Power and Passion (17 page)

"Please," she said, laying a hand gently on
his forearm. "Tell me, Pierce. What is it? What can I do to
help?"

They sat there in silence for a moment, the
squawking of the gulls over the water the only noise. The sun was
still hot for being so low in the sky, and Sara felt it on her
face. She wanted to close her eyes but continued to watch her
fiancé. In return he gazed at her with a very serious and very
sincere look.

"Sara, I've met someone else," he said then,
and at first she thought she had heard him wrong.

Met someone else?
she repeated in her
mind. What did that even mean?

"I—I don't understand," she said, shaking
her head and laughing a bit then bringing her hand up to shield her
eyes from the sun. She wanted a better look at his face, to see if
his expression would give her any clue.

But it did not. His expression remained as
stoic as it had been all along.

"I mean I met another woman," he replied,
his voice low as if he did not want to let this secret escape. Then
he lowered his eyes. Looking down at his lap, he appeared almost
ashamed. Of what? Sara wondered. What he had done or that he'd had
to tell her about it?

She pulled her hand away from his arm,
sitting up straight as she did so. "Where did this happen?" she
asked, though her mind had already snapped to the answer.

"When I was in London a few months ago," he
replied, avoiding her gaze. Looking out at the water, up at the
birds, anywhere but at her face. "We've kept in touch, and I've
seen her a couple times since then. She comes to the area sometimes
on business."

Sara nodded tightly, keeping her lips pursed
so she would not release the scream that choked her throat. She
breathed deeply, in and out through her nose, trying to keep calm.
"What is it she does then?" she asked as if it mattered. As if she
really cared to know. But she didn't know what else to say.

Pierce looked back at her. He seemed about
to laugh, as if he thought she was joking. But then he cleared his
throat and replied. "She works in real estate too. Owns a firm in
London. She's gotten me a fair amount of clients, actually, who
want to buy and build in Dubai."

Sara looked at him, her stare hard and cold.
Did he really think she cared about that? Could he not see this was
not the time or place to brag about his work triumphs?

"And so what? You're in…you're in a
relationship with her now?" She could barely get out the words.
Just the thought of Pierce—
her
Pierce, who had been by her
side through good and bad for the last three years, the man with
whom she had planned to spend her life—being with another woman…it
was almost too much for her to take. They'd had their differences
and their issues lately, and maybe things hadn't been as perfect as
they once were, but at the end of the day she loved him. It was
that simple. She loved Pierce, and she had never suspected that he
did not love her as much in return.

At this thought, tears sprang to her eyes,
and she brought a hand up to cover her mouth, afraid she would
begin sobbing. Pierce sighed, and his hands fell open on his lap as
if in a shrug, as if it was a sign that he had given up.

"Yes, I suppose I am." He reached up and
pushed back his unruly hair. "Or I'm not. I don't know what it is,
Sara. But I know it isn't fair to you. I can't keep carrying on
with her and not be honest with you about it."

Now Sara nodded again. Yes, yes, she
appreciated his honesty, but she would not say that to him. That
might give him the sense that she approved of what he'd done or at
least that his admission of guilt made it somehow okay. There was
nothing okay about any of this—not about his infidelity, not about
how she felt, not about what this meant for their future. Or rather
that they had no future. Sara looked down at her ring again then
slowly, slowly slipped it off her finger. She balled it up in her
fist then held it out to Pierce, waiting for him to extend his own
hand to take it from her.

He didn't, and she shook it at him.

"Take it," she said, her voice cracking.
"Please, just take it and go."

He looked at her in silence for a moment
longer. No tears welled in his eyes; only his lowered brow showed
that he might have felt any trace of emotion. Then he held out his
hand. Sara opened up her fist, and the sparkling ring dropped into
his waiting palm. Pierce watched it fall then couldn't seem to take
his eyes off of it.

"Just go," Sara whispered again, and it
brought his attention back to her. He sat forward for a moment,
gripping the ring in his hand, holding it tightly.

He might as well throw it in the
Gulf
, she thought as she watched him stand up slowly and smooth
out his suit. He paused then, looking out over the water. Sara
wondered what he was feeling. Relief that he had finally told her?
Or doubt about the choice he had made? She supposed she would never
know; more than that, she just did not want to know. He'd said all
he'd needed to. She understood the situation perfectly. Nothing he
could tell her would make it hurt any less.

"Sara, I'm sorry," he whispered then bent
down and kissed her on the top of her head. As he straightened up,
he looked at her one last time, his gaze lingering for just a
moment. Then he simply turned and walked away.

As soon as he was out of her sight, Sara
buried her face in her hands and cried, not caring who was there to
see and hear the totality of her grief.

B
lindsided
.

That was how Sara felt. That evening when
she went home, as she lay in bed, tears streaming silently from her
eyes, soaking her hair and her pillow, trying to muffle her sobs so
her parents wouldn't hear. The next morning, when she blotted
makeup underneath her eyes, trying to hide the dark circles and
puffiness from crying all night. All throughout the day at work as
she tried to concentrate on her tasks, interact with her coworkers,
and keep her interns busy. None of it seemed real. She went through
the motions without feeling, without even realizing what she was
doing.

It took several days for her to feel even
slightly normal again.

