Accidentally the Sheikh's Wife

Chapter FIVE

SATURDAY Bethanne rose early. Today was the polo match, followed by a dinner dance in the evening. She hoped the dress she’d brought for the actual match was suitable. The light blue cotton had appealed to her the moment she’d first seen it. It was slightly more casual than the dresses Rashid had bought. Suitable for outdoors and easily cleaned if something spilled on it. She hoped she’d chosen well. The sparkle in her eyes and the blush of color on her cheeks showed how excited she was with the excursion.
The maid knocked on the door before nine and told her Rashid was waiting.
Grabbing her small purse and the wide-brimmed hat Rashid has bought in Quraim Wadi Samil, she hurried down to greet him.
He was waiting in the foyer, dressed in jodhpurs and a white shirt opened at the collar. He watched as she ran lightly down the stairs while she could hardly take her eyes off him. He looked fabulous.
“I’m ready,” she said as she stepped onto the tile floor.
“A good trait in a woman, always being on time.”
“Comes from pilot training, I expect,” she said as they went outside.
A small sports car stood where the limousine normally parked.
“I will drive,” Rashid said, escorting her to the passenger’s side.
Bethanne loved riding in a convertible—especially beside Rashid.
Within twenty minutes, they had reached the polo field. The bustle of activity reminded Bethanne of horse races in Texas. Lots of people walking around, studying horses, reviewing printed programs, laughing and talking. Clothing varied from designer originals to the jodhpurs and white shirts that Rashid wore. Once in a while she spotted a man in more traditional robes, but for the most part she could be in England or France, or Texas.
Rashid parked near a stable and Bethanne went with him to one of the stalls where a groom already had a beautiful Arabian saddled.
“This is Morning Star,” Rashid said with affection, patting the arched neck of the horse. His glossy chestnut coat gleamed. His mane and tail had been brushed until they looked silky soft.
“He’s beautiful,” she said, reaching out to pet him as well.
“He is one of four I have. Come, we’ll look at the rest, all great animals. But Morning Star is the one I ride most often.”
Bethanne loved the entire atmosphere of the event. She was introduced to other players. She petted a dozen or more beautiful horses. She watched as the grooms prepared horses for the event.
Khalid was also riding and they visited him shortly before Rashid escorted her to the viewing stands. His welcome wasn’t exactly warm, but better than his mother’s was likely to be, Bethanne thought.
“My mother is already in the royal box,” Rashid said as they began to climb the stairs.
Bethanne’s heart dropped. She had not known she’d be spending time with Madame al Harum. It was enough to put a damper on her enthusiasm. Still, with any luck, the woman would be so busy rooting for her sons, she would ignore the unwelcomed woman her one son was entertaining.
There were several guests in the al Harum box, and Rashid made sure everyone was introduced to Bethanne before he left.
“See you later,” he said, with a special caress on her cheek.
She played the part of adoring girlfriend and told him to win for her.
Smiling at the others, she took a seat left for her on the front row and focused on the playing field and not the chatter around her. Not that she could understand it. Just before the match began, Madame al Harum sat in the seat next to her.
The game was exciting and Bethanne was glad Rashid had gone over the main points so she had a glimmer of an idea how it was played. Often she saw a blur of horses and riders when the players vied for the ball. Other times Rashid would break free and hit the ball down the field. Or Khalid. His horse was a dark bay. That wasn’t the only way she could tell the men apart, but it helped. She seemed tuned in to Rashid and kept her eyes on him for most of the game.
When the match ended, Rashid’s team had won by two points. The people in the box cheered and Bethanne joined right in.
“Come, we will meet them for celebration, then return home to change for tonight’s fete,” Madame al Harum said, touching Bethanne on the shoulder. The older woman walked proudly to the area where the winners were celebrating.
When Rashid saw them, he broke away and crossed swiftly to them, enveloping Bethanne in a hug. She hugged him right back, enthusiasm breaking out.
“It was wonderful! You looked like you were part of the horse. And that one long drive…I thought the ball would never stop.”
