The Other Side – Part 3
Bijan’s home
Cairo, El Saiyida Zeinab District
El Sad El Barran St
1999 a few days later…afternoon
“Are you going to help him?”
Jamie ignored Cecelia’s question for a moment and pushed aside the linen curtain from the large window, gazing out into the lush courtyard that was centered in Bijan’s home. She watched with a sinking heart as Sharif stumbled over to a wooden bench, and swayed for a moment before sitting down. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees and hung his head, taking in large draughts of air.
Jamie knew that he was stubbornly battling the debilitating weakness that continually plagued him and her first instinct was to run outside and help him. Attempts to ease his pain in the past had been politely but firmly rebuffed, but Jamie had to wonder if his actions were orchestrated by Bijan’s orders rather than the warrior’s preference.
Signs of Sharif’s suffering were rapidly becoming a common occurrence in the household, and it was a topic rarely discussed in Bijan’s presence, which infuriated Cecelia. In her opinion this was simply another facet of life that Bijan seemingly chose to ignore, like the existence of the Medjai.
“I’m going to try; I just have no idea how,” Jamie said as she continued watching Sharif out in the garden and sighed in relief when he leaned back on the bench. Apparently the seizure had been a small and manageable one.
“You like him, don’t you?”
Cecelia’s softly asked question took Jamie by surprise and she turned to face her dearest friend, unable to lie. “It’s more than that,” she whispered with a sad smile. “I feel this…this connection with him, and I know he feels it as well; we just don’t talk about it.”
Cecelia blinked in surprise. “You love him,” she concluded.
Jamie nodded her head. “I have no idea how it happened, but I’m determined to help him get better. The main problem, among many, is that Sharif is too darn stubborn and won’t listen to me. He denies feeling ill, and doesn’t want to talk about it.”
Cecelia shook her head and folded her arms across her chest, irritated at all of the males in the household for their lack of compassion when dealing with the warrior’s current health problem. “I’m honestly having a hard time trying to decide who’s more stubborn: Bijan, since by the way, he left early this morning on an undisclosed trip, Eric for pretending everything is okay and acting like a fool, or Zayn who rarely emerges from his room, and does so only to ask us what’s for dinner and could we do another load of wash for him.”
Jamie grinned and glanced over at her friend. “Are we going to launch into another enthralling discussion about the intelligence level of men?” she asked but the smile on her face faded when she realized something. “Did you say Bijan went away?”
Cecelia nodded and peered over Jamie’s shoulder, happy to see Sharif resting under the cool shade of several large ferns and palm trees. She marveled at how the sunlight accentuated the tattoos on his face, and memories of another face framed by a neatly trimmed beard suddenly came to mind. Her heart whispered for the warrior who now roamed constantly through her thoughts and dreams, an unnerving fear always hovering in her mind that he was in danger.
“He left early this morning, without saying a word, but made sure we would see the long lists of instructions sitting on the kitchen table,” she finally replied moments later. “I swear that man is more anal-retentive than your Aunt Micky. Say, does she still iron your uncle’s handkerchiefs?”
“Yeah, some things don’t change.” Jamie smiled and released the curtain, letting it fall back into place. “Maybe Bijan is finally beginning to believe you about your dream,” she said as she walked over to the dining room table and began sorting through several brown paper bags. She pulled out various containers of food and lifted the lids, peering at the contents.
Cecelia turned around and watched Jamie search for a small tray. “I doubt it. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell him about my dream, or how much I stress that Ardeth is in trouble…he won’t listen. He said the dreams are a product of post-time travel stress or something stupid like that and my subconscious conjured them up.”
Jamie paused from pouring a hearty broth into a small bowl. “You can sense it, can’t you? Like this nagging, vague feeling in the back of your mind that something’s not right, and you need to fix it right away.”
Cecelia smiled and walked over to the table, idly poking through some of the containers. “Sorry, I almost forgot that you’re also having some really weird dreams. Is it still the same one?”
Jamie nodded her head as she reached for another container. “It’s getting worse, if that’s possible. More vivid, like I’m truly there and it’s frightening that I can’t do anything. I wake up crying and shaking; I almost dread going to bed at night.”
“Do you still dream of the warrior with the gray eyes?”
