The Sheikh And The Cowgirl

by Holly Rayner

  Summers in Vermont were perfectly mild. It was north enough that the temperature never really went above eighty degrees, and the state was lush with beautiful forests, clean lakes, and plenty of pond-side beaches. Steph couldn’t have asked for a better place to grow up.

  Still, while her childhood had been idyllic, adulthood was less exciting in a town with only a few hundred people in it. Most of her friends had left for colleges elsewhere, exploring the world, going on adventures. As she’d watched them through social media, wishing to go on her own adventure, she had realized that her best bet would be the marriage her parents had arranged.

  A marriage that so happened to be taking place in a few days’ time, in El Farah. Steph’s packed bag, with her traditional wedding dress inside, was sitting in her room at that very moment as she made her way down her town’s small main street toward an ice cream parlor. She slid out of her blazer and shoved it into her bag, relishing in the feel of the warm sun on her skin.

  Thanks to her diverse parentage, Steph had an exotic blend of dark olive skin, straight black hair, and piercing blue eyes. She was petite, but she loved running, which gave her an athletic build. Stephanie O’Hanlon was a fighter. She was strong, and she had lived through her family’s complete financial breakdown, working to help her father deal with his grief while her mother did the same. They had stood together through the toughest of storms and come out on the other side, and Steph was proud of her family, different as they were.

  Bells jingled against the glass door as Steph walked into the ice cream shop. An old woman sat at the counter reading a newspaper.

  “It’s awfully quiet in here for how good the weather is,” Steph said.

  The woman looked up from her paper and smiled, her face crinkling like tissue paper. “The kids aren’t out of school yet, though they should be any minute. What brings you in here so early, Stephanie?”

  Steph shrugged, pulling out her wallet and perusing the flavors written on a chalk wall. “I went in early today, so I got to leave early. I’ll be gone for a while after tomorrow, so I want to make sure I stop in at all my favorite places first.”

  Steph didn’t want to think about never coming back. She was potentially about to marry a man in El Farah and call that country her new home, even though she had never seen it before. If she hadn’t been so desperate for adventure, for some kind of change, she would have told her parents to call off the deal. As it was, a man had already been selected, and he was waiting for her an ocean away. Steph wondered what he looked like. Did he like ice cream? Did they even eat ice cream in El Farah?

  Having made her choice, Steph ordered a caramel vanilla swirl in a waffle cone, going all out for her last stop in the store.

  “How long will you be traveling, honey? It must be exciting to see your mother’s home country for the first time!”

  June was an amazingly kind woman. She had run the ice cream shop since before Steph could even remember. It was comforting to always see her there, scooping out gallons of ice cream with her strong arms. Steph hoped to be just as strong as she grew older.

  “Oh, probably for some time. Several months at least,” Steph said, trying to avoid giving a real answer.

  She hadn’t told anyone about the circumstances of her trip. It just seemed so…unacceptable. Americans had a difficult time with the concept of arranged marriages. Steph herself had struggled with it, and for some reason she felt ashamed to admit that that was the purpose of her journey. She didn’t want to hear the comments—the judgement. So she had told people she and her parents were going on a long trip and left it at that.

  “Well we’ll certainly miss you around here. You enjoy that ice cream, and make sure to take lots of pictures for us, okay?”

  “I will,” Steph said, paying for her ice cream and stepping out of the shop just as a swarm of school kids swept past her to get their own summertime treats.

  With the amount of snowfall they got in Vermont, the number of snow days usually meant that school didn’t end until close to July. Steph listened to a couple of kids talking about summer break plans with longing in their eyes as they made their way to get their own ice creams.

  The town was settled on a large freshwater lake. Steph’s next destination was a bench that sat facing the mountains, and when she got there she plopped her bag on the ground and crossed her legs as she enjoyed every ounce of the best ice cream in the world. The mountains were reflected perfectly on the water. The caps were still coated with snow, as early into the season as it was.

  Steph would miss the snow, of course, though she loved warm weather. She had often stared at the backdrop on her work computer and gone into a daydream about spending a day with a handsome stranger on silky white sands, sipping punch from a coconut. Maybe El Farah had a beach like that. Maybe that was where her future husband would take her on their honeymoon.

  Steph’s stomach clenched with nerves. All day she had been alternating between excitement and complete and total terror. There was no way she could just marry some random guy, was there? But he wasn’t random, she reminded herself. Her parents had gone through an extensive vetting process, her father deferring to her mother, who had been raised with such traditions and knew what needed to be done.

  Steph had always been a bit of a romantic. It kind of came with the territory when one had an artistic soul. She had often daydreamed of finding a man herself and falling deeply in love, running off together to live the life of their dreams. Living in Vermont had effectively squashed that dream, really. There were few men around to begin with, and Steph had never had a connection with anyone that remotely resembled love. There was simply no future for her here, and she had to trust her parents enough to obey their wishes.