“Well done, Rashid,” his mother said, watching in disapproval the animation on Bethanne’s face.
Khalid came over, hugging his mother and standing with his arm around her shoulders as he greeted Bethanne again.
“Great match,” she said with a smile.
He nodded.
“Don’t you ever worry you’ll get hit by the maillot?”
“It’s happened. Glad you enjoyed it. Your first match?” he asked.
“Yes. I hope not my last,” she said. Rashid had mimicked his brother with his arm around Bethanne’s shoulders. She tried not to be self-conscious, but she knew his mother did not approve. She didn’t care. She would not care. It’s not as if they’d made a lifelong commitment to each other. The older woman would find out soon enough.
“Come to the dinner tonight,” Madame al Harum said to Khalid.
“Not tonight. I have other plans.” He gave her a kiss on her cheek, sketched a salute to Rashid and Bethanne and left, weaving his way through the crowd.
His mother watched with sad eyes.
“He never comes,” she said.
“Let him find his own way, Mother,” Rashid said gently.


After Rashid checked with the groom on the state of his horse, he escorted Bethanne to the sports car.
“So how often do you play? When do you find time to practice? Do you ever have games away from Alkaahdar?” she asked, fascinated by the sport.
He answered her questions as he skillfully drove through the city traffic, giving Bethanne a fascinating insight to more of his life.
“I’ll pick you up at six-thirty,” he said when they arrived at the villa. “Dinner starts at seven. And the party will last until late.”
“I’ll be ready,” she said.
Before she could get out of the car, however, he stopped her. “You did well today.”
“I will do fine tonight as well,” she replied gravely. “I’ll be most adoring, now that you won the match.”
He laughed at her sassy remark and watched as she entered the house.
Bethanne dressed with care for the dinner. She wore an ivory-white dress from the ones Rashid had bought. The one-shoulder gown fell in a gentle drape down to the floor, moving when she walked, caressing her skin with the softness of pure silk. Minnah came to ask if she could assist and Bethanne asked her to do her hair up in a fancy style.
The quiet woman nodded and set to work when Bethanne sat in front of the vanity.
“Could you also teach me some Arabic?” Bethanne asked.
“Like what?”
“Pleased to meet you. I am enjoying visiting your country. Just a few phrases?”
“It would be my pleasure,” the maid said.
For the moments it took the maid to arrange her hair, she also taught Bethanne several phrases. With a skill for mimicking sounds, Bethanne hoped she was getting the correct intonation to the sounds she heard.
Minnah beamed with pleasure a few moments later. Bethanne gazed at herself in the mirror, very pleased with the simple, yet sophisticated style the maid had achieved.
“Thank you,” she said in Arabic.
Minnah bowed slightly and smiled. “You pick up the words quickly.”
“I’ll be repeating them from now until we begin dinner,” she said in English.
“His Excellency will be pleased with the effort you have made starting to learn our language. It is good for you to speak Arabic.”
Bethanne didn’t abuse her of the idea that she was being considered for Rashid’s wife. Nothing like servants’ gossip to spread like wildfire. That should suit him.
Bethanne was waiting in the salon when Rashid arrived. He wore a tuxedo. She loved the different facets of the man. From suave businessman to casual polo player to elegant sophisticate. She couldn’t decide which appealed more.
“Ever prompt,” he repeated when he stepped into the salon. “And you look lovely.”
“Thank you,” she said in Arabic, almost laughing at his look of surprise.
He said several words in that language which had her actually laughing aloud and holding up a hand.
“Please, I only learned a very few—such as please and thank you, nice to meet you and I am enjoying my visit.”
“Very well done,” he said.
His obvious approval warmed her.
“The dress is lovely, but missing something,” he said.
She looked down. “I have a wrap on the chair,” she said, moving to gather it.
“I was thinking of jewelry,” he said, stepping closer. From his pocket he pulled out a beautiful necklace of sapphires and diamonds on a white gold chain.
Bethanne caught her breath. “It’s beautiful.” She took a step back. “But I can’t wear that. What if it came undone and was lost?” She couldn’t replace a fine piece of jewelry like that for years.
