Clare Connelly Pairs II

by Connelly, Clare

  She could barely concentrate on the task at hand. She simply stuffed underwear and shirts, a few pairs of jeans and a couple of dresses into a bag, with no idea of whether or not they were suitable or practical.

  For Michael she found it easier. She had packed for him dozens of times, when he’d gone to stay in hospital. She knew how many diapers he’d require, how many changes of clothes. She pulled some bottles from above the fridge and a few of his favourite biscuits from the pantry and then lugged the bag over her shoulder. Somewhere on the brisk walk back to the hospital, as she dodged pedestrian traffic and tried not to think about the terrifying decisions that were ahead of her, she realised she hadn’t packed any shoes for either of them. They had only what was on their feet.

  There was no time to go back. She didn’t dare risk it. Something in Kiral’s manner had convinced her that he would absolutely make good on his promise. She had never believed he could feel such a depth of fury. Then again, if their positions had been reversed and she’d missed out on the first two years of Michael’s life … a shiver ran down her spine. It didn’t serve any purpose to begin questioning her choices. She had done the right thing. She had done what she thought Kiral would have wanted.

  When she arrived at the hospital, she went straight to her son’s room, aching to wrap her arms around him and tell him how much she adored him.

  He was gone. Her heart began to pound. She ran from Michael’s room to the parents’ room; it too was empty.

  Where was he?

  Fear was pounding in her throat. She dropped the bag and tore through the corridor, peering in room after room. There was no sign of anyone. Until she emerged onto the footpath and she saw the limousines. Four of them in total lined up behind an ambulance.

  Kiral was standing, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, his posture stiff. Their eyes clashed and Abi felt her heart rumble in her chest. Even then, desire lurched in her gut. It was ludicrous and unwelcome.

  He saw the panic in her eyes and he understood; she had thought, for a moment, that she’d missed him. That he had actually made good on his threat and taken their son away.

  And in that moment, he wanted to comfort and reassure her. Only rage over her continued deception and betrayal kept him quiet.

  “Do you have a bag?” He demanded when she was close enough to hear.

  She nodded. “I … I left it in the parents’ room. When I couldn’t find Mikey,” she said, her voice strained. “Where is he?”

  Ki nodded. “In the ambulance.”

  She moved towards it swiftly.

  “You will ride with me,” he said, catching her hand.

  “Like hell I will,” she retorted through gritted teeth. “I’m staying with my son.”

  Ki studied her face and then nodded. “Fine.” He turned to one of his security men and said, in his own language, “Bring her luggage. We will ride with the boy.”

  He watched her climb deftly into the back of the ambulance and then he followed suit. She glared at him but didn’t bother to argue. Surely there was no point. “Where’s my mom?” She said without looking at him.

  “In one of the limousines.”

  Abi’s eyes flared wide as she lifted her face towards his. “What? Why?”

  “She is to accompany us.”

  “She is?” Abi felt a surge of relief.

  His expression was impossible to interpret. “Yes. You cannot be with our son around the clock. You will have other duties that require your full attention. And because I thought it would be easier for you to have at least one friendly face in the palace.”

  It might have seemed courteous, but Abi knew better; it was rude. It was unkind. It was a reminder that he would not be a friendly face to her.

  She turned her attention back to Michael and stroked his face. He was drowsy; these incidents always did that to him. She sat back in her seat and picked up one of his hands. She clasped it in hers the whole way to the airport.

  Had it only been earlier that day they’d travelled this exact same route?

  Her whole world had changed so much since then. It was now tipped neatly on its axis. Every piece of her life had been shaken loose in the last twenty four hours, and they were descending in a way that was not familiar. Nothing about her future made sense. She could only go with the plan, and do whatever was in her power to make Michael well.

  She would always hate Ki for the way he’d manipulated and controlled her, but she would love him too, if his power and wealth could fix their child once and for all. How she longed for Mikey to grow up as a healthy child. What must it be like for mothers who did not have to panic every time their child caught a common cold?

