Becca looked into his serious green eyes, reading the desire there that he was willing to deny if that was what she wanted. She wanted him. There was no denying that, but was it because of what she’d felt for him ten years ago, because of all the unhappiness that had dogged her and her family since then, or was it because she suspected that lovemaking with him would be far more than sex?
For all of the erotic dreams, the hot sexual fantasies, she had been entertaining on every possible level, from subconscious to conscious to outrageous, she didn’t think she was ready to risk that. Her heart fluttering with regret, she shook her head. “Maybe not yet.”
His fingers toyed with her hair, running the strands over his palm, fanning them out on the pillow as if his total focus was on getting them just so, but when he spoke, she knew his thoughts weren’t on that simple task. “But soon, Rebecca. Soon, you’re going to tell me everything about yourself. I’m going to help you find your sister and the two of you will make everything right between you. Then it will be time for us.”
It was a promise, but also a command. He would do whatever was necessary to help her, wait for her, but when that time was up, she was all his. Knowing that sent a shudder of pleasant anticipation through her, followed by terror. What if she disappointed him?
“It’s time for us to go,” Aaron said, setting her away from him. He stood, pulled some items from a bag and shook them out. First was a white brussa shirt which looked loose and cool. It was covered by a white jellabiya which he pulled over his head. Then he took out a keffiyeh and a beaded akal to hold it in place.
Fascinated, Becca watched his swift, sure movements as he put the head dress in place and affixed the akal, straight and even, across his brow. It was as automatic as tying a tie, but transformed him into a desert warrior. He looped a sash around his waist, stuck a curved knife into it, and then topped it with a long, sleeveless vest of gray and black stripes.
He glanced up to meet her open-mouthed stare and grinned. “Don’t look so surprised. This is what all the well-dressed men wear.”
All the well-dressed, totally hot ones, she thought. Images began running through her mind – old silent black and white movies of women being snatched from safety and whirled into the dangerous world of heat and sand, thrown across the saddle of a sexy knight of the desert, held captive in a tent, seduced and delighted. The people in her image were her and Aaron. Her mouth went dry as heat washed over her and her eyes drifted partway shut.
“Rebecca? If you look at me like that, we’re never going to get out of this place.” His warning was soft and full of a lust-filled promise.
She blushed, turned her face away, and said, “Why are you wearing it now?”
To avoid his knowing gaze, she stood and picked up her sleeping bag. She held it in front of her because she felt off-kilter and vulnerable since he was fully dressed and she wasn’t.
“It’s what would be expected in Isbahar. Any civilians we meet will be dressed like this and if we have to ask directions, they’re more likely to answer if I look like them.”
She nodded. “That makes sense.”
“And I need you to wear this.” He pulled out a black abayeh for her, complete with a scarf to cover her head. The robe would cover her from neck to heels.
“Are you kidding?”
“There are certain men in this society who won’t even talk to me if I’m accompanied by a woman not in traditional dress. And we don’t want to be slowed down by anything as trivial as that.”
Silently, she took the robe and held it up. It was as shapeless as a gunny sack.
“You can wear it over your own clothes,” he said. “I’ll pack the Range Rover while you get dressed.”
Reminding herself that it was all for a good cause, to find Jenny, she gathered her things and went to the shower enclosure to dress. By the time she was ready and had her unruly hair braided and covered by the scarf, he had the car packed. As she walked back to join him, she found that the robe clung to her jeans, making it difficult to walk. She had no idea what women usually wore under these, but she suspected it wasn’t denim. Holding it away from her and walking in shorter strides, she joined Aaron.
He gave her a swift look and then a nod. “Good.” He gestured to one of the tables and a small mountain of food.
“You’re going to help me eat that, right?” She was hungry because her body was waking up, coming back to life, but she wasn’t sure she could eat six boiled eggs, a dozen cereal bars, and four oranges.
“I was only waiting for you to stop lazing around and get up. Things start early here in the desert so we can beat the heat.”
“It’s April,” she reminded him with a too-sweet smile. “The weather is perfect.”
He grinned. “Coffee?” he asked, pouring her a cup.
They ate in companionable silence. Becca imagined Jenny here, eating her breakfast, looking out at the same landscape she was seeing, planning her day and excited about what she might find.
They finished eating, cleared up, stored away the leftovers, and then Aaron gestured to the surrounding desert. “Let’s see which way they went. We’re looking for tire tracks. You go that direction and I’ll go this way. Give a shout if you see anything.”
Becca did as he said, walking the perimeter of the dig until she came across deep tire tracks heading east. She called to Aaron who trotted over to her.
He crouched down to examine them. “The question is how many vehicles and people are there, and did they go because they needed to, or because someone forced them? And another question is, why are there hoofmarks on top of the tire tracks?”
“Do you think they were escorted by riders on horseback?”
“So it would appear.” He stood and squinted into the distance. “But why?”
She knew it was a question to which she wasn’t expected to have an answer, so she took a moment for a last look around. Knowing that her sister had been here, had been part of this work made her proud. When she saw Jenny again, she would have so much to learn. And this time, she wouldn’t let her sister duck any questions. Becca would admit to what she had done, as well, because it had added to the chasm between them. It was time that everything was cleared up between them. She knew that if she had any kind of future with Aaron, even a short term one, it could only happen when she had everything straight with Jenny.