“Yeah and each time I do, he seems to get more…sad, if that’s possible.” Jamie crumpled up one bag and tossed it into the trash can, smiling when she made a perfect shot. “I think he’s a friend of Sharif’s, and that somehow he was hoping that I would be able to save him. Problem is I never do.”
Cecelia grabbed a small glass from the cupboard and helped Jamie finish preparing the tray. “So, are you still upset that we missed our trip to
Jamie walked into the kitchen and fished around the drawers for some silverware. “Honestly, not so much any more,” she said as she opened another drawer. “But in the beginning, between the car chase, finding Sharif half dead in the alley, and learning about what really happened to you, all I wanted to do was leave. Take Eric and just go…fly to
“It’s not nonsense,” Cecelia murmured defensively out of habit. “The Medjai are real, Ardeth is real, and I have to find out if what passed between us is…”
“I know, I know,” Jamie whispered and walked over to Cecelia’s side with an apologetic smile on her face. “You have to find out if what you feel for this hot, handsome desert warrior is what we all hope for in our lifetimes: true love. And love at first sight to boot. No wait, wasn’t it love at first gun shot? I forget.”
Cecelia laughed and gratefully accepted Jamie’s hug, profoundly glad to have her friends by her side. “I don’t know what it was, but I hope to God I find out soon. The not-knowing is killing me.”
“Hey, do I smell something cooking?” Eric popped his head into the room with a grin, but his smile immediately disappeared from the frigid looks he received from Cecelia and Jamie. “Oh, right. I forgot. We’re still in the ‘we hate all men except Sharif’ mood. My bad.”
“Eric, go back to bed.” Cecelia waved him off.
“No, that’s okay. Let him see and smell what could have been his,” Jamie said with a wicked grin as she picked up the tray. She walked past him, letting the enticing aroma of the food waft up to his nostrils. “Serves him right for acting the way he does around here.”
Eric gave a mock groan and smacked his forehead with one hand. “Wait, wait…gimme a moment to remember what I am,” he muttered and then brightened a moment later. “I got it. I’m a selfish, slovenly, insensitive jerk who only cares about what goes in my mouth, and how many bad jokes I can tell in less than one hour.”
“Close,” Jamie laughed as she walked out the sliding doors that led to the courtyard. “Keep practicing, you’ll get it right one of these days.”
“Ouch,” Eric said and pretended to cover up an injury to his heart. He turned to Cecelia and the humor abruptly vanished from his eyes. “What about you? Still angry for the way I’ve been acting? Although I still don’t think I’m doing anything wrong.”
Cecelia sighed and threaded her fingers through her hair as she stared at the young man who she loved like a brother. “I guess we have been acting a little unfairly to both you and Zayn,” she finally conceded but held up her hand to stop any comment from Eric. “But that doesn’t mean we understand why you seem so indifferent to what’s happening to Sharif. Or myself or Jamie for that matter.”
“Damnit, Cece, what do you want me to do?” Eric asked and held up his hands in mock surrender. “You don’t think it’s eating me up to see you two walking around like zombies from lack of sleep? To watch Sharif slowly dissolve in front of my eyes and know there’s not one thing I can do, except try to help Zayn decipher ancient writing from some dusty manuals that Bijan brought from a nearby museum? Hell, I didn’t know how to read hieroglyphics before coming here, but now I’m a friggin’ expert. I can’t wait to list that on my resume.”
“You’re doing what?” Cecelia’s eyes widened in surprise.
Eric walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, purposely ignoring Cecelia’s question with the simple task, thereby allowing himself some time to calm down. He took a long drink and then promptly grimaced in disgust when the glass was empty. “Two words for Bijan – bottled water. Man, that stuff tastes nasty. I’ll bet it’s right from the Nile and for all I know, I could be drinking crocodile poo poo.”
“Eric, you’re digressing.”
“Naw, I’m avoiding because I let something slip that I wasn’t supposed to.”
Cecelia walked over to Eric’s side and gently touched his arm. “What are you doing?”
Eric sighed and washed out the glass. “The night after we got back, Zayn and I witnessed one of Sharif’s attacks, and it was pretty bad. Everyone else had gone to bed, and I was puttering around the living room, talking to Zayn. Sharif walked in, said two words and then Bam! He went down for the count without a sound.” Eric leaned his hands on the edge of the steel sink and gazed out of the window, his eyes focused on the images of that night.
