by Carol Grace
She remembered the anticipation she’d felt, the churning in her stomach, the weakness in her knees the last time she wore a new dress. The black dress she’d worn to the gala was tucked away in the back of her closet. She’d probably never have an opportunity to wear it again. Still, she wasn’t sorry she’d bought it. The look in Rafik’s eyes when he came to pick her up had been worth every penny she’d paid for it.
The campus looked beautiful that evening, lit by the occasional gas lamp. Her room was bright and cheerful and the parents all told her how happy their children were to be in her class.
She had just said goodbye to the last parent when she looked up to see Rafik standing in the doorway. She reached for something, anything to hold on to and desperately gripped the back of a chair with one shaking hand.
“Hello, Anne,” he said. “You said I could come to the open house, remember?”
Remember? She remembered everything. Remembered him in her classroom after they’d told the whole staff they were engaged. Remembered how confused she’d felt. Afraid to care about him. Sure that he didn’t care about her.
“Yes, of course,” she said briskly. “I’m sorry, it’s just about over. I was just getting ready to lock up.”
“I wanted to talk to you for a moment, if you have time.”
“Here?” Her voice almost cracked. Her heart was pounding, her face must be the color of her dress. She’d thought she’d never see him again, now he was here, in her classroom.
He nodded.
She made her way to her desk and sat down behind it. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.
“You’re looking very lovely,” he said solemnly. “That color becomes you.”
“Thank you,” she said. “You are, too. I mean, you look fine.” Actually he looked almost pale, if someone who had a year-round tan could look pale, and as if he’d lost a few pounds. Her mind was spinning. Rafik here, in her school. Why, why, why?
“I’ll get right to the point,” he said. “I came to tell you that though I always said I would never get married, I’ve changed my mind.”
Her heart fell. Rafik was getting married. Her lips felt so stiff she could barely speak. “Really?” she said. “Congratulations. I’m sure you’ll be very happy.”
“Are you? Are you sure, Anne? I wish I could be sure. The woman I’m in love with hasn’t agreed to marry me yet.”
She licked her lips. This was torture. Pure torture. Why was he doing this to her?
“In fact,” he continued. “She almost threw me out of her house the last time I saw her.”
“That’s terrible,” she murmured.
“That’s not all. She told me to get back to my life. That I’d held her back from accomplishing what she had to do.”
“I don’t know why…what you want me to do about it.”
“Do? I want you to tell me what to do. You’re a woman. What do women want?”
“Did you tell her,” Anne said. “Did you tell her how you felt?”
“You mean that’s all there is to it? I just tell her that I’m in love with her? That I fell in love with her the first time I saw her in her pink bridesmaid dress, but I didn’t know it at the time? It took me days, weeks before I knew what had happened. It might have been the day she threw my money all over the floor, or the day I saw her in her garden with dirt on her toes, or the night I danced with her….”
Anne’s eyes were full of tears. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She was overcome. She heard his words, but she couldn’t believe them. She put her head down on her desk and sobbed.
He was across the room in a half a second. He sat on her desk and lifted her head so he could look into her face.
“Anne, stop. Stop crying. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that. I didn’t know what to say, how to say it. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to tell you how much I love you, to ask you, to beg you to marry me. If you don’t, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’m not the same man you met at the wedding. I’ve changed. If you don’t love me now, I understand. My father says love comes after marriage so there’s always hope. Give me a chance. I beg you not to say no.”
He stared at her, waiting, waiting for her answer. She blinked away her tears and managed a watery smile.
“Of course I’ll marry you,” she said softly. “I love you, too. I’m sorry I almost threw you out of my house, but I couldn’t go on seeing you and knowing that you’d never marry me. It was too painful. You recall you were very determined….”
“Don’t remind me,” he groaned. “I was a fool. I had no idea what I was talking about. I’d never been in love. Never thought it would happen to me. Not until you came along. Not until we spent so much time together. Then suddenly you were gone out of my life. It was terrible. It was as if the sun stopped shining. I haven’t been very good company, as my family will attest.”
“Tell me one thing, did you buy that marshland?” she asked.
“Would you love me more if I did?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I couldn’t love you more,” she said shyly. It would take a while before she could say things like that without blushing.
“I bought it, but I didn’t want to buy your love,” he explained. “I just wanted you to have it.” He got off the desk and pulled her up into his arms.
She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him. He kissed her back, deeply, possessively. She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and got lost in the rapture of his kiss. He loved her. It would take a while to get used to it. But she had time. She had a whole lifetime.
Epilogue
It was a small affair. Only the immediate families and a group of close friends attended the garden wedding of Sheik Rafik Harun and Anne Sheridan. The bride wore the groom’s mother’s wedding dress and walked slowly up a flagstone path to the strains of a string quartet playing the “Wedding March.” The groom, who wore the traditional headdress as befitting his status, stood at the trellis which served as an altar. His eyes gleamed as his beautiful redhaired bride appeared from behind the foliage. His brother, who served as his best man, handed him the ring, which had been in the family for generations, to place on his bride’s finger.
There were many tears that day. Tears of joy, tears of happiness and sentimental tears. But mostly there were smiles, toasts and congratulations as the caterers brought out trays of smoked salmon, crab cakes and brochettes of lamb. Everyone wanted to take credit for bringing the two together. Carolyn said it all started at her wedding. Rafik’s father told his mother he knew about it before anyone else.
Jean declared Rafik to be the luckiest man alive. Rahman insisted that Rafik was luckier.
Only the newlyweds knew for sure who was the luckiest. As they winged their way to their honeymoon in Paris, they decided they were the luckiest couple in the world. And the happiest.
ISBN: 978-1-4603-5306-6
TAMING THE SHEIK
Copyright © 2001 by Carol Culver
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*Miramar Inn
†Best-Kept Wishes