“Let’s go. I think I might know where they went.” Aaron held out a hand to her and Becca’s slipped into it as naturally as if she’d been doing it for years. They walked to the truck together.
Aaron followed the tracks as they lead away from Sik Ru. He lost the trail a couple of times, but by chance, met an old man driving a small herd of goats along a wash. He eyed the Range Rover and the people in it with suspicion, causing Becca to adjust her headscarf. In spite of his reluctance, he answered Aaron’s questions.
The elderly man watched them drive away, standing still and silent as the landscape around him.
“He said he saw a group with vehicles and men on horseback riding east.”
“Where do you think they’re going?”
“There’s a tribe of nomads who often camp at a stream there. I suspect that’s where they are.”
“But why?”
“Because they’re nomads and they have permission from both Côte de Diamant and Isbahar to cross the border at will.”
“So that if the tribe moves, the people from the dig can go, as well?”
“That’s right.”
Becca watched as his eyes narrowed in thought before he went on. “And I think I know who’s behind this.”
“Who?”
“Let me confirm it, and then I’ll tell you.”
She gave him a disgruntled look. “Is it a secret?”
“Maybe. Maybe a state secret.”
She rolled her eyes. “Now you’re just being dramatic.”
“No, inscrutable. That’s the way we desert types are.”
He had known what she was thin
king. She was going to make it a point to keep her sunglasses on. Obviously, her face was way too easy to read.
They rode across the Sahel for about two more hours, passing through two small villages before the Range Rover topped a ridge and they could see a stream below them. Turning north, Aaron followed it until they rounded a bend and a tent encampment appeared. The tents weren’t big, maybe one hundred square feet, but looked as though they could be put up and taken down in only a few minutes. They looked as though they had once been white, but were now the reddish-brown of the surrounding desert, making them blend in. Horses and camels were penned up or hobbled nearby, standing under the sparse shade of acacia trees, or folded up contentedly on the ground. The place looked peaceful and timeless as if villages like this had existed for a thousand years and would be around a thousand years from now.
A few women and children were outside, but they quickly disappeared into the nearest structure as soon as Aaron and Becca drove up.
Becca’s looked around in delight. “Do they carry all of this with them as they go?”
He grinned. “Of course. It’s not like they have summer and winter homes. They take their homes with them.”
“It’s fascinating.”
“It’s a hard life, but it’s one they’ve followed for centuries.”
They pulled up and stopped several hundred yards from the village and looked around.
“There’s the vehicles,” he said, pointing to a truck and an SUV parked behind the tents. “Let’s go.”
Becca didn’t even wait for him to come around and open the door for her. She tumbled out eagerly, and started toward the first tent. Her robe tangled with her jeans, though, and caught her up short. Before she could get moving again, Aaron was there, grabbing her arm, and pulling her back.
“There are certain protocols we have to observe. Remember, these are people who live by their wits and are very attuned to danger. They carry weapons and they won’t take it kindly if you go blundering into their tents looking for your sister. Wait a minute and they’ll send one of the elders out. And let me do the talking.”
“Well, since I can’t speak their language, I guess I’ll have to.”
“See if you can get that attitude under control, Rebecca.”
Becca wanted to argue, but she knew he was right. Nervously, she adjusted the headscarf again, tightening it around her neck even though it was already too hot and too tight.
As Aaron had said, a man stepped out a few minutes later. Leaving Becca where she was, he walked over to talk to the man. While she waited, she looked around to see little faces peering out at her from tent flaps. She smiled in response, and wiggled her fingers at them, sending the children into fits of giggles.
After a few minutes, Aaron came back. “They’re here,” he said. “But one of the women in the group has been badly injured.”
“Jenny?” she asked, fear slamming into her gut.
“I don’t know. He’s going to get someone.”
While they waited, Becca fairly danced with anticipation, wishing the man would hurry, but dreading what she might find out.
Aaron moved close to her. “Look at me, Rebecca.”
She raised fearful eyes to his.
“Whatever happens, it’s going to be all right. At least you found her and I’ll do whatever is necessary to get you both home safely.”
Her gaze searched his face, read the sincerity and purpose in his eyes. Calm settled over her. “I know you will,” she answered, giving him a shaky smile.
And then a woman dressed in a long, traditional robe, but with an uncovered head, was coming toward them. Becca turned and met her sister’s shocked gaze.
“Jenny!” Hitching up her own robe, she rushed to hug her sister.
“Becca! What on earth are you doing here?” Jenny asked, even as the two women enfolded each other in a tight embrace. She held her younger sister away from her and studied her face joyfully.
Jenny’s greeting was everything Becca had been hoping for.
“I came to find you,” Becca answered, and then the tears began to flow. “Dad’s very sick. He wants to see you. Please come home.”
Alarm shot into Jenny’s face. “What’s wrong?”
Becca glanced around. “He had a severe heart attack, but he’s better now and he’ll be even better when he sees you. Where can we go to talk?”
