The Sheikh's Small Town Baby Page 10

  There are red and gold chairs scattered throughout the room, which seems to be a sort of lobby and waiting area in one. A few people are sitting in the chairs, but no one looks up as I enter the room. The tall doors open and close occasionally, as people come and go. It seems everyone has a place to be, and they assume that I belong just as they do.

  The problem is, I don’t know where I’m going. I know that I have to see Jabir, but I don’t know how to make that happen.

  A woman in a business suit almost bumps into me as I wander aimlessly towards one of the doors.

  “Excuse me,” I say.

  To my surprise, she responds in English. “Oh, that was my fault. I should be looking where I’m going.”

  “That’s okay. Um…do you happen to know how I can find Sheikh Jabir Abdullah?”

  She eyes me in surprise. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Well then, you won’t be able to see him.” There’s an edge of disdain in her voice now. “The Sheikh is a very busy man. Pardon me, I need to get going.”

  She’s off before I can say more. I approach several more people. Those who speak English give me the same answer: the Sheikh won’t see me without an appointment. Even showing his ring won’t help me now, though I do try. The sight of the golden signet ring only seems to confuse people, but they stick to the same answer: “You need to set an appointment. There’s no other way.”

  Finally, I’m desperate enough to try to make an appointment, though I don’t know how I can possibly last in Dalai while I wait days or even weeks just to get an audience with Jabir. I’ve already given the taxi driver twenty dollars to get me here, which means that I only have eighty dollars left. I highly doubt that that will be enough for a hotel for the night, and even if it is, what will I do for food?

  Suddenly, my hasty trip to Dalai isn’t seeming like such a brilliant idea.

  I’ve just asked a man how I can set up an appointment. He hands me a business card.

  “Call this number,” he says. “You’ll have to leave a message, and then you’ll hear back in a few days from the Sheikh’s public coordinator. You can tell her what the reason for the meeting is, and she’ll decide whether or not—”

  “Thank you,” I interrupt him, grabbing for the card. I don’t mean to be rude, but the doors to the lobby have just opened up—and Jabir’s brother is walking through them.

  “Thank you, really,” I repeat, backing quickly away from the man, who seems bewildered by my sudden departure, given my desperation to talk to him just a few minutes before.

  “Hassan!” I call out, hurrying across the floor to catch his attention.

  He’s almost at the exit when he turns. At first, he doesn’t recognize me. I can see it in his blank stare, and the way he looks around the room and picks out one of the many security guards that are positioned around the room.

  “Please,” I say. “I need to talk to you.”

  He waves the security guard over.

  “My name is Teresa,” I say, as fast as I can. I don’t want to be kicked out. Not now. Not after I’ve come so far. “Teresa Johnson. I’m here from New Hampstead, where you have a transmission factory for your cars. I need to talk to Jabir. I need to—”

  A flash of recognition crosses his face. “Ah yes! Teresa. You were our waitress.” He lifts his hand, and stands down the guard. “What a surprise to see you here! What brings you to Dalai? You say that you wish to see my brother?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Yes, please. I have something that I need to speak to him about.”

  “Is it something that I could help you with? I’m just going out to lunch now, but perhaps after? Jabir is tied up in meetings all day, you see. He’s been extremely busy of late. I am able to rearrange my schedule, but it will be much harder for him to do so.”

  I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I appreciate that, I really do. But it’s Jabir that I need to speak to. As soon as possible.” Again, I think of my mere eighty dollars. “Today, if I could. It’s important. I’ve traveled all this way to see him.”

  “Yes, yes, I see that. Is this about the factory?” he asks.

  “It’s…personal.”

  “I see. I can give him a call right now, if you can wait just a moment?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course.”

  Hassan turns his back to me and paces away. I see him make the call, and though I try hard to read the expressions that cross his face, I’m unable to get any sense of how Jabir, on the other end of the line, reacts to the news that I am here.

  Hassan returns to me. “He will see you,” he says. “Does two o’clock work for you?”

  “Of course.” I have nowhere else to be.

  “Okay. You’ll go through those doors, and down the hallway. You’ll see a staircase at the end, which will take you directly up to Jabir’s offices. Two o’clock.”

  When he leaves, I sink into an empty red chair. I have an hour to wait, which might normally feel like a long time. But here, in such a foreign place, I simply feel grateful that I’ve secured a meeting.

  What will he say when I share my news? How will he react? There’s only an hour to go, until I find out.

  Chapter 12

  Teresa

  A painfully long hour later, I get up from my chair, grab my carry-on suitcase, and walk through the doors that Hassan pointed to when he gave me directions.

  In my mind, I run through every possible scenario as to what might happen when I enter Jabir’s office. They run the range of furious yelling and a dramatic fight, to the possibility that he’ll joyfully lift me in his arms and spin me around the room before placing me down and kissing me passionately—a scene out of one of the romantic movies I love so much.

  I walk down the wide, marble hallway, which is studded with gold-gilded mirrors, more red and gold chairs, and several polished wooden desks. There are many doors to offices which I walk past as I make my way to the stairs. It feels good to move, after sitting in the lobby and waiting anxiously for so long.

