by Ann Mcintosh
A cowardly way of dealing with the problem, which had now been taken away.
And she’d spent no time planning for her departure, ignoring the coming eventuality as though to do so would make it go away. Now she had to consider how to get not only herself but her grandfather and Coconut back to Canada too.
She’d have to ask Farhan, but he’d retreated into the stern, stoic man she’d first met; unfailingly polite but cool and distant, and Sara tried to be the same.
It was the hardest, most heartbreaking situation she’d ever been in, but she knew leaving was really for the best.
She didn’t want Farhan’s friendship, his companionship, or protection alone. She wanted his love as well. And nothing less would do.
Throwing herself into work at the hospital was an outlet for the nervous energy inside, and it became lifesaving, allowing her to focus on something other than her dumpster fire of a life.
Just went to prove that being royalty, and rich, didn’t make life all rosy.
Additional pressure from her sisters didn’t help.
Mariah called to ask whether Sara was sending extra money home.
“It’s the least you can do, to help Mom and Dad,” she said.
But Sara wasn’t falling for that. The time to stand firm with everyone in her life had come, finally.
“I’ve made arrangements to buy Mom and Dad a house, and I’ll be taking care of the house expenses, but beyond that, I’m not taking responsibility for all of you anymore.”
Even if it meant working herself to the bone to make sure they were secure, while also paying Farhan back. Despite his saying he wouldn’t take her money, she was still determined to do it.
When Mariah spluttered and started trying to guilt Sara into more, she put her foot down.
“Listen,” she told her sister. “You need to get your life together, and I’m willing to help you do it, but I’m not indiscriminately throwing money your way. You and Cyndi need to grow up and start taking responsibility for yourselves. You deserve more than you’re allowing yourself to achieve.”
That was the furthest she was willing to go, and she was drawing a line in the sand.
She couldn’t bring herself to be as firm with her parents, but she’d noticed there were fewer calls and texts since Nonni had accepted the nurse and things had settled down for Aunt Jackie. Sara knew their dependence on her had been her own fault and she was resigned to continuing as she’d started, but maybe because of the distance they were finding their own way.
When she went back, it wouldn’t be to London anyway. It was time to use her new-found assurance to advance in her career.
Now, drying her silly tears, she went to wash their tracks off her face, to make sure Farhan wouldn’t know they had ever been there. Their breakfasts together were sporadic. She’d gotten into the habit of checking his schedule to get an idea of what time he’d be departing for the hospital in the morning. That way, sometimes she left earlier than he did, or vice versa, neither wanting to spend more time with the other than necessary. This morning, however, she planned to let him know there was no chance of them having conceived, glad it would mean her time with him, here, was up.
Staying in Kalyana was breaking her heart. It was as though love was all around her, yet just out of her reach. Her feelings for Farhan hadn’t changed, even knowing Farhan didn’t even care enough about her to truly get to know her, the way she felt she knew him.
Yet, did she really know him? She could have sworn there was more between them than just sex, or even friendship, but, then, what did she know? Thirty-one years old or not, in the end she’d turned out to be a silly virgin, falling for the first man who’d shown her any attention.
The thought was dismal, made her doubt some of the very attributes she prided herself on, like the ability to read people, to get a true sense of who they were. Damn him for not only breaking her heart but for making her doubt herself too.
Then she shook her head, knowing she’d done those things to herself, when she’d let herself fall in love with him.
Bracing herself, she left her room about the time she thought he’d be finishing breakfast.
Walking into the dining room, she saw him in his place at the table, reading a newspaper, and her heart stumbled over itself.
He was so handsome, even with slight bags under his eyes, and weary lines, which hadn’t been there before, bracketing his mouth. He’d taken on a heavy surgical load, and the stress of doing that, along with his royal duties, showed.
Perhaps her news might lighten his load a little. It would be one less thing to worry about.
Taking a steadying breath, she walked to her chair. Hearing her footsteps, Farhan raised his head, and then stood.
“Good morning,” he said, in his cool, measured way.
“Good morning,” she replied, taking her seat. The attendant brought her tea, and she thanked him, then told him she would serve herself from the array of food on the sideboard. He melted away, knowing he would be summoned if needed thereafter.
“Will you still be going to the airport today?”
Farhan was looking back down at his newspaper as he asked, as though he couldn’t even be bothered to meet her gaze while they spoke. It made her unbearably sad.
“Of course,” she replied. “Is the flight still scheduled to arrive at ten?” Her grandfather was due to arrive from the south; arrangements Farhan had informed her of by text the day before. It was one more thing to worry about. How was she going to explain to Grandfather that, just as he’d come to live with her, she would be leaving?
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Kavan will take you there. Will you be here, or at the hospital?”
The thought of mooching about the palace for three hours didn’t appeal.
“At the hospital.”
“I’ll inform him.”
“Thank you.”
