Authors: Ellen Wolf
His long, smooth stride attracted more than one appreciative look from the female guests in the lobby. She didn’t like the speculative glances that followed him wherever he went. His good looks were something not lost on any warm-blooded woman within a radius of a mile. The pang of jealousy in her heart was a response that was automatic and most embarrassing. She didn’t have the right to be possessive over the man who only pretended to be with her because it suited his plans, she told herself firmly as she slid into the waiting car. The chauffeur closed the door for her with a respectful gesture. James had paid her for her services, too. She didn’t like to think about it, but it was only too true. Wasn’t the restaurant he would return to her price enough for her cooperation? Was she so greedy as to wish for more?
She was, she had to admit to herself as she stared at the landscape outside the car’s tinted windows with unseeing eyes. She wanted more than just a building, however precious it was to her and her memories. Its value paled horribly as she thought of other things she would have liked more. One, actually. She wanted James to look at her and see her as nothing but a woman he had met without all the horrible baggage of bad memories that had destroyed the ‘what if’ forever. She wanted him to smile at her because he wanted to, not because he felt he needed to play his part properly. And most of all, she wanted to be near him, not only for today, but the days that followed.
She would never have thought she would be glad to see his grandmother, she thought as they pulled into the driveway of the old, sprawling home, the already familiar silhouette of the older lady at one of the large curtain-free windows greeting her. She couldn’t be waiting for her, could she?
Mystified, Emily glanced through the tinted glass of the car window, safely hidden from her hawkish gaze. In a way, it was a good thing. The grandmother was too absorbing and preoccupying to let Emily brood over her relationship with James, or rather the lack of such. Being around his grandmother was like walking in a minefield, all of Emily’s attention and senses concentrating on surviving the scrutiny with minimal damage. It took all her effort to just appear carefree and casual, Emily thought as she got out of the car, wishing for the chauffeur to take longer as he held her door opened, waiting patiently for her exit.
‘
Emily,
habbibi
.’
She blinked in disbelief as the older woman descended the white steps, a brilliant smile on her still beautiful face. Her green silk dress fluttered, tugged gently by the afternoon breeze as she walked closer. Once again Emily had to admire her straight, elegant walk, tied to the elusive tribe of Bedouins James had told her about. She could even make out some of James’s features in the way her eyebrows arched proudly over her jet black eyes. ‘My grandson called to let me know you should be arriving, and I wanted to make sure I was here to greet you, my dear.’
I must have suffered some kind of a heat stroke in the souk
, Emily thought, ready to pinch herself to wake up from this fantasy. James’s grandmother didn’t like her in the least, she knew very well. The old woman had made sure of it, with her clipped tone and dismissive glare, her empty breakfast chair that very morning sending the message.
‘
What happened?’ Emily asked dazedly, too surprised to even try being cool at the moment. Suddenly a horrible suspicion took hold of her, the only plausible explanation making her gasp in terror. ‘Is James all right? I mean, I just left him at the hotel and all, but… did anything happen there?’ It was the only reason that justified this sudden change of heart, she thought, panicked, her status as his girlfriend implying she would be affected if he got hurt in any way.
‘
Oh, nothing happened.’ A reassuring hand came to pat her cheek, as the older woman ushered her in, waving the chauffeur to the garages with one impatient gesture. ‘At least nothing more after your horrible day, my dear.’
She knew about the mishap in the souk. Emily followed her to the family room, her head buzzing. James must have called to fill her in, emphasizing that she was to be treated well. And however independent and dominant his grandmother was, she certainly took to heart what he said. She had seen the respect in the woman’s eyes when she looked at her English grandson last night, and she wondered if he even knew how much he meant to the proud old woman.
‘
Have a seat,
habbibi
.’ Was there a way she would ever get used to be called that? Cautiously, she sat down on the plush green and golden sofa, resenting the way her tired body welcomed the soft caress of the velvet against her skin. She should stay alert and ready to riposte any attacks, she scolded herself, the truce too sudden and too definite to last.
