by MK Schiller
“I’m sorry, Tristan. I am. This does not bring me joy.”
“I gave you the wrong coordinates. You’ll be looking in the wrong spot for the diamonds.”
Elliot’s stance didn’t change, but his smile faltered. “You’re bluffing.”
“Check it. That longitude line isn’t even in this state.”
Elliot stared at the paper and back at Tristan.
Tristan pressed his hand against this wound. “Best part of chess…even a pawn can win. You said that to me once.”
Elliot considered the statement for a moment. “I also said you have no idea when you’ve already lost. You’re bleeding out in my living room, and you’re talking about winning.”
Tristan was losing too much blood too fast. He had no idea how he’d survive. At least he had the knowledge Farah would be safe.
Elliot’s accomplice went inside the bedroom. When he came out, Tristan’s heart collapsed. She had her hands tied behind her back and a gag over her mouth. Her eyes were wide. “You should know by now, I always have a backup plan,” Elliot said. “Did you think I wasn’t following you? Granted, we lost track of you in the woods. Couldn’t exactly have a car in there without you knowing. If you’d given me the right coordinates, this would have been over by now.”
“You would have killed us no matter what.”
“Yes, but it wouldn’t have to hurt.”
“She isn’t part of this.”
Elliot’s laugh sent chills down Tristan’s back. “She wasn’t. She would have been free, at home, safe and sound. You were the one who said you wouldn’t leave if she didn’t come with you. Irony at its best. You’re the one who put her in harm’s way, my boy. Love really does blind you.”
Tristan had to keep Elliot talking. That was the only way. “She doesn’t know where they are.”
“Stop lying.”
“It’s true. I swear. I buried them after I put her on that train. The less she knew, the less danger she was in.”
He pulled Farah closer. A tear ran down her face. He ran the barrel of the pistol against her neck. But Elliot was not a killer. He was nervous. Tristan could see it in his stance, the uncertainty in his expression. The guilt in his eyes. He removed the gag on her mouth. “Where are they? Tell me now.”
He looked at Farah, praying she understood the game. We need time, sweetheart.
“I don’t know,” she said.
Good girl.
Elliot shook his head. “You’re lying. Don’t make me do this. I didn’t want any bloodshed. None. But it all got too big too fast. We could have all been rich. Just tell me what I need to know, and it can all be over.”
“This isn’t you, Elliot.”
“Do you know what I’ve seen over there? The games we play with each other over land, over resources? Tristan, I figured out a long time ago we’re all pieces for someone else to move.”
The sirens came then. They were in the distance, but it would not take long from them to arrive.
The color drained from Elliot’s face. “Take her to the car,” Elliot said to the man beside him. “We have to leave.”
They would keep her alive until they found the diamonds. Tristan was sure of that. But in his last revelation to his uncle, he’d planted a few seeds of doubt. What if Farah didn’t know? Then everything had been for nothing. Elliot had laid down his hand too soon.
Elliot had gotten stuck in his own trap and was out of time. Tristan closed his eyes. He had no more strength. He had just one last card to play. He would wager his life against Elliot’s greed.
He heard her voice come to him. “We’re survivors. You can do this.” He knew she hadn’t said it aloud, but he heard it just the same. It gave him strength.
“I’ll tell you, Elliot. Just let her go.” His vision blurred, but he heard the sound of Elliot’s footsteps coming toward him. He closed his hand around the wooden handle of the knife.
“Tristan,” Elliot said, checking his pulse. “Tell me where they are, and I’ll let her live. I promise. I never meant to harm Drew. This thing became bigger than me.”
Tristan mumbled, making his voice low.
Elliot leaned in closer. “Speak up.”
He summoned strength somewhere deep inside of him. He pulled out the knife. He jabbed the blade into Elliot’s throat. Once. Twice. Three times. Then the world went dark.
Chapter 42
“Where are you?” she asked. “Wherever you are, take me there. I need to be with you.”
Not here, milady. It’s dark here. Too cold.
“It’s never too cold when I’m with you,” she said. “Let me keep you warm.”
Too tired.
“Tristan, please wake up.”
Only sleep.
“I’m praying to every God I know, and I know all of them. Please Tristan, open your eyes.”
She spoke to him like this for hours. He heard the words, fuzzy at first, until they started clearing. The sound of machines, beeping and clicking became clearer too. He felt the squeeze of her hand.
Then he opened his eyes. Even though his vision was blurry, he could see the tears on her cheeks. She’d been crying…a lot. There was a tube in his mouth. He tried to offer her a comforting smile, but it was impossible. The next time he woke up the tube was gone. “Farah.” He barely recognized his own voice.
He wasn’t sure if it was a dream. She looked so relieved. She smiled the dimple smile right before kissing his cheek. “I’m here.”
He tried to sit up, but his whole body screamed in agony. “Farah.”
“Lie back.” She took a glass of water with a straw and held it for him. He choked at first.
“Slow sips, Tristan. I have much to tell you.”
She explained that the wound had been deep. He’d gone into surgery, and they’d removed the bullet. It was touch and go for a while.