“Oh my God, Jamie and I never knew,” Cecelia whispered softly.
“Both of you were asleep,” Eric replied just as softly, distracted by the memories. “By the time we got to him, he was shaking, and groaning, and holding his stomach...Christ, Cece, I never saw anyone in so much pain before. I felt helpless, incompetent, and scared out of my wits, especially when Sharif’s body actually shimmered and faded for a few seconds. I wanted to grab him, but Zayn said it was better that I didn’t; I might have caused more harm than good.”
“Why haven’t you said anything? Why did you let Jamie and I carry on about your lack of interest with everything?” Cecelia asked. “I feel so stupid.”
Eric smiled faintly and turned to face his best friend, frowning slightly at the dark circles under her eyes. “It was easier to let you both think whatever you wanted, rather than confess to you my childish fears.”
“And what are your fears?”
Eric smiled and shook his head, playfully tickling Cecelia’s chin with his fingertips. “Like I’m going to tell you?” he joked. “Puh-lease, my manly status around here has taken quite a beating in recent days. I don’t think you want to hear what wakes me up in the middle of the night.”
Cecelia smiled and pulled Eric into a hug feeling extremely thankful for her friends. She giggled when Eric made a slight fuss over the sentimental moment, but grew serious when she began thinking about what would have happened to her without them. “How did it happen, Eric?” she whispered and held him close. “How did my life get turned so upside down? I’m no longer the woman who left the
Eric pulled back from Cecelia’s embrace and affectionately caressed her cheek, the smile on his face slowly fading as he thought about the recent events in their lives. “Ya know, I’m gonna suggest something here, and if I say it correctly, I just might come off sounding like a very wise man.”
“I’m all ears, oh wise one,” Cecelia said with a slight bow.
“Tut, tut,” Eric tapped Cecelia’s shoulders. “No need to get all formal on me, just keep an open mind.”
“You got it.”
“And stop giggling, you’re ruining the moment.”
“Sorry.”
Eric gave Cecelia a mock glare of annoyance. “You don’t sound very remorseful. But here’s the thought: didcha ever think that maybe you weren’t living the life you were meant to have, and that you’re meeting Ardeth Bay could change all of that for the better? Maybe you were supposed to go through the portal, maybe you were supposed to get attacked and then rescued…”
“That’s a lot of ‘maybes’…”
“Maybe you were supposed to kiss him, who knows. But from what you’ve told me, it sounds to me like the two of you were destined to be together.”
Cecelia put her hands on her hips and stared at Eric, puzzled by his idea. “So let me clarify something. Are you saying that the rift is something created by higher powers, and is a way of giving lost and separated souls a chance to be together? And that I met Ardeth because it was either fate, coincidence or an unknown longing?” 1
“Erm, no that’s your conclusion and a pretty decent one too,” Eric chuckled. “All I’m saying is that you met Bay for a reason. It would be a shame if you never found out why.”
“Okay.” Cecelia wagged a finger at Eric as he started walking out of the kitchen. “Who are you and what have you done with Eric Hanover?”
Eric threw up his hands in aggravation as he walked back to his room. “Everyone is a comedian around here,” he muttered.
~*~
Late June 1925
Base camp within the triangle of Abydos, Dendera, and the West Bank of Luxor
Fifty miles south of the original gateway
1999 later that evening…
Silhouetted against the velvet canopy of the night sky, a lone warrior stood on the crest of the dune and faced the horizon, dark eyes scanning the surrounding landscape. While it would seem that his attention was focused on the small encampment below, his mind was actually thinking about a missing warrior brother and friend. Was he still alive or had his wounds claimed his life? Why had the Traveler taken such a costly risk by rescuing Sharif?
As an errant desert wind blew back the dark tendrils of hair from Makin’s face, the young warrior sighed and lifted his gaze up to the heavens. Words at the moment failed him, and he felt even more helpless that he couldn’t communicate to his fears to Allah; that he couldn’t find it within him to say ‘please help my brother.’ By failing to pray for Sharif’s life, Makin felt as if he was also letting down his best friend in his time of need. Tormented by the endless thoughts, self doubts, and questions, Makin knew sleep would be elusive this night as it had been for the previous nights.