She watched with wary eyes as the older woman sat down across from her at the low, intricately carved table with a large copper bowl filled with fruit. The woman talked quietly to the servant who materialized at her side out of nowhere, making Emily wonder what kind of communication lines existed in the old-fashioned Egyptian home. The servants were always close enough, ready to please their mistress at the slightest gesture of her bejeweled hand.
‘
We will have something to drink, yes?’ Dark eyes looked at her expectantly, and she nodded, not quite sure what else to say. She would have to wait for the other woman to start the conversation, hoping that the pleasant opening was a sign of better things to come.
‘
I apologize for whisking you away like that, my dear.’ Perfectly accentuated, her English was almost as impeccable as her grandson’s. ‘I can imagine that you would rather seek some quiet time and a refreshment of a bath than a chat with me. Not that I would blame you for it, after the rather unfortunate beginning of our friendship.’ She smiled wider, the mischievous, conspiratorial look in her eyes making Emily speechless. She was giving up on trying to guess where this was going, she decided, too stunned to do more than nod, her face serious.
‘
It’s all right,’ she said huskily. ‘I guess I am kind of a surprise, madam.’
‘
You are even more of a surprise, my child.’ She nodded to the servant who appeared with a silver tray with teacups, creamer, and a sugar bowl, plus a little tower of wafer-thin cookies. The scent of cardamom and honey filled the air, the steam rising from the teapot fogging the silver surface of the sugar bowl next to it.
The servant disappeared as silently as he entered, leaving them alone again. Emily watched the tea being poured, not quite sure if she should offer her help or if it would contradict local customs of hospitality.
‘
Did you know that my name is Noora?’ the older woman asked, her long slim fingers gently stirring her tea. ‘It means
light
in Arabic. I have to say that in your case, I haven’t lived up to the name my parents gave me, my dear.’
She sighed delicately, sipping the fragrant brew and putting down her cup with a fluid motion.
‘
You see, when James brought you here, I wasn’t very pleased,’ she explained, her dark eyes pensive. ‘You must have felt it.’
That was an understatement to say the least, Emily thought but resisted verbalizing. Instead she nodded, reaching for her cup, if only to have an excuse to be silent.
‘
I am not very fond of the English, you know.’ Emily could have choked on her tea if she were less careful. Talk about getting straight to the point.
‘
They came here, used our beautiful country, tried to change our culture, especially mine.’ Noora shook her head, her golden earrings jingling lightly with the movement. The lapis lazuli from yesterday was gone, replaced with large, golden hoops. ‘Did James tell you about my ancestry?’ she asked, visibly satisfied when Emily nodded.
‘
The Bedouins suffered most from the hands of the British. The people of the desert are proud and free, going where they want and when they choose to, with nobody telling them what to do. Especially not people coming from that far away, knowing nothing about their customs and traditions. ‘But, as I always say, nothing is set in stone.’ Noora smiled again, serene and wistful. ‘James is half English, and he couldn’t be closer to my heart if he were a thousand times more Egyptian.’ She nibbled delicately on one of the cookies, offering the tray to Emily, who didn’t dare to resist.
‘
You surprised me too,
habbibi
.’ The golden earrings reflected the light of the sun peeking into the room, adding brightness to Noora’s face. ‘That’s why I wanted to talk to you, to apologize. I didn’t want to wait until the rest of the family is around, that would be too humiliating. I hope you understand, no?’ she asked anxiously, smiling as Emily nodded, still too shocked to speak. ‘I might be foolish, but admitting it in front of my daughters and their husbands is not something I can do easily.
‘
I had a very interesting phone call today,’ James’s grandmother continued, her eyes serious now, ‘before my grandson called about you coming. It was Sayyid Al Jameel.’ She glanced at Emily to see if she understood the implications of her words. Which she did, of course.
