Second Chance to Wear His Ring

by Hana Sheik

  And she was. The memory was crystallizing like magic. Now if only Mansur could help unlock her adult memories... Gripped by the notion, she looked at him, and grew shy when his stare met hers.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “It’s silly,” she began, “but I’ve had this idea. Though it’s a little crazy, it might work.” She lifted a shoulder in her uncertainty as to how he’d react.

  Mansur nudged his chin at her. “Tell me.”

  “What if you could share some more memories with me?”

  It wasn’t her imagination that he stiffened, but his voice was deceptively calm when he spoke. “Your adult memories? I’m not sure I’ll be of any help there,” he said with a raised brow. “I wasn’t around, if you catch my drift.”

  “Not in person, maybe,” she said, remembering what he’d revealed in the hotel, when he’d told her about his half-siblings and stepmother. “But you mentioned we would talk, though, and video-chat sometimes.”

  He flexed his fingers on the wheel, accelerating faster on the snaking freeway. “And you think that’ll help.”

  “Why not? You heard the doctor,” she said.

  And he had—he’d been standing right there with her when the neurosurgeon had spoken about the talking therapy that might help unlock memories sealed by the amnesia.

  “You’re right—but I’m pretty certain the doctor mentioned how reducing stress and elevating the mood of the patient were a key part of the therapy, if you choose to undertake it.”

  “Yes—and she also said memory recall exercises were most effective when patients could connect with persons who share similar memories. Like family and friends...or acquaintances who were once neighbors and remain family friends of a sort.”

  That roused a smile from him. “And we’re the latter category?” he said, piecing together her sound logic.

  Amal grinned, glad to see him following along. “Yes, we are. What do you say? Will you help me?”

  She pushed down the squirming bashfulness that would have had her retracting her request. She couldn’t allow this opportunity to learn more about herself to slip from her fingers. Mansur could be the key she’d been looking for all along. The key to her still-missing memories.

  “All right,” he said. “What do you want to know?”

  Amal rounded in her seat to face him and placed her cheek in her hand. “What did we talk about—aside from you telling me about your father’s second family?”

  * * *

  Manny managed to hold Amal off from her interrogation, stalling her until they reached their destination—at which point she became temporarily distracted by the view of their new location.

  Almost as soon as she was out of the car, she shot off exploring. He hurried to trail her.

  “Careful,” he said briskly, catching Amal as she flailed to right her balance.

  When she was steady, she smiled his way. “We’re not dressed to hike up a mountain.”

  “A hill,” he corrected, but he agreed. “I’m sorry, I should have put some forethought into the geographical differences out here in the country.”

  He partly blamed his clamoring need to distance her as far from the hospital and the upsetting consultation as possible, and partly the emotions that came along with the inheritance itself. He’d been caught up in his head and hadn’t taken the necessary precautions.

  Amal reminded him of his mistake as she winced and forced him to stop as she checked on her foot. Her ballet flats were worn and mired with dust and dirt. They were clearly well-loved, but they weren’t the footwear he’d have chosen for her at this moment.

  He had the sudden urge to carry her up the hill in his arms. Flexing his biceps, he thought about it as she shook her shoe and muttered, “Not sure how a pebble got in there,” before placing it back on her foot and beaming up at him.

  Making a hasty choice, he crouched before her, his back toward her.

  Amal’s soft gasp reached his ears. “No, I couldn’t,” she said immediately, swatting at him from behind, and insisting, “I can walk up the hill on my own.”

  “Hop on, Amal.”

  He wasn’t budging until she did. One of them would win, and he was determined to see this through. Though it was a good thing he wasn’t facing her. He was blushing.

  “Mansur, I couldn’t,” she said. She sounded uncertain, though.

  “It’s Manny—and I’d feel less guilty about bringing you here in those shoes if you climbed on.” He glanced back and watched a war of emotions take place on her open-book expression.

  And then she nodded, sighing. “Fine.”

  She climbed on him easily, her warm, soft weight covering his back, and leaned on him entirely when he swept her up and stood with her. She yelped and squeezed her arms tight around his shoulders. Her thighs clamped around his waist and her skirt rode up her toned, smooth legs.

  Manny kept his hands locked under her knees, even when his eyes drifted to the sultry deep brown of her calves and ankles. Thankfully the challenge of keeping her safely on his back while climbing uphill kept him occupied and away from wandering thoughts.

  “It’s a paradise,” she breathed into his ear when he crested the hilltop.

  Manny couldn’t agree more. The beauty of the panoramic scene was jaw-dropping, a one-of-a-kind experience. In his ear again, Amal lightly gasped her admiration for the views at the top of the lookout.

  “Are those lakes?” she asked.

  “Yes, and they’re famous to the area.”

  He pointed to the two crater lakes the hill bisected, one on either side of them. Amal made cute noises of surprise when he explained how day tours were conducted out of Addis for tourists to experience the natural lakes in all their glory.

  Beyond that, there were humble thatch-roofed homes, and tilled and untilled farmland on the hillside. It was an idyllic pastoral scene. Better yet, they were alone in enjoying the sight. No tourists in view.

