Come Home

by Patricia Gussin

  No need to knock on the door, it flung open as she ran forward—and she plunged inside—into the arms of—her mother? Stupefying. Why was her mother here?

  “Alex?” Why is my mother here? Then she saw Tim, her stepfather. Tim was a pediatric cardiac surgeon, albeit retired. Something must have happened to Alex! His heart? Her youngest brother, Patrick, had surgery for a cardiac tumor when he was a little kid. Could this be something genetic? Why hadn’t she noticed any symptoms?

  “Mom—Alex? Where is he?” She tried to steady herself as she stepped back. The others were coming through the door into the enormous foyer.

  “Mom?!” she heard Natalie’s voice—sounding just as shocked as she.

  “Nicole, everything’s okay.” Mother’s voice sounded calm, but that was Mom, even in emergencies.

  Ahmed rushed up beside Laura—trying, Nicole thought, not to show complete confusion. Was this the surprise that Berk had hinted at? She didn’t want surprises, she wanted Alex.

  Nicole glanced about. No one from Ahmed’s family was there. Was she hallucinating? Her parents popping up in Ahmed’s parents’ home? Suddenly, an inside door opened, and Neema appeared; she was holding the hand of a small boy—Alex. He trailed behind Neema’s full skirt. He hadn’t seen Nicole yet, and the look on his face was tentative, a mix of distrust and hope. Nicole didn’t want to scare him; he’d been through too much. She waited for him to step inside the room. He looked pale, but otherwise healthy, no difficulty breathing or other telltale signs of a heart condition. His eyes first rested on her mom.

  “Grandma!” He rushed to her mother, excitement shining in his dark eyes. “Aunt Neema said you had a surprise.” The sound of Alex’s voice was the most perfect melody imaginable.

  “Yes, Alex,” her mom said, stepping aside so Alex could see everyone in the room.

  “Daddy,” he said, running to Ahmed, before his eyes had found Nicole. Then, “Mommy!”

  He flung his arms out to them as they moved next to each other on their way to reach him.

  Nicole felt as if her soul had been lifted to the highest of heights. She pulled him into her arms, crushing him against her body. Tears had started to flow down her cheeks with abandon. “Oh, Alex, my baby,” she kept saying over and over until she felt him start to pull away.

  Alex moved just enough to reach Ahmed. When Ahmed pulled him into his arms, Alex said, “I knew you’d come back, Dad. I wasn’t scared, really.”

  Tears clouded Ahmed’s eyes. “I love you, Son,” he breathed. “I thank God you are back with me and your mother.”

  “Aunt Neema got me out of that place,” he said, turning to flash her a smile. That’s when he noticed Natalie and Rob. “Wow,” he said. “You came, too, Aunt Natalie and Uncle Rob?”

  Then a sad look displaced the joy on Alex’s face. “Did you come because Gido is real sick and Uncle Jafari … got kilt?”

  “We all came to make sure you were okay, kiddo,” Rob said, moving in close to ruffle Alex’s hair.

  Why her mother was there and why she hadn’t known about her parents flying to Egypt didn’t matter much to Nicole. She had Alex beside her right now. Right here. In real time. As she pried him out of Ahmed’s grasp and pulled him back into her arms, she vowed never to let Alex out of her sight. Well, she knew that would be impossible, but she would be ever so cautious.

  Alex took center stage and started telling the group about the plane rides. The one with his dad when a man took him away to a weird place; the one with Neema, which he described as fun. Nicole wanted to ask if he’d been hurt in any way, but knew enough child psychiatry to know that there’d be a time and place for that. So far, Alex’s demeanor and reactions had seemed just fine. No signs of trauma—physical or mental—at least not yet.

  She remembered her first thought about Tim’s presence—something to do with Alex’s heart? Please, God, no, she prayed as she caught Tim’s eye and beckoned him over.

  Ahmed had remained silent by her side, as he watched the usually shy Alex open up to tell his story.

  When he’d squirmed out of her arms, he’d whispered, “Mom, I’m not a baby,” before addressing his audience. Now, Nicole edged Alex closer to Ahmed, and discreetly intercepted Tim as he walked toward them.

