Lucy and the Sheikh

by Diana Fraser

  “Lucy, when are you going to stop smiling that stupid, soppy grin? It’s not like you.”

  Maia sat propped up in her own bed in the city of caves, the baby at her breast suckling contentedly.

  “I thought I’d lost you.” Lucy could feel the tears, which seemed to be her constant companion now, prick her eyes.

  Maia reached for Lucy’s hand and squeezed it. Lucy held it tight as if she’d never let it go again. “Not me, sis, I’m made of tougher stuff than that. It would take more than a baby to destroy this woman.”

  Lucy’s grin grew broader, less soppy. “Yeah, well, I guess you always were the drama queen, Maia. You couldn’t let something like childbirth go without a scene.”

  “Once a drama queen always a drama queen. I was pretty spectacular, wasn’t I? I’d never seen Mohammed so shocked. I guess that means he loves me.” She grinned smugly at Lucy.

  “I think there’s no doubt about that. He’s besotted with you both. I can let you remain in your cave happy in the knowledge that you might be living in a cave but your caveman will always look after you.”

  Maia shook her head in mock irritation. “You’re a fine one to talk. You’re meant to be the practical one, Luce. What’s all this I hear about you nearly fainting in Razeen’s arms?”

  “Had to do something to make him hold me.”

  “You really like him, don’t you?”

  “More than like. But there’s no future. I don’t want to settle down. Even if I did, he doesn’t want me. He’s stuck with the idea that I’d be unhappy here and that I wouldn’t fit in, etc etc. He’s so responsible, he has to do what he thinks right for both the country and for me. But,” she shrugged, “that’s irrelevant. Staying in one place isn’t for me.”

  “He has to be responsible because he’s King.”

  “And because he has to prove to himself that his father was wrong: prove that he deserves to be King and he can be trusted.”

  There was silence for a few moments while Maia shifted the baby to her other breast, her expression thoughtful.

  “And you came here believing Razeen had kidnapped me. Which, don’t get me wrong, was very sweet of you but I doubt it went very far to improve Razeen’s belief that he could be trusted when the woman he loves didn’t trust him.”

  “What makes you think he loves me?”

  “Even a drama queen can see he loves you. It’s just you and him who can’t seem to put two and two together.”

  “If it’s true—even a little bit—I guess my suspicions about him would have thrown him more than I thought.”

  “Perhaps you just need to make him see how much you trust him.”

  “There’s no point. If I show him I trust him, what then? I’ll be leaving in a few weeks.”

  “But you love him, Lucy. Isn’t that enough to make you stay?”

  Lucy shook her head and shrugged her shoulders awkwardly. “No.” She shook her head again. “As I say, I’ll be leaving.”

  “Because of what happened so many years ago?”

  “Yep, I guess. Still…”

  Maia grabbed Lucy’s hand. “Will you do something for me?”

  Lucy was relieved at the change of subject. “Of course. You know I will. Anything.”

  “Tell Razeen what happened to you.”

  “That’s just silly. Why? Why would you want me to do that?”

  “Just tell him. You need to share it with him.”

  “Why?”

  “You said you’d do anything for me. You agreed. I’ve Noor as my witness.”

  “Maia! No wonder Mohammed fell for your charm. You’re impossible to say ‘no’ to. OK. I’ll tell him, if I must.”

  Maia smiled a very self-satisfied smile. “Good.”

  “Although there’s no point. I won’t be staying here.”

  “Just tell him. As soon as you get back to Sitra, tell him.”

  The soft beams of sunlight filtered through the fretwork of the ancient screen, casting intricate shadows on Razeen’s desk. He closed his laptop and rubbed his eyes.

  “Your next appointment is here, Your Majesty.”

  Razeen frowned. “I don’t have one.”

  “The person showed up and I thought you’d want to see her.”

  “Her?”

  His new assistant grinned and Razeen leaped up. It could only mean one thing. “Show her in.”

  Razeen waited for her to enter. He wanted to stride over to her and sweep her into his arms but he couldn’t rush her. She’d kept a reserve with him, despite all that had happened. He gripped the back of the chair in an effort to stop himself from going to her. He failed.

  He walked over to her and pulled her into his arms. “Lucy.” He tipped her chin up so he could see the expression in her eyes. It wasn’t reassuring. He let his hands slide back to his side and he showed her to a seat. He sat in his chair on the other side of his desk, hoping he’d be able to keep his distance. “How’s Maia settled back into her home?”

  Lucy huffed and shook her head. “I don’t know how she could live like that.” She shrugged. “But she seems happy and,” she smiled, “Noor’s thriving.”

  “Good.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her but she fixed her gaze on the desk, as if fascinated by the back of his computer.

  “Well,” she sighed, “I’m here to say goodbye.”

  Razeen’s heart sank. “So soon?”

  “May as well. Get back to my life.”

  His happiness at seeing her here, evaporated instantly, replaced by irritation. How could she not see what was so patently obvious to him and to Maia. She belonged here with him. “And what life is that exactly?”

  She looked at him with a sadness that immediately cut through his anger. “My life, that’s what. Moving on, taking the next job and then the next.”

