by Belle Ami
“No! Now, Daddy, you have to see her now.”
“Her?”
Cerise’s brows drew together in exasperation. “Yes. I can’t tell you any more. It’s a surprise!”
“Okay, okay.” He put her down, and she grabbed his hand pulling him behind her. He smiled thinking what his life would be like without this child of his heart. She was as impatient as he and never backed down. Layla rarely won an argument with her. He knew a teenage Cerise was going to give him gray hair. It reminded him of how close he’d come again to losing everything that mattered most to him in the world. She led him upstairs to her bedroom and pushed open the door. He looked around, but he didn’t see anything in the room resembling a “her.”
“Are you playing a joke on Aba?”
“No, silly.” And then like a general she ordered, “Norit, come.” From behind the pillows emerged a yellow ball of fur. Norit yipped at Cerise and sat, her tail thumping on the bed.
Cyrus hid the look of consternation on his face when Cerise turned to him. “Isn’t she wonderful Aba? Just like the dog we met at the beach. Do you like her name? Doesn’t she look just like a buttercup? Ima helped me name her.”
Cyrus cleared his throat. “Is she housebroken?”
“Not yet, but we’re working on it. Norit’s a smart puppy and is trying.” She turned to him. “Do you want to hold her?”
The look on her face told him he’d better say yes. “Sure. She won’t bite me will she?”
“Aba, of course not.” Cerise filled her arms with the yellow fluff. Norit slathered Cerise’s face with wet kisses. “Hold your hands out and be careful, you mustn't drop her. She’s still a baby.”
Awkwardly, he took the puppy Cerise reverently placed in his hands. He held her at arms distance. “Daddy, you have to cradle her to your chest like a baby and let her kiss you.”
Cyrus could see no way out of his daughter’s request. He brought Buttercup to his face, sniffing her. The smell wasn’t unpleasant. The puppy wriggled and then lathered his face in wet tickling tongue. He couldn’t help but laugh.
“Oh, Aba, she loves you.” Cerise clapped her hands together with delight.
“Well,” Layla stood at the door. “Cerise, I think Daddy is going to be Norit’s favorite. What do you think?”
“Ima, I’m Norit’s favorite.”
“Yes, baby, you are, but look at the way Norit’s kissing Daddy. I think she likes him.”
“Does she ever stop,” he asked, barely able to conceal his concern.
“No, Daddy. Isn’t it wonderful?”
Cyrus released a breath. He was done for, and he knew it. The funny thing was he didn’t mind. He felt a spark of pleasure holding Norit. He smoothed his hand over her fluffy coat. With time he figured he’d grow to love the furball. After all, the once cold hearted spy had succumbed to a feisty redhead, and Cerise had wrapped him around her finger from the moment he laid eyes on her. What would be so bad about having a dog?
Epilogue
6 Months later
Buenos Aires, Argentina
Zara waved goodbye to the receptionist at the French embassy. Her assignment to Argentina by the DGSE was about as far away from Beirut, and her former life as a spy as the French intelligence agency could find. It was a routine assignment in a relatively safe capital working with a close ally and trade partner. She’d just come from a lunch and meeting with the Argentine trade commissioner. She’d schmoozed and played her role, which was what her duties with politicos required. Her biggest difficulty was fending off the unwanted attention of those same politicians and government officials, both Argentinian and French. The trade commissioner’s suggestion of dinner next week was an easy rebuke. There was nothing about the paunchy man she found even remotely appealing.
She sprinted down the steps and lost herself among the crowds of Friday afternoon strollers. Buenos Aires like Paris, was a lively city at all hours. She turned a corner and the Rio de la Plata came into view. The widest river in the world she’d learned wasn’t really a river, but an immense estuary where the Paraná and Uruguay rivers emptied their fresh water and merged into the Atlantic Ocean. One of the things Zara missed most about Beirut was its proximity to the Mediterranean Sea, and the Rio de la Plata now filled the bill for her need for a water view.