  “Tim.” She put an arm around his neck in a half hug and kissed his cheek. “Are you and Mom here because of Alex?” They had been in New Zealand, their retirement oasis. Had anyone known they’d come here? Natalie? Her brothers? And they’d deliberately not told her?

  “Yes, your mom wanted to be here. In person. To figure out what was happening with her grandson. Only so much information she could get from your brothers. When she heard Natalie had left the country to find you—without telling the boys, and in the middle of a Keystone Pharma crisis—she decided that we’d get on a plane and be here the next day. You know how she gets—”

  Yes, Mother was ever The Woman of Action.

  But that was not Nicole’s concern.

  “Alex’s heart, Tim?”

  “What about Alex’s heart?” he said, taken aback.

  “Does Alex have … the same … as Patrick … you know …”

  “Alex … Patrick? I’m not following you, Nicole.”

  Nicole glanced at Alex who seemed in a happy discussion with Ahmed. They looked so perfect together. Perfect? Shit, he took his son away from me and left him all alone in Liberia. And out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother leave the room with Natalie. They were deep in conversation. She looked for Berk. He had wanted them out of there. Immediately. But she couldn’t leave without saying good-bye to Ahmed’s parents. It would be the last time she’d see his father. Now that Mom and Tim were there, Nicole felt safe. Physically safe. But she was scared for Alex—his health. Had Tim been telling her the truth?

  “Tim, does Alex have a tumor in his heart like Patrick did when he was a little kid?” she managed. “Is that why you are here?” Nicole had been only eleven back then. The first time she’d ever seen Tim Robinson was when he’d arrived to whisk Patrick away for heart surgery—back then, her dad was still alive.

  “Yikes. No way. Nothing like that. Honestly, Nicole. Nothing medical. Besides, I’m retired. Your mom, on the other hand, she never gives up. We’ve been here twenty-four hours, and she’s treating your father-in-law with that new cancer drug. That drug Natalie is working on.”

  “What?” Nicole felt a touch of jealousy. As the third/fourth twin child in a family of five, she’d always demanded attention. Translated now to: she wanted her mother here for her problem—Alex; not Natalie’s problem—a cancer drug.

  Tim took hold of Nicole’s shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Alex is healthy, Nicole, and I think his mental health is okay, too. He spent last night with your mom and me. He slept well. No night terrors, but take him to see a therapist back in Philly.”

  “I will, Tim—but right now, all I want are more Mommy hugs!”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  AHMED HAD ALEX’S hand in his firm grip as he spoke quietly with Neema.

  “Seth is very angry,” Neema was saying, “about Nicole’s parents being in the house. And,” she added, “about giving Father the cancer drug. If he had not had to go off to the mosque, I’m not sure what Seth would have done.”

  Natalie’s mother, Laura, had been able to get a supply of Zomera for Ahmed’s father. When Natalie had disappeared off Keystone Pharma’s radar, her mother—who had at one time held the identical position there, Vice President of Research—had stepped in and by teleconference relayed to Keystone the strategy she and Natalie had discussed. The blueprint for quickly returning to market Keystone’s new cancer drug, Zomera. This intervention would mean millions of dollars to Keystone, so when she’d requested a supply of Zomera for overnight delivery, the company readily agreed, bypassing any red tape.

  Ahmed was amazed at Laura Nelson’s generosity to the Masuds. She was a true healer to try to help his father, even after Ahmed had abducted her grandson.


  “Seth will be okay,” Ahmed said. “He’s under a lot of stress. Jafari’s death was so sudden and violent, at such a politically charged time.”

  “He is acting very strange. Strutting around like Father’s already dead and he is the man in charge. You can imagine how well that’s going with two strong women in the house. We all know that Merit is the brains in the textile business, and she’s not going to give him an inch. She wants him back in Brussels as soon as the next flight out of Cairo. And Aurera, she may be in mourning, but she’s a bulldog.”

  “Did Seth know what had happened to Alex? Where they’d left him?” Ahmed asked. “Did Father know? Any of the women?”

  “Both Father and Mother thought he was with you. They couldn’t understand why you didn’t immediately come home after Jafari was assassinated.”

  Assassinated? A strong and provocative word, but, of course, a car bomb is no accident.