Absently, he rubbed his side where the wound he had sustained several weeks ago tingled and itched; he had been shot by a raider on that fateful night the barranidinyi mara had come into their world. And ever since her arrival, life as Makin had once known it had irrevocably changed.
Talk among the warrior brethren and helper sects said the Elders were listening more carefully now to Lady Dareejah’s ruminations about the lack of Ardeth’s leadership. Sly innuendo and vague reference placed the blame of his faltering reign on the mara, Cecelia Adams, and the recent attempt on Ardeth’s life served to emphasize Lady Dareejah’s claims. Councilor Thias also seemed to be aiding the lady, although others noted he seemed less than enthusiastic in showing his support.
The attempt on Ardeth’s life during the trial had served its purpose, and the Elders finally reached a compromise, hoping to appease Lady Dareejah’s demand that Ardeth be released of his duties. They gave Ardeth thirty days to bring the warrior, Sharif Rafe and Traveler Zayn to the citadel, to prove that Miss Adams had safely returned to her world. If the barranidinyi mara was no longer living among them, then Ardeth would be granted an additional thirty days to rest and recuperate; he would resume his duties upon a review by the Elders, or have them revoked.
If revoked, the rumors were speculating that Lady Dareejah would perform something unprecedented, and petition to act as ruler of the Medjai until a more suitable candidate could be found.
Infuriated by Dareejah’s maneuverings, Ardeth ordered Jericho to take Makin and Solman along with another Traveler through the rift to join the existing Medjai camp in the other world. There they met Jericho’s friend, Emir Cohan, and learned from the captain that the guardian in Cairo had rescued Sharif and was taking care of him at his home. They would be leaving the camp tomorrow at dawn to meet the Guardian and finally bring Sharif back to his world.
Yet Makin had an unnerving premonition that something would happen…something would go wrong, and they would still end up losing Sharif.
“I miss ya saHib Sharif.”
Solman’s voice pulled Makin from his musings, and he turned to find his friend standing next to him holding out a small metal cup filled with steaming tea. “As do I,” he murmured as he accepted it.
“Fear not, ya ukh, for he is being taken care of by an angel sent by Allah,” Solman said with unerring simplicity. “We will see him soon.”
Makin almost snorted on his first sip and looked over at Solman, sputtering in surprise. “How do you know this?” he asked.
Solman shrugged his broad shoulders and looked up at the starry sky, the expression on his face thoughtful. “I had a dream one night not so long ago, and it showed me many things. Some of which I do not understand, others whose meaning is now becoming clear.”
“You had a dream showing you this?” Makin asked incredulously.
Solman looked at Makin with a soft, knowing smile on his face. “I am a simple man,” he murmured and placed a hand on Makin’s shoulder. “Sharif ya saHib…Makin ya saHib, Dharr ya saHib; it is all my heart knows. Maybe that is why I had the dream.”
Makin’s smiled in return and lifted the cup in a silent salute to the other warrior. “Then let us thank Allah for that dream and while we are at it, can you dream about me meeting a pretty young mara? I would like…”
The sound of laughter rolled down across the dunes and skipped across the land, easing troubled hearts for a few moments and allowing them to believe that all would be well in the end.
~*~
The Guardians Citadel “Il Wasi Qal’a”
Lady Dareejah’s private quarters
Midnight
Dareejah reclined on the small divan and watched with a bemused expression on her face as Thias paced in front of her, waving his hands in the air as he ranted and raved about her behavior. Truthfully, she heard every other word, and was actually concentrating on finding a tasty piece of fruit from the nearby bowl that would help appease her craving for something sweet.
“…of our carefully laid plans, and…are you listening to me?” Thias snapped and stopped in front of Dareejah. When he saw one dainty hand poised over the bowl, he swept it off the table with a strangled oath.
Dareejah arched an eyebrow as she watched the fruit roll across the floor. “Really, Thias, it is quite late at night for such theatrics,” she said with a sigh. “And aiwa, I have been listening to you. How can I not? You have been shouting for the past half hour, and ya maHabbi, it is growing quite tiresome.”
Thias felt his face flush from his temper but he sucked in a deep breath, trying to remain calm.
