Light of the Desert

by Lucette Walters

  When she turned, the first thing Michel saw were her eyes. They were swollen and red, but they were the same aquamarine eyes which had haunted him for the past seven years.

  Before he knew it, he was holding her. Everything was exactly the way he remembered. Her skin, her smell, how she fit in his arms so perfectly. He closed his eyes and took in this miraculous moment, a part of him wondering if it were all true, the other not really wanting to know. Because at that moment, Michel was holding his angel.

  Fifteen months later—May, 2001

  Moored off the coast of Antibes in the South of France, the ninety-foot yacht now christened The Nageeb gleamed on the horizon.

  Inside the yacht, a very pregnant Noora floated in the yacht’s lap pool, while little Annou splashed happily nearby with her mother, Annette.

  “Viens, ma chérie, come. You have been in the pool long enough,” she said to her little girl, who was now four years old.

  Michel dove in from behind and kissed his wife on the neck. Noora turned and smiled broadly at him.

  He pulled her close to him and they kissed. As he suddenly picked her up in his arms and twirled her around in the water’s surface, she threw her head back and laughed. He said something close to her ear that made her laugh harder.

  “What could he be telling her that makes her laugh so much?” Kettayef asked his mother. Speaking well now, Kettayef had grown into a young man.

  “Young lovers. You know how that is,” Yasmina answered, watching Noora with a smile.

  “No, I really don’t. Someday maybe I will.”

  “Yes, you will. But don’t get any ideas before you finish college.”

  “Yes, Mother,” he said, with a sneaky twinkle in his eye. “I can’t wait for Noora to see her surprise.”

  “I can’t wait either,” Shamsah said, pulling a chair next to her mother. She had grown into a lovely sixteen-year-old. In a bathing suit and sarong tied around her waist, Shamsah had the same straight ballerina back as Noora, and rich brown hair that fell in waves, below her shoulders. Annou ran up to her and sat on her lap.

  “It might be too much of a shock,” Yasmina said, taking a sip of her lemonade.

  “Yes, at first. But … you don’t suppose she’ll have the baby when she sees him?” Shamsah asked, putting her arms around Annou and kissing her head.

  Yasmina Fendil laughed. “Oh please! She’s not due for two more months …”

  “Anyway, we have Annou’s papa on board … just in case,” Kettayef said, winking at little Annou.

  The roar of a small taxi boat was heard by everyone except for Noora, who was busy splashing with her husband in the pool.

  The taxi boat cut its engine and came aside the yacht. Abdo stepped on deck first and motioned behind him to the guest, not yet visible, to wait a moment.

  “Come on out, Noora. Lunch is ready,” Michel said, glancing quickly toward the area where Abdo stood. He nodded.

  Noora climbed up heavily and Michel helped her out, wrapping a bath towel around her. Slowly, his hands on her shoulders, he turned her around.

  The red fez was the first thing that came into view as he climbed on deck. Noora had to blink a few times. Surely it had to be a vision.

  “Oh my God.” She put both hands to her mouth. It was a vision. Years had passed and he had grown … so tall! It couldn’t be … But he had not changed. She remembered the train station … the last time she saw him … before her tears blinded her last view of him.

  “It’s me!” He opened his arms wide. “I never saw so much water in my life! A vast desert of liquid … and you. In the middle!”

  “Dweezoul?”

  She stepped forward unsteadily. “Oh my dear God!” Michel held a steady arm around the small of her back. “Oh my dear God, tell me this is not a dream!”

  “Bent el Noor,” he said.

  Who else would call her “Daughter of Light”? He was now more than three inches taller than Noora.

  “Dweezoul! It is you!” Tears began to flow.

  He ran to her and wrapped his long arms in a warm hug.

  “How? How did you find me?”

  “You have a very clever husband,” he said.

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Born in Alexandria, Egypt, Lucette Walters grew up in Paris and later, Chicago. She moved to Los Angeles where she began a career in film. She lives in Southern California and Hawaii.