  “You can’t go on forever like that.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

  “Why not stop here, in Sitra? You love your sister, you’ll see Noor grow up. I hear you haven’t visited the clinic yet, despite numerous invitations. You could spend time with Aakifar and her family and friends.”

  Her face relaxed as she thought of her new friends. “Thanks for giving Aakifar such a great reference by the way. She loves her work at the clinic. They’re great people and I hear the clinic is doing some really interesting work around diet and supplements. But—”

  “Then, stay.”

  “They don’t need me.”

  “Maybe, but I do.”

  She held his gaze. They were silent for long minutes. “What, are you talking about?”

  “I want you to marry me, Lucy. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, as you emerged from the sea, and it grows stronger all the time, whether you’re here with me or not. I feel you here,” he slammed his fist against his heart, “and I want you with me.”

  A sad smile spread over her face. “I’ve become acceptable, have I, with my interest in the clinic, with my rapport with the women? Is that it? Lucy Gee has suddenly become acceptable. Well, Razeen,” she shook her head, “you’re mistaken. I’m not acceptable, to me or to you.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Lucy?”

  “I have to tell you something.” She looked down at her tightly clenched hands. “Something about me. It may help you understand.” She shrugged. “Personally I don’t think it will, but Maia has told me I have to tell you.”

  He frowned. “Go on.”

  “I have to keep moving, I simply have to. I don’t stay in one place for long. I can’t.”

  “I know, you’ve said that you’re determined to experience everything, to enjoy life to its fullest. But I was hoping your recent experience might have changed things. That you may see that living here, staying in one place here, with me, could bring you happiness.”

  “You need a wife who will be happy staying in one place, a wife who wants children. I am not that wife and I never intend to have children.”

  “That will chang
e.”

  “No, it won’t.”

  “Lucy,” he reached out and grabbed her shaking hands. She slid them away from him.

  “I was fifteen years old when I had a baby.”

  Pain sliced into his gut. So this was at the root of it. He swallowed dryly, dredging up the self-control he needed not to leap around the desk and take her in his arms. That wouldn’t help her. Only talking would. “Go on.”

  “It was an easy birth.” She didn’t look up at him, just kept talking to the desk. “Not like Maia’s.” She half-laughed. “No, it was afterwards that things went from bad to worse. I didn’t want to see the baby, rejected it outright. And, because of my age, the doctors, social workers and Maia, agreed to my demands to adopt the child out. It was only much later that I was diagnosed with postnatal depression.” She still didn’t look into his eyes, as if she was scared what she’d find there. “So, you see, I’m not fit to be a mother. Children, marriage, that’s for other people, that’s what people do who live life the right way. Not me. I don’t know how to do anything other than hurt people and keep on moving.” His eyes followed the agitated movements of her hands as she sunk her fingernails hard into the palm of the other hand, as if to replace the pain she was feeling inside with physical pain. She cleared her throat. “Haven’t you got anything to say?”

  “What happened to the child?”

  “He died. Young. A preventable ailment—dietary deficiency—I won’t go into details but it turned out the people who adopted him had less of a clue how to bring up a child than I did. If I’d kept him with me he would have lived.”

  “Hence your interest here.”

  “Of course. I’m always trying to make up for it, always angry with myself. So now you know how stupid I am.”

  “Yes.”

  For the first time since she’d spoken she looked at him with a sad, resigned smile. “You agree with me, then. I’m culpable.”

  “Yes, you’re stupid. Yes, you’re to blame. But not for what happened to you when you were little more than a child!” He leaped out of the chair and paced behind the desk. “You make me so angry. How could you punish yourself for such a thing? You were young and alone, apart from a sister who was also still a child. Of course you’re not culpable. When will you stop punishing yourself?”

  “Punishing myself? By moving around, having fun, enjoying new experiences?”

  “Punishing yourself by running away. As soon as you might be happy, you’re off. Stop it. Stay. Here. With me.”

  “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?”

  He continued to pace. “Do you remember when we first met? By the pool I explained about the djullinar, the monster who forces people to confront that which he or she dreads the most?”

  “I remember. I think you are the djullinar. You’ve made me think more about my past than at any time over the past eight years.”

  “Then do something about it. Lucy, you were only fifteen. You can’t go on blaming yourself forever. You’re young, you have a life to lead, a life here, with me.” He stopped pacing, grabbed her hands and held them tight, circling his thumbs over her tight fists. “What do I have to do to make you see?”

  “You need a family. You need children. I can’t go there. I can’t risk it. I’m no good at that stuff.”

  “Really? And how exactly do you know this?”

  “I just know.”

  He dropped her hands. “If you loved me you’d risk it. You obviously don’t love me enough.” He felt sick with anger, frustration and a love she didn’t want.

  She didn’t move immediately. He could practically name the emotions as they flitted across her expressive face. Confusion, sadness, resignation…

  “I have to go. I have to leave.” Her voice was so small, tiny and soft as if a wisp of wind would blow it away.

  He reached out and looped his finger under the compass that swung at her neck. “And where will your compass take you this time? Alex said there’ll always be a job for you with him.”

  “You asked him, didn’t you?”

