Why? Because while she had transformed herself from an overworked, overachiever into a woman who was finally satisfied with her own life, it tortured her not to be able to share her personal growth with Adam. She wanted him to join her on this exciting path of liberation. She wanted him to understand how much more fulfilled he could be if he would just slow down and reconnect with the world around him. She longed for a more spiritual bond between them.
Picking up the box that she kept displayed on her desk, she studied it carefully as she had every day since she’d found it.
Intricate hand-carved symbols and designs that looked as if they could be some kind of hieroglyphics whiskered the box made from bubinga wood and darkened with age. The faint fragrance of some rich, exotic spice emanated from it. Morgan traced her fingers across the lid, over elaborate grooves where the expert archaeologist had said was the likely place to open the box with a star-shaped key.
Now that she had learned fresh details about the legend, she was even more fascinated than before. Between translating the old French tome with her new language skills and talking to experts in several disciplines, she had slowly pieced together the legend of the star-crossed lovers.
Three thousand years ago, in a now-vanished desert kingdom, Egmath and Batu had secretly been meeting every evening under the midnight stars near a grove of cypress trees. They shared their dreams, ambitions, lives and eventually their real feelings for one another. Theirs was a pure love, a true love. But alas, it could never be. In accordance with ancient custom, the kingdom’s bravest warrior, Egmath, was chosen to marry Batu’s older sister, Princess Anan, who had become queen.
Egmath spent the evening before his wedding to Anan with his beloved Batu, when she presented him with an amulet she had secretly commissioned. It was made of ivory and fashioned in the shape of a five-pointed star with a hollowed-out center.
With the amulet tightly pressed between their entwined hands, Egmath and Batu vowed their everlasting love to each other. That night, beneath the magic of the moon and the optimism of the stars, Egmath and Batu made love for the first and only time. The amulet blazed brightly. According to the fable, it now held the power of true love for whoever possessed it and was pure of heart.
The story was so sad. Soul mates destined to be together but torn asunder by their culture’s tradition and Egmath’s sense of honor.
Wasn’t that just like a man? Placing duty over love. Morgan snorted.
And poor Anan? What about her? Hadn’t the woman deserved a man who loved her the way that Egmath had loved Batu?
If Morgan closed her eyes, she could see Anan in her marriage, believing it was solid, knowing that she had a good man in Egmath. But somewhere in the back of her mind, as Anan went about her royal duties, she was bound to have nagging doubts. She was certain to realize the connection between herself and her new husband was not as it should be.
Did Anan wonder what he was thinking when she caught Egmath staring longingly out across the desert? Did she question his love for her when he wouldn’t tell her where he’d gotten the amulet that he wore around his neck and never took off? Did she doubt herself as a woman when he would kiss her perfunctorily, sweetly but without any real hint of passion?
Morgan sighed and opened her eyes.
Maybe she was obsessed with the box and the legend because it represented the magic that was sorely missing from her own marriage. It wasn’t the first time she’d had such thoughts.
And what if she located the amulet and opened the box only to find nothing there? That it was as empty inside as she was?
What then?
The thought startled her.
What on earth was she doing? Posting that message had been a bad idea. She should forget about the legend and just concentrate on building a stronger marriage. She had to stop using the mystery of the box as a buffer for her feelings, as a barrier to keep from facing what was going on in her own life.
Quick, delete the post before it’s too late.
Morgan leaned forward and was about to zap the message into cyberspace when another post popped up in the Special Gem thread.
“Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” read the enigmatic subject line.
Morgan’s breath caught and her stomach staggered. Desire rose in her, the famished need to have her curiosity sated. Whether she wanted to admit her compulsion or not, she had to find out what was in that box.
Her hand hovered over the mouse. She’d never expected a response so swiftly.
Or one so cagey.
It appeared that someone knew the special gem she had written about was the White Star. Could the electronic posting possibly be from the person who currently possessed the amulet?
She was surprised to find her fingers trembling as she clicked the cursor on the read tab.
Dear Curious in Connecticut,
I might have access to what you’re looking for. If I may ask, what is the nature of your interest in the piece? Please answer through private e-mail.
It was unsigned.
Morgan’s heart stilled and a strange sense of calm came over her, even as the rational voice in the back of her head warned her not to get too excited or jump to erroneous conclusions.
After months of searching, was she within days of opening the box?
Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she poured out her findings into the e-mail. She launched into detail, describing how she believed the amulet might be the key that opened the box. Her breath came in raspy backward gasps as she signed her real name and hit Send.
Morgan got up and walked back and forth in front of the computer screen, thrill pumping a shower of tingles throughout her body. “Come on, come on, please answer me back.”
Five minutes passed, then ten. She paced the room, one hand splayed against the hollow of her throat. It wasn’t until she began to feel light-headed that Morgan realized she wasn’t exhaling.
Breathe.
She took a deep, cleansing yoga breath. Why did it feel as if the key to her future lay in this stranger’s response?
Finally after several long, agonizing minutes, the cheery digitized voice on her computer announced, “You’ve got mail.”
Morgan flung herself back into the chair and opened the letter.
All wariness had vanished from the sender’s earlier post.
Dear Morgan,
It sounds as if you have the same obsession with unique antiques as I. If you are willing to make your intriguing box available to me, then I’ll provide the amulet and we could open the box together. When would it be possible for us to meet? I live on the Mediterranean Sea in a small fishing village not far from Nice, but I am not in the best of health and unable to travel abroad. If you would consider a trip to France, you are welcome to stay at my villa. I would much enjoy a long chat with a kindred spirit.
Sincerely yours,
Henri Renouf
The hairs on Morgan’s forearm lifted and a chill chased up her spine. Could this guy be on the up-and-up? Did he really have access to the White Star? Or was he some weirdo who surfed the Net looking to lure unsuspecting women to France?
Morgan composed another post, telling him that she hoped he wouldn’t be offended by her inquiry, but a woman couldn’t be too cautious and she would require some reassurance that he was a legitimate dealer and that he had actually seen the White Star. She asked him to describe the amulet.
Minutes later his reply came back.
I appreciate your hesitation. It is only prudent in this electronic age to question the identity and motive of the person behind the post.