Free The Temple of Indra’s Jewel: by Rachael Stapleton Page B

top. He felt himself harden. He could see the muscles clearly defined in her back as she slipped a white nightgown over her head. It was her—he’d found her, and that meant he’d found it, the Purple Delhi Sapphire.

    With a low moan, I forced myself from a sound—and admittedly, slightly drunken—sleep, jerking upright. My cell phone was ringing.
    “Hello?” I croaked out, spotting the familiar floral patterned curtains framing the moonlight in the O’Kelleys’ guestroom.
    “Sophia, honey, did I wake you?”
    I recognized Gigi’s concerned voice and looked around the room for a clock.
    “No. Well, yes,” I said, trying to clear my head and think straight.
    “Are you okay? You don’t normally go to bed before 11 p.m. You sound upset.”
    “I’m fine. I just lay down for a minute, and I must have crashed. I had a nightmare, that’s all.”
    “Awe, sweetie. Big hugs. Was it the same one?”
    “No. This one was new. It’s nothing. Probably just too many scary movies,” I said, trying to fake it. I hated scary movies and Gigi knew that, but she let it go. “Anyway, what’s going on? How come you’re calling? I thought I was going to call you.”
    “Oh, I know. Everything’s fine. I just have to go into the hospital tomorrow so they can run some tests.”
    “What? Tests? What’s going on?”
    “Sophia, now don’t get all worked up. It’s no big deal. I just knew you were planning to call tomorrow, and I didn’t want you to worry when you didn’t get an answer.”
    Right, like I’m no t worried now.
    “Well, what are the tests for? Who’s taking you?”
    “Well, actually, Greta’s in town.”
    Alarm bells went off in my head. Greta Woods was Gigi’s daughter, my grandmother, or simply Greta, as she liked me to call her—a self-absorbed woman who moved to California after her first failed marriage to pursue a career in acting. Finding my mother, who was 4 years old at the time, a hindrance, she begged Gigi to take her, and of course she did. Greta never made it as an actress, but she landed herself a rich oil tycoon and moved to Texas, sending money and cards on our birthdays.
    “They’re just double-checking something,” Gigi replied calmly.
    This was probably the most involvement Greta’d had in her own mother’s life in ten years.
    “Greta wouldn’t be in town for no reason. How serious is it?”
    “You’re being silly, girl. It’s fine. They found a little lump, that’s all. At my age nothing grows quick, even tumours; don’t worry yourself. I’ll call you when it’s all over.”
    “I got my passport. My flight leaves at noon tomorrow. Maybe I should come directly up to the Lake House.”
    “Now, you don’t have to rush. I’m—”
    “Gigi.” I cut her off. “Please, I need to see you. I need to talk to you about some things, and it sounds like there are some things you need to tell me as well.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
    A s I pulled up to the beautiful Muskoka cabin I’d called home since the age of sixteen, I spotted Gigi waiting patiently by the window. I barely had time to pull my suitcase from the car and climb the stairs before she tugged the side door open and pulled me into her arms, hugging me fiercely. She was shaking. I pulled back to look into her face.
    “Gigi, don’t cry. You’re going to make me cry,” I said, too late. Tears welled and spilled onto my cheeks.
    “I can’t help it. I just love you so much, and I can’t bear to lose you too, not like the rest of them.” I knew she was thinking of her family members, who always passed tragically, even my own mother.
    “It’s like we’re cursed.”
    My lips trembled as she cradled my face in her hands and brushed away my tears.
    She let me go with one last squeeze. “Well, come on, girlie, get your stuff off and settle in. You want a drink? You hungry? I can heat up some pasta for you.”
    “No, thanks, Gigi. I grabbed a pita on the way here. I’m really just super tired.”
    “Me too. I’m