He knelt down in front of Dareejah, the position acting as an appeasement to Dareejah and giving her the illusion of control. He hated doing it but it was part of the means to an end, for now. “I want you to…restrain yourself with your endless petitions to the Elders. And aiwa, I am using the word ‘restrain’. Over the past several days, you have sent a deluge of papers suggesting everything from Ardeth abdicating the throne to holding re-elections for some of the Elders who have grown too old to be of further service. These requests are drawing more attention to you than necessary and when you finally do seize the throne, they will cast a suspicious light on your methods.”
Dareejah blessed Thias with a dazzling smile and leaned forward, kissing him briefly on the cheek. “I am merely suggesting that the Elders consider a few ideas during this probation period. And I am also getting ready for a guest. In fact, he is due to arrive very soon…very soon.”
Thias leaned back and watched with a puzzled expression on his face as Dareejah rose up from the divan and walked across the parlor. “Guest? Who in the name of Allah would be coming here for a visit…?”
A knock at the doors interrupted Thias’ question and moments later, Dareejah received precisely the news she had been waiting for. “Please show him to the waiting room; Thias and I will be there shortly. Make him comfortable and treat him as if he is your sire, do you understand?”
The messenger bowed and quickly left to do his mistress’ bidding. Dareejah closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, her eyes glowing with happiness.
“Dareejah, what have you done now?” Thias asked warily.
“Ija…ija with me and help me greet our guest. It has been a long time since he last walked these halls,” she murmured and held out one hand.
Reluctantly and because he was curious, Thias allowed himself to be taken from the room and drawn into the formal sitting room where they found a young warrior standing in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the royal gardens.
“You came,” Dareejah’s soft almost motherly voice earned a look of astonishment from Thias but she ignored it as she slowly walked towards the warrior. She hesitated slightly when she saw that his dark brown eyes held a certain amount of guardedness, and he had kept his face covering up, his body stiff and formal.
“You sent me a letter,” he replied in a voice that sounded eerily familiar to Thias; he had yet to reveal his face and the councilor took a few steps closer.
“He needs you,” Dareejah said and stopped in front of the warrior, her hands resting on the broad planes of his chest. “I was afraid you would reply with a decline and I was so worried; truly I was. You and I did not have the best of relationships but I wish for us to be united in helping Ardeth.”
“Ardeth has never needed help, and certainly has never needed mine,” the warrior retorted and placed his hands over Dareejah’s gently pushing them away. “My wife is expecting our first child within twelve weeks; your letter came at an extremely bad time. I am here only because of her, no more.”
Dareejah clasped her hands and nodded her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “So I am to be a grandmother; I am so ashamed that I have never congratulated you. Can you not show me your face, so that I may kiss your cheek and offer my most sincere apologies for my horrendous behavior?”
The warrior sighed and to Thias’ relief, he finally pulled down the covering, revealing a face that mirrored Ardeth’s in almost every detail except one: the Bay Family crest had been tattooed on his throat.
“Ralon,” Thias breathed in amazement.
Ralon Bay, the estranged cousin whose resemblance to the chieftain had caused more than its share of rifts, both good and bad, over the years as the men had grown up together…the embittered cousin who had claimed that Ardeth hindered the investigation into his father’s death, and the eventual argument with him that drove Ralon away from all that he knew and loved…the mistrustful looking young man who yearned to be at peace with his older cousin but had lacked the courage to face him…until now.
Ralon stiffened when Dareejah kissed his cheek and he acknowledged Thias with a curt nod. “Tina said I should come and speak with Ardeth; I think she is hoping for reconciliation. I shall request an audience in the morning. Right now I wish to be shown to my quarters so that I may wash the dust from my body and rest.”
“Of course,” Dareejah clapped her hands, and while they waited for the attendants to appear, she fussed over Ralon while Thias looked on in amazement. “I am so glad you are here,” she murmured as she gently touched Ralon’s shoulder.
Thias had to hide his smirk when the warrior remained aloof and silent, seemingly indifferent to Dareejah’s affectionate display. He had to cough to cover his laughter when Ralon was finally led to his chambers and Dareejah tried calling him son; his cool reply of wishing her a good evening almost made all of the trouble she had caused with the Elders worth it.
Once they were alone, Thias walked over to Dareejah who was staring thoughtfully at the closed door and decided to provoke his lover. “What are you thinking, my little spider?” he asked as he walked around her in a circle, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “The division between the once close cousins is as wide as the Sahara; how can you capitalize on that? How can Ralon assist us in what we want? He may hinder rather than help.”
