The Sheikh's Secret Son (18 page)

 

“He's leaving, Mom.”

“Leaving? Why, Eden? When?”

“Tonight. He's saying goodbye to Sawyer now, and then he's leaving, going straight to the airport, to his private jet.”

“And you're going to let him go?”

Eden turned away from the window, looked at her mother. “I can't ask him to stay. That would be impossible.”

“And it would be just as impossible for you and Sawyer to go with him, share his life?” Mary Ellen asked, laying the needlepoint she'd been working on in her lap as she looked at her daughter. “Why? You belong together, darling, the three of you.”

Eden turned to the window once more, watched as Ben and Sawyer walked away from the house, her son's small hand swallowed up in his father's larger one. “We've discussed it, Mom. We think it's
best this way,” she said, her heart breaking in her chest.

“You do? Really? How so, Eden? Please, explain this rational decision to your old mother, who fails to understand what you're talking about.”

“And to your brother, who's equally in the dark,” Holden said from the entrance to the living room before he walked over to kiss his mother. “I got here as soon as I could,” he told her quietly, but not so quietly that Eden didn't overhear him.

“Et tu, Brute?”
she asked him, trying to smile. “Thank you for coming, Holden, but this really is between Ben and me.”

“And Sawyer,” her brother pointed out reasonably. “Or are you going to tell me that you're doing this for Sawyer's own good?”

Eden rubbed a hand across her forehead, trying to fight off the headache that had gripped her as she struggled to control her emotions, tried so desperately not to cry. “Everything's just happening too fast, Holden. You can understand that, can't you? Mother?”

“My grandson is five years old and has just met his father,” Mary Ellen answered, picking up her needlepoint once more. “I'd say things have been moving entirely too slowly, wouldn't you, Holden?”

Eden spread her hands, tried to make her mother
and brother understand. “Look— Ben's only known about Sawyer for a couple of days. I've only known the truth about Ben for a couple of days. We need to move slower, be more reasonable, consider how things should progress,
if
they should progress. Ben can go back to Kharmistan, speak with his advisors, begin to prepare his people for the reality of Sawyer's existence. I mean, there has to be some sort of protocol, doesn't there? Even a king can't just go to America, come back a week later, and say, ‘Surprise! I have a son.'”

“And ‘Surprise! I love that son's mother, and she's going to be your queen,'” Holden said, spreading his own arms wide. “Or hadn't you thought about that one, Eden? Being a queen, that is. Or a princess—whatever the heck you'd be as Ben's wife. Or is that what really scares you?”

She shifted her gaze to the floor. “Oh, I've thought about it, Holden,” she admitted quietly. “And yes, the prospect scares me straight down to my toes.”

“So you're both going to go slower,” her brother said, nodding his head. “Ben goes back to Kharmistan, you go back to work, and Sawyer goes back to asking where in hell his daddy is. Sure. Right. Makes perfect sense. Dammit, Eden, none of us wants to see you go—but that's
nuts!
”

 

“You're going away, aren't you? You're going away, and you're never coming back.”

“That is not true, Sawyer,” Ben said, kneeling in front of his son. “I am going away, yes. That much is true. But I will be back. You are my son. I love you, Sawyer, and I will come to see you as often as I can. Just as I hope that one day soon your mother will see fit to allow you to come to Kharmistan, to visit me.”

He ran his fingers through an unruly lock of Sawyer's dark hair, brushing it back off the small forehead, beating down an urge to pick his son up, to run with him as far and as fast as he could.

“Mommy won't let me go to see you, will she?” Sawyer asked, stepping away from Ben, kicking his booted toe into the soft dirt. “She wants me to stay here. Why? Tommy Barnes flies to California every summer to see his daddy. He flies in an airplane all by himself. Is Mommy afraid I'll get lost?”

This was hard, it was so hard. The hardest thing Ben had ever done. “Yes, Sawyer, I think maybe your mommy is afraid you might be lost. But she has promised to think about bringing you to Kharmistan later this summer, before you begin kindergarten.”

