Desert Man

by Barbara Faith

  “Is that why Saoud accompanied me to the palace tonight?”

  “No, no, of course not.” He avoided meeting her eyes and with a forced smile said, “You are a beautiful American woman. I had to make sure you were well protected.”

  Josie didn’t return his smile. Instead she said, “On the way here a car moved up alongside of the limousine and cut in ahead of us. When it did, Saoud had the chauffeur drop back, then he sped up and passed the other car.” She looked at him, her eyes level with his. “Are you in danger?” she asked. “Was the other car following us because they thought you might be inside?”

  Kumar waited a moment before he answered. With a shake of his head he said, “You’re imagining things, Josie. There are as many bad drivers here in Bir Chagga as there are in California. Undoubtedly the driver of the other car saw a limousine and wanted to race. I’m sure that’s all it was.”

  “Why did you send Saoud with me?”

  “He is my right hand,” Kumar said, no longer smiling. “I trust him with my life, with all that I have, with all that I treasure. That is why I have placed him in your home. That is why he will accompany you wherever you go.”

  His eyes smoldered and darkened. She tried to look away, but she could not. It was as it had been that night in California. She wanted to say, as she had then, “Let me go.” For he held her as surely as if he had tightened his hands around hers.

  “It’s late,” she said. “I have to go.”

  A muscle in his cheek jumped, but his expression did not change. “Of course,” he said, and getting to his feet he offered a hand to help her up.

  When she stood beside him he did not let go of her hand, and they stood facing each other. It pleased him that she was tall, that in her high heels she stood eye to eye with him. He liked that. He remembered how it had been when they danced, how her body had fit so perfectly to his. He thought how it would be when they made love, for he knew in his heart that no matter how hard she tried to deny the attraction between them, the day would come when she would lie naked beside him.

  He let go of her hand. “Come,” he said, “I will take you home.”

  They went out through the now silent corridors and the patio scented with jasmine and orange blossoms. He spoke to a servant, and by the time they reached the entrance, a black convertible was waiting for them.

  Saoud stood beside it. “You asked for the convertible,” he said. “But it is best you take the limousine.”

  “Tonight I prefer the open car.”

  “It is dangerous.”

  “No, it is not.”

  “I will drive.”

  Kumar shook his head. “Not tonight, my friend.”

  “You will be vulnerable in an open car.”

  “It’s late. There will be no danger.” Kumar reached up to rest a hand on the tall man’s shoulder. “Do as I say. And do not worry.”

  He turned away and opened the door for Josie. When he had helped her in, he went around to the driver’s side.

  The motor hummed to life and he started out of the circular driveway, down past the long rows of royal palms and the guardhouse, out finally to the highway.

  “You don’t mind the wind?” he asked.

  She leaned her head back against the seat. “No, I like it.”

  “It would be better if your hair were loose. I’d like to see it fall free down your...” He stopped before he said, “your naked back,” and simply said instead, “Your back.”

  “I’m not sixteen,” she said with some asperity. “I’m thirty-one.”

  “So old?” He laughed. “I’m thirty-six. The age difference is good, yes?”

  For what? she almost asked. But did not. Instead she said, “There’s a car close behind us.”

  “Saoud. He doesn’t trust me out alone.”

  “He doesn’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “I know. He’s a good man. He was with my father and now he is with me.”

  “Where is your father?”

  “In the desert with the Bedouins. Since his semiretirement he prefers to live there.” He slowed to turn into the street where she lived. “Some day I’ll take you into the desert so that you can meet my father and my people.”

  “I doubt that I’ll be here long enough for that.”

  “A year,” he said, looking at her. “That’s long enough for almost everything.”

  He stopped the car in her driveway and turned off the ignition. The car that had been following them slowed, then took the driveway that led to the back of the house.

  “I hope you enjoyed the evening in spite of the brief disturbance.” Kumar rested an arm on the back of the seat.

  “Yes, I did. Thank you.” Josie edged toward the door.

  “We will see each other again soon.” It was a statement, not a question.

  She opened her door. He said, “A moment please,” and hurrying around to her side he took her hand to help her out. When she stood beside him he did not release her hand but instead brought it to his lips. He kissed the back of it, then turned it and rested his lips against the inside of her wrist.

  “I can smell your perfume here,” he said in a voice so low she could barely hear. “I can feel the beat of your pulse against my tongue.”

  “Let me go.”

  He released her hand and stood facing her. Before she could move away he encircled the back of her neck. The skin there was smooth and cool to the touch. He curled a tendril of her hair around his fingers before his hand crept up to stroke her cheek and run the ball of his thumb across her lips.

  She trembled at his touch and stepped back, dazed by a confusion of emotions.

  “It has only begun between us, Josie,” he said. “Never doubt that some day we shall finish what we have started. Be assured, you will not leave until it is done.”

  She couldn’t answer, she could only stand there, frozen.

  He turned away from her and clapped his hands as he called out, “Zohra! Karma!”

  When they appeared in the open doorway, he said, “Miss McCall will retire now. Please see to her needs.”