The smile that blossomed across Dareejah’s face was as cold as the night in the desert. “Ralon will help us, I am certain of that; he may not realize it but he is the one thing that will drive Ardeth over the edge of reason. What better way to undermine Ardeth’s unstable emotional well being than to bring back the man who believes he is responsible for his father’s death? So much has gone unsaid between the cousins. I am merely acting as the good stepmother in trying to bring about resolution between the two of them.”
“A resolution or dissolution?” Thias wondered.
Dareejah looked up at Thias as her wicked smile deepened. “Now what do you think, my dear councilor?”
~*~
Bijan’s home
Cairo, El Saiyida Zeinab District
El Sad El Barran St
“What is this?”
Jamie smiled tentatively at Sharif as she balanced the tray in one hand and dragged over a small table. “Lunch or dinner, depending on what time of the day you want it to be. I hope you like this. I ordered it from the small restaurant down the street and they claim it’s just like Mom used to make.”
“There is no need…” Sharif started to object but Jamie seemed oblivious, and for a moment he was secretly glad. He had sensed a subtle yet definite change in their relationship once he had returned, and knew that Bijan had been responsible for the growing separation.
A division that included the other guests in the home as well…
Sharif had tried to wage a silent war against the dissection, his imposed solitude serving only to remind him of the past that could not be changed; memories of his parents and older brother long forgotten came back with startling clarity. And with it, old wounds once thought healed, opened up, spewing forth a deluge of loneliness and regret. Unable to live with the past, uncertain of his future, Sharif had withdrawn from them all, only to be pursued by a small, beautiful woman determined to take care of him.
“Uh, yeah there is a need,” Jamie said as she quickly uncovered a few of the dishes. She was acutely aware that his amber colored eyes were intently watching her and that for the first time in a few days he actually seemed interested in eating. Sharif’s growing listlessness, as well as gradual weight loss, constantly worried both Cecelia and Jamie, so the trip to the restaurant had been a good but risky idea.
“And since I’ve never met your mother, I can only hope that the food is as good as they claim it to be,” Jamie rambled on as Sharif picked up a spoon and tentatively sipped the steaming broth. She smiled moments later when his eyes widened in surprise and he ate another spoonful.
“It is good…very good,” Sharif said. He savored the simple taste of the broth as he recalled the many meals shared with his parents. “Ya ume loves to cook and created as many different dishes as possible since she had three men to take care of in the household.”
Jamie caught the underlining hint of sadness in Sharif’s voice when speaking of his family, and impulsively decided on something. Was Sharif unguarded enough to continue talking? “What does yaum mean? And who were the men? Obviously you and your father and…”
“It means ’my mother’ and I have an older brother named Sajid.”
“Oh,” was all Jamie said as they lapsed back into silence. Clearly Sharif had no desire to discuss his family and she didn’t want to pry any more than she already had, although she wanted to ask more questions. Disappointed that a chance to get to know the warrior didn’t turn out as she had hoped, she waited until Sharif was done and silently collected the dishes.
“uSbur shwaiyi,” Sharif said and then immediately clarified when he saw Jamie’s confused expression. “Wait a little, please. I wish to sit out here for a few minutes more and simply enjoy your company.”
“Really?” Jamie gave Sharif a brilliant smile and leaned back on the bench, marveling at how beautiful Bijan’s home truly was. “I like coming out here,” she confided as she gazed at the surrounding foliage. “Who would have thought a detective would have such a green thumb?”
“The detective is many things,” Sharif stated enigmatically as he watched Jamie’s enjoyment of the garden. “One should not always judge another by appearance.”
“Is he your keeper or warden?” Jamie asked bluntly. Inwardly she winced from her boldness when Sharif seemed astonished by her question. She mentally berated herself for her lack of finesse in dealing with Sharif and despaired that they would ever be able to transcend polite but meaningless conversation.
“He is only concerned with my welfare,” Sharif started to explain.
“He has an odd way of showing it,” Jamie retorted.
“Bijan is following the directive set by his predecessors…”
“By keeping you a prisoner in his home?!”