  I reach Jabir’s door. There’s his name, on a plaque by the wall. Should I knock, or just walk in? He’s expecting me, right? I settle on a combination of the two, knocking tentatively as I push the doors open and peek my head inside.

  He’s at his desk. He stands up immediately, as the doors open, and smiles. “Teresa? Is that really you?”

  He’s walking towards me, and I can barely breathe.

  I honestly feel like I might pass out. It feels impossibly strange to be standing before him, after so many days and nights of just imagining his presence. My body feels weak and I drop my suitcase.

  He looks even more handsome than I remembered him. He’s tall, muscular, dressed in a well-fitting button up shirt and dress pants, and best of all, he’s gazing down at me with a look of warmth and affection. As usual, his jet black hair is slightly tussled, and a piece falls across his eye as he steps closer to me still.

  For a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. But he wraps me in his arms instead, and gives me a tight hug.

  I inhale, taking in the scent of his cologne. This is what I’ve needed, so desperately, since the day he left New Hampstead. I needed to me in his arms.

  Too soon, he releases me, and steps back. “Come in, come in! Have a seat! What can I get you to drink? Tea? Water?”

  “Water would be great.”

  “Water it is.”

  He walks to a pitcher that’s positioned on a little bar beneath a window. As he lifts the crystal pitcher and a matching glass, and starts pouring, he smiles over at me. I’m sitting in a chair now, in front of his desk.

  “Isn’t this funny?” he says, cocking one eyebrow as ice clinks against the side of the glass. “This was the first thing you did for me, when I went to your country. Now I get to return the favor. I had no idea you had plans to visit Dalai!” He brings me the water.

  “I— I didn’t, exactly have plans. I only bought the ticket yesterday morning.”

 
“All my talk of the beautiful, white sand beaches, hmm? You couldn’t stay away?” He laughs, and sits on the edge of his desk, continuing to study me.

  “Well, not exactly, Jabir. I’m here because… well, because I have some news.”

  The glass is cold in my hands. I look down at the floating ice cubes and take a quick sip. The cold water slides down my parched throat.

  “News? What is it?”

  I breathe in and out, bracing myself for what I have to say next.

  I have to say it. It’s the reason I’m here.

  Though at this moment, I’d rather say anything else, I open my mouth and blurt out: “I’m pregnant, Jabir. I just found out, and I knew that I had to come here, to tell you in person.”

  I watch shock register on his face. His lips part, his jaw hangs slack. His friendly smile is gone. He looks away from me, towards the window, and pushes a hand through his hair.

  “Pregnant?” He stands, and walks swiftly to the door, which I’ve left ajar. He closes it firmly. “Teresa, who have you told about this?”

  Is that really the first thing he thinks of? Where is his joy? Where is the hug and kiss I’ve been hoping for?

  My voice is shaking. “I just found out, like I told you, so no one, really. I was at the inn, so Dawn knows, but then I got in my truck and drove straight to the airport and now here I am.”

  “Dawn…the innkeeper? Did you ask her to keep it quiet?”

  “I’m sure she will. She knows that it’s my news to share—mine, and yours, of course, not hers. She won’t say anything. Why, Jabir?”

  He’s paced to the window now. I’ve traveled all this way so that I can be near him when I share the news, yet he still feels far away. He’s looking out the window. “A baby,” he says. He turns.

  I see lots of things in his expression: shock, fear, confusion. What I don’t see—which I’ve been hoping for—is happiness.

  “Are you…upset?” My voice is barely a whisper.

  “I wasn’t expecting this. Really, I can’t believe it, Teresa. Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is crazy. A baby!”

  “You don’t seem…happy about this,” I say. I can’t sit any longer. I place my glass down on his desk and stand up. “I came all this way to tell you. And that’s all you can say, that this is crazy?” I can’t hide the hurt in my voice. I pace away from him.

  Yes, I wanted him to hold me, before. But now I feel that all I want is space between us. I walk to a far corner of the expansive office.

  I hear his footsteps approaching, across the thick carpeting. Soon, he’s behind me, and he places his hands on my shoulders. As if his hands are made of fire, and I’m frozen to the bone, I start to melt when he touches me.

  “Hey,” he says, softly in my ear. “I’m sorry.”

  His hands rest on my shoulders, and I feel his breath on my ear. Then, he leans down, and his cheek brushes mine. I feel his lips, warm against my skin, as he places a light, comforting kiss there, the way a grown-up might kiss a child.

  “I’m happy you traveled to my country,” he says, just as softly.

  He starts to turn me, slowly with his hands, until I’m facing him. His face—with the features I’ve imagined and drawn in such detail—is inches from my face. And now, I see the sparkle in his eyes. It’s just as bright and lively as I remembered.

  “You can’t imagine how happy I am that you’re here,” he says. “I’ve thought about you a lot, Teresa. Every night, even, though I know you might not believe that.”

  I think of my little altar. Oh, I believe it. I’ve been doing the same.

  “Then why do you act like this is a bad thing?” I ask.

  His eyes search mine for an instant before he responds, as if he’s looking for a clue that will direct what he can say next. I stare back at him, daring him to say what’s on his mind.