“I'll go to school every day when I'm in kindergarten,” Sawyer said, brightening a little. But then he frowned again, looking much older than his
years, and much wiser, too. “Mommy always says
we'll see
when she really means no. That's what she said when I asked her if I could have Rollerblades. We'll see. And I never got them.”

“She is your mother, Sawyer,” Ben reminded the boy, “and you must trust her to know what is best for you. You do trust her, don't you?”

“I suppose so,” the boy said, rubbing a finger under his nose. “My grandmother showed me on a map last night, showed me where Kharmistan is. It's pretty far away, isn't it? Are you sure you'll be able to find your way back here once you get home?”

“Not only will I find my way back here, Sawyer, but I will still phone you every night, just so that I can hear about your day and you can tell me about Hercules and Tommy Barnes and everything that makes you happy. And I will send you pictures of Kharmistan, of my home there. You would like to see pictures of my home, would you not?”

Sawyer nodded, not answering. He took Ben's hand in his and waited until Ben had regained his feet, then began leading him back to the house.

“We can take a picture of you, too, before you leave,” he said, tugging harder on Ben's hand, seemingly eager to keep him moving. “My grandmother can take a picture of you and me and Mommy, and I can keep it in my room, and take it to school and everything. Okay?”

“That sounds like a fine idea,” Ben told his son, then looked toward the front porch of the house, to where Eden was standing, watching them approach.

They were both being so sane, so sensible.

Did she feel as bad as he felt? Did she feel as if the bottom of her world had just fallen out, leaving her with nothing to hold on to, nothing to keep her upright?

 

Eden watched as Sawyer hugged his father goodbye, Ben kneeling on the front porch, his head buried against his son's neck. She pressed her hands to her mouth, holding back a sob as Sawyer, who had been so strong, burst into tears.

She was doing the right thing. They were doing the right thing.

Weren't they?

Mary Ellen hugged Ben, kissed his cheek, then took Sawyer's hand and led him into the house with the promise of some home-baked cookies and a large glass of milk.

Holden shook Ben's hand, clapped him on the back, mumbled something unintelligible, then followed his mother into the house. Leaving Eden and Ben alone on the porch, with Haskim discreetly inspecting the tires of the limousine.

“He will be all right,” Ben said, taking Eden's
hand in his. “I have explained that I will phone him every day.”

Eden nodded, then reached into the pocket of her blouse, extracting one of the instant photographs Holden had taken of the three of them earlier. “Here,” she said, holding out the photograph, “you don't want to forget this.”

Ben looked at the photograph, traced a finger over the three figures, then placed it in his pocket. “Well, I suppose it is time I was on my way. Nadim made it clear to me that we should be leaving for the airport before eleven and we must still return to the hotel.”

“Ben,” Eden began, then hesitated, cleared her suddenly tear-clogged throat. “I do love you. Thank you for understanding that, and for understanding that I need more time. I don't know if it would work out, living in Kharmistan. I—I wouldn't want Sawyer to settle in, just to discover that love isn't enough to bridge our two worlds. But I promise that I'll bring Sawyer to you soon. Maybe even next month. We'll visit, we'll talk, we'll see how Sawyer does…”

She wiped tears from her cheek, looked deeply into his eyes. “He's our son, Ben. We have to do what's best for him.”

“I love him, too, Eden,” Ben told her, stepping closer to her, taking her hands in his. “I love him,
and you, enough to walk away, to keep Sawyer's identity our secret if you should decide that his life would be simpler if he were to remain here, never to claim his inheritance, his destiny. I love you both that much.”

“Oh, Ben,” Eden said, sliding into his arms, closing her eyes as his strength enveloped her, perhaps for the last time.

Could their love survive another separation? Could Ben forgive her for her fears, her insecurities that kept her from believing that they truly had a future together, no matter how much they loved each other, would always love each other?

She held him, held on to him tightly, until at last he gently pushed her away, kissed her forehead, smiled into her eyes, said his last goodbye.

And then he was gone, and Eden stood on the front porch, watching the limousine driving away, hugging herself tightly as she fought to keep herself together, to keep herself from falling onto the porch and breaking into a million sobbing pieces….

