and began the search. Thick groupings of prickly plants obstructed my view, but I picked my way carefully. Finally, a glittering bag shown like silver in the moonlight. I grabbed it and went down the way I came, slipping on a rock. I managed to keep my balance, and by the time I reached the shore, my breath was coming out in panting gasps. I looked for my mother, but found no one.

The area was eerily quiet.

I strode to the stretch of sand where I’d last seen Mamá and her friend, but saw neither. At first, I couldn’t comprehend what I saw. The shore stood empty; only their footprints gave any indication they’d been there. Panic pulsed in the air around me. Had my uncle discovered them? Or Mr. Fincastle? But I would have heard some commotion, surely. I walked up and down the shore, my dread mounting. My breath burst from my mouth in loud huffs.

Realization crept over me.

The boat was gone. Well and truly gone.

I looked out over the Nile, and a lump caught at the back of my throat. The blurry outline of the boat was in view, far enough in the distance I had to squint to make out the shape. It moved noiselessly over the water.

Carrying my mother where only the river knew.

It was Noche Buena.

Christmas Eve. And my mother had left me behind.

I don’t know how long I stood before the Nile, hoping that it had been a mistake, that they’d lost control of the boat somehow. I would have believed a crocodile had carried them off.

Anything but the truth.

An ache between my eyes grew, pressure that widened in painful ripples. My eyes burned. I slumped onto the sand, sharp rocks digging into my flesh. I barely noticed. The last two weeks flashed through my mind, one horrifying scene after another. I couldn’t make sense of it. Why had she left me here? Did she not want me to help her with the artifacts?

I was so cold, and terrified, and riddled with guilt. A nagging sense that I’d behaved like a fool permeated my senses. I reached for my mother’s silk purse and rustled through it, hoping to find—

My fingers found a small, folded note. It was much too dark to read, and so I stumbled onto my feet and made my way back to camp. Shame curled deep in my belly, a physical ache as if I’d drunk poison. When I reached the camp, I made sure to walk as quietly as I could, remembering that Whit slept lightly.

I struck a match and lit a candle once inside my cleared-out room. The rug and the crate were the only items I’d chosen to leave behind. With shaking fingers, I unfolded the note.

Dear Inez,

This is goodbye. I know it would have been kinder to let you think I’d died, but once you arrived in Philae, I had to factor you into my plans. I urge you to leave Egypt. Forget what you’ve seen and heard, and move on with your life. You have so much ahead of you. Marry the son of the consul, have your own family, and begin again.

Don’t come looking for me. You won’t like what you find, Inez.

Mamita