‘
He was thanking me for my grandson’s discretion and yours.’ There was unmistakable pride in her voice, her eyes softer now. ‘He expected you to make a huge scene upon your return to the hotel, as you had a right to do. He was very worried about it, Emily. He thought that even though James kept silent, you might be too angry with Layla to do the same. But...’ She paused dramatically, her tone triumphant, ‘you didn’t. He was surprised and delighted, to say the least. He also told me to let you know that he plans to deal with his daughter on his own, her spiteful deed not to be taken lightly.’
‘
I’m sure she didn’t mean real harm.’ Emily felt she had to say it, feeling truly sorry for Layla. She hoped Mr. Al Jameel would not go too far in his quest for justice.
‘
Don’t worry, he won’t bite her head off.’ Her concern must have been visible, because Noora smiled again, her voice reassuring. ‘He loves her way too much to be strict, which is a part of this problem, if you ask me. She has him wrapped around her little finger. I think a week without shopping and a curfew will be the most she can expect to have to suffer through.’ She sat straighter, her elegant, green dress making Emily think of the Nile, mysterious and deep. ‘But what matters most is that you helped him save face, my child. It’s truly important here, in Egypt. You acted like a true Egyptian,
habbibi
, and for that you have his gratitude.’
So, that was it. The praise of a family friend that cast some of the glow at her own persona had changed Noora’s heart. She was truly proud of her, for God’s sake! But, in the end, it didn’t matter what brought it on. Emily was too happy to see the black gaze lose the frosty look from yesterday, and she would have endured more of the souk drama all over again to keep it that way.
‘
He is welcome.’ She smiled, testing the waters and hoping she didn’t try to appear too smug.
But apparently her fears were unfounded, for Noora smiled back, clapping her hands and whispering confidentially, ‘Now I can call everyone for late lunch. I bet they are all dying to know what this girl-to-girl chat was about. Nothing in this house can remain a secret for too long.’ She laughed lightly, giving orders to the servant who started setting the table in the adjacent dining room.
‘
Come,
habbibi
, and enjoy your stay with us.’ A perfumed face came closer, slim arm weaving its way around her. ‘In half an hour our food will be ready, and I will be delighted to have you near me. Refresh yourself and join us,
habbibi
, because you are truly welcome in my home.
Marhaban.’
James arrived at the house later than he expected. Chagrined, he thought of Emily alone with his family, hoping that she hadn’t suffered too much damage from the forced proximity.
The merger was done, the papers signed and put away into the brown folders by both his and his partner’s lawyers. The tedious and frustrating part of the dealing was done, what was left definitely much more pleasant. He could imagine his uncles finally accepting his request to take over most of the company, his sporadic visits not enough to justify him running the large imperium of Luxor Inc. from afar.
And yet, all he could think of at the moment was Emily, her face rising before his eyes in disturbing detail. He thought of the one terrifying moment when he hadn’t been able to find her in the maze of the streets in the souk, the sense of panic that filled him as he walked up and down the narrow passages unlike anything else he had experienced before. He wasn’t easily shaken, he knew that. He had seen enough misery and crime to be laid back, where others shrank back. Still, the thought of her alone, scared and harassed by some unscrupulous, faceless men filled him with rage and was enough to make him second-guess his belief in his own strength. He was ready to rip them apart, and he was furious with Layla, ready to storm in into her father’s office and demand justice, forgetting all he had learned about Egypt and its customs.
Nothing he had learned mattered, he had thought as he searched for her in the heat of the midday sun. When the chips were down, he was as much of an outsider as any of the gaudy tourists he passed along his way. Honor and pride meant nothing compared to the woman he—
He stopped himself then, blinded by the sudden flash of self-revelation, his knees weak. Later, he decided, as he left the car parked in the shade of the large plantain tree, the shadows of the leaves playing hide and seek on its roof. He ran up the stairs, his impatient hand pushing the wide, carved door. He wanted to see Emily, he thought, to convince himself that she was really there, safe and close by. He needed to see her brown eyes look at him, acknowledging their connection.