“I am not a prisoner, but a man who does not belong here,” Sharif clarified in response to Jamie’s outburst. “Contact with those who inhabit this world must be kept to a minimum, or else the ramifications of my presence will forever change the fabric of their existence. The effect of what happens here today, tomorrow, or next week could be felt for generations to come.”
Jamie leaned closer to Sharif, the frustrated tone in his voice almost breaking her heart. Her gaze roamed over his features, casting the images to memory so she would be comforted during the long lonely nights to come. She felt so sorry for him, having to exist with little or no contact with the outside world, knowing that his exile was depleting his proud warrior spirit. She saw the rare vulnerability flare up in his beautiful eyes and impulsively she reached up with one hand, caressing his cheek.
“I understand the need for secrecy, I really do,” she whispered as her fingers gently traced the edges of his facial tattoos. She heard his sharp intake of breath and grew bolder when his eyes darkened with desire. “I just don’t believe that you have to live like a recluse during your time spent here. You could come out here to rest, or watch TV with Cecelia and me, or read one of Bijan’s many books. You just can’t hide…”
Sharif stiffened from Jamie’s words and they served as an effective dampener on the tumultuous feelings he had at the moment. Jamie was unlike any other maiden he had ever known. Truthfully he found her honesty and forthrightness appealing, but her actions were still considered bold and improper based upon his upbringing. And he reacted from those teachings. “I do not hide,” he stated and abruptly stood up, halfheartedly escaping the tender feeling of Jamie’s hand on his face.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Jamie said as she stood up with Sharif. Her heartbeat doubled in rhythm as she caught a glimpse of the strong warrior he was, secretly reveling in the power she felt emanating from him.
Sharif leaned closer to Jamie, intoxicated by her nearness and by her light feminine scent that drifted up to his nostrils. He was mesmerized by the concern he saw in her eyes and took a deep breath, ingesting the sweet fragrance to keep with him always. “Why do you care?” he asked softly, changing the subject.
Jamie blinked in surprise at the question as tiny butterflies danced in her stomach from Sharif’s nearness. “Because I do,” she answered lamely.
“It is good to know the truth, but it is better to speak of palm trees,” 2 Sharif murmured and gave in to the need to touch Jamie’s hair; gently he tucked a few stray strands behind her ear.
“Huh?” was Jamie’s eloquent reply.
Sharif smiled contemplatively. “We both know that I cannot take your suggestions to heart; I must obey my warrior vow and heed Bijan’s instructions. My time here is running out, and soon I will return home, although the method of travel is still in question. Is it not better to speak of happier things, than dwell on what might have been?”
“You mean avoid talking about what’s happening to you, me and Cecelia? Talk about putting your head in the sand,” Jamie said and shook her head.
Sharif leaned back and studied Jamie for a moment as he wrestled internally with a disappointing conclusion. Although she was intelligent and beautiful, Jamie was far too stubborn with her opinions and perceptions. Convincing her that Bijan’s suggestion for Sharif to remain secluded from not only the rest of the guests but from the world as well had been a wise and difficult task. And one that Sharif belatedly realized he had very little strength for.
“To know you has been a joy, soghairi,” Sharif said as he stepped back. “Each day has been a blessing from Allah that I will cherish for the rest of my days, and the memories of you will sustain me through the long nights to come.”
“You’re saying goodbye?” Jamie asked bewilderedly and took a step towards Sharif.
“I am returning to my room, where I can bask in my solitude, or as you have so expressively referred to it, put my head in the sand,” Sharif said with a slight smile.
“I think your head is full of more than just sand,” Jamie snapped and folded her arms across her chest as she watched Sharif walk away. “You just can’t give up!” she shouted.
Jamie watched him slip through the sliding glass doors and when he finally disappeared from view, she whispered, “I won’t let you.”
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1 - to correct Eric, this conclusion actually came from a person who had emailed me in the early stages of writing this story, and the email name was SamIAm. We bounced a few ideas back and forth about the rift between the worlds, and why Cecelia is so drawn to Ardeth and this was the conclusion… and a darn good one too. So good I had to use it in the story. Lol SamIAm, wherever you are, my warriors and I say ‘shukran’ for the help. So of course, giving credit where credit is due…
2 - It is good to know the truth, but it is better to speak of palm trees – Arabic proverb
Soghairi – little one
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The Other Side – Part 4