Authors: Ellen Wolf
‘
That’s my family’s land,’ James said, the smile from just moments before disappearing. She could tell he was uncomfortable, most probably bracing himself for the fast-approaching reunion with his family.
She was quickly losing battle with resisting the charm of the place. It was absolutely beautiful, she thought, her eyes going over the vast expanse of green grass dotted with blooming bushes and tall, swaying grasses that stretched endlessly into the far horizon. There, almost bluish in the distance, was a dark line of trees, a grove. The well-kept, wide road leading to it passed what could have been the pride of any exclusive golf course around the world. Palms with thick, smooth trunks rose on both sides, large fringed leaves swaying gently in the breeze. As the car rolled forward, she noticed huge, thick bougainvillea bushes covered with blooms in hues of magenta, orange, and purple arching over the road. They were magnificent, she thought, enthralled. Their cousins in England’s florist shops paled in comparison, like poor relatives.
She recognized some of the other flowering shrubs, while most of them remained mysteriously alien to her wide-open eyes. Her head moved from side to side, her delight in the beauty of the landscape making her forget James and all he represented. There was no way to remain aloof and calm with those spectacular arches of white, magnolia-like flowers showering the road with their soft, leathery petals. She resisted her childish wish to roll down her window and catch some of them as they floated to the ground.
Her favorites, though, were the low, spreading patches of small blue flowers, thick enough to resemble pillows of moss she remembered from her walks back home. Only these were incredibly vibrant, the tiny, five-petaled flowers as blue as the sky above them.
She wished they could travel forever, she thought impulsively, momentarily forgetting the final destination. As the trees shadowed the road that wound itself gently through the landscape, it was easy to forget what waited for them at road’s end.
‘
I gather you approve of my family’s gardening style.’ James’s wry voice broke into her delighted thoughts, bringing her back to reality. ‘It’s possible because of the net of canals they still use all over the land.’ He pointed to something far off in the grass, and as she squinted into the sun, she realized that it was water, sparkling and glittering in narrow ditches distributing it around the islands of trees and bushes.
‘
Some of the inventions from the ancient times are well worth preserving, I think,’ James continued, his eyes returning to the road. ‘There are fish in those canals, as well. My grandmother had decided to take part in one of those wildlife fund experimental attempts to bring back some of the wildlife. They’re especially interested in increasing the population of herons, water birds of prey, and of course, Egyptian geese. The fish are working great as a lure to make them nest and stay.’
For a man not interested in keeping contact with his family, he was certainly well informed, Emily thought, biting back a smile. She could hear his excitement about the success of the mission as she spotted some of the birds among the grasses. The road narrowed a bit further, turning around a sharp corner, where more large trees spread their gnarled, ancient branches and obstructed her view, guarding their secret to the last moment.
‘
Well, here we are.’ James smiled at her as he took the last turn. Suddenly, they were in front of a large, sprawling home with white walls gleaming blindingly in the hot sun. It was low with only one story, thick columns supporting its roof at regular intervals. A large, crescent-shaped driveway led up to the impressive wooden double door carved with the heads of lions. Gigantic pots in bluish-greenish hues held thick bushes of papyrus at least eight feet tall, making her think of ancient times, scribes, and all things sacred.
James brought the car to a stop and opened the door. The gentle sound of a water fountain reached their ears with its silvery cascade of droplets hitting the bottom of a large stone bowl shaped into the unfurling flower of a lotus. The water sparkled in the sunshine, the mist hanging around it attracting birds and insects alike.
‘
Welcome to my father’s house.’ There was a peculiar note in his voice, defiance, pride, and reluctance all at once. She could tell he noticed she liked it here and was glad, however hard he tried to cover it up. Or was it just her wish to have him care about her opinion?
Letting it go was the only viable option, so she followed the invitation of his hand and exited the car, the heat of the Egyptian afternoon with its blinding brightness and chirping of millions of insects hitting her all at once. She swayed momentarily, her senses overwhelmed. In a second, James was at her side, his hand taking hers as he looked down into her face, his eyes serious.
‘
Are you all right?’ He asked, sounding too sincere to just be playing the part for the benefit of a servant who appeared on the doorstep and greeted them with yet another waterfall of delighted Arabic she couldn’t understand.
James was still looking at her, and it embarrassed her to be the centre of his attention in front of the elderly man who eyed them both with a smile wrinkling his brown, leathery face.
‘
Fine, thank you,’ she assured him hurriedly. He turned to the man, then took her elbow and guided her into the house.
‘
This is Afiz, my grandmother’s chief housekeeper,’ he explained, and she murmured a polite response to the older man’s enthusiastic tirade. His English was much better than she had expected, and she shook his hand with pleasure, his flowery welcome making her forget for a second why she was here in the first place. It was very easy to fall under the spell of his dark, wise eyes as he lead them into the cool interior, her eyes adjusting slowly to the shadiness of the foyer.
‘
Your grandmother is in the salon, sahib.’ Afiz explained, a shadow crossing his wrinkled features for just a brief second. ‘She has visitors, sir.’
Emily barely listened, once again left speechless by the beauty of her surroundings. The house looked simple and plain from the outside, the pure white of its walls and dark windows with wooden shutters doing little to raise its curb appeal. Yet the inside made up many times over for its Spartan exterior. Cool, calm, and vast, its ochre painted walls and red columns supporting the surprisingly high ceiling contrasted pleasantly with the bluish mosaic decorating its cool floor. A few pieces of furniture were painted with scenes from hunting expeditions, amazingly detailed and vibrant. Emily looked at the floor, her feet drowning in the huge blue and black patterned oriental carpet complementing the mosaic. Vases and bowls, mostly reddish and coppery, decorated the low, heavy tables next to flower arrangements using some of the flowers she recognized passing a moment ago.