~*~
As soon as Jennifer had appeared, Aaron had stepped back to watch. It may have been true that there was a rift between the two sisters, but there was no sign of it now. He was struck by how much they looked alike, the same determined chin, blue eyes, bright strawberry-blonde hair. Arm in arm, they turned, but Becca glanced back, bringing Jenny’s attention to him.
“Jen, you remember Aaron al-Rashid, don’t you?”
Jenny stopped and stared at him with widened eyes. “Of course. How wonderful to see you again. And you helped Becca find me? That’s so kind of you, but how?”
“He’s got pull. He’s the Côte de Diamantian minister of tourism.” Becca sent him a sparkling smile. “And by wonderful luck, I met him again on my first day in the country.”
He wasn’t so sure she’d thought it was wonderful luck at first, but now she obviously did. He answered with a smile of his own. Jenny’s alert gaze darted from him to her sister and back and she gave them a speculative look.
The pounding of horses’ hooves caught their attention and they had to jump back nearer to the tents when the riders clattered up from the stream. There were at least a dozen of them, dressed in traditional robes, their heads covered with keffiyehs. These men were all business, with long knives similar to Aaron’s stuck through their sashes.
They dismounted, calling out to the people in the tents who came running to greet them. Becca and Jenny stepped out to see the families reunite.
In all the confusion, one man separated himself from the pack and strode toward Aaron, his hand outstretched, a wide grin on his face.
When he saw who it was, Aaron held out his own hand, glad and relieved to see his old friend. “Ferran? I thought maybe you were behind this.”
Beside him, he heard a sharp intake of breath and looked down in time to see Jenny’s face whiten. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her knees seemed to crumple.
Ferran leapt forward to catch her, swinging her up into his arms. Before Aaron could warn him, Ferran glanced down at her face and staggered from a jolt of surprise.
“Jennifer? It can’t be.” His old friend looked up in profound shock. “How can this be? You told me she was dead.”
He heard Becca give a cry of distress. Her eyes went from her sister, to Ferran, then to him, pleading with him.
“Until a couple of days ago, I thought she was. Where can we take her?” He reached out his arms to accept the unconscious woman, but Ferran gave him a look that would have scorched steel. Turning, his robe swirling around him, he carried her into a nearby tent. Aaron and Becca hurried to catch up.
There was no bed inside, but a pallet on the floor covered with a brightly-patterned cotton cloth. Ferran quickly laid Jenny on it, then reached for a pitcher of water and a cloth. Becca was beside him in an instant, taking them from him, kneeling down to pour out water to bathe her sister’s face.
Ferran stepped back and opened the flaps on both sides of the tent, bringing in a breeze that seemed to help revive Jenny. Aaron watched his old friend’s face, the anxiety, the shock, the hope – and he had the answer about who had been the father of Jenny’s baby. He glanced down at Becca, but she was too focused on her sister to notice what he was seeing.
At last, Jenny’s eyelids fluttered open, and her eyes went straight to Ferran. “I . . . I thought it was an illusion,” she whispered. “Heatstroke.”
“What was, Jen?”
“Seeing Ferran.”
Becca looked around, then she sat back and looked from one to the other of them. Jenny’s face mirrored the expression on Ferran’s. Then she looked at Aaron,
her eyes full of questions. He answered with a barely perceptible nod. Her mouth dropped open and her cheeks reddened.
Standing, she said, “I’ll get you some water.”
Aaron didn’t remind her that they already had water. She stumbled from the tent and he followed right behind her. Jenny and Ferran didn’t even seem to notice. Making a beeline for the Range Rover, she jerked the door open and tumbled inside where she sat, her face buried in her hands.
“Rebecca, are you all right?”
“It was him, wasn’t it? He was Jenny’s lover.”
“So it would seem.” He leaned into the vehicle and pulled her hands away from her face. She hung her head so he reached in to urge her to look at him. “Exactly what’s wrong?”
“What I did . . . telling you that she had died, and then for you to tell him . . . .” Tears filled her eyes. “The consequences of what I did just seem to have a ripple effect that won’t stop. It goes on and on, hurting more and more people.” Her lips trembled.
Pity clutched his heart. He leaned in and covered her mouth with his. He tasted her tears, her regret, and wished he could take it all away from her. He cupped her face between his hands and laid siege to her mouth, wishing he could pull out all of her sorrow.
After the first shock, Becca wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted herself into his kiss. She drew from him, taking the comfort he offered, giving her mouth for his pleasure, offering her gratitude for the solace he provided. At last, he pulled away from her mouth, kissed the tears from her eyes, then looked into their troubled depths.
“It’s going to be all right, Rebecca. You made a choice that turned out to have serious consequences because you were young and scared. When you explain, it will be all right.”
Her lips quivered as she tried to smile. “Thank you. You’re being very . . . compassionate.”
“Surprises me, too,” he said.
He stood up, and pulled her with him onto her feet. With a gentle touch, he unwound her scarf and loosened it. “When you’re inside a tent, you won’t need to wear this anymore. Only outside.”
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 67