“It will not come undone and the stones match your eyes. It will complete the dress.”
She looked at the necklace and then at Rashid.
“My intended bride would not come as a pauper to the wedding,” he said.
Of course. It was for show. For a moment she was swamped with disappointment. What had she expected—that he’d really give her a lovely piece of jewelry like that?
“Very well, but it’s on you if it gets lost.”
She stepped forward and held out her hand, but he brushed it aside and reached around her neck to fasten it himself. She stared at his throat, her heart hammering in her chest. The touch of his warm fingers on her neck sent shivers down her spine. She could scarcely breathe.
Bethanne turned when he’d finished, seeking a mirror to see how it looked. There were none in the salon. “I want to see,” she said.
“In the foyer, then we should leave.”
Standing a moment later in front of the long mirror in the foyer, she gazed at her reflection. She looked totally different. It wasn’t only the expensive clothing and jewelry, the sophisticated hairstyle. There was a glow about her, a special look in her eyes. She sought Rashid’s in the reflection. He looked at her steadily.
“Thank you. I feel like Cinderella before the ball.”
“It does not end at midnight,” he said. “Shall we?”
The limo carried them the short distance to the luxury hotel where the dinner was being held. The huge portico accommodated half a dozen cars at a time and Bethanne had a chance to observe the other women getting out of cars and limousines who were wearing designer creations and enough jewelry to open a mega store.
Once inside, Bethanne was delighted with the sparkling chandeliers overhead that threw rainbows of color around the lavish room. Tables were set with starched white linen clothes, ornate silverware and fine crystal glassware. The room was large enough to accommodate hundreds, yet the space was not crowded.
Rashid placed her hand in the crook of his arm, pressing her arm against his side as they walked in. He greeted friends, introducing Bethanne to each. She smiled and gave her newly learned Arabic greeting. Many of the people seemed pleased, and then disappointed she hadn’t yet learned more. They encouraged her to continue learning.
An older man stopped their progression. He spoke to Rashid, but his gaze never left Bethanne.
Rashid answered then spoke in English. “Bethanne, may I present Ibrahim ibn Saali, minister of finance for Quishari. He is a great polo fan. I’ve told him you are my special guest.”
“Come to visit Quishari?” the minister asked.
Bethanne smiled brightly. “Indeed, and I’m charmed by what I’ve seen.” She leaned slightly against Rashid, hoping she looked like a woman in love in the minister’s eyes.
“I thought another was coming,” the minister said.
She looked suitably surprised, then glanced at Rashid. “There had better not be another expected.”
He shook his head, his hand covering hers on his arm. “Not in this lifetime,” he said. To the minister he nodded once. “We are expected at my mother’s table.”
“Nice to have met you,” Bethanne said in Arabic.
The older man merely nodded and stepped aside.
She could feel his gaze as they crossed to the table.
“He’s the one, isn’t he?” she asked.
“Indeed. But your acting skills were perfect.” He glanced down at her and smiled. “If we keep him satisfied, the deal is as good as done.”
When they reached their table, Madame al Harum was already seated. Next to her was an elderly man. He rose when Bethanne arrived and greeted her solemnly. Both expressed surprise at her Arabic response. For a moment she wondered if the older woman would thaw a bit. That thought was short-lived when Madame al Harum virtually ignored Bethanne and indicated that Rashid should sit next to her.
Despite not understanding the language, Bethanne enjoyed herself. The polo club was celebrating their victory and she could clap and cheer with them all. Several speakers were obviously from the club. Rashid leaned closer to give capsulated recaps of the speeches. At one point the speaker on the platform said something that had everyone turning to look at Rashid. He rose and bowed slightly to thunderous applause.
When he sat down and the speaker resumed, she leaned closer.
“What did he say?”
“Just thanks for funding the matches.”
“Ah, so you’re the sponsor?”
“One of several.”