  The convoy of cars, led by the ambulance, pulled up just beyond the aeroplane.

  When they boarded it, everything looked exactly the same. Abi turned to Kiral nervously. “This won’t work,” she said. “He can’t fly like this.”

  He sent her a look of warning and then paced towards the back of the plane. There were four doors, two apiece on either side of the corridor. He pushed into the first and a medical suite appeared. Only at one time it had obviously been a luxury bedroom, but now the bed had been laid with plastic sheets, there were bags of fluid, blood pressure monitors and all sorts of other equipment she recognised from the hospital placed carefully throughout the room. Doctor Edrich was checking a monitor and he smiled reassuringly at Abi when she entered.

  “There is more stuff here than we’ve got on hand in the ward,” he promised.

  She swallowed. “Are you sure?”

  “I wouldn’t agree to this if I didn’t believe, genuinely, that it’s safe for Mikey.”

  Kiral pushed into the next room and Abi saw a group of six people. “Two surgeons, one of the best chiefs of pediatric medicine in New York, two nurses and a nanny.”

  “Hi,” Abi said, though she knew her tone was tart. She was grateful to Kiral for his thoughtful attentiveness, at least as it concerned their son. But anxiety was still webbing through her.

  She stepped out of the room and looked up at him. “Can we speak?”

  It was obvious that he was thinking of refusing and so she put a hand on his chest. “Please.”

  His eyes flew to her splayed fingers as though they were poisoned. A war raged inside of him; a war of uncertainty and desperation.

  “Fine.” He moved away from her, and from the touch that was apparently now so offensive to him.

  The third room had a bed and two chairs. She wished she’d chosen somewhere a little less intimate-seeming, but this was the only option open to them. She latched the door shut and spun around. Ki was standing right behind her so she almost bumped into him.

  “What do you want to say to me?”

  Her breath latched in her throat. She cleared her throat. “I need to know what to expect.”

  He furrowed his brow. “In what regard?”

  “In regards to everything.” She swallowed. “You mentioned a hospital. Where is it?”

  “It is in the capital city.”

  She nodded. She had arrived into the capital and she knew that it was about an hour’s drive from the palace.

  “Fine. And I’ll stay with him while the operation takes place.”

  “Yes.” He compressed his jaw. “This secret will not be able to be kept for long. However, out of respect for my fiancé, I would like to speak to her personally before news breaks in the broader community. You and your mother will stay in an apartment near the hospital. It has been arranged. You will have security with you at all times, in case you decide you would like to … ignore my plans and make some of your own.”

  Her cheeks were pink. “Do you really want a wife you have to threaten in this manner?”

  “No,” he said simply. “I have given you the choice. You do not have to marry me. But our son will be raised in Delani. By me.”

  “Then it’s not a freaking choice, is it?”

  He shrugged. “If marriage to me is so unpalatable …” The
words trailed off into mid-air.

  She bit down on her lip. It was an avenue she didn’t want to think about just yet. “You’re engaged. What’s going to happen?”

  “It will be ended.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “This is crazy.”

  “This is common sense. It is the only decision we can make in the circumstances.”

  “It doesn’t feel like it,” she retorted. “Ki, you used to love me once…”

  “A long time ago.”

  “No, not a long time ago. I think you have loved me ever since. I think you loved me even tonight. Last night. Whenever the hell it was I arrived in Delani and you used whatever means you could to get me back into your bed.”

  He expelled a sigh. “Because I wanted to have sex with you?”

  She swallowed. It was a little crude, but basically it was a correct assessment.

  “Let me show you something,” he said, and before she could picture what he was doing, he grabbed her hand and pulled it toward his pants. She gasped when she felt that even then he had the hint of an arousal. “I could take you now, and I do not love you. I must hate you surely for what you have done. But I would still willingly lose myself inside your body. Sex is not love. It is biology and convenience.”

