by Carol Grace
“We need to talk,” she said, knowing she had to face the music. Knowing it wasn’t going to get any easier.
“I thought we were talking,” he said, pouring her a cup of coffee.
“I mean about our engagement. About, you know, how to dissolve it.”
“Is that what you want to do?” he asked carefully.
“It doesn’t matter what I want to do. It’s what has to be done. We’ve been living a lie. It’s not important to the people at my school, but your parents have got to know the truth.”
He studied her face for a long moment. “All right, I’ll tell them.”
“What will you tell them?”
“That it didn’t work out. What do they call it? Irreconcilable differences. A mutual agreement to disagree. Of course they won’t be happy about it.”
“They’ll be angry with you.”
“Probably. But I can handle them. We can still see each other, can’t we?” he asked.
“What for?” She had to make a clean break. No more Rafik. If she sounded brusque, so be it. If she continued to see him, it would break her heart.
He looked taken aback. “I’ll miss you,” he said. “I can’t imagine not seeing you. I guess you don’t feel the same.”
“Of course I’ll miss you,” she said, “but I can’t depend on you forever. You’ve spoiled me terribly and I have to get back on my feet, both literally and figuratively. You’ve missed a week’s worth of work. Don’t you think it’s time to get back to your life?”
“My life before you came into it? I can’t remember what it was like.”
“All the more reason for you to do whatever it is you do. Now that I can walk, I have to get caught up. The summer’s half over and I haven’t accomplished half of what I’d planned.”
She was proud of herself for sounding so matter-of-fact. Proud of herself for not giving in to the tears that were building behind her eyes. That threatened to overwhelm her. She was afraid if he didn’t go soon she’d fall apart. She’d beg him to stay. She’d implore him to stay engaged to her. She’d collapse under the weight of her secret love.
He got to his feet and leaned against the counter. “I guess I wasn’t ready for this,” he said. “I didn’t realize how much I was holding you back.”
“I didn’t mean that,” she said. “You’ve been a wonderful help to me and I’ll never forget it. I’ll never forget you.”
He stared at her. His face paled under his bronzed skin. “That sounds like goodbye,” he said.
She swallowed hard. She tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. She didn’t move. She couldn’t, not when she felt like she was made of stone. If he kissed her she’d lose her composure altogether. She willed him to leave. Now. Without another word. Leave her to suffer alone. Leave him with a positive picture of her, cured of a sprained ankle and cured of her attachment to him. Free of pain. Back to normal. But she didn’t know what normal was anymore.
He got the message. “Well, goodbye then, Anne. I wish you the best.”
She forced a smile. “Thank you.” She got up and walked him to the door.
This time she barely got the door shut before the tears came, rolling down her cheeks, hot and heavy. She’d got what she wanted. She’d gotten rid of Rafik. Forever. Yes, it hurt. But better now than later. She’d get over it. It was all a fantasy, anyway. A dream that couldn’t come true. Falling in love with a sheik was doomed for failure, disappointment and let-down.
It would have been easier if she’d been teaching. If there had been a class of eager little children waiting for her each morning so that she’d have to get up and pull herself together. But it was summer vacation. She hosted the bird-watchers’ group, heard them exclaim about what she’d done to the garden, heard them make suggestions about further plantings, but after they left, she felt let-down.
According to their suggestions, she made a list and ordered more plants from the nursery, so many they covered every available space, stacked high in her shed and on every plot of dirt. She might have overdone it, but that way the garden wouldn’t feel empty without Rafik. So she thought. And it would provide her with a reason to get up in the morning.
Still she had to force herself to go to the garden every morning. Once there, she’d sit and sip tea and stare at the chaos she’d created, overwhelmed by the amount of work she had to do, feeling more alone than she ever had in her life. It was his fault. His fault for making himself a part of her life. Her fault for letting him do it.
She turned off her phone just in case he tried to call her. If she heard his voice she might crumble. She might blurt out a confession that would embarrass them both. When there was a knock on her gate one morning, she jumped out of her bench. Her heart pounded like a jackhammer. But it wasn’t Rafik.
It was Rafik’s brother, Rahman. She felt all the air leave her lungs. She was crushed, but she was relieved as well.
“I tried to call you but I got a busy signal,” he said.
“Come in,” she said, opening the gate. “How are you?”
“I’m fine but the family is falling apart. Ever since Rafik told the parents he wasn’t going to marry you.”
“Oh, no. I hope he put at least half the blame on me. You know it wasn’t all his idea to call it off.”
“It wasn’t? He said it was. He said he wanted to be a playboy again. You can imagine how that went over.”
“Do you believe him?” she asked.
Rahman shook his head. “He’s changed. I can’t believe how he’s changed. He’s working night and day. And he’s in a foul temper. You’d think Father would be pleased about his new work ethic, but he’s not. He’s furious with Rafik. He wants a daughter-in-law. He wants you.” Rahman pointed his finger at Anne.
“But as you know, Rafik doesn’t want a wife. He may not be a playboy anymore, but he still doesn’t want to get married. He doesn’t want me. Maybe if I went to see your father and explained that I can’t marry Rafik. Not because he’s a playboy but…but…No, I’ll say I can’t marry him because I don’t love him.”