Only minutes away from the embassy, her apartment was in the Chico Palermo neighborhood. The apartment was small, but the luxury neighborhood was close to Los Bosques de Palermo, the most beautiful park in Buenos Aires. Every afternoon it became her destination of choice. It was so like the Paris’ Bois de Boulogne. It reminded her of home. She wondered, where shall we go today? The Rose Garden with its scent of a thousand varieties of roses, or should we go to the Japanese Garden. The imagery of the red bridge straddling a diminutive lake and Koi pond settled in her mind. She sighed, admitting the truth to herself, the forest within the city was the only thing keeping her sane these days. Her life had narrowed to anonymity in a park and Lulu.
Zara opened the door to her apartment and called, “Lulu.” A small French poodle came running, the silver ball of fur on her tail wagging exponentially with her excitement. She’d been lonely when she first arrived and had rescued the dog from a shelter. In her prior life as a spy, it would have been unthinkable to have a pet. Lulu made up for her separation from family and friends.
“Lulu, mon cheri, shall we take a walk?” Lulu rose on her hind legs and danced in a circle, her paws clapping together. She’d come with this particular talent and several others that made Zara wonder if she’d been abandoned or lost by a circus.
She picked Lulu up and cuddled her. These days kisses from Lulu was the only affection in her life. Since her reckless affair with Mustafa, she had no desire to become romantically entangled with anyone. For a woman who enjoyed the excitement of being chased and conquered this produced a particularly stressful repetitiveness to her days. The passage of time had never held any sway in a life filled with purpose, but now she felt the years and wondered if she was destined for spinsterhood. She laughed at the thought. She, who’d driven men to risk their lives for the chance to possess her, should end up alone.
She kicked off her heels and changed into jogging sweats and sneakers. July in Buenos Aires is the coolest month of the year, but Zara supposed fifty degrees was better than the ninety plus degrees and high humidity of Beirut in July.
Attaching Lulu’s leash to her collar, she stepped out the electronic door of the apartment house and down the three steps of her building to the sidewalk. Her route rarely varied. She headed to The Japanese Gardens and then she’d supper in her favorite Japanese restaurant and eat sushi, sashimi, and drink sake while watching the world walk by.
It was like entering another world when she entered the park. Her cares melted away when she crossed through the gate of the immense expanse of greenery. The park delivered a sense of peace after the hustle and bustle of the noisy horns and chaotic rhythm of the city. She loved the vast array of trees. In her effort to fill the hours of her life, she’d taken to studying their genus and botanical names.
She strolled with Lulu past a Jacaranda tree alive with a cacophony of squawking parrots. The birds kept up a steady stream of caws amid a splash of colored blooms. She laughed to herself and wondered if they thought they were invisible. Their vivid blue, yellow, and red feathers stuck out like a sore thumb, clashing with the trees pink and lilac flowers.
A breeze blowing from the La Plata lifted the flowers scattering them across her path. She felt them decorate her hair and taking out her phone she took a selfie of her dark hair adorned with a veil of flowers. She’d text it to her parents who were always complaining about her postings in far off places. Having lost a son, they wanted nothing more than to keep their wayward daughter close. It seemed to her parents when they lost Jacob, they lost Zara too.
The light dappled across the walking path as she strolled to a bench. Mother’s pushing strollers and joggers out for their evening run made he
r feel less alone. She tried not to contemplate what a disappointment her life had become. It made her realize how much she missed the excitement of never knowing what the day held in store for her. Now her days were predictable and mundane.
She let Lulu off her leash to sniff the grass and explore. She took a moment to email the selfie to her parents. Glancing up, she saw Lulu running away in the direction of a teenage boy who walked toward her. She stuffed her phone in her purse and ran after Lulu. The dog had never ventured more than a few feet from where she sat, and she couldn’t understand why now she’d chosen to make her escape.
Breathless she came to a halt. Lulu was doing her circus dance around the boy, vying for his attention. “Lo siento, she’s never done this before. She’s usually timid with strangers.”
“No hay problema.” The boy smiled unable to take his eyes off Lulu.