  “I’m relieved I didn’t let you talk me into returning to the hotel,” she said.

  He laughed low, feeling the same relief she spoke of.

  “Are any of those farmlands yours?” she wondered, her lips brushing the tip of his ear. He suspected it was accidental because she pulled back after that, and stammered, “Th-That is if you decide to claim the land.”

  “Not according to the directions. My land should be on the other side of this hill.”

  He hitched her higher on his back, his hands locking tight around her flexed legs, his fingers mapping out the softness that her clothing hid from him. Amal’s curves looked divine, and they felt it, too.

  Controlling his voice, knowing it might reveal his lustful thoughts, he murmured, “Why do I get the feeling you’re more excited to see this land than I am?”

  “Aren’t you? I can only imagine what you could do with—Wait...how many acres did you say?”

  Mansur had told her in the car when they’d begun passing farmsteads on their way to their destination. He’d followed the map and the precise directions of the surveyors he’d hired to scout out the land.

  Reminding her now, he said, “Forty.”

  She whistled, the sharp noise a contrast to her soft awe. “That’s plenty of land. One might even argue it’s too much land for one man.”

  “If I sold it, it might be to a company.”

  There was foreign agribusiness in the area that struck deals with shady government officials in Ethiopia. Families lost their homes overnight as farms that rightfully belonged to them had their deeds stolen and resold to mega-corporations, driving small family farmers both out of business and out of their homes.

  “Then again, I might keep it and find a new purpose for it.”

  “Like...?”

  He’d given this some consideration, and he craned his neck to watch the happy surprise play out on her face
when he replied. “I thought I could parcel the lands into smaller sections. Lease out those sections to local farmers. Their rent could come out of a small share of their good crop for the season.”

  He shrugged and her arms rose with the gesture, her hands creeping closer to his neck and the leaping pulse at the base of his throat.

  Swallowing around the latest flush of desire warming him from head to toe, he said, “I’d have to give it more thought, of course, but it’s an idea.”

  “A brilliant one! It’d be awfully generous of you, Mansur.”

  Basking in the shower of her praise, he resurfaced momentarily to grumble, “‘Generous’ is a leap. I’d just be doing business. And business isn’t always...nice.”

  He knew that, having fought tooth and claw to get his CEO-ship. His presidency was the result of his blood, sweat and tears. He’d had his supporters in the company, but also his fair share of dissenters in board members, higher management, and investors. For nearly two years he’d had to prove his mettle as a potential president and CEO candidate. Not everyone had been thrilled to have a young, overly ambitious foreigner in the running.

  Some days had been hard; those were the days he’d felt most like giving in. It had been during that time he’d reconnected with Amal. She’d readily become his confidante and main supporter. After each of their conversations he’d felt ready to take the next day on, and the next, until the day he sat at the helm of his company.

  “No, you’re right. Not all business is neat and kind,” she was saying. “And of all people I should know.”

  She meant the corruption of the Somaliland government that had shut down the beneficial operation of building her hospital.

  Manny tightened his lips, his fingers squeezing her legs. He knew what it was like. Being judged and found unworthy. His father had done it to him and to his mother. He’d almost endured it again before he’d secured his position as CEO. And Amal had done it to him, too, when she had refused his marriage proposal. Coming second or, worse, last to someone always hurt.

  He tamped down the hot bile flaming through his chest and creeping up his throat. Torn was what he was—between wanting to be closer to her and pushing her away for good. She called them friends, but they couldn’t be—not when he had this damning attraction for her. It put him in a bind, because he knew how good her friendship had been to him. And her love? Her love had been his salvation. For a brief moment, when he’d thought he had her heart, he’d felt saved from his black anger for his father. She’d made him feel wanted and loved.

  “Sometimes it’s a long, grueling climb to the top of the hill.”

  He walked to the edge of the hilltop, hoisting her higher on his back and preparing for the more arduous trip downhill.

  Before he could worry about taking his first step, though, Amal wriggled in his hold. “I can walk down,” she said.

  Her soft breath puffed in his ear and sparked delightful tingles all through him. When she shifted again, his whole body compressed into a hot, tight coil, wired to snap at any moment. Afraid of what he’d do or say if he insisted on holding her to him, Manny loosened his hands around her legs.

  She slid down his back, her hands coming off him last.

  Manny turned to her and nudged his chin down the hill. “Are you sure?” He dragged his eyes to her flats, peeking out from under her long, dark skirt. “I don’t mind carrying you.”

  Actually, it was probably best he didn’t volunteer again, what with how he buzzed from his desire for her.

  Amal answered him by plunging forward, leading the way. She managed to get a few paces ahead before he unrooted his feet and caught up with her.

  “See?” she goaded, grinning. “I can walk on my own. Not that I’m not grateful for the ride.”

  She angled her head away from him—blushing, no doubt. She didn’t have to turn red for him to know her tells. Besides, his face was flushed as well, from the memory of carrying her, of touching her more intimately than he ever had before. And he wasn’t counting their rare rough play as children, when he hadn’t known what it was like to love and be loved by her.

  But he knew better now.