 

Ben sat in one corner of the limousine, Nadim in the other, both of them silent as the driver cut through the night, heading toward the airport.

“I still do not understand, Your Highness,” Nadim said at last, breaking the uncomfortable silence with an equally uncomfortable remark. “To be a
princess, to have her son as prince and future sheikh. What woman would deny herself this?”

Ben's smile was small, sad. “A woman who loves her son, I suppose,” he answered quietly, still looking out the side window, watching the dark Texas landscape. “Not every woman craves power, Nadim, craves great wealth, a lofty position.”

He turned away from the window, looked at his chief advisor, whose bemused frown was almost comical. “You have to admit one thing, Nadim. Eden could never be accused of taking advantage of me, of marrying me for anything other than love of your sheikh.”

Nadim's spine stiffened, even as he sat enveloped in his robes. “You speak now of Leila?”

“No, Nadim, I do not, and forgive me if that is what you thought. Leila and I married for duty, which was acceptable to both of us at the time. Eden, however, was not raised to feel the responsibility of a princess marrying solely for the sake of the throne. As my son will not marry for the sake of his throne, when that day comes. I think, Nadim, we have all learned, much to our regret, the folly, and the pain, such unions often cause.”

“Yet you are confident Miss Eden Fortune will come to Kharmistan, to visit, to decide possibly to stay? That she will bring the prince with her?”

Ben unconsciously reached up, scratched at his
ear that was hidden beneath his white silk
kaffiyeh.
“Sawyer does not believe so.”

“Then I do not understand, Your Highness. Why are we leaving?”

Ben reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, removed the photograph Eden had given him, passed it to Nadim. “Do you see her, my old friend? Look at her well, look into her eyes. Do you not see a woman of her word? Your king may not have his fairytale ending, but this is an honest, straightforward woman who will at least attempt to form some sort of compromise.”

Nadim switched on a small overhead light, and looked at the photograph for a long time. “Yes, this is an honest woman. What I also see, Your Highness, is your son. There can be no question, Your Highness. This boy is your son, your heir. You and he are the future of Kharmistan, and I am its past.”

He handed the photograph back to Ben, switched off the overhead light. “Once again, Your Highness, I thank you for your indulgence in allowing me to continue in the service of my prince. I may not have been so generous, were I in your place, knowing what I know about my own ambitions. This proves to me, at last, that you are the ruler Kharmistan needs, while I am nothing but a dreamer of lost dreams. I live to serve you, Your Highness, and to serve your son in any way possible.”

“I will hold you to your promise, old friend, for Sawyer could only benefit from your teachings, as I have done.”

“If he comes to Kharmistan,” Nadim added dolefully. “If this honest woman allows him to claim his heritage… Ah, Your Highness, to place so much power in the hands of one woman. The future is here, as you say, with everyone open and honest and equal, but there is still much to say for the old ways.”

Ben chuckled softly. “I had given some thought to throwing Eden over my shoulder and carrying her off to my palace. But I fought down the urge.”

He sat forward, seeing the trailing runway lights ahead as the driver pulled onto the area of the airport reserved for private planes. He could see his own plane, a comfortably large white jet carrying the name of his homeland in flowing Arabic letters.

Lights were on inside the plane, the pilot visible in the cockpit, Ben's empty co-pilot chair waiting for him to occupy it. For once, the thrill of piloting the jet did not sweep through his system.

In mere minutes, they would be on their way.

“We are here, Nadim,” he said, a tic beginning to work in the side of his jaw. “We are here, and soon we will be gone. Such a short visit to Texas, and so many changes in all our lives in that short time.”

Haskim opened the door to the limousine, standing back as Ben stepped out, looked at the night sky, looked at the plane that would carry him away from Eden.

Was Sawyer right, and Eden would not come to him in Kharmistan?

Or was he right in having followed his heart, the heart he had given to Eden so many years ago, the heart he left with her now as he walked across a wet, glistening tarmac, toward the opened door of the jet….