Farah had never left him. He felt her presence, although for a while he wasn’t sure if it was on earth or somewhere in heaven.
“You’re safe?” He dared not breathe, afraid she wasn’t real.
“The police surrounded us before he pulled out of the driveway. It was brilliant, Tristan. Your father recorded the conversation. We’re both safe now.”
“I brought you into this,” Tristan said. “You would not have been in danger.”
“Don’t ever say that again. You saved my life in every way.”
“The diamonds?” he asked.
“The police have them. I provided the coordinates. The investigation is almost complete. Many of our theories were correct. They did geological testing. The diamonds were part of the famous Rose Diamond. They were stolen by a high-ranking Nazi official, who happened to be part of a secret expedition on K2. The police interviewed Edelweiss’s descendants and learned that the story had been passed down in their family as part folklore and legend. Apparently, the man was very eccentric and paranoid. Edelweiss’s grandfather planned to bury the diamonds on the summit and come back for them after the war. At that time, no one else had made the summit of K2, and there were only a few attempts. He figured no one ever would.”
Yeah, you couldn’t make this stuff up.
“Wonder why Edelweiss didn’t just quit when he had the diamonds? He could have gone back down.”
Farah shrugged. “I’m not sure, except he was a climber. It’s hard to be so close to the sun and not take flight.”
“Icarus’s Wings,” Tristan said.
“Something like that.”
He tried to sit up again.
“You need to rest,” she said. “I’ll go find your father and tell him you’re awake. He’s been here with me the whole time, but just left to get coffee for us.”
He wanted to see his father, but he needed a moment with her first. “I have something to say to you.”
“It ca
n wait.”
“It cannot.” They had come so close to losing each other way too many times for him to waste another second.
She took a seat. “As you wish. I’m listening.”
“Come closer,” he said. She leaned forward. “I’m not prepared, but I refuse to wait any longer. You need to know what’s in my heart.” He took a deep breath, which hurt.
“Stop.”
“No.” God, he felt so much emotion, but right now his brain wasn’t forming the right words.
Her lip quivered. “Tristan, you need to rest.”
“Stop interrupting me. I may not be able to bend at the knee. I don’t have a ring. I don’t even have words prepared. Those are things you deserve, but we’ve never been people who follow tradition. So I will just ask you, plain and humble and hopeful. Farah Nawaz, we belong together and—”
“No, Tristan.”
“No?”
“Don’t propose to me.”
“Why the hell not?”
Instead of an answer, she handed him a letter. He regarded it with suspicion.
“What is this? Are you trying to kill me, woman?”
Her smile contradicted his fears. “It’s for you. I wrote this the night we camped in the woods in Richmond. But I’ve been thinking these words for much longer. I wanted to give it to you that night, but you needed your focus.”
“If this is a good-bye note, you can have it back. I won’t say good-bye you anymore.” He held it taught, ready to rip the note to shreds.
She clasped his hand. “Is that what you think this is? Oh Tristan, as brilliant as you are, you can be very wrong sometimes.”
“Then what?”
“Don’t you remember? Where I come from the woman chooses her mate.”
He thought back to the day he was invited to the small hut for tea and Farah explained how a Kalash woman proposes. He grinned, relief flooding him like a soothing balm for all his aches. “She writes him a letter.” He fumbled with the paper. His fingers were connected to several devices making it difficult. He let out a frustrated groan and tried to rip them off so he could use his hands.
Farah curled her fingers around his wrist and kissed his cheek. “Let me.” She took the note from him. “Tristan, I’ve been so careful guarding and protecting my heart. I decided long ago freedom and independence were synonyms. But I never bargained for you. A man, who could spark something in me that I didn’t know existed. A man, whose kindness and bravery rivaled the heroes in every book I’d devoured. I thought love was a virus. It had to be. What else could affect the head, the lungs, and the heart all at once? It left me confused and panicked and emotional. It left me full and happy and dizzy too. Love is a virus. But I discovered it’s also the cure.
“I choose you, Tristan Sinclair. I want to walk beside you in this life and all the lives after this. We held hands on top of the world once. But I realize now that whenever I am with you, I’m already standing on top of the world. Kissing you is like kissing the sky. And loving… Well, loving you has been the greatest privilege of my life. I love you. Be mine. Be mine forever. Yours in every way, Farah.” Her voice choked on the last sentence.
“I’m already yours, milady.” He patted the area next to him. He had to hold her right now as much as he had to take his next breath. They barely fit on the narrow hospital bed, but Tristan had no intention of letting her go.
“Am I hurting you?” she asked.
“No. I need you close to me.”
“I love you, Tristan. I never want to hold back again. I don’t care where we live as long as we’re together.”
“I love you too, Farah. We’ll live in Hunza Valley,” he said. “You belong there. I belong next to you. I want our children to know where their mother comes from.”
A single tear fell down her cheek. He kissed it away.
“Are you sure? It won’t be easy, you know.”
“You’re wrong. It will be easy because we will be together. We’re better together. I know the real heartache is being without you.”