In that time Sara did not tell anyone what
had happened between her and Pierce—not even her mom and dad. It
wasn't that they would be happy they had broken up; far from it,
they never wanted anything bad to happen to their daughter,
anything that would make her feel pain in any way. But she just
didn't feel like talking about it to them yet. Since their meeting
a week before, Joan, Maryam, and Sara had all thrown themselves
fully into their roles and responsibilities: Joan investigating
venues, contractors, and possible celebrity speakers and endorsers;
Maryam calling on her volunteering colleagues to gauge their
interest in helping to staff the gala on the night of the event.
Sara, for her part, was mobilizing her interns to take notes,
conduct research, make phone calls, draft paperwork—any of the
small tasks that were so necessary to keeping order in this
sometimes-chaotic project. As the information flowed in like a
stream from all sides, she then poured it into a final presentation
she would give to her bosses and coworkers at the SO-MENA office
and to any higher-ups in the organization as necessary. She did,
after all, still have to get final approval to make it all
happen.

But she thought she had a good start.
Sitting after hours at her computer, the rest of the office empty
and silent, she again read over the framework of the proposal she
had prepared so far. Joan had made some great headway with actual
preliminary bids from two excellent venues, the Marks Regency and
the Grand Creek. Typing up the figures on the Excel spreadsheet
where she kept track of the project's budget, Sara smiled and
nodded, so pleased—but of course not surprised—that Joan had come
through so quickly and so well.

Closing the spreadsheet, she clicked over to
her email to check if any new messages had come in. She'd sent out
a blast to a dozen Special Olympics staff within her office, at the
regional headquarters, and at other outposts in the area just to
let them know what she was working on and to see if she could
garner any support from them. These were people she already knew,
of course, so she figured they would answer in the positive. Best
to have them onboard, she thought, before fighting to convince
those who might not be so automatically open to her ideas.

"Sara, I love this idea," said the first
reply. It was from Cara, a manager at another SO office in Qatar.
They had met a year or so earlier at an exhibition football match
between their two teams and had kept in touch since. Cara was an
expat like Sara, living with her family and totally dedicated to
the Special Olympics. "Just tell me what I can do to help. I am
here for you!"

These words sent a jolt through Sara's
heart, and she brought her hand up to it to calm its quick beating.
Given all that Sara was going through at the moment, Cara's
kindness was like a balm to her hurting soul. She typed out a quick
reply letting her friend know she would keep her up to date and
thanking her sincerely then hit "send" and moved on to the next
message. This one was from Farzad, another events coordinator from
the office that oversaw Sara's and all others in the Emirates and
surrounding countries. She sort of reported to him; he wasn't her
boss but held quarterly meetings at the SO headquarters to help all
events coordinators regroup, get new ideas, and just spend
constructive time with each other.

"Sara, leave it up to you to think of
something like this," he wrote. "Sounds fantastic. I'll be in touch
this week to see how I can get involved."

With tears welling up in her eyes, she typed
up another quick thank-you note and sent it off. Then another, then
another, until there were no more emails in her inbox to reply to.
Of the twelve notes she had sent out initially, ten had written
back immediately with words of support and encouragement and, most
importantly, offers to help in whatever way they could.

This is what it's all about
, she
thought—people working together for the greater good. After
reaching to turn off her computer monitor, she sat back in her
chair and closed her eyes for a moment.
This is why I do what I
do.
A wave of gratitude washed over her—for the colleagues who
had her back and for Joan and Maryam, who cared enough to put their
efforts into the project. She also felt thankful for this job that
allowed her to help people and make even a small difference in the
world. Without this, without all of them, where would she be right
now?

That was a question she did not want to
consider. Opening her eyes and standing up, she grabbed her purse
from the bottom drawer of her desk and headed out the door, turning
out the lights and locking the door behind her. She headed down the
hall to the elevators, the whole time allowing herself to think
only of the good events of the day, of how much work she had gotten
done not just on the gala but on her regular duties. She'd had a
brunch meeting with a parents' group to apprise them of some
upcoming qualifying rounds for their children's sports then spent
the afternoon poolside, cheering on the Dubai SO swim team as they
practiced their butterflies and backstrokes.

Only when she arrived at home a half hour
later did she let her mind wander to other topics, to the darker
thoughts she had been trying to so hard all day to avoid.

"Sara, are you all right?" her mother called
from the living room as she heard her daughter come in.

Being home and feeling the warmth of her
parents' love gave her strength. Sara dropped her things on the
diningroom table then walked slowly in to where her parents sat,
her mother reading a book and her father watching the international
news on TV. They both looked up at her as she came and leaned
against the doorway.

"Come in and sit with us for a bit," Ali
said, smiling at her warmly.

Sara smiled back, though she was sure hers
did not look quite so carefree and cheery. "No thanks, Dad. I'm
tired. I think I'll just go to bed."

Soraya turned to her, holding her place in
her book with her finger. "Did you eat dinner?" she asked. "There's
leftovers in the fridge if you haven't. I'd be happy to heat them
up—" She closed her book and leaned forward, ready to get out of
her chair, but Sara waved a hand, telling her to stay right where
she was.

"No, no, I'm fine, Mom. Don't trouble
yourself." She smiled again, sure it was even less convincing this
time. She slumped a little against the doorjamb, caught for a
moment on deciding what she should do. On the one hand, she wanted
to tell her parents about everything that had happened with Pierce
and with the gala. This week had been the best and worst of her
life at the same time. She didn't know whether she was coming or
going, and some understanding words and warm embraces from her
parents sure would have felt pretty good.