by Holly Rayner
She was standing on the sidewalk and debating whether to go inside when his cab screeched to a halt in front of her. She smiled.
“Thanks for coming,” she said, sliding into the backseat.
“Anytime, Sarah Chamberlain.”
“You can just call me Sarah,” she said with a lopsided grin.
“All right, Sarah. Where is it you need to go?”
“Ferat, please.”
“Ferat? Why would anyone need to go there? There is nothing in Ferat.”
“I’m not entirely sure that’s true, Fariq.”
Fariq shrugged, putting the car into gear and speeding off toward the highway.
“If you say so. Still, I can’t imagine what anyone would want in that tiny little village. Didn’t you say you were looking for someone?”
“I did. I never got a chance to finish my story.”
Fariq pulled onto the highway, which was only two lanes. Sarah realized then just how small of a country Al Jayah really was. Part of her liked that about the place. It was easy to get around, and the scenery was beautiful. She spent the rest of the car ride catching up Fariq on her story.
“So, you are searching for a little boy who is no longer little,” Fariq said. “That is quite the task you’ve set yourself.”
“Yes, but for some reason it matters to me to find him and give him his letter back.”
“I think it would be much easier just to have an arranged marriage. Don’t you?”
Sarah laughed. “I’m not looking to get married,” she said, and Fariq scoffed.
“You should be. A beautiful girl like you? You deserve nothing but the best, Sarah Chamberlain. What do you hope to find when you find this Ali Al-Jamil?”
Sarah thought about that for a moment. It was a question she had begun asking herself the moment she’d stepped off the plane in a foreign country. What was she looking for?
“Closure,” she decided, staring out the window as the city melted into forested countryside.
Beyond the open fields and woods, the sandy mountains towered around everything, giving Sarah the sensation of being safely enclosed. Fariq let her have the last word, and they drove on silently down an empty highway. Soon Sarah saw a few scattered houses that made up a small village.
Fariq drove through the main street of the village, and Sarah gazed around at the people as they walked by, their heads down.
“People don’t exactly smile a lot in this country, do they?” Sarah asked.
Fariq sighed. “Not to people they don’t know, really. We are a very loyal bunch of people—we stick to our own, and we mind our own business. I am a bit of an outcast in that way, because I love talking to and meeting new people. There is so much one can learn. It’s the reason I became a taxi driver, though you are one of the first customers I’ve had who is willing to talk to me as a friend.”
“I am happy to be your friend, Fariq,” Sarah said, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror.
Fariq smiled and pulled the cab over to the side of the road.
“Well in that case, as a friend, I advise you to keep your wits about you. I don’t think you’ll get a very friendly reception up here.”
Sarah opened the door and stepped out before looking back inside.
“I have to try. Would you mind waiting while I search for information? I can make it worth your while.”
Fariq waved a hand at her. “Go on and search for your lost boy. I’ll be here. There’s no one traveling at this time anyway. It is a work day, you know.”
Sarah nodded and gave him her thanks as she closed the door and turned toward the shuttered faces of Ferat.
“Here goes nothing,” she muttered, and she walked off in search of Ali.
Chapter Eight
The people of Ferat were less friendly than the people of the capital city. Sarah did her best to try to make eye contact with someone, but the people she passed by either kept their eyes on the ground as they darted past her or cast her a wary glance before moving on. Seeing a small café, she stepped inside, hoping she might get some help there.
The tables were filled with people chatting away, but when Sarah walked in the room went completely silent. She cleared her throat.
“Hi there. Obviously I’m not from here, but I’ve come looking for someone—a man named Ali Al-Jamil. Does anyone know if he’s here?”
A few of the people looked at her with interest before turning back to their conversations, leaving Sarah to be generally ignored again. She sighed in frustration, resisting the urge to stamp down her foot.
“I think I can help you,” a voice said from behind her.
Turning, Sarah met the gaze of an elderly woman with kind eyes and a curved back. She was clearly very old, but there was a youthful glow in her stare that belied her outward appearance.
“That would be wonderful,” Sarah said.
The woman gestured toward the door. “Come. I’ll make you some tea that’s much better than what they sell here.”
Sarah glanced back at the counter to see if the owner of the place had heard, but he was too busy ignoring her to bother with the conversation she was involved in. Turning toward the door, Sarah followed the old woman back out into the street and several houses over, until the woman opened the door to a small cottage and stepped inside.
The house was compact, the furnishings threadbare. Her kitchen had a small gas stove, and the woman put a black kettle on it before lighting it. The subtle smell of gas permeated the air.
“Thank you for offering your help,” Sarah said with a sigh. “It’s been a difficult road to get here.”
The woman stared at Sarah for a long while, taking her in. Sarah began to squirm in her seat as the woman’s gaze held, unwavering, for far too long before she finally spoke.
“What is it you’re looking for with Ali?” she asked.