  After all, this was the twenty-first century. Divorce would always be an option if things didn’t work out.

  Finishing her ice cream, Steph pulled out her notepad and scribbled some designs for a ball gown she’d been thinking about, listening peacefully to the sounds of nature and getting lost in her art. After some time, the sun began sending blinding rays directly at her, so Steph packed up her bag and started walking home.

  While her house had once been settled on a hilltop overlooking the whole town, she now lived in a small, wooden-cabin-style home with her parents. Despite having lost his wealth, her father had maintained his connections, and he made a living as an accountant.

  When she arrived at the cabin, Steph opened the door and called out.

  “I’m home!”

  Her mother, Elora, came out of the small kitchen holding her hands up in the air. Smelling the scent of nail polish, Steph leaned over to see what color her mother had chosen.

  “Royal blue. That’s fitting, right?” Steph said with a grin.

  Her mother nodded. “It is. Royal blue is the wedding color of El Farah. That is why it is so incorporated into your gown. Did you give your notice to your employer?”

  “Um, not yet,” Steph said, and her mother gave her a stern look. “I’ve got an email going out to him tomorrow. It will be fine.”

  “Stephanie, a written letter as you sneak out the door is not a professional way to end a working relationship. You should go back right now and give proper notice.”

  “Why? I won’t be coming back. It’s not like I’m going to see him again.”

  Elora struggled as she went to cross her arms but then remembered her nails would be ruined by the gesture. Instead, she pointed a finger at her daughter. “That doesn’t matter. You may travel here again, and how would you feel facing Bill if you just leave him without the help he needs?”

  “I don’t want to have to say goodbye,” Steph whispered, casting her eyes down. “Besides, he told me just today that there’s nowhere for me to go in the company without a college degree, so he’s probably planning for this anyway.”

  At that statement, the fire left her mother’s eyes and her shoulders relaxed as she placed a comforting hand on Steph’s shoulder.

  “I kno
w it seems scary now, but you’ll see. Look at your father and me, eh? He’s a good man. There are many of them out there, including the one we’ve found for you. I know you’ll be happy together.”

  Steph did her best to look excited. She imagined she wasn’t entirely convincing.

  “Now go wash up for dinner. Your father will be home any minute.”

  TWO

  Steph

  Steph was setting the table for dinner when her father walked in the door. Jerry O’Hanlon had once been a very handsome man. When age and strife had hit him, his hairline had begun to recede and his face was now more winkled than it ought to have been. Steph watched as he approached her mother and planted a cherishing kiss on her cheek before entering the dining room.

  “Steph! You excited for the big day?”

  Steph swallowed as she placed a fork and knife by her plate. “Thrilled,” she said, not looking him in the eye.

  “Oh, come now,” he said, his eyebrows knitting. “Look what happened with your mother and me! Besides, this ceremony is a big part of your El Farahn heritage. You’ve never gotten to experience much of that side, and that’s probably my fault.”

  “I’ll certainly be getting a crash course this week,” Steph said.

  She had done some research on her mother’s homeland, of course. There had been numerous elementary school projects that focused on nationality, and she had always had a fascination with the place. The family had been planning their first excursion there—whenever Jerry could first get time off from work—when the market crashed, that dream going with it.

  Elora brought in a series of plates filled with delicious-smelling food. Raised in a middle-class family, Steph’s mother had been taught to cook and run a house like many other girls in her position, and she had a talent for using spices to bring out the flavor in anything she touched. Steph would miss her cooking most of all. She was decent at it, but she imagined she wouldn’t have to do much in her new situation anyway.

  The three of them sat down at the table, Elora saying a quick prayer of thanks for the food and their health before forks were lifted and the meal was enjoyed. After a moment of silence, Jerry spoke.

  “We were thinking about stopping in at one of your mother’s favorite places when we get there. You know, before the ceremony preparations get underway.”

  “That sounds nice,” Steph said, poking at her food with her fork.

  She glanced up in time to catch a meaningful stare between her parents. Her father cleared his throat.

  “Maybe it would help if I told you about the experience I had with your mother,” he said.

  That caught her attention. Her parents had rarely talked about the circumstances of their marriage. She knew it had been arranged, but that was all they had been willing to reveal about it. She watched her father carefully. Seeing that he had her attention, he took a breath and told his tale.

  “I had just finished making my first couple million. I wasn’t particularly young anymore, but I wasn’t old either. I had women throwing themselves at me, left and right.”

