“Me, too.”
He waited, hoping she’d say more. The silence on the line was deafening.
“I better go. I’m expecting another call,” he finally said. Nothing was going to be decided on the telephone.
“Okay. Take care of yourself. I’ll be here when you get back.”
He hung up, wondering where else she’d be but at the cottage. She had a lease for another four years. And at this moment, he was grateful for his grandmother’s way of doing things.
The phone rang again and this time it was the field manager in Kuwait. Time to push personal agendas on the back burner. He had a conflagration to extinguish.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ELLA chafed at the way time dragged by. Rashid stayed for a while, then claimed work needed him and took off. Leaving her with Madame al Harum. Ella knew she’d be better off at home. She could try to take her mind off her worry about Khalid with work. Here she had nothing. She rose from the sofa where she’d sat almost since she’d arrived and walked to the window which overlooked the city. It looked hot outside. She’d rather be at the beach.
“I think I’ll go home,” she said.
“Stay.”
Turning, she looked at Khalid’s mother. “There’s nothing to do here. At home I have work that might distract me from worry.”
Sabria al Harum tried to smile. “Nothing will make you forget. I had years of practice with my husband when he went on oil fields. Always worrying about his safety. And he did not try to put out fires. I now worry about Khalid. Rashid assures me he knows his job. But he cannot know what a fire will do.”
“It makes it worse since he was injured once,” Ella said, looking back out the window.
“Yet you don’t seem to mind his scar.”
Ella shrugged. “He is not his scar, any more than he is defined by being tall. It’s what’s inside that counts.”
There was a short silence then Sabria said, “Many people don’t grasp that concept. He was terribly hurt by the defection of his fiancée when he was still in hospital.”
“She either freaked or was not strong enough to be his wife. Khalid is very intense. Not everyone could live with that.”
“You could.”
Ella nodded, tears filling her eyes. She could. She would love to be the one he picked to share his life. She would match him toe-to-toe if he got autocratic. And she would love to spend the nights in his arms.
“He was like that as a little boy,” Sabria said softly.
When Ella turned, she was surprised at the look of love on her hostess’s face. “Tell me,” she invited. She was eager for every scrap of knowledge she could get of Khalid.
“I have some pictures. Come, I’ll tell you all about my wild twins and show you what I had to put up with.” The words were belied by the tone of affection and longing.
Ella was surprised at the number of photo albums in the sitting area of Sabria al Harum’s bedroom. The room was bright and airy, decorated in peach and cream colors, feminine and friendly. She would never have suspected the rather austere woman to have this side to her.
Pulling a fat album from the shelves behind the sofa, Sabria sat and patted the cushion next to her for Ella to sit. Placing the album in Ella’s lap a moment later, she opened it. For the next hour, the two women looked at all the pictures—from when two adorable babies came home in lacy robes, to the smiling nannies who helped care for them, to the proud parents and on up to adulthood. There were fewer pictures of the two young men, too busy to spend lots of time with their parents. Then she paused over one last picture.
“This was the one taken just before the fire that scarred my son so badly. He has never had his picture taken since. People can be cruel when faced unexpectedly with abnormalities—whether scarring or handicaps. He was doubly injured with the loss of his fiancée. He has so much to offer.”
Ella nodded. A mother always said that, but in Khalid’s case, it was true.
The phone rang. Sabria rose swiftly and crossed to answer the extension in her sitting room.
“Thank you,” she said a moment later.
“That was Rashid. The team has taken off from Quraim Wadi Samil. They’ll be in Kuwait in a couple of hours. There’s nothing to do but wait.”
“Then come with me to my studio. I’ll show you my work and you can advise me. Madame Alia al Harum thought I had promise. I want to earn a living by my work, but if it is really impossible, maybe I should find out now, rather than later.”
“You will not need to work once married to Khalid.”
Ella had no quick response. Only she and Khalid knew there would be no marriage.
“Come and see.”