  Neema continued, “I only found out about Alex from overhearing our servant women down in the laundry. I stop down to see them sometimes, take them extra food. Sometimes clothing that I no longer wear. And that’s when I overheard one woman say to another, ‘And Dennu took the child off the plane, away from his father.’”

  Yes. Dennu, the second security man on his flight out of Cairo.

  “I waited for Dennu to return from an assignment. When he came home, he told me where Wati was. Mohamed had said that Jafari had planned to wait a few days and then send someone to get Wati back. But after what happened, Dennu was afraid—he’s been under a lot of scrutiny—so he told no one but me. And I made arrangements to go myself, immediately.”

  “Thank you, little sister, for being so brave.”

  “I got back with Wati—he likes to be called Alex—we got back last night. I planned to take him to Aurera’s quarters, but Nicole’s mom was here—and Wati doesn’t much like his older cousins—so I left him with Nicole’s parents.”

  “Did Father or Mother know—that Jafari ordered Dennu to leave Alex there?”

  “No, and no one has told them. They have been so busy with their doctors and getting that drug from America—Ahmed, this could be a cure for Father. Maybe he won’t die—at least as soon as we expected.”

  Ahmed listened with a sense of wonder. At least something good had come of his foolish, unforgivable decision to bring Alex here. He felt Alex’s hand tug out of his as the child went over to Rob to tell him about the pets housed in the Masud compound.

  He smiled, glancing across the room toward Nicole in conversation with Tim. All the Nelson siblings had a deep respect for their stepfather, as did all their spouses, Ahmed included.

  Nicole caught his eye and headed toward him as Neema leaned closer. “Ahmed,” she said, “Father has been calling for you constantly. He did not know where you were; why you were not here—with the family. He will not rest if you are not at Jafari’s funeral. He’s old-fashioned. With Jafari dead, you are the head of the family. You must go,” Neema insisted.

  Nicole stopped between Rob and Alex. Ahmed could see that she wanted to pull the child into her arms, to reassure herself that he was okay, but held back, letting him talk with his uncle.

  “Must go where?” Nicole had overheard. “Neema, whatever you want … we are so indebted to you.”

  “Before your mother got here,” Neema said, “Father faced a certain death, and now … we all have hope. But it is his fervent wish that Ahmed attend Jafari’s service. He is too ill to go, and to have Ahmed be there … you can’t imagine how much that would mean.”

  “Ahmed,” Nicole said, facing him outright. “I wanted to wait until we were alone to ask you … but now it’s urgent. Are you coming back home, to our home, with me and Alex?”

  Ahmed’s heart accelerated. Could we still have a chance?Nicole and me and Alex? He stared at her for a long moment, speechless. Then he touched her cheek. “Yes. Yes.”

  “Okay then,” she said. “Berk wants us out of here now. Mom and Tim, too. But I haven’t seen him or his men since we arrived.”

  Neema looked from one to the other of them, her eyes pleading.

  “Ahmed, go see your parents. Neema, do you have a change of clothes for him?” Nicole, back in her take-charge mode. He’d always admired that about her. Something he couldn’t share with other Arab men, who liked their woman taking, not giving, orders.

  “Of course,” Neema said, “but the men are wearing jellabiya.” She checked her watch. “We don’t have a lot of time. I need to get dressed. Seth is already at the mosque, taking charge, asserting his authority. His wife will go with me and the other women. Nicole …”

  “No, I’ll stay here with my sister and mother and Alex, of course. After you’ve left, I’ll take Alex and say good-bye to your parents. Then we can leave immediately when you get back, Archy. Is that okay?”

  “Thank you, Nicole … and Neema.”

  On his way to his parents’ quarters, Ahmed wondered where Berk and his men were stationed. And he appreciated that Berk, out of respect, had left the family some privacy

  * * *

  Although Ahmed thought his father looked more frail, he was surprised that his eyes, although sad, had a new sparkle of life. Several nurses in starched white uniforms bustled about, but Ahmed focused on the two beautiful blond women who stood across from each other on either side of Father’s bed. Both doctors, both generous, compassionate human beings. His mother, who rarely left her husband’s bedside, was not even in the room. Only Laura and Natalie, talking quietly to Father.

