Hey, guys! I firstly want to say I am so, so sorry to anyone who has been waiting and waiting for an update to the story. I don't really have any one reason in particular why I haven't finished it, except to say that life happens! I stopped writing "The Countess" (and by the way, I haven't even gotten to the countess part yet!) over six years ago, but I never really stopped thinking about it. Mara, Daughter of the Nile is still one of my all-time favorite novels. I reread it once a year or so, and every time I do, I think about this story that I've seemingly abandoned.

When I started writing this as a 20-year-old college student, it was a kind of fantasy or wish-fulfillment for me (as I'm sure many fanfiction stories are for their authors). Yes, Marianne was supposed to be me, if you couldn't tell. In a way, she still is. Rereading her story now is like watching myself as I was eight or nine years ago. That's my sense of humor, my awkwardness around guys, my deep devotion to books written by dead English people. That's my thirst for adventure and propensity to believe that the world and all people in it are basically good. (To be fair, I've grown out of that "awkwardness around guys" thing, but you don't want to know about my love life, do you?)

Maybe Marianne was (or is) you, too, or there are at least parts of her that are reflected in you. And since I still get the occasional review, favorite, or follow on this story, and since I still have so much of it in me, I thought it only fair that I try to continue it. What I write now will probably be different from what I would have if I'd finished it eight years ago, but I feel like the direction I'm planning to go will still be pretty satisfying. I apologize in advance if I don't get to update very often. I'll do the best I can. Thank you for reading. Enjoy!

Chapter VIII

Nine Years Later

Pacific Northwest rain pattered lightly on my classroom window as I settled behind my desk and opened my email. I was supposed to be on my planning period, but I hadn't checked it all morning. There were several new messages from my students, asking questions about their midterm projects or the previous day's lessons. There was one from a fellow social studies teacher wanting my opinion on how to introduce a certain topic to his students.

The fifth message down brought a smile to my face as I read the sender's name: James Grant.

I clicked on the message's subject line ("Remember this?"), and my smile widened when I saw he had attached a photo. Two young adults, a man and a woman, beamed out of my computer screen. In the background behind them was the deck of a sailboat, and a rich pink sunset over the Nile River. The message was only a few lines:

Found my old mobile phone while packing up my flat and this photo was on it. Look at those bright young faces!

I miss you.

-James

I sighed, and glanced out the window again. The rain was slowing and the sun was beginning to peek out from behind the clouds. Bright noon sunlight glinted off the ring on the third finger of my left hand, making the stone sparkle, and I turned back to the photo.

My hand on the mouse, the cursor hovered over the "reply" button for a moment, before I clicked the "X" to close the message.

I remembered indeed. I remembered it well.

…...

The first thing I was aware of was a dull throbbing at the back of my head, followed by a sharp pain above my right eyebrow. My cheek was flattened to a cold wood floor, and I was lying awkwardly on top of my arm. I peered into the dimness, trying to remember how I got there.

I heard a scuffle and several loud thuds on the boat deck above me, then a faint splash, before the door at the top of the ladder was violently flung open with a loud creak and light flooded in.

"Marianne!"

A pair of feet appeared through the door and then James was jumping down and kneeling beside me, lifting me gently by the shoulders and gingerly touching a finger to my forehead.

"Marianne, are you all right? Can you hear me? Marianne!"

I blinked several times, trying to make my eyes focus on his face. "Yes," I whispered.

"Are you hurt?"

"My head."

His hand moved to the back of my head, and I winced when his fingers found the tender spot where I had been struck.

"You've got quite a lump there. We should clean this cut on your forehead, too," he said, helping me sit up and lean against the wall. He peered into my eyes and asked me a few simple questions. "Just making sure you don't have a concussion."

"Who was that?" I wondered. "Was it the Royal Guard? Are there any more on the boat?"

"I certainly hope not, though we should make sure," he answered, conspicuously ignoring my first two questions. He smoothed a strand of hair away from my face, eyeing the cut on my forehead with a concerned furrow to his brow. "There's a first-aid kit on deck. Do you think we can get you back up there?"

I nodded. James took my hand and helped me carefully to my feet, then stood below me as I slowly climbed the ladder up to the deck. He joined me in a second and guided me over to the benches at the stern. While he fished around in the first-aid kit and tended to my cut, I watched the pensive look on his face and pieced together the events that had just transpired, drawing a grim conclusion.