‘
The Al Jameen family has been staying here for the last two days, sahib,’ Afiz explained, a sudden shadow crossing James’s face at the revelation. ‘Sahib Al Jameen left yesterday, but his wife and daughter are graciously keeping company to your grandmother. She will be overjoyed to see you, sir. Ever since you phoned you were coming, Madam has been very excited.’
Whoever those people were, they didn’t really belong to James’s circle of favorites, Emily thought as he declined Afiz’s offer to go announce their arrival. He opted for both of them to walk to the main salon in the back of the house. His hand firmly around her elbow, they walked together through the house. She knew that his three aunts came to visit their ancestral home often, their residences in Cairo and Alexandria close enough to keep an eye on their aging mother. At times they lived here, as well, especially since their husbands travelled on business for a good part of the year. He told her briefly about his cousins, most of them studying at universities abroad, following the footsteps of his father. The silence in the house made her hope that none of his extended family was here, one elderly grandmother much easier to face alone than being surrounded by countless relatives.
They had arrived at the door leading to the salon. The large, heavy door opened noiselessly, a testament to proper house care by some invisible yet efficient house cleaners. As it swung open, it allowed her to catch a glance of the other side, her heart stopping for one horrified moment. Her hopes to find his grandmother alone, having an afternoon tea with a friend or two, were dashed, as were so many other hopes associated with James.
Eight pairs of dark eyes looked their way, burning holes in her suddenly cold face. Her whole being cringed in response, only James’s strong fingers still wrapped around her arm preventing her from doing what she wished to do most at the moment. His grip made it impossible to give into the desire to run and hide from the barely veiled hostility that felt almost palpable in the air. She had to face them, she thought, swallowing convulsively and hoping that nobody could notice her body shaking as if she were exposed to some frigid wind.
Lifting her chin, she forced herself to calm down, aware that whatever happened next, those first moments would shape her relationship with his family for the rest of her stay. She would be damned if they managed to intimidate her the way James did. So she smiled and waited for the storm to unleash, the old woman who must have been James’s grandmother looking at her with a thunderous expression that left no doubts she didn’t welcome her presence in her home.
Jet black eyes that were so much like James’s assessed the situation in a second. They went from her face to his hand, still resting on her upper arm with familiarity that found little approval, judging by the tight lines appearing around his grandmother’s surprisingly youthful mouth.
‘
Hello, grandmother. I’m sorry we’re a bit later than I hoped to arrive, but there were some things that needed attending to before my departure.’ James’s voice, smooth and calm, broke the silence, and Emily felt him pull her even closer. The heat of his tall, hard frame penetrated her bones and dissipated some of the horrible cold that threatened to freeze her into a statue.
‘
I don’t believe you know my girlfriend, Emily Beggins. I wasn’t sure if she would be able to accompany me here, so I didn’t mention it to you earlier. But, luckily, she found time to travel with me.’
His warm smile graced Emily’s face, only the slightest tension around his tactile mouth warning her he was expecting her not to do anything silly, like contradicting him. He had no clue that she wouldn’t do it now, she thought dazedly, watching the older woman nod slowly and smile without a trace of true merriment.
‘
You didn’t mention it, James, that’s true. But than again, you are full of surprises.’ In the short silence that followed, she gestured to Emily to come closer, her dark eyes as cold as onyx stones.
‘
Marhaban
, Ms. Beggins.’ A slim brown hand reached out to her from folds of a flowing turquoise dress that matched the woman’s silver earrings decorated with lapis lazuli. ‘My grandson’s friends are always welcome in my humble home.’
She didn’t mean it, Emily thought with a sense of walking straight into a lion’s cage as she stepped forward. They shook hands, the older woman’s handshake surprisingly firm. She didn’t want Emily to be there and certainly didn’t like her being James’s girlfriend. Emily had a horrible suspicion that she was a pawn in the game between him and his grandmother, his words meant to annoy the old woman. Was that a part of his plan when he brought her with him?
Whatever it was, she had no choice. The game had started, and she had to win, the poor hand she had been given something that couldn’t be changed.
He certainly hadn’t expected to find them all here, James thought, as he found himself seated next to Emily on one of the opulent, embroidered sofas his grandmother adored. Hadn’t he chosen to keep his visit low profile, unwilling to put up with yet another more or less diplomatic lecture from his uncles and aunts? For people who saw him only a few times each year, they were surprisingly vocal about what they considered good for both him and the business.
The business part he didn’t mind, practical enough to realize that they knew their way around and could offer valuable advice to someone like him. The private life part annoyed him more.
He could tell that Emily sensed it too, her whole body tense with stress. He caught himself wishing to soothe her, his fingers itching to run comfortingly over the soft skin of her cheek. If he dared to do so, and she didn’t bite his head off, his grandmother would, he thought with sudden amusement. The way she glared at Emily left little to his imagination.
Most probably his grandmother considered Emily an intruder who managed to embarrass her in front of her guests, the Al Jameel family. He could only imagine the disappointment he had caused by producing his British girlfriend. Mrs. Jameel watched them with a narrowed, speculative glare, her heavily made-up eyes hiding her inner emotions. The same couldn’t be said for Layla, her daughter. Glamorous and breathtakingly beautiful, she reminded him of the pictures of slender, long-limbed princesses decorating ancient tombs and temples. Even her hairdo seemed to go with the theme, the sleek ebony bob framing her delicate face. Dramatic eyeliner matched with bluish eye shadow and cleverly applied rouge brought back images of Nefertiti that held countless historians and archeologists spellbound over the years.
Layla wasn’t just pretty, either. He knew that she studied at Cairo University, her proud parents bringing it up on numerous occasions. At twenty-one, she lived with her family in their opulent residence in the capital, her two younger brothers still attending the French lyceum.