She turned her attention to her tea, depression settling like a cloak on her shoulders. Even in the beginning, when they’d hardly known each other, there’d been more ease between them. Now she felt as though Farhan had excised her cleanly, surgically, from his life in every important way there was.
Suddenly she was fiercely glad it would soon be over. To spend the rest of her life trapped in a marriage to a man she loved but who treated her with cool disdain would be intolerable.
Sara took a deep breath, knowing she should tell him but suddenly not wanting to, anxiety chewing at her insides at the thought of his no doubt cold reaction.
“I thought you should know, I’m not pregnant.”
His head came up, and an expression she couldn’t interpret crossed his face. His eyes flashed, as he stared at her, and then the stoic, controlled mask was firmly back in place.
“Thank you for telling me,” was all he said, before looking back at the paper, leaving her breathless and bereft.
* * *
Farhan stared at the newspaper, the print dancing in front of his eyes, making no sense.
If he was honest, once Sara had entered the room he’d been unable to concentrate, reading the same lines over and over, the words having no meaning to his muddled brain.
Disappointment twisted in his belly, and he clenched one hand into a fist on his lap. She’d stated it so simply, without inflection, leaving him at a loss, unable to tell how she felt about the issue, left adrift on his own acidic sea of pain.
And for all his plans never to be a father, his surety he would turn out unfit for the task, regret ate at him now, and her words, when she’d accused him of never knowing her at all, still haunted him.
Locking it all away, the way he always did, had become almost impossible. She was on his mind almost every single waking moment. And now he faced the fact there was no reason for her to remain in Kalyana.
They should discus
s her departure, all the plans that needed to be put in place for it to happen.
Instead he folded the paper and stood, leaving his half-eaten breakfast on the table.
“I’ll let you know if there is any delay in Mr. Raj’s flight.”
By the time she said, “Thank you,” he was already going out the door.
His cellphone rang as he was crossing the living room and, although he didn’t feel like talking to anyone, he answered.
“Yes, Maazin?”
“I thought you should know, Cyclone Blandine has strengthened, and the meteorologists are beginning to think it will come this way.”
Farhan stopped, forcing his full concentration on what his brother was saying. Kalyana was usually outside the path of storms in the Indian Ocean, but this one had formed further south than usual, and they’d been keeping an eye on it for the last couple of days.
“Do they have a prediction of when it might hit?”
“They’re still not completely sure it will. There’s some debate about whether wind shear will slow it down and eventually change the path, but I think we should continue making preparations.”
“Yes,” Farhan replied. They’d already put the emergency plan into action, but there was so much else that needed to be done. “By the time they know for sure whether the islands will get hit or not, it would be too late to get everything done otherwise.”
“I’m putting together a further action plan right now, and I’ll email it to you. Are you operating over the next few days, or will you be available to help?”
“All my scheduled surgeries are elective, so I’ll cancel them. Better to not take the chance of having a patient with unexpected complications swell the ranks of the hospitalized. I’ll get started on checking with the other hospitals, and making sure they’re following emergency procedures.”
“Good.” Maazin was in full commander mode, his armed forces training kicking in. “Go over the emergency management plan, so you’re fully briefed by the time you get the further action plan.”
As he hung up the phone, Farhan was already thinking two steps ahead, although he was relatively sure Cyclone Blandine wouldn’t come anywhere near them. Every few years there was a scare like this, but the prevailing winds usually kept the brunt of the storms offshore, with little or no landfall. And even when Kalyana was affected, it was just outer bands bringing rain and moderately high winds.
But it was better to take all the precautions and not need to than to be caught flat-footed.
“Farhan.”
He turned to find Sara standing in the doorway from the dining room. Her face looked pale, and he could see how she gripped the doorjamb, as though to hold herself up.
He was about to ask if she was okay when she said, “Please make arrangements for me to leave, and for my grandfather to follow, if he wants to. As soon as possible.”
Then, before he could reply, she walked away, her back straight, head high, leaving him suddenly unable to catch his breath.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
FARHAN STOOD IN the air traffic control tower at Huban International, and watched the smaller of the two royal jets taxi to the end of the runway. As it turned its nose into the wind, preparing for takeoff, his stomach twisted, his chest aching with a sensation he didn’t want to name.
Sara was onboard, leaving. Going back to where she belonged, he told himself for the millionth time.
For expediency’s sake, they’d told everyone she had a family emergency, which necessitated her returning to Canada.
“It’ll be easier right now, what with all the preparations you’re all doing in case the cyclone comes close,” she said, her voice distant, as though she was already gone. “Once I’m settled, you can arrange for Grandfather and Coconut to join me.”