  “Of course. I want you to be safe. I want you to be cared for, if I can’t do it.” He dropped the compass. “You’d better leave, then.”

  He wasn’t going to make it easy for her. Why should he? He stood and watched as she turned and left. She’d stop any moment now. Surely she’d stop and see that he spoke sense. Then she quietly opened the door and he held his breath, waiting for her to turn around. But then she was gone and the door was closed. For a brief moment frustration filled him and he wanted to go after her and drag her into his arms, make her stay. But, he knew it would be pointless. He felt she loved him but without her saying so, he couldn’t be sure. It was fear that was preventing her from staying, he was sure. But you couldn’t force someone to confront their fears—he knew that from experience. But perhaps force wasn’t the only way. He picked up the phone.

  The invitation to the clinic had been unexpected and unwanted—it interfered with her travel plans and it interfered with the self-discipline she needed to leave Razeen. She might have managed to refuse it, just as she had the previous invitations, if it hadn’t been hand delivered by Aakifah, with her little sister on her hip, bright-eyed and mischievous, now fully recovered from her anemia.

  As Lucy watched Aakifah chat easily with the women at the clinic, she realized just how much Aakifah loved her work there, and how well she fitted into the clinic. It made Lucy feel good to realize that she’d actually done something worthwhile for her friend.

  After the receptionist exchanged a few words with Aakifah, she turned to Lucy with a puzzled expression. “The director, who invited you, has been called into a meeting and has asked me to introduce you to the newest patient. But she would like to discuss something with you later, after your visit.” Aakifah appeared uncertain. “If that’s all right with you, Lucy?”

  “Sure.” Lucy thought it odd, but guessed the nature of the clinic’s work would make it hard for the director to stick to a schedule.

  Aakifah took her to one end of a long room where a very young woman sat holding a baby tightly to her body. While her arms gripped the child, her eyes seemed disconnected, huge, terrified.

  They greeted each other formally and then Aakifah drew up a couple of chairs beside the woman.

  “This is Hala. Her husband is—”

  “She has a husband at her age?” Lucy interrupted. “She can’t be more than, what? Seventeen?”

  Aakifah shrugged. “It’s not unusual in our culture. Her husband is overseas earning money and she’s living with his family but they don’t understand why she cries all the time.”

  Lucy’s hesitation was only brief. “Tell her that I cried all the time.” She sucked in a difficult breath. “When I had my baby.”

  Aakifah raised her eyebrows in surprise but didn’t say anything other than translate Lucy’s words.

  The young woman turned her large, stunned eyes to Lucy and spoke rapidly.

  “She wants to know if your husband’s family helped you.”

  Lucy’s mind flew back to the teenage boy whom she barely knew and whose family she had certainly never met. She’d wanted love and, it turned out, the boy had just wanted sex. He’d moved on to someone else by the time she’d realized she was pregnant.

  “No. They didn’t.”

  “She says that that is sad and wants to know who helped you with your birth if your family didn’t.”

  “Tell her, I was in hospital. I was very young—younger than her—but I had my sister with me.”

  Aakifah opened her mouth to translate Hala’s reply but shook her head instead, her eyes full of unspoken sympathy for Lucy.

  Lucy placed her hand on Aakifah. “It’s OK. Tell me what she says.”

  “She wants to know what color eyes your baby had. Were they green like yours?”

  Lucy swallowed back the pain and closed her eyes as if in thought. “Umm, let me see.” But she could only visualize her baby with eyes either closed in
sleep, or scrunched up as he screamed. And he’d been crying hard when she’d seen him the last time. She’d just left him in the bassinet, screaming, and she’d walked away and hidden in a remote corner of the hospital. She hadn’t been found for hours. She gasped in a raw breath. “They were blue.”

  “And now? She wants to know if they’re still blue.”

  If the first question had pierced her, this one probed deep within the wound. “Yes, still blue.” Sometimes a lie was better than the truth. Harder for her, but easier for the young woman.

  “She wants to know whether you hated your baby.”

  Lucy swallowed hard. “I…” It was too hard. But the young woman’s eyes continued to bore into her with a desperation she recognized. “Hate is one word for it. I was scared. I didn’t want it. And I hated myself as much as the baby.”

  Aakifah translated, her brows knit in confusion, her innate courtesy refusing to allow her to question Lucy herself.

  “She wants to know how long the hate lasted.”

  Lucy bit her lip. “Not long. Tell her she has to take each day as it comes, accept help, look after herself and she’ll soon find she looks on the baby with love. And that that love will only deepen.” Lucy rose and curled her hand around the baby’s rounded cheek before dropping her hand to the woman’s arm. “And tell her she’s not alone. Many, many women suffer like her with these feelings after birth and she will recover.”

  Lucy watched relief fill the women’s face.

  Aakifah turned to Lucy. “She says she thought she was alone in these feelings.” Lucy shook her head and the young woman smiled. “She says to thank you for your words.”

  “She’s welcome.” Lucy stood up. “I need to go now. There are things…” She shook her head helplessly. The truth was that she’d had to dig deep into the hurt she carried around with her and her own grief now tore at her heart, demanding attention. She had to go before she broke down. “I think I need some air.”