  He took Josie’s hand in his, and as he had done before, he turned it and brushed his lips across her palm. When he released her he said only “Good night,” then turned and got into his car.

  Chapter 7

  The following morning, accompanied by her secretary, Sarida Barakat, Josie drove to the Civil Hospital. She wore a tailored dark blue dress, matching heels, and observing the custom of women who covered their hair, a small-brimmed blue hat.

  As he had the night before, Saoud rode in front with the driver. Today he wore a robe of a dark saffron color. His head was covered by a clean white scarf and he wore sandals. When they pulled up in front of the three-story hospital he stepped out to open her door and said, “Prince Ben Ari has asked that I make sure every courtesy is extended to you today and that you are shown whatever it is you wish to see.”

  His smile, as always, was gentle. But his jaw was firm. He was going into the hospital and heaven help the man who tried to stand in her way.

  The lobby was plain. And noisy. Men crowded around a reception desk, their voices raised to try to get the attention of the harried male attendant behind it. Other men, one with a bandaged head, another with his leg in a cast, sat talking on the benches that lined the wall. It was a scene of confusion, with a noise level that belonged on a football field rather than in a hospital.

  Josie looked around and shook her head in disbelief, then turned to see a man in a white robe hurrying toward her.

  “Missus,” he called out, raising his voice so that he could be heard. “Is Missus McCall, yes?”

  “Yes,” Josie said. “I’m Miss McCall.”

  “We are at your service, most honored lady. I am Ahmed al-Shaibi, hospital administrator. Please to come to my office and we will have tea.”

  “Thank you, Mr. al-Shaibi, but I’d really prefer to see the hospital first.”

  “The women’s ward. Of
course, of course.” He took a handkerchief out of the pocket of his robe and wiped his forehead.

  “Why don’t we start with the men’s ward?”

  “The men’s ward?” He took a step backward. “Ah, but Missus, that would not be proper.”

  “Mr. al-Shaibi...” Josie tried for a pleasantly firm expression. “I’m here as a representative of the International Health Organization. It’s the health and well-being of your patients that is important to me, not their sex.”

  “But Missus, you cannot...” He shook his head. “No, no, I’m sorry but I’m afraid it is not permissible for you to enter the men’s wards.”

  Saoud stepped forward. From his height of seven feet he stared down at the smaller man. “Miss McCall is here at the request of Prince Ben Ari,” he said. “She will go anywhere and see anything she chooses to see in the hospital. Do you understand?”

  “But, but, but...” Ahmed al-Shaibi cleared his throat and mopped his face. “This is most unusual. A woman has never—”

  “And she will begin in the men’s wards,” Saoud said.

  Al-Shaibi took another swipe at his face with the already damp handkerchief. “Very well,” he said, reluctantly. “Come along. But it is most unusual. Most unusual.”

  With Sarida Barakat and Saoud by her side, Josie made her way through the hospital corridors to the private rooms and the wards on the first and second floors. Saoud kept pace a step behind Josie, and Sarida, her face averted and gazing neither right nor left, brought up the rear.

  Despite the chaos below, it was quiet on this floor. Out of ten private rooms, only one was occupied. Three of the six wards were empty, but the other three looked clean and the patients seemed well cared for. Al-Shaibi introduced her to two of the doctors and several of the male nurses, all of whom seemed shocked that a woman had ventured into an all-male domain. She checked out the operating room and the X-ray equipment and all in all was impressed with what she saw.

  But when she climbed the stairs to the third floor where the women patients were cared for, it was a different matter. A nurse wearing a dark gray robe greeted them. “We were told you were coming, madame,“ she said by way of greeting. She looked up at Saoud and shook her head. “It is not permissible for you to enter here,” she added.

  “I will wait at the desk,” he said to Josie. “If you have need of something you will call out, yes?”

  “Yes,” Josie said, deciding she might as well get used to the idea that as long as she was here in Abdu Resaba, Saoud would be her ever-present shadow. With a smile and a nod she turned to follow the nurse into the wards.

  In her early years in nursing she had heard horror stories of the crowded county hospitals of the l920s. That’s what the wards on the third floor were like. Only worse. There were no private rooms, only three wards filled to overflowing with patients.

  Mothers with newborn babies were side by side with tubercular patients. A very old woman, obviously suffering from dementia, prattled and gestured wildly, oblivious to the pain of the young girl in a body cast in the bed next to her.

  Josie moved from ward to ward, sickened and made furious by what she saw. When she left the last ward she turned to the nurse who had conducted her on the tour. “This is terrible,” she said, barely keeping her voice under control.

  “I know that, madame.“ The woman, who looked to be in her middle fifties, wore a harried expression. Deep grooves of fatigue marred her face, and her eyes were red from lack of sleep. “We do what we can,” she said with a tired lift of her shoulders. “I have only three nurses and myself.”

  “Three nurses for each shift.”

  The woman shook her head. “No, madame, for the entire twenty-four hours.”

  “There are how many patients in each ward?”

  “Twenty-five, madame.“

  “All the beds are filled?”

  The nurse nodded.

  “So there are four of you to take care of seventy-five patients twenty-four hours a day.”