  She pulled her hand away and he let her. “How can you talk like that when my son is in the room next door? How can you think of … of anything but Mikey’s surgery?”

  “You had no problem pushing his needs aside last night.”

  She expelled an angry and indignant sigh. “At least we have one thing in common,” she said with unconcealed fury, moving away from him and brushing her hands together as though she could remove his cruelty that way.

  “Other than our son?”

  “Two things, then,” she nodded jerkily. “I think I hate you too. A day ago, I would never have said that was possible.” She wrapped her arms around her chest and he saw her fragility again. It enveloped him with a sadness he didn’t welcome. “Would you please leave me alone?” She whispered, staring out of the rounded plane window as the craft began to push back on the tarmac.

  He left without another word.

  He didn’t need to say anything else anyway.

  She understood completely how he felt and she could only wonder at how on earth they would ever be able to function in the same room together.

  Despite the emotional turbulence, the flight was oddly smooth. Abi didn’t leave Michael’s bedside. She stayed with him and held his hand and sung to him when he appeared uneasy. A staff member dressed in a flight crew uniform offered her a meal at one point but she shook her head. She couldn’t eat or drink.

  When the sleek jet touched down in Delani a few hours later it brought Abi an overwhelming sense of fear mingled with relief.

  She emerged from the cabin to find her mother sitting in one of the armchairs. Abi’s smile was tight; her surprise at seeing her mother giving way to gratitude. She had completely forgotten that Annette was to accompany them.

  “Mom,” she murmured apologetically, her eyes showed how filled with worry she was.

  “I’m with you,” Annette reassured, her eyes lifting to the imposing figure of Sheikh Kiral Mazroui.

  Abi squeezed her mother’s shoulder. “For Michael,” she reminded her and the older woman nodded.

  “Yes.”

  Kiral moved closer towards them as the plane slowed to a stop. “I am to go straight to the palace. I must explain all of this before word travels of its own accord.” He nodded towards one of the men Abi vaguely recognised from the hospital. “This is Osman. He is completely trusted by me. He will take you to your accommodation and obtain anything you require.” He spoke to Annette now. “You are my guests and you should be comfortable. Please ask him for anything you want, especially as having you here will make Michael’s surgery easier. I will advise you as soon as I have word from the hospital.”

  “When?” Abi spoke quickly. “When will his procedure be?”

  His eyes were cold when they flicked to her. “Tomorrow. His surgeon has arrived but it is a long and complex procedure and she has requested a day to rest.”

  “Of course,” Abi nodded.

  “Michael will be taken to hospital now.”

  “I want to stay with him,” Abi said truculently.

  Kiral suppressed a sigh. Her urge was natural. “He will have excellent care. You should rest too. You have barely slept in days. You have hardly eaten. He will need you when the operation is over, and he will need you to be at your best. This life will be a big adjustment for him. Rest tonight, Abi. The road before you is long.”

  She swallowed. His logic was sound but for one incontrovertible truth. She was a mother, and a mother would never put her own comfort ahead of her child’s. But she smiled at him contritely and nodded. “Okay.” Why should she waste energy arguing when Kiral would soon be spirited away and she could do what she pleased?

  Kiral brooded the entire drive to the palace. The moment his car swept to a stop in the secure palace grounds, he was met by his personal assistant. Alain had worked for him for many years. He went beyond staff; he was a friend. “I need to speak to Melania as soon as possible. But first, to my uncle.”

  “Your uncle?” Alain didn’t bother to conceal his curiosity. The brother of Kiral’s mother, Sheikh Desi was not, by any stretch, Kiral’s favourite person.

  “Immediately, and on a matter of great urgency.”

  Alain frowned, but even as he computed the request, he was pulling his phone from his chest pocket and speaking into it.

  “He is waiting for you.”