  Laura saw him first. “Ahmed,” she said. “Your father has been waiting for you. He needs to talk to you, so Natalie and I will leave you with him.”

  They both stepped away as Ahmed moved to the bed.

  “Father,” he said, “I am so sorry about Jafari. I got here as—”

  Tears started to trickle down his father’s crinkled face, matched by those on his own.

  “I learned why you were delayed, my son. I did not know about their taking Wati from you. I never would have allowed that. Jafari—I just don’t know—”

  Ahmed noticed him looking toward the door. “I don’t want Mother to know,” he said, “about what happened to Wati—she does not need more sadness.”

  “Where is she?” Ahmed asked.

  “Preparing for the funeral of her eldest son, the one I’ve been grooming to take over the business, and she, training his wife to take over the household when we are gone.”

  “Father, you will be healthy again.”

  “Nicole’s wonderful family has given me a new chance, but I’m old and will die—”

  The door opened and his mother walked in. She was dressed in black, but fashionably. Her hair peeking out of the black scarf she wore, not a hijab, just a wide black scarf covering her head and neck. When she saw Ahmed, she ran to him.

  “My son, thank you, thank you. Father will do well on the new medicine. I know he will. All because of Nicole asking her mother to help your father.”

  He didn’t think Nicole had anything to do with this, but let his parents give her the credit.

  “Father, Mother, I want you to know that right after Jafari’s funeral, I am leaving with Nicole and … Wati.” He remembered to call his son Wati. “I want you to understand that I belong there now, with them. Merit and Seth can handle the business, and you have Aurera and her sons and Neema …”

  In unison, his parents said, “I understand, Son. May Allah go with you.”

  His mother said, “Go ahead to the mosque and join Seth. You need to take your father’s place on this day.”

  “Yes.” As he agreed, Ahmed felt a perilous, mentally crushing weight lifted. “Nicole will bring Wati up to say good-bye, but we will visit often. This I promise, my beloved parents.”

  He kissed them both on each cheek.

  As he was leaving, Father said, “Take special care today. My grandsons tell me there may be trouble in the streets. Rowdy gangs, getting out of control.”

&nb
sp; So, Father knew all about the political trouble that might turn violent. Ahmed would be relieved to be out of Egypt by the end of the day—with Alex and Nicole.

  * * *

  Ahmed did not see Nicole or Alex on his way out to the black limo that waited to take him to the nearby mosque where Jafari’s family, friends, and business colleagues would say their last good-byes.

  On arrival, he took off his shoes, as was the custom, to enter the prayer hall where he found Seth surrounded by men, Father’s and Jafari’s sycophantic acquaintances. As he started toward the center of the group, he caught the look of vivid surprise on Seth’s face. So, little brother clearly had not expected him. As Ahmed moved closer to his brother, he saw Seth’s shocked expression give way to a slash of anger that colored his handsome face a shade of mahogany.

  I’m here only out of respect for Father.

  I will be on my way out of Egypt by the end of the day—with my wife and son.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  AS SETH ACCEPTED condolences at the mosque, he noticed that for the younger men, designer suits were a popular funeral fashion choice. Tailored, no doubt, from expensive Masud family textiles. Just as a concession to his father, he wore the jellabiya, as did his brother-in-law and his young nephews—along with most of the elders in the crowd. The chain of mourners advanced, pace appropriately measured, the men expressing to Seth their horror at Jafari’s death and concern for his father’s health. Then they congregated, nervously discussing the demonstration already escalating in Tahrir Square. The day’s invasive political atmosphere seemed to distract even the imam from welcoming the faithful to the obsequies due the burial of a prominent member of the mosque.

  Seth felt out of place among his brother’s cronies. Jafari had been nothing if not a pretentious businessman, a show Muslim, a social player in the country club mode. His realm, insular, compared to Seth’s multicultural experience among the Western multinationals who populated Brussels. Seth prided himself on his comfort zone—the European Union. When he returned to Cairo, he did not plan to frequent this mosque where his family had worshipped forever. This crowd made him feel ostracized as “European,” as well as underappreciated—couldn’t the throng who’d gathered to see Jafari laid to rest figure out that he—not Jafari—was responsible for the spectacular growth in the Masud family wealth portfolio?