Sarah pulled out her phone and opened the picture of Ali’s letter before placing it in the woman’s old, liver-spotted hand. The woman pulled out a pair of thick glasses so she could read the letter.
“He wrote this when he was just a boy, I see.”
“Just before his mother died, yes. I found it in Miami, and I came to bring it back to him. I was hoping I could find him by coming to his home village.”
The woman shook her head. Sarah realized suddenly that she was the first person in Al Jayah who hadn’t introduced herself before speaking with her. Perhaps Sarah was not the only unconventional one there.
Her host checked the teapot, which was steaming, and made short business of pouring hot brown liquid into two clay cups before handing one to Sarah. Sarah gently blew on hers to cool it down.
“Ali was a wonderful little boy, though a little wild for some people’s liking. His poor mother was doing the best she could to raise him, but disease took her fast and painfully. Ali was left an orphan at far too young an age. He was housed with another family for some time, but he was only there a few days before he ran away in the night, never to be heard from again.”
The woman sat down heavily next to Sarah and sipped delicately at her cup of tea.
“I knew Nadia fairly well, too. The tragedy of the story, Ali’s abandonment of his village, it all became something of a taboo subject. You might not be surprised then that your arrival, beyond you being an outsider, would be poorly received. No one has spoken the name Al-Jamil for quite some time.”
Sarah sighed, taking a sip from her cup. The tea was delicious, flavorful without needing any kind of sweetener.
“I appreciate you taking me in and explaining all this. So Ali left shortly after he wrote the letter. He could very well be anywhere in the world, couldn’t he?”
The woman nodded. “Could be. Or he could be living wild in the woods, like a caveman. One could never tell where Ali was going to end up. He was a dreamer and a rule breaker. Neither of those traits are smiled upon here. It’s a wonder I’ve lasted so long here myself. Then again, many people have more tolerance for the follies of an
old woman, do they not?”
“I suppose they do,” Sarah said, forcing a small smile.
The truth was, she was devastated. She would find a clue only to take two steps back every time. She finished her tea and thanked the woman before making a polite exit.
“If you do find anything about him, do let me know. I have always wondered what happened to that boy.”
“I will. Thank you,” Sarah said, giving a respectful farewell to the woman as she turned back out of her house and closed the door.
Out on the street alone, Sarah considered heading back to Fariq and his cab. Gazing out across the landscape, she could hear the bubbling river through the trees, and, compelled, she headed in that direction instead. When she reached the wide, shallow waters, she held a hand up to block the sun from her eyes as she looked out at the place her bottle had started.
She tried to imagine the rocky path it had taken, down the river all the way out to sea. She glanced up at a nearby tree and tried to imagine Ali sitting in its branches, writing his letter before he tossed it in. Then she saw a large boulder and reconsidered.
Sarah strode to the boulder and leapt on top of it before sitting down. She knew instantly that that was the place he had written it. She couldn’t tell how she knew, but deep in her bones, she could feel his presence there.
“Where are you, Ali?” she whispered to the wind.
When no one answered, she sat for a few more minutes before calling herself foolish and jumping back down. She made quick work of finding her way back to Fariq, who was leaning against his cab, looking out at nothing in particular. When he saw her, he frowned.
“You don’t look happy,” he said.
“He’s not here.”
“Did you really think he would be?”
“I don’t know, honestly. I guess I’m just running on hope at this point.”
“Hope is fine, but not a good energy source. You should try running on something else.”
“What would you suggest?” she asked.
Fariq thought for a moment before opening the back door to the cab. “Hop in. I think I know something that will cheer you up.”
Unconvinced, Sarah nevertheless thanked him and slid into the backseat of the car. Fariq took off, the dirt from the ground crunching beneath the tires as he sped far away from the tiny village of Ferat. Sarah sat with her chin on her palm, watching the beautiful landscape with a dismal expression.
The countryside began to dissolve as buildings and roads developed more firmly around them. They were back in the city before she knew it, though Fariq wasn’t heading back to her hotel. Instead, he pulled up beside a little restaurant and looked back at Sarah.
“This has the best local food in the whole of Al Jayah. I don’t recall seeing you eat anything today, so perhaps this will brighten your spirits?”
Sarah sighed. “Perhaps.”
“Get something to eat. Everything will seem better with a full belly.”
“I will. Thank you, Fariq. For everything.”
Fariq nodded. “Your hotel is only a few blocks away, but if you’d like another ride, you know my number. I’m happy to assist.”
“You are a lifesaver,” she said, pulling out the fare for the longer ride.
Fariq put up his hands. “It was my pleasure. Keep your money.”
“Fariq, no. That wouldn’t be right!”
“I will not accept it. Perhaps if you had found your lost friend, I would, but I cannot see you so lost and alone and then take money from you as well. Spend it on a good meal, and think of me.”
“Can I buy you an early dinner at least?”
Fariq hesitated, considering it. After a moment, he nodded his head.
“I think that would be fair enough. Let’s eat, shall we?”