She knew he was wealthy, but to fund a sports team cost serious money. She was so out of her element. No matter how much she was growing attracted to her host, she had to remember in the great scheme of things, she was a lowly employee of a company selling him the jet she’d delivered. He was a wealthy man, gorgeous to boot. He had no need to look to the likes of her when any woman in the world would love to be in her position. How could Haile have chosen someone else over Rashid?


When the after-dinner speeches were finally finished, a small musical ensemble set up and began playing dance music. Some of the older guests gathered their things to leave, but the younger ones began to drift to the dance floor.
Rashid held out his hand to Bethanne. “Will you dance with me?” he asked.
She nodded and rose.
He was conscious of the stares and some of the conversation that erupted when they reached the dance floor. Her blond hair and blue eyes stood out in this group of mostly dark-haired women. He enjoyed taking her into his arms for the slow dance. She was taller than most women he had dated and it was a novelty to not have to lean over to hear if she spoke. Or to kiss her.
He’d thought a lot about that kiss in Quraim Wadi Samil as they moved with the music. He tightened his hold slightly in remembrance. One kiss had him fantasizing days afterward. He’d kissed his share of women. He’d even thought he loved Marguerite. But Bethanne had him in a quandary. He knew this was an interlude that would end as soon as the contract with al Benqura was signed. Yet he found reasons to seek her out and spend time with her. He loved to hear her talk. She wasn’t one to mince words, or be totally agreeable. He knew too many people who sought favor above friendship.
And while he tried to ignore the physical attraction, he couldn’t do it. He longed to press her against him, kiss her, make love to her. Her skin was as soft as down. Her sparkling eyes held wit and humor and made him think of the blue of the Gulf on a sunny day. He wanted to thread his fingers through that silky blond hair and stroke it, feeling the softness, the warmth from Bethanne.
Comparing her to other women was unfair—to others. Unlike Marguerite, she was unpretentious and genuine. She did not show an innate desire to garner as much money as she could in a short time. He detected no subterfuge; had heard no hints about keeping the necklace she wore. He smiled slightly when he thought of her worry if it came undone. He would never expect her to repay the cost of the jewelry. When he’d asked his assistant to find something with blue stones, an array had been brought to the office. These sapphires had matched her eyes. He’d chosen it immediately.
How had he known they would match her eyes? He could not even remember what color Marguerite’s eyes were. Glancing down, he studied his partner as they circled the room. She looked enchanted. And enchanting. Her gaze skimmed around the room, a slight smile showing her enjoyment. As if she could feel his attention, she looked up.
The blue startled him with its intensity. Her smile made him want to slip away from the crowd to a private place and kiss her again.
“Enjoying yourself?” he said, to hear her speak.
“Very much. This is even better than my senior prom, which was the last formal dance I attended, I think. Some of the gowns are spectacular. I’m trying to remember everything so I never forget.”
“There will be others,” he said, taking for granted the setting and the people—many of whom he’d known all his life. His polo team members had been friends for years.
“For you. Once you sign that contract, I’m heading back to Texas.”
“Or you could stay a little longer,” he suggested, wishing to find a way to keep her longer.
From the jump she gave, he’d surprised her with his suggestion.
“I may delay signing the papers until well after the deal is finalized,” he said, half in jest. Far from being angry at Haile, he now thanked her for her defection. Otherwise he would not have known Bethanne. What a shame if he’d merely thanked her for delivering the jet and never seen her again.
“Now why would you do that?” she asked, leaning back a bit to smile up at him with a saucy grin.
It took all of Rashid’s willpower to resist the temptation to kiss her right there on the ballroom floor. She was flirting with him. It had been years since someone had done that in fun. He knew she had no ulterior motives.
“Alexes might never fly again. Perhaps you could become my personal pilot.” He hadn’t thought about that before, but it would be a perfect solution. She’d remain in Quishari and he could see her whenever he wanted.
“My home is in Texas,” she said slowly. “I don’t speak the language here. I have family and friends in Galveston. I don’t think it would work.”
At least she sounded regretful.
“Think about it before deciding,” he said.
“Would there be more dances like this?” she teased.