“Don’t you?”
She bit her lip. She couldn’t lie anymore. Not to Rafik’s brother. Not to anyone. What did it matter? It was over. All over.
“You don’t need to answer,” Rahman said. “I can see the answer in your eyes. Just as I thought.”
“It doesn’t matter how I feel,” Anne said. “What’s important is that I share the blame for this breakup. I knew it was going to happen from the beginning. I was a willing participant. Now I have to accept my responsibility. I’ll go see your father and tell him…tell him something.”
“It’s worth a try,” Rahman said.
The next day Anne dressed carefully in her one good suit and went to call on the old sheik. She didn’t make an appointment, and she hoped to avoid running into Rafik. She was lucky. She didn’t see Rafik, and she was ushered into the corner office where Rafik’s father was in charge.
Massoud Harun stood up and greeted her warmly, asking her to sit down and offering to send for some tea. Anne shivered inside her suit jacket knowing that as soon as she’d spoken her piece, he wouldn’t be feeling nearly so cordial toward her. Then he sat down and flexed his gnarled fingers thoughtfully for a long moment.
“To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” he asked finally in his usual formal manner.
“I feel it’s my duty to tell you what happened between your son and me,” she said. “I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed. It was I who called off the engagement.”
“Oh?” he said.
She took a deep breath. “You see I have never been in love with Rafik.”
Instead of being shocked, Sheik Massoud just nodded as if she’d said it looked like rain. “I understand that,” his father said. “In my country love is not a prerequisite for marriage. Most often, as in my case, marriage is arranged by the family, based on mutual respect and understanding. Very often, love follows marriage. But this is America. You’re
an American. If it wasn’t love, then tell me why you agreed to this engagement in the first place.”
Anne’s mind raced. She could have said she never had agreed to it, that she’d been pressured into it by the very man who was sitting opposite her. But she wasn’t there to make things worse, she was there to heal a family quarrel. She should have had a backup plan, but she never dreamed not being in love wasn’t a good excuse for calling off an engagement.
“For money,” she said impulsively. “I wanted his money.”
The old sheik regarded her solemnly. “Money, is it? How much?”
“Enough to buy acres of marshland for a bird sanctuary. It would cost millions.”
“Money is not a problem. Is money all you really want?” His gaze was shrewd and intense.
Anne nodded and turned away, unable to look into his eyes. He saw too much. Murmuring some excuse, she stood and left the room. Blinded by tears she rushed down the hall, out of the office and down the elevator. The only good thing about the meeting was that she hadn’t run into Rafik. But what else had she accomplished by lying to an old man? Nothing. She hadn’t even made sense. She’d told him she didn’t love Rafik and that she only wanted his money.
His father was probably scratching his head right now trying to understand why she’d broken the engagement. It wasn’t as if Rafik had gone bankrupt. He was still rich. As his father said, money was not a problem. So what was the problem? The problem was that she’d fallen in love with a man who had no intention of getting married, and she had no intention of having an affair with him, even though he was the most attractive, the kindest and the sexiest man she’d ever met. But those were words she could never say to the man’s father.
If Rafik thought hard work would impress his father he was wrong. He’d been working night and day since the day Anne told him not only did she want to dissolve their engagement, she didn’t even want to see him anymore. He’d walked around in shock for a few days, then he’d decided to put his energies to work and try to forget about her. But he didn’t forget about her, her face appeared before him when he least expected it. In the middle of a meeting, in the middle of the night when he tossed and turned in his bed trying to figure out what he’d done wrong. Trying to think of how he could persuade her to see him again. And his father continued to glower at him.
Until one day he called him into his office.
“I owe you an apology,” his father said. “Your ex-fiancée was here to see me. She said it was her idea to terminate your engagement. You led me to think otherwise.”
Anne, here? Anne came to see his father but not him? It shouldn’t hurt so much to hear that, but it did. Why didn’t she just thrust a knife in his chest and be done with it? “Does it matter?” Rafik asked wearily.
“I think it does,” his father said. “The woman told me the reason was she didn’t love you.”
“That’s true,” Rafik said. “Our engagement was based on mutual need. Not love.” If she loved him she wouldn’t have been so eager to call it off. She wouldn’t have shoved him out of her life. She wouldn’t have let him go so abruptly. She would have called him by now, told him how much she’d missed him, as he’d missed her. Or come to see him to tell him she couldn’t live without him. Told him how she couldn’t sleep at night just as he couldn’t. She would have an ache in the middle of her chest as he did, a hollow feeling inside his ribs. She would not be able to eat, would have trouble concentrating. She wouldn’t see the point in going on without him. That’s how people felt when they were in love. He knew because he…he…he was in love. Absurdly, impossibly, unequivocally in love with Anne Sheridan. The realization hit him with the force of a thunderbolt.
Massoud got out of his chair. “Are you all right?” he asked anxiously. “You’re pale. Let me get you a glass of water.”
“Thank you,” Rafik said, staring at the wall, but seeing nothing. Gratefully, he took the glass from his father and downed it.