  “Be honest,” I plead. “I traveled all the way here so that we could really communicate, Jabir.”

  This seems to convince him. He exhales, and his chest falls. “Teresa, remember when I told you that my father is going to choose one of his sons to succeed him as the ruler of Dalai?”

  “Yes…”

  “I never thought that I was truly a contender for the position. But over the past few months, since returning from the States, I’ve been spending quite a bit of time with my father. I’ve taken on more responsibilities and it turns out, I’m a better leader than I ever thought I could be.”

  “That’s good! Right?”

  His face looks pained. “Don’t you see? If news gets out that I’ve a baby out of wedlock, especially with a foreign woman, the people of Dalai will judge me harshly. My father will be much more likely to pick Hassan. He has to think of what the people want.”

  “I am a foreign woman, aren’t I? And we’re not married. That’s true…” I trail off. It’s painful to think about these facts, which seem so beside the point to me. All I thought about when I learned of the pregnancy was that I was going to bring a life into this world—and that Jabir and I created it together!

  The truth is, I can’t imagine a finer man to be the father of my child. But it did take me some time to see the blessings behind my condition.

  I squeeze Jabir’s hand. “I know that this is a lot to process, all at once. I get it that you’re thinking about your political career… Hey, I was thinking about filling up liquid soap containers.”

  He looks confused, and I raise one side of my mouth in a half smile. “Never mind. The point is, it took me some time to wrap my head around this, and I understand that you need some time too.”

  He looks genuinely appreciative of this.

  “Thank you,” he says. “I don’t mean to sound unexcited… really, I don’t. But this is my life, Teresa.”

  “I know that. I do. You have a lot of responsibilities here, and a bright future.” I feel my chest tighten as I think about the idea that I could be seen as a speed bump in his ascent to kingship. “I don’t want to stand in your way, Jabir. I have no doubt that you would be good leader for this country. The best… But, Jabir? You would also be a wonderful father. I know that.”

  I feel the truth of my words raise goosebumps on both arms. An image of Jabir, playing with our future child, floats into mind, and I smile a little more.

  He seems stunned by this. “A father…” he murmurs. He lowers himself to a nearby chair, and his hand falls away from mine. “I’m going to be a father.”

  “It’s up to you to decide what kind you want to be,” I say softly. “A loving father, or a distant one.”

  My words leave him silent.

  “I’ll let you think about it.”

  I’m halfway to the door when he stops me. “Wait!” He springs up from his chair. “Don’t go, just like that! Let me make arrangements for you. Where are you staying? Cancel your reservation, and let me make a new one. I’ll book it now. I’ll get you a driver too. Would that be all right?”

  I nod. Of course, there’s not reservation to cancel, since I haven’t made one, but I don’t bring that up.

  “I’ll think about this, Teresa,” he says. “In the meantime, you should be treated like a guest of the royal family—which you are.”

  He leans in towards me, and this time, I expect a hug. Again, I’m surprised. He bends down over me, and then his lips are on mine, and he kisses me. I’m so surprised that I can barely kiss him back before he pulls away.

  “I’ll send for a car now,” he says softly, gazing into my eyes. He looks almost as surprised by the kiss as I was, even though he initiated it. He pushes his hand through his hair again, and then shakes his head a little bit, as if trying to wake himself up.

  As he strides across the room to the phone, I raise my hand to my lips, like I might be able to feel the kiss still sitting there.

  Jabir speaks into the phone in his language, so I don’t understand a word that’s exchanged.

  When he hangs up, he doesn’t step out from behind
his desk. He raises a hand and points through the door. “If you go out this exit, and back down the staircase, you can turn left and get to one of the palace dining rooms. They’ll have food for you there—have anything you like—and then the staff will direct you to your chauffeur, when you are ready.”

  He reaches into his pocket, and removes business card. “Here’s my personal number.”

  He holds out the card, and I walk across the office to take it from him. The desk is still between us, and I wonder if Jabir is using it to help him resist another kiss. I take the card and slide it into the pocket of my jeans.

  He’s staring at me so intently as I back away from him. Think about it, I say with my eyes. He gives me a subtle nod, and I know he will.

  Without another word, I retrieve my suitcase and exit his office. I feel Jabir’s eyes on me the entire time, until the doors close softly behind me.

  I descend the stairs and turn left, and immediately smell the food that Jabir’s mentioned. I’m hungry. Despite all that’s on my mind, I find myself salivating and looking forward to the meal ahead.

  A servant standing in the doorway of the dining area greets me warmly by name. He’s been expecting me, and I’m immediately whisked away to an outdoor seating area.

  Once, when I was ten years old, my grandmother and grandfather took me on a vacation to an island in the Bahamas. I remember being blown away by the luxury of the all-inclusive resort. “What do you mean, we get to order whatever we want?” I remember asking in disbelief. I felt that I had just about died and gone to heaven.

  Now, sitting on a bright orange throw pillow before a low mahogany table, a waterfall on my right and the most gorgeous garden I’ve ever seen to my left, I feel a thousand times more awestruck than I did as a child on vacation.

  This place is stunning. And I’m here, being treated like a princess!