Mr. Raj was the one person she’d been honest with. At least, Farhan assumed she’d been honest with her grandfather, since he’d agreed to go to Canada, but he hadn’t been privy to the conversation. All he knew was Mr. Raj, while still as polite as before, had given him what could only be described as sorrowful looks the last time they’d met. But he hadn’t expressed an opinion, or offered any advice, for which Farhan was immensely grateful.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, but Farhan ignored it, all his attention on the jet. He distantly heard the pilot ask for clearance, the familiar call sign making him clench his teeth with the effort not to tell the controller to deny them the right to take off.
Letting her go was the right thing to do. Why, then, did it feel so wrong?
Then, before it seemed he even had time to blink, the jet was airborne, banking, turning northwest.
He watched it until it was out of sight, frozen inside, thankfully numb.
As he finally forced his feet to move his phone buzzed again, and this time he answered.
“Yes, Maazin?”
“Father wants to see us both in his office. Have you left the airport yet?”
“On my way out now. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Did Sara get off okay?”
Just hearing her name threatened to break him, but he simply said, “Yes. See you at the palace.”
They’d all been working flat out, trying to make sure everything in the emergency management plan was implemented, while Blandine waltzed back and forth in the Indian Ocean like a deadly flirt. Each time they thought they were clear, she sashayed south again, and they were back on alert. No doubt Uttam wanted an update on their preparedness, but Farhan wasn’t in a position to add much to any discussions.
Oh, he’d done his part. Flying to Agung to take supplies and make sure the hospital there was following protocols, as well as overseeing the plan to evacuate people from some of the outlying clinics if necessary. But it had all been done on autopilot, his entire brain taken up with thoughts of Sara leaving.
Now, settling back in the car, he tried to get up to speed on what had been happening elsewhere, but couldn’t concentrate on the emails Maazin and others had sent. Instead, his mind insisted on taking him back through every moment of the time with Sara, from the jolt of attraction he’d felt that first night on her doorstep, to the moment she’d said goodbye.
“Be well, Farhan. Be happy.” He’d wanted to answer, but his throat wouldn’t work. It had been the expression in her eyes that had rendered him mute. One he recognized, but, even after all they’d shared, still didn’t want to name.
He started as Kavan shut off the SUV, realizing they were already at the palace, although he couldn’t remember a moment of the drive.
Get yourself together.
He needed to be on his toes to deal with his father right now.
The meeting went fairly quickly, with Maazin, thankfully, carrying most of the load, but when they rose at the end, Uttam said, “Farhan, a word.”
Suppressing a sigh, he sank back down into the chair, was surprised when his father dismissed his aide, who usually stayed at his side in all meetings. Uttam fussed with some papers on his desk for a moment, leaving Farhan to wonder what, exactly, was going on.
When the door closed behind the others, his father finally turned his attention to Farhan.
“When is Sara coming back?”
He should have known it would be what was on his father’s mind. It was the first time Farhan was glad his father’s vision was so poor, so he couldn’t see how the question caused his son to flinch.
“When she’s settled things in Canada, sir.”
“It was a bad time for her to leave, right in the middle of the preparations for the cyclone.”
Farhan felt his hackles rise, but he kept his voice level, as he replied, “Sara did her part before she left. She ended up taking charge of the patient audit, and did a great job of it.”
Uttam waved a hand. “I know.” Then he shifted in his chair, as though uncomfortable, before continuin
g, “I would feel better knowing she was here to keep an eye on you, if the storm comes.”
The words rocked Farhan back in his chair, literally. Then he understood. His father worried about losing another heir.
“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll be careful.”
Uttam shook his head. “It doesn’t matter if you are, Farhan. It won’t stop me worrying about you, and your brother. Both of you have the drive to serve others, and would put yourselves in danger to do it, no matter the cost. It is a good attribute, and one of the many reasons I’m proud of you, so I suppose I shouldn’t complain.”
Too shocked to reply, Farhan stared across at his father, who had his chin tipped up and was looking down his nose, clearly uncomfortable with his unaccustomed display of emotion.
“Sara reminded me that just because I missed opportunities to speak or offer praise before, it doesn’t mean new opportunities wouldn’t arise. I felt this was one I shouldn’t let pass. I grew up in a different era, Farhan. One where men didn’t express how they felt, and were expected to keep everything locked inside. It became habitual for me, but I’m glad to know you don’t have to follow suit. It will make you a better husband and father than I have been.”
It was like looking in a mirror, but seeing his own reflection clearly for the first time, hearing a truth only his father, his mirror image, could tell.
Emotion wasn’t the enemy. Locking it away was.
Sara too had tried to tell him that he didn’t have to follow his father’s lead, but he hadn’t listened, too intent on holding onto past hurts, so as not to experience them again. And, in the process, he’d lost the best gift life could have given him.
Sara.
He rose, then hesitated. Found the words, then said them. “Thank you, Father. This means more to me than you could know.”
* * *
Sara had the private lounge in Dubai International Airport to herself, and was glad of it. A steward fussed over her, until she told him, kindly but firmly, that she had all she needed.