“Sentarse, Lulu.” Lulu yipped and planted her rear in the grass, her tongue slipping in and out of her mouth with each breath. Dragging his gaze away from Lulu, the boy handed her a folded piece of paper.
“What’s this?”
The boy turned to look behind him. “A man asked me to give it to you.”
She felt the hairs on the nape of her neck rise. Her gaze swept across the park to find the man. It could be anyone, but her sixth sense set off an alarm. The only reason someone would enlist the help of a teenage boy to deliver a note was because he didn’t want to be seen by her, or if he knew she wouldn’t welcome his approach. “Did he pay you?”
The boy nodded shyly.
“Where is the man now? Did he tell you to wait for a response from me?”
“No, Senora. He just told me to wait ten minutes and then deliver it.” She could see the boy was now uncertain whether he’d done the right thing.
She smiled. “It’s okay. You did nothing wrong. Gracias, you’ve accomplished your task.” Reaching in her wallet, she grabbed a hand full of pesos and handed them to him. “For your trouble.”
She bent and picked up Lulu and walked back to the park bench. She attached Lulu’s leash and sat, ignoring Lulu’s whines to be set free. Opening the note, she read Zara I have someone that belongs to you. Someone close to your heart. If you want him back meet me at the Muelle de los Pescadores at 6:00 p.m. Come alone.
Her heart pounded in her chest. She had no idea who was close to her heart. Had she somehow put another life in danger? All she could think about was Faiz, and she knew he was dead. There was no one in Buenos Aires she truly cared about enough to want back.
She glanced at her watch. It was five p.m. If she did go to the fisherman’s pier, she’d need to take a cab and leave now. The traffic was horrific at this hour, and fear crept up her spine. If she was late would someone’s life be put in danger? She picked up Lulu and walked at a brisk pace to the main gates where taxi cabs congregated.
How did the mystery note writer know to find her at the park? She, an ex-spy, had always had a sixth sense about being followed. How long had this man, she assumed it was a man, been following her? What else did he know about her? She shuddered, her mind racing to find answers.
As expected the traffic was awful, and by the time the cab dropped her off she was five minutes late. Late for what? She wondered. On the pier were numerous fishermen, catching and filling buckets with small fish. Dinner she supposed.
Her eyes warily searched for a familiar face or body type. Was she five minutes too late? Impossible, she thought, five minutes is nothing. Lulu pulled at the leash wanting to investigate the bucket of one of the fishermen. “Stop, Lulu…” and then she saw a man standing at the end of the pier. He leaned casually against the railing. Was he watching her? It was too great a distance to tell. Slowly she began walking. She didn’t have a gun, and he’d managed to find an isolated spot. At least, I’m not completely alone. She looked around again and was buoyed knowing there were several groups of fishermen laughing and congratulating each other when one of them pulled a line with a dangling silvery fish from the river.
She kept walking. Even as he came more fully into view, she felt no recognition. He wore a fedora, and it was pulled down shading his face. She could see the reflection of dark sunglasses. He wore jeans and a black leather jacket, which revealed nothing about him. Buenos Aires was the capital of leather goods in Argentina, and most everyone had a closet full of leather.
She stopped about five feet from him and waited. Lulu danced around her legs, and she shushed her without ever taking her eyes off the man who raised his head to look directly at her. She broke the stand-off, pulling the note from her pocket. “Recognize this?”
He smiled, there was something familiar about his smile that made her heart race. She needed to hear him speak. “I asked you a question.”
Instead, he took a few steps toward her until he was barely a foot away. Before she could back away, he reached out and cupped her shoulders pulling her closer. His face was inches from hers, but she still couldn’t identify who he was. Could he hear her heart beating wildly in her chest?
His voice was heavy with emotion when he whispered, “Zara…habibi…it’s been so long.”
She felt her knees grow weak and if his hands weren’t holding on to her, she might have collapsed. His name escaped her lips, barely a whisper. “Mustafa?” She was lightheaded, the world spinning around her. “How did you find me?”
He lifted up his sunglasses so she could see his eyes. The way he looked at her was like standing beneath the rays of the sun. Warmth spread through her limbs awakening all of the passions that had lain dormant since they’d last made love. How can this be happening?