Sabria thought about it for a moment then nodded. “I believe I should like to see what you do.”
The afternoon passed slowly. Sabria looked at all the work Ella had done, proclaiming with surprise how beautiful it was. “No wonder my mother-in-law thought you had such promise. You have rare talent. I know just where I’d like to see that rosy vase. It would be perfect in my friend’s bedroom. Perhaps I shall buy it for her. When will you begin to sell?”
Ella explained the original plan and then her idea to start earlier. Soon she and Sabria were discussing advantages and disadvantages of going public too soon, yet without the public feedback, how would Ella know which ideas were the most marketable.
Ella wasn’t sure if it was the situation, or the fact Sabria was finally receptive to seeing her as an individual—not someone out to capture her son’s affections—but she felt the tentative beginning of a friendship. Not that Sabria would necessarily wish to continue when the engagement was broken. Ella could see the dilemma—who took the blame? She didn’t want to. Yet in fairness, she needed to be the one. Khalid had been helping her. He did not need any more grief in his life.
They called Rashid for news before eating dinner on the veranda. Nothing new. Ella made a quick spaghetti with sauce she’d prepared a while ago and frozen. The camaraderie in the kitchen was another surprise. Ella thought she could really get to like Khalid’s mother.
“I’m going now,” Sabria said after they’d enjoyed dinner and some more conversation. Ella could listen to stories about the twins all week. Darkness had fallen. It was getting late. Nothing would change tonight. Khalid had told Rashid they needed to plan carefully since the fire was involved with two wells.
When she took a walk on the beach before going to bed, Ella looked to the north. She could see nothing. The fire was too far away. But she could imagine it. She dealt with fire every day—controlled and beneficial. Raging out of control would be so different. She offered another prayer for Khalid’s safety. Her decision to leave was best. She could see about selling what she’d already done and arrange shipping to Italy of her annealer and crucible and glass. She’d establish herself somewhere near enough to see her parents, but far enough away to make sure they knew she was not coming back to the family. Not until her brother’s situation was cleared up.
In the meantime, she did her best not to focus on Khalid, but everything from the beach to the house next door reminded her of him. She could picture him standing in her doorway. Looking at the art she had created. Holding the yellow vase in his house that his grandmother had loved. She ached with loneliness and yearning. Could she get by without him over the years ahead?
She had to. There was no future for her in Quishari. That part of her life was over.
Tomorrow she’d begin packing and making arrangements to move.
The next two days were difficult. Ella made Rashid promise to call her the moment he learned of anything—good or bad. There was nothing else she could do, so she began packing. She ordered shipping cartons and crates and enlisted the help of Jalilah to help her. Carefully they wrapped the fragile pieces in packing materials, then in boxes, then crates. It was slow work, but had to be done carefully to insure no breakage during transit.
Every time Khalid’s cordless phone rang, Ella’s heart dropped, then raced. She’d answer only to hear Rashid’s calm voice giving her an update. The materials had arrived. The maps had been updated. The plan was coming together. There was never a personal message for her. What did she expect? Khalid had far more important things to worry about.
But each time Rashid hung up, Ella’s heart hurt a bit more. One word, one “tell Ella I’m okay,” would have sufficed.
On the third day, Ella could see the progress. She had arranged for the shipping agent to pick up what was already packed. He would hold it at the depot until everything was ready and ship all at once. She and Jalilah were talking when Ella heard a car. Glancing out the window, she saw Rashid and Bethanne get out and hurry toward the cottage.
Fear swamped her as she rushed to the door. “What happened?” she called before they could speak.
Bethanne came to her first, hugging her tightly. “He’ll be okay,” she said.
“What?” Sick with fear, she looked at Rashid.
“Another well exploded. The fire is worse than ever. Khalid was hit by flying debris. One of the crew was killed, but Khalid’s in hospital. He’s going to be okay. We’re going now. You come with us.”
Ella wanted to refuse, but her need to see him was too strong. She had to make sure he was truly okay before leaving.