  “That is correct. Two on the day shift, two on the night shift. Also a cook and her helper to prepare the food.”

  “Your food doesn’t come from the same kitchen as that of the men patients?”

  The nurse shook her head. “We are cut off from the rest of the hospital in every way, madame. The only exception is when there is to be an operation.”

  “How often does a doctor see these women?”

  “Dr. Nazib comes three times a week. If there is an emergency, we try our best to reach her.” The nurse looked down at her scuffed shoes. “But it is not always possible.”

  Josie smothered an oath. She told herself that she must act like a professional. She had enough experience to know that you did not walk into a country and be the know-it-all American bent on changing the way things were done. Change took time and patience. You had to be cautious about stepping on anybody’s toes. But this was outrageous!

  “What is your name?” she asked the nurse who had escorted her.

  “I am Jumana, madame.“

  “My name is Josephine.”

  Josie offered her hand and after a moment’s hesitation the other woman took it. With a frightened look, she said, “You are not pleased with what you have seen. You will go to Prince Kumar and tell him how bad it is here and I will be removed from my position and punished.”

  “I will tell Prince Kumar what the situation is here, yes. But believe me, Jumana, you won’t be dismissed, nor will you be punished for something that isn’t your fault. I’ll return tomorrow and with your help and the help of your nurses we’ll begin making improvements. Meantime I’d like you to separate the patients with tuberculosis from the other patients. If there’s not a place to isolate them, put them in the hall until tomorrow. By then I hope to have something worked out.”

  “I hope you can, madame.“ The nurse shook her head. But this is all the space we have. I don’t see what you can do.”

  Josie rested a hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she said. “Believe me when I tell you that things are going to improve.”

  She turned away and under her breath murmured, “Or I’ll damn well know the reason why.”

  * * *

  “I want to go to the palace,” she said to Saoud. “Right now.”

  The tall man raised an eyebrow. “But you do not have an appointment, madame.“

  Josie’s mouth tightened. “Now,” she said.

  “It is the custom for one to make an appointment if one wishes to see the prince. Perhaps tomorrow—”

  Josie got into the car. Her back was straight, her chin was firm. “I must see Prince Kumar today,” she said. “If I have to wait until midnight, I’ll wait. But I will see him.”

  Saoud lifted his shoulders and with a nod got into the front seat. “To the palace,” he told the driver. And there was in his voice just the barest hint of amusement.

  But the amusement faded when they merged with the city traffic. As he had the night before, he became instantly alert, as if suspicious of each car that passed.

  And again, Josie wondered why. But only for a moment. She was far too intent on what she was going to say to Kumar. Raise royal hell, that’s what she was going to do. How dare he allow the women of his country to exist in the conditions prevalent in the women’s wards of the hospital? Had he so little regard for the opposite sex that he would sanction such an abomination?

  By the time the car pulled up to the palace entrance she was consumed with righteous indignation. To Saoud she said, “Please tell Prince Kumar that I’m here and that I want to see him.”

  “Yes, madame.“ Again there was just the faintest trace of wry amusement in his voice. He led her, followed by her nervous secretary, into the entrance patio, then through a series of corridors and into a marbled reception room. “If you will wait here I will speak to the prince.”

  “Thank you, Saoud.”

  He touched his forehead, then turned and disappeared behind a velvet hangin
g of purple drapes.

  Sarida picked at her robe. “His Highness will not be pleased,” she whispered. “I am told that when he is upset he is fierce as a lion. It is not the place of women to argue with men. It is the will of Allah that we be subservient.”

  Josie smothered an oath and wished to God she’d never set foot in the country. But now that she had, she was going to do the job she’d been sent to do. She would clean up the women’s wards at the hospital or know the reason why.

  Saoud appeared through the velvet drapes. Once again he touched his fingers to his forehead, and said, “Prince Kumar will see you now, madame.“

  When she rose, Sarida said, “Go carefully, Miss McCall. Do not anger him.”

  Josie only nodded. Saoud held the drape back, then led her through a tiled corridor to a gold-encrusted door. When he opened it he grinned and said, “May Allah protect you, madame.“

  Chin up, Josie sailed into the room.

  Prince Kumar, dressed in a royal blue robe, rose from behind a desk to greet her. “This is a most pleasant surprise,” he said.

  “A surprise perhaps, but I doubt it will be a pleasant one.”

  “Oh?” He motioned her to a chair. “What is it? Has something upset you?”

  “Yes something has upset me. I’ve just come from the hospital.”

  Kumar waited.

  “It’s a disgrace,” she said hotly. “An abomination!”

  “Abomination? Surely you exaggerate. I myself have seen the hospital. I found the wards as well as the private rooms quite acceptable.”

  “The men’s wards. Have you been upstairs to where the women patients are?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Of course not!” Josie stood and leaned across the desk, so angry she wanted to throttle him. “There are four nurses to take care of seventy-five women—twenty-four hours a day. That means only two nurses to care for them on a twelve-hour shift. I saw patients with tuberculosis in beds next to newborn infants, demented patients in the same ward with terribly ill women.”