  Jerry paused as Elora cleared her throat. Casting her a sideways glance, he cleared his own throat and continued. “Yes, well. The point is, none of them were interested in who I was as a person. All they wanted was my money, whereas I needed a woman who would stick by me, no matter what. An El Farahn business associate of mine recommended checking out an arranged marriage. English is spoken in El Farah, and the women there are exceptional, he told me. So, I figured I’d take a risk.”

  He gazed warmly at Elora, then, reaching over and taking her hand in his.

  “It was strange at first. I won’t lie to you about that. We didn’t meet until the day of our wedding, and it had to be alone. No family were allowed to be present. It all felt so secret and exciting. When I saw your mother for the first time, I knew I’d made the right choice.”

  Steph noticed that Elora was strangely quiet during this retelling. Jerry finished his story with gusto.

  “We worked through the awkwardness of not knowing one another until we found that the things we had in common helped build a stronger love than any I could have hoped to find. That’s all we want for you, Steph: a chance at a love with a good foundation and the right start.”

  “You mean financially,” Steph said.

  Jerry frowned. “That’s a part of it, but I mean in all ways. I think the man we’ve found is an exceptional person and will make a wonderful husband for you in every possible way.”

  Elora’s dark eyes landed on her daughter, then. “Duty matters, Stephanie. It’s important that you understand this, as it is a very big part of who we are as women of El Farah. You will find happiness, even if it isn’t there at the beginning.”

  Jerry cast his wife a curious glance at that statement, but he didn’t ask about it. The conversation was finished, and the family finished their dinner in comfortable silence. When their plates were clean, Steph helped her mother wash up.

  “Stephanie, there is a box in the attic I want you to find before we go,” Elora said, putting the last plate away in the cabinet. “You’ll find a beautiful little hair accessory that I wore on my wedding day, and that my mother wore on hers. I think it will go beautifully with your gown.”

  Elora told her where to find the box before sending her up to the attic on her own. Steph pulled down the folded staircase and headed up the steps into the cool dark room above their house, turning on the flashlight on her phone to better see the space.

  She’d always been a little afraid of the attic. There was nothing particularly exciting up there—mostly spiders, from what her father told her. Looking around now, it was clear that he had been pulling her chain. The room was tidy and clean, with several labeled boxes stacked around the room. Following her mother’s directions, Steph headed toward a corner of the room where she found a box labelled “wedding.”

  “You must be my treasure,” she murmured, pulling the box from its corner.

  It was taped shut, and Steph was careful as she used her recently manicured nails to peel at the tape, opening the tattered old box. Inside there was a random jumble of things, and she began pawing through to find the accessory her mother had been talking about.

  There were piles of documents outlining the details of the marriage. Steph read a few paragraphs of small print before she got bored and set the papers aside, looking for better things. Her mother’s small, diamond-encrusted tiara was in a black box, snugly encased. Steph delicately pulled it out, turning it around to catch the muted light of her phone. It was petite, delicate, and beautiful.

  And it was a total wake-up call.

  Steph would be wearing this tiara on her wedding day, in just a few days’ time. She placed it on her head and reached for her phone, taking a picture without looking to make sure the flash illuminated the image. When she turned it around, she stared at the picture for a moment.

  In all honesty, she looked sad. Was this really what she wanted? To be dressed up as a beautiful doll and given away to some man? While her parents hadn’t really given her a choice in the matter, deep down Steph knew she had one. She could still say no. She could walk away.

  She could devastate her mother for the rest of her life.

  Steph sighed as she removed the tiara and placed it back in its case. She sorted through the box a little more, for curiosity’s sake, and came across a small pile of photographs from her parents’ wedding day.

  Her father looked young and handsome. He was smiling in every picture, clearly overjoyed with his new bride.

  Her mother, on the other hand, was another story entirely. Steph looked through picture after picture, all of which must have been taken after the private ceremony. In each image, Elora’s gaze was downcast, her features grim. While there were some images in which she had tried to smile for the camera, Steph knew her mother well enough to know that she had been faking it.

  Elora had not been happy the day she married Steph’s father. That much was clear. W
hat had she said at dinner? That duty was the most important thing? She had done this out of duty—to her family, to their culture—over any personal feelings she might have had on the subject. Steph wondered if her mother’s parents had ever asked her what she had really wanted either, though she already knew that answer.

  In that moment, Steph knew she couldn’t go through with the ceremony. She couldn’t look as downtrodden as her mother had on her wedding day. That was supposed to be the most romantic day of a person’s life!

  Thinking back on the conversation she’d had with her parents at dinner, Steph couldn’t think of a way to express her concerns and actually get either of them to understand. Her father had justified her nerves as those of a skittish bride, afraid of the unknown. Her mother had dismissed them in favor of doing what she must, in the name of tradition.