“If I may continue,” his father said. “She told me she wasn’t in love with you, but I don’t believe she was telling the truth.”
“I’m afraid she was, Father,” he said grimly.
“As you know, I’m somewhat of a student of human nature. Her words said one thing, but her face and her eyes said quite another. I believe she has fallen in love with you although she did not wish to admit it to me. Instead she invented a story about being after your money so she could have a bird refuge.”
“Very creative, but neither is true. She made it quite clear that she doesn’t love me and though she does want a bird refuge, she wasn’t after me for my money. I’m quite sure of that.”
“What do you intend to do about it?” his father asked.
“Buy her the bird refuge,” Rafik said. “Though it must be our secret. If I have a chance to convince her to fall in love with me, it must be for myself and not out of gratitude.”
“Of course,” his father said. “But how…?”
Rafik shook his head. “I don’t know how…I just know I must try. Because life without Anne is miserable. The last time I broke an engagement, or rather my fiancée broke it, I felt only relief. So much relief I decided never to try again. I would play the field and that way avoid another situation like that. But this is different. Very different. I’ve never felt the way I feel about Anne. I feel that I’m not worthy. So before I go any further in my pursuit of her, I intend to make a success of this business. I have to prove to you, and myself and Anne that I’m not the playboy I once was.”
His father was unable to conceal his broad smile. He patted his son on the back. “That’s my boy,” he said.
After Anne’s conversation with Massoud Harun she was at a loss to know what to do next. She turned her phone back on because she thought she’d hear from someone in his family. She thought she’d hear from Rahman at least, telling her her attempt had failed. That his father still blamed Rafik for their breakup. She thought she might hear from Rafik, but why would he call her? He’d walked out of her house and out of her life. Instead she got a call from Sally, her bird-watching friend who’d helped her get ready for the gala.
“Did you hear the news?” Sally asked breathlessly. She didn’t wait for an answer, she was too excited. “We got the bird sanctuary. All twenty-five acres of marshland.”
“I don’t believe it,” Anne said, sinking into a chair at her kitchen table. “How…? Who…?”
“An anonymous donor,” Sally said. “Isn’t it wonderful? All that land for the birds for nesting and feeding. All the bake sales and car washes we had, raising nickels and dimes. Then someone comes along and buys the whole thing.”
“I thought we’d asked every foundation, every philanthropist around for the money. How did this happen out of the blue?”
“I don’t know. I heard from Liz who heard from Andy who heard…I don’t know,” she repeated. “And I don’t think we ever will know. Some bird lover, obviously, who wants to remain anonymous.”
After she hung up, Anne went outside and paced up and down in her garden.
Money is not a problem, she heard the old man say. Is money all you really want?
Could it be? No, of course not. Why would he buy the marshland when his son wasn’t going to marry her? Maybe as a consolation prize? Though you tried to convince me otherwise, it was plain to see that you’ve fallen in love with my son. It was written all over your face. I’m sorry that he has no intention of marrying you, but you can have your marshland. Please don’t think all sheiks are alike. Have a nice day. No, that was ridiculous. Even rich people didn’t throw their money around like that.
Anne decided to put such useless speculation out of her mind. Instead she hired two high school boys to help her with her garden. She intended to have it finished by the time school started in two weeks and she did. Throwing herself into the work, she told herself it had all been a dream—everything that had happened so far that summer. The dream was over. This was reality. The boys arrived every morning a
t eight and worked like demons. She made lunch for them and they all worked all afternoon. She knew people said that the young generation, Generation Y, was lazy, but whoever said that didn’t know these boys. She tipped them handsomely at the end of the summer, and they went back to school with their wallets bulging as well as their muscles.
The garden looked wonderful. They’d paved a flagstone walkway, planted native plants that attracted birds and more fruit trees. The trellis was covered with vines.
I have a garden that I’m working on that would be perfect for a wedding.
Why had she ever first voiced that thought to Rafik’s mother? Now she couldn’t get it out of her mind. Couldn’t stop imagining the chairs set up, the punch bowl, the minister in his black robe….
Anne went back to school with much relief, some eagerness and a little apprehension. On the first day, when the teachers got together in the lounge before class, she was able to deflect questions about her engagement. When asked about a wedding date, she was vague. She never said she wasn’t engaged anymore, but it was obvious she didn’t have a ring. And most people were too polite to pry.
Her students were a joy and the best she’d ever had. Of course she said that every year, but this year it was true. It was so good to look forward to school each day and to have lessons to prepare and papers to correct every evening. It left her less time to think about Rafik. To wonder if her talk with his father had done any good. She feared not. The old man had seemed to see right into her mind and know exactly what she was up to. She’d tried. But maybe she could have tried harder. She thought about the bird refuge, too, and wondered if she’d ever know who’d donated it.
A few weeks after school started, open house was held at Pinehurst School. It was a chance for parents to see what their child’s teacher and her classroom looked like. Anne bought a new dress for the occasion. A simple sheath in a raspberry color with a matching cashmere cardigan. She wore it with a three-strand pearl choker and just for a moment as she stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, giving herself a last critical look, she wished she were dressing for someone other than parents.