He turned off the car and the two of them headed into the restaurant. The interior was circular, like many of the buildings in Al Jayah, and the outer walls were furnished with tables while the center of the room remained empty for the wait staff to move about freely. Fariq asked for a table, and they were quickly seated. Compared to the cold shoulder she had received up north, the city felt like it was glowing with hospitality even as their waiter frowned while taking their order.
“So what are you going to do next?” Fariq asked, taking a sip of clear soda.
Sarah shrugged, toying with her straw. She had ordered a water but had little interest in drinking it. She had offered to eat with Fariq to be polite, and perhaps to have a friend while she was down in a foreign country, but the concept of food was anything but appetizing.
“I wish I knew. I can’t think of where to go next. Ali left Ferat twenty years ago. He could be anywhere. There’s no way I could find another record of his whereabouts on my own.”
Fariq thought on that for some time, sipping from his straw until he made a slurping noise as he tried to suck up the last drops from the bottom.
“What about appealing to the media?” he asked, and Sarah looked up from the table.
“What do you mean?”
“You could always write to the local newspapers. People here are very well read, and this is an interesting story! Talk about human interest. You could write a missive to them and see if he reads it.”
Sarah thought about that. It could work. In any case, it might be her only option. Before she could comment on it, plates of steaming-hot meats and spiced vegetables were set on the table, and, not wanting to offend Fariq, she filled her plate and took a bite.
The food was delicious.
“This is amazing!” she said, her appetite instantly restored.
Fariq smiled, pointing his fork at her. “I told you. Don’t things seem a little better now?”
Sarah took another hearty bite of a spiced beef dish, relishing in the sensation of the perfectly cooked meat as it nearly melted in her mouth.
“You know, I think they do,” she said with a small smile.
They enjoyed a nice dinner, finishing it off with a petite glass of sweet red wine and a custard Sarah had never tasted before. She paid for the meal, and she and Fariq made their exit, happy and full.
“Would you like a ride back to your hotel? Free of charge!”
Sarah grinned. “You are far too nice. You’ll be out of a job if you keep giving people free rides.”
“Only the special ones,” he said with a wink.
Sarah laughed. “Fair enough. I appreciate the offer, but after that meal I think a nice walk would do me a world of good.”
“Suit yourself, Sarah Chamberlain. I hope that our paths will cross again soon. It isn’t very often one meets someone as friendly as you.”
“Likewise. I imagine I will be quite friendless until we meet again.”
“Nonsense. You can win over the people of Al Jayah; it just takes a little bit of time.”
“Something I definitely don’t have.”
“Or so you think,” Fariq said, holing out his hand for her to shake. “This is how they do it where you’re from, right? A hearty handshake?”
Sarah placed her hand in his, squeezing it firmly.
“Exactly. And this is how I say farewell to you,” she said with a bow, her hand on her heart.
“You’ve learned much in your short time here.”
“It’s been quite the experience,” she said, not sure if she was ready for it to end.
She bade one final farewell to Fariq, waving him off as he hopped back into his cab and sped away. She watched until he disappeared, and then she turned in the direction of her hotel.
Sarah had never felt more crestfallen in her entire life. She should have known that this whole trip had just been a failure waiting to happen. Now she was out a couple thousand bucks when she needed to be saving more than ever.
What had she really expected? This had been the obvious outcome all along.
Kicking at a pebble, Sarah kept her eyes down as she made her melancholy way back to her hotel. When she entered her cozy little room, she plopped onto the
couch and stared out at the mountainscape in the distance, thinking of nothing in particular, her mind tired from puzzling out so much so fast. In a flash, Fariq’s words came back to her.
What if she did write a letter to be published in the newspaper?
Sarah’s flight back home was the following day. It had been the cheapest she could do, coming out for only a couple of days, but she knew she would never regret trying. Her mind repeated the question that continued to haunt her.
What if?
As she thought, her body rose of its own will, and before she knew it, she was back at her laptop, penning a letter, asking the world to help her find that missing boy from long ago. She pasted in the picture of the letter from her phone before reading it through several times. Next she found every major newspaper in Al Jayah and submitted her letter to each and every one.
When she was finished, she sat back and stared at the screen.
“If you’re here, Ali, this is my last chance to find you.”
Thinking about heading home the next day without any closure, Sarah ran a weary hand across her eyes before making quick work of going to bed. With a full belly and a tired body, sleep came easier than it had in quite some time.
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Also by Holly Rayner
Sheikhs and Princes
Bought By The Sheikh
Stealing From The Sheikh
The Sheikh’s Captive Woman
Marrying The Sheikh
The Sheikh’s Make-Believe Fiancée
The Sheikh’s Accidental Bride
The Sheikh’s Irresistible Proposal
The Sheikh’s Secret Princess
The Sheikh’s Illicit Affair
The Sheikh’s Purchased Bride
The Sheikh’s Tempted Protectress
The Sheikh’s Captive Love