  Kiral would have expected anyone else to come to him, but Desi was old now. He had been born thirty years before Kiral’s mother, and he had passed his ninetieth birthday some months earlier. The event had been marked with a night of fireworks and public events.

  “Uncle,” he spoke deferentially when he arrived in the room.

  Desi straightened in his chair and set aside his book. He was remarkably well preserved, but his eyesight was not good. He moved to stand but Kiral waved aside the gesture and instead knelt before him.

  “What has happened, son? What troubles you?”

  Kiral felt an odd ache in his chest. “I have come for your insight into a … problem of mine.”

  Desi inclined his head. “Go on.”

  “You know my wedding is only days away.”

  Again, the old man nodded.

  “I have just discovered that I have a son,” he said grimly.

  Desi’s bushy grey brows flew heavenward. “Indeed,” he murmured, his lined face difficult to interpret. “A son. An heir.”

  “Yes,” Kiral nodded.

  “Where is the boy?” Desi demanded .

  “He is not well,” Kiral said, and for the first time since hearing of his son’s condition he allowed his worry to show. “In fact, he is gravely ill. He is to undergo an operation.”

  “What is his illness?”

  “A congenital heart problem,” Kiral responded, appreciating his Uncle’s ability to hone in on the facts and spare him the redundant, time-wasting platitudes and exultations.

  “I see,” Desi rubbed his jaw. “Tell me everything.”

  And so Kiral did. He confided in his uncle about the month he’d spent in New York, falling in love with the beautiful American. The realisation that he needed to leave her when he was on the brink of wanting instead to walk away from his life. The discovery of the child, rapidly followed by the news that Michael was ill.

  And all the while, Desi nodded, and listened and rubbed his chin.

  For a long time afterwards, he stared out of his window towards the city.

  “You love this woman?”

  “How can I?” Kiral wondered aloud. “I could never forgive her for keeping my own flesh and blood hidden from me. The deception!”

  “There is something else?” Desi prompted.

  And Kiral laughed grimly at his uncle’s astuteness despite the
fact he saw no humour in the situation. “I would say I’ve effectively ruined any good feeling we ever had for one another.” He dipped his head forward to mask his emotion. “I would judge her if she didn’t hate me with all that she is.”

  “And yet you are to marry her?”

  He nodded. And Abi would marry him because he’d given her no choice in the matter. The guilt was cement on his chest.

  “And if the child dies?” Desi prompted in a matter-of-fact way that completely belied the nature of his question.

  “He will not die.” Kiral could not admit the possibility. He would not countenance such grief.

  Desi looked back towards the window. “It is a round moon tonight.”

  Kiral had little patience with his uncle’s spirituality but he had come to view it with a sort of grudging tolerance. “Is that significant in some way?”

  The uncle’s smile, missing several teeth, was sage. “The First Sheikh was found when such a moon bathed the ocean.”

  The first bloody Sheikh, Kiral thought with an impatient shake of his head. “And?”

  “Listen to me, Kiral. I know you think the ways of our people are old-fashioned. I know you don’t have …” He paused to cough. His voice was pock-marked by years of use. “I know you do not have the patience for the stories and beliefs that have long-since guided us. But there is a legend that is lesser known. A legend you must hear.”

  “A legend is just a fable. A story taught to make children behave better.”

  “Nonsense,” Desi snapped. He leaned forward a little, to catch Kiral’s attention. “Many years ago, when our country was still in its infancy, there was talk of a woman who bore a son to her husband’s servant. If her husband discovered the truth, she would have been put to death, and the child too. And so the woman took her child away in the middle hour of the night; she travelled by river for miles and miles, intending to flee beyond the borders of our land to safe-haven. Only halfway across the sea, with the waves churning and the darkness enveloping the small boat, the child died. It happened instantly. With one startled cry, it ceased to breath and fell into an ever-sleep.”

  Kiral stood, his heart palpating at the very idea of such a fate befalling his own child. “This is hardly helpful.”