"James?" I said.

"Mmhmm?" he murmured absently, applying a small bandage to my brow.

"Dietrich had to have known."

His hands dropped and his eyes met mine. "We cannot be certain of that, but that's what I'm afraid of."

"How well do you know him?"

"I only know him through my uncle. I thought they were friends." James cleared his throat and moved to sit beside me on the bench, taking my hand and tracing my palm with his finger. "I'm just glad you weren't hurt any more seriously."

"Where did the guy go?"

"He jumped over the side. He fought me for a moment. I think he was after the ring, and when he couldn't find it, he fled."

I pulled the chain out of the front of my t-shirt, fingering the ring that still hung there. "Are you okay?"

A tiny smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, I'm fine."

"Oh… well, good." I looked up at him, noticing for the first time how close we were to each other. Then his hand was in my hair, his thumb stroking my cheek, and I couldn't breathe.

"I think this is where we left off," he said softly.

I swallowed. "Yep," I whispered.

His smile deepened, and then he kissed me.

…...

The boat trip from Cairo to Luxor was to take two days, and despite the reason for the journey and the ever-present possibility of danger, those two days were blissful. We passed the time by talking, telling each other about our lives, our families and friends, our interests, our childhoods. Unsurprisingly, we shared a deep love of Ancient Egypt that had developed from a young age, though for James, the connection was a bit more personal, of course; Egypt was literally in his blood. We also shared a love of the Beatles and The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, and a strong distaste for peas.

I was telling him about how Abby and I had met when it dawned on me that I hadn't spoken to her since she dropped me off at the gala. I'd said that I would tell her about my "date" before she drove away.

I checked my phone, confirming my suspicion that it wouldn't get service where we were. "James, does your phone get a signal?"

He pulled it out of his pocket. "No, no bars, I'm afraid. Do you need to call someone?"

"Abby might be wondering why she hasn't heard from me."

"I think there's a phone on the boat."

We found the phone and I dialled Abby's number. I listened to the ring for several seconds before she picked up.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded tinny and far away.

"Abby?"

"Marianne? Where are you calling from? This isn't your number, is it?"

"No, I'm on a boat."

"A boat?"

"Yeah, we're on a boat on our way to Luxor."

"Luxor? Marianne, what do you mean? Who's 'we'?"

"Me and… James," I mumbled, staring hard at my shoes.

Abby squealed into the phone and I held the receiver away from my ear for a moment. "I knew it!" she cried. "This is so romantic! But when will you be back? What about class?"

"I'm hoping we shouldn't be gone more than a week. Can you cover for me in class, take notes and get the assignments?"

"Of course!"

"Thanks, Abby. So what about you? Anything new in the last thirty-six hours?"

"Funny you should ask. You're never going to believe this."

"Try me," I said a bit ruefully.

"You know Kevin? He asked me out last night."

"No way!" I said in mock-surprise. "What did you say?"

"I told him maybe. He seems nice enough, but I'm just not sure."

"You've gotta go with your gut."

"You would say that, Miss Spontaneity!"

I giggled. "Hey Abby, I'm not sure how long this connection is going to last. I should probably let you go."

"All right, dear. Have fun with Jaaa-ames!" she sang.

"I wi-illlll." I imitated her tone. "Love you, bye!"

"Love you, too! Cheers!" And we hung up.

I looked over at James, who'd been half-watching me throughout the phone call. "Did you overhear any of that?"

He walked over and put his arms around me. "Just when your friend got especially excited about something."

"I didn't want to tell her the truth, just in case she might be in danger, too," I said into his shoulder. "And I didn't want her to worry."

"That's probably wise." He gave me a slight squeeze. "We should be able to dock early tomorrow morning. Then we'll have our work cut out for us."

I sighed. "I wish we could stay on this boat forever."

"Maybe-" he halted, and I looked up. "Maybe when this is all over, we can go away together. For real."

I smiled. "Sounds perfect."

He smiled back, then fished around in his pocket for his phone once again.

I gave him a questioning look. "I thought you said you didn't get any service out here, either."

"I don't, but the camera still works. Say cheese!"

James held out the phone and we smiled at the back of it. Then he pressed the button, and we heard the electronic click, capturing this perfect moment in the middle of a storm.