“Finding you was easy, figuring out how and when to contact you was more difficult. I was afraid you’d stubbornly refuse to see me. I’m sorry about Faiz. I never wished him harm.”
She scrutinized his face to see whether he was sincere. She remembered how jealous he was of her photographer. “It wasn’t your fault, it was Nasrallah. I’ll always feel guilty about Faiz’s murder. More than anyone, I’m the one who’s guilty.”
“No, Zara, he was a professional. He did what he’d been trained to do.”
Pausing, she let the memory of Faiz find its proper place in her thoughts.
“Your face—I didn’t recognize you. Everything is different about it, yet everything is the same.”
He smiled. “I told you about the Swiss plastic surgeon. After I left you, I went to Switzerland, and the doctor created a new me. What do you think?”
She studied his features. His nose once flat and spread across his face was now aquiline. His forehead now higher gave him a brainy look. The forehead lift had also lifted his brows and straightened them giving them an upward tilt. His previously dark chocolate brown eye color were now hazel thanks to contact lenses. The most profound difference, however, were the implants of cheekbones and jawline, which squared his features and made him look exotic like the gypsies of Spain. It was no wonder she hadn’t recognized him, nothing about him resembled who he’d been. Even his lips had been altered, with a bowed indentation that made her envious. “Truthfully, I thought you were handsome before.”
He frowned.
“But, I must admit you’re face is more interesting now.”
He grinned. “Zara, I’ve missed you in every way imaginable. I will forgive your backhanded compliment of interesting rather than handsome.”
She pulled out of his grasp. She had questions, and his body against her made it hard for her to think. “Where are you living and what are you doing in Buenos Aires?” She was annoyed, she was still attracted to him. She needed to hide her true feelings and the best approach was nonchalance.
But, Mustafa wasn’t buying in. “I’m in Buenos Aires only for you. I want to show you my new home. Do you remember I told you I had a desire to live off the land, to farm?”
“Yes, and I couldn’t imagine how such a sedentary life could ever replace the drama of terrorism.”
“Ah, but you are wrong, my love. There
is nothing sedentary about working the land. It’s humbling but never dull. I bought a vineyard in Mendoza. A thousand acres in the eastern foothills of the Andes. From my ranchero, you can see the snowcapped peaks of Mount Aconcagua. We grow Malbec grapes, and I’m producing a high quality vintage Malbec wine that I hope will please even the smug French woman I hope to marry.”
Her response froze on her lips. “Did you say marry?”
“If you would do me the great honor. I’m a changed man, Zara.”
She was speechless. Was it possible a man could change so radically? Could he change not just his appearance, but the very clay he was molded from? Could a leopard change its spots? And why did she care? “You launched the missile, Mustafa. If the Israelis hadn’t miraculously stopped it, you might have killed millions. How can I forget what you did?”
“I was wrong, Zara. Every day I regret what I did. I know it’s not an excuse, but I did it in the heat of anger. I thought you’d betrayed me. I did it with vengeance in my heart for my wife and my son. But afterward, I only felt worse. I thank Allah every day that he stopped the missile. I’m begging you to forgive me.” He took her hands in his. “Give me a chance, habibi.”
“You ask a lot, Mustafa.”
“I love you, Zara. I know that you love me. I know how you live here in Buenos Aires. You are alone.” He looked down at Lulu, who’d curled up in a ball. He kneeled to pet her and looked up at Zara. “Don’t reject me because of what I’ve done in the past, of who I was. We both have things we’ve done that we regret. Give me a chance to prove to you I’ve changed. Come with me to Mendoza.”
“There’s something you need to know, Mustafa. It may change what you feel for me.”
Mustafa searched her face, the look on his one of patience.
“I’m Jewish, Mustafa. My mother was a Tunisian Jew and my father was a Tunisian Arab, but I was raised in the faith of my mother.”
“I know. I’ve known for some time.”
“But how? Never mind, it doesn’t matter.” She scrutinized his face. “Doesn’t this bother you?”