“My entire life was built around climbing that mountain. I used to think standing on top of it was my once in a lifetime moment. But I was wrong. Tristan Sinclair, you are my once in a lifetime.”
He kissed her head. “And you’re mine.”
“We were wrong about something else too.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“The Goddess of the Mountain wasn’t jealous of us. She wasn’t after us. She protected us. We could have died a thousand ways, but we didn’t.”
“You’re right.”
They slept, a deep dreamless satisfying sleep, their limbs tangled together. The position should not have been comfortable, but they could not imagine sleeping any other way.
Epilogue
He stood on a clear day in spring underneath the oak tree in the backyard of his family home. He wasn’t nervous. But he was worried. Grandma El was having an exceptionally good day so far, but she now looked displeased. Scratch that, she looked as if she might whoop his ass. He bent down on his knee before the woman. “What’s wrong, Grandma?”
“I don’t approve.”
He stiffened. “Of Farah?”
She waved her hand. “No, silly. I adore Farah. She’s got the right amount of backbone and sass to keep you in line. She is perfect for you.”
“Good, I’m glad we agree. But what has you so upset, Grandma?”
“This wedding. It’s so…non-traditional.”
Tristan nodded. “We really needed something simple. We’ve had a lot of complicated. We need normal now.”
“There is nothing normal about this, Tristan. There are hardly any guests. We’re having it in the backyard under the oak tree like a summer barbeque.”
“I couldn’t think of anything more perfect.” The music queued then. He took his place under the canopy of the tree.
She wore a simple white dress, a few sprigs of jasmine in her hair. She didn’t need extra decoration. She was lovely on her own. His father gave her away. Only a handful of close family came. Farah insisted they spend the last six months in Richmond. It gave Tristan a chance to recuperate and spend time with his family. She’d won over his family, even his father. In fact, she’d helped him mend that relationship.
They had received a generous award for uncovering the diamonds. Enough to fund a school in Hunza and purchase supplies for the children. Farah would teach there. They would have a comfortable life. He could not be prouder of the woman he loved. The one who saved him every single day.
They decided to divide their time between their two homes. It didn’t matter really because they had discovered home was not a place but a feeling. They were each other’s homes.
His heart swelled with every step she took. When she got to him, he pulled her in for a deep kiss.
The pastor cleared his throat. “We’re not at that part yet.”
“I’m sorry,” Tristan said. He could not help himself.
Their guests laughed. When the pastor told them to exchange rings, they both took out small pebbles and placed them in each other’s palms.
Grandma El shook her head. “You couldn’t buy the girl a decent ring? Do you need money?”
Tristan smiled at his bride. “Do you want a diamond? They are forever.”
Farah shook her head and smiled at his grandmother. “I asked for this. It’s the perfect symbol of all the perfect days we have to look forward to.” She turned to Tristan. “Besides, I never want to see another diamond again.”
He would have laughed, but his desire to kiss her overtook everything else. He looked to the pastor for permission. As soon as he spoke the words, Tristan took his bride in his arms and kissed her. He couldn’t wait to get her alone and walk her over the threshold of their small cottage in Richmond. He’d even bought her a wedding gift.
> A painting of the Karakorum range by their favorite artist.
Maiden Shina.
Unwanted Girl
If you are looking for another heartwarming story with compelling characters and lots of emotion, pick up the highly acclaimed
Unwanted Girl by MK Schiller.
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When a man loves a woman
Recovering addict Nick Dorsey finds solace in his regimented life. That is until he meets Shyla Metha. Something about the shy Indian beauty who delivers take-out to his Greenwich Village loft inspires the reclusive writer. And when Shyla reveals her desire to write a book of her own, he agrees to help her. The tale of a young Indian girl growing up against a landscape of brutal choices isn’t Nick’s usual territory, but something about the story, and the beautiful storyteller, draws him in deep.
Shyla is drawn to Nick, but she never imagines falling for him. Like Nick, Shyla hails from a village, too…a rural village in India. They have nothing in common, yet he makes her feel alive for the first time in her life. She is not ready for their journey to end, but the plans she’s made cannot be broken . . .not even by him. Can they find a way to rewrite the next chapter?
Chapter 1
Nick Dorsey ran every morning, although he no longer ventured to guess whether he was chasing dreams or fleeing demons. As he exited the brick building on Bleecker to a grim, grayish sky, the promise of another sunless day revealed itself.
His feet pounded the pavement in a stride that ranged from sprint to run to jog, matching the same footpaths as TS Eliot, Faulkner, and Poe. He’d insisted on the Village because it was a literary mecca. Although, these days, it could be argued the high rents favored capitalists over the creatives.
He’d hunted for months with a petite blond realtor until she found a place in his price range. The realtor was intelligent and assertive—during negotiations and sex—two traits Nick valued. In the end, it got him a nice place in the West Village with a working elevator, architectural charm, and original hardwood floors. It got her a fat commission check and about the same number of orgasms. Too bad the only thing he turned on these days was his computer…and that relationship was near terminal.