  Apparently not enough to walk away from her, he thought. Any sane man would be running for the hills by now, but not him. Even though he saw nothing but heartache at the end of the path he was willingly taking with her. She might remember his failed proposal and push him away again, or she might not ever remember and then he’d be forced to live a lie with her.

  He didn’t even want to consider telling her what had happened that night, a year ago.

  As if hearing his thoughts, Amal said sweetly, “Now will you tell me more about what we used to talk about over the phone and on video-chat? Did we always talk about your run for CEO, or did we manage to get around to talking about other things?”

  * * *

  “Other things?” Mansur repeated.

  Amal bumped against his hand as she sidestepped a jagged rock wedged in the earth. She gave him some room after the danger to her feet had passed them by and smiled up at his wary face. He wore the same expression as when she’d asked him to divulge his memories of her. And yet, despite his obvious reluctance, he hadn’t refused outright.

  Maybe your luck’s run out.

  She hoped not—desperately so. Thus far she’d learned that Mansur had shared his professional struggles with her. He’d fought to be CEO, and she had learned she’d been there in spirit, right alongside him.

  “Other things like life outside of our respective careers,” she explained. “Didn’t we talk about anything else?” Suddenly she wondered if their relationship had been only that. Built on their similar career paths. Their talk all shop. She shivered at the iciness of that possibility, feeling a frown overtaking her face.

  Mansur clearly saw it, too, lowering his eyes to her mouth before flicking them up a heartbeat later.

  “Sometimes, yes. We spoke about our dreams outside of our jobs,” he said, his voice gravelly with what she was sure he left unspoken. “I wanted to travel more. Cut my hours and see the world. Give back where I could.”

  Amal’s heart gave a squeeze, and her smile returned full force. “Did I ever mention I’d love to travel, too? Because if I didn’t, I do.”

  “Actually, you did.” He slung her a half-smile. “That hasn’t changed. You talked about seeing as much of the world as possible when we were younger. And that was before I ever dreamed to call America my second home.”

  “You consider Hargeisa your first home?”

  “I do,” he said, nodding and pursing his lips. He looked to be giving his next words some thought before he spoke again. “I might not desire living there at the moment, but someday I’d like to return for more frequent visits. Maybe even build a home close to my mother, so I’ll have an excuse to make the long flight over.”

  “I’m glad I still want to travel,” she said. “I don’t always feel certain of my emotions and thoughts anymore.” Then she looked to him and asked, “What else?”

  He rubbed his beard—a nervous tic she realized. She was worried that he’d finally shut the door to her inquisitiveness. So he pleasantly surprised her when he said, “We spoke about my family, and yours.”

  At the mention of her family, Amal grew both hot and terribly cold.

  “Bashir was often giving you a headache, waffling about his schooling. He’s always had a good head on his shoulders, and a big heart, so it’s no shock he switched from business to medicine. He’ll make a great doctor.”

  “Pharmacist,” she corrected, smiling warmly. “Last I spoke with him, he wanted to be a pharmacist.”

  “A great pharmacist, then. I have no doubt.” Manny lowered his hand from his jaw. “And Abdulkadir is happy running his travel agency? I take it that hasn’t changed.”

  “Yes, he’s very happy,” she replied. She spoke often enough to
Abdulkadir to know he was doing well, financially and physically. “Both my brothers are doing well, and it’s eased a burden off my chest that I may or may not have felt before the amnesia.”

  “You always worried about them,” Mansur said.

  Amal blinked fast, her eyes pinching, hot with quick tears. She wiped them quickly, gasping a laugh. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s come over me.”

  Mansur’s hand on her forearm stilled her. She turned to him. Their bodies were mere inches apart. She could take a step forward and their chests would be touching. Amal had felt what that was like when he’d carried her uphill on his back. It had taken every bit of control to keep herself from squirming when his hands were on her, her front to his back. Now she warmed again, just like before, flushing all over at the naughty part of her that wanted to recreate those electrifying sensations once more.

  She wasn’t crying now.

  “You care for your family a lot. That part of you hasn’t and won’t likely ever change.” He dropped his hand from her. “It’s not something to be ashamed of either...something to feel sorry over.” He paused, and then said, “I envy that in you. And I know that you caring for my mom makes my heart rest easier when I can’t be by her side myself. So, thank you.”

  She shook her head, stopping when she glimpsed his stern look. He wasn’t going to accept any more of her self-deprecation it seemed, so she gave up. “You’re welcome,” she whispered, and knew that he heard her.

  They walked in silence, continuing to the base of the hill.

  When they got down, Amal steeled her nerves and asked, “Did I speak about my father?” Her voice barely a whisper when she asked.

  Mansur gazed deep into her eyes before he dipped his head.

  That opened a floodgate for her. “He visited me right after I came home from the hospital.” Amal paced forward, then wound back to his side and peered up at him. “Your mother would’ve thrown him out, but I asked her to let him in to see me. I thought that he had traveled to Hargeisa when he’d heard I was in the hospital. Abdulkadir had seen him, and warned me like your mother. But I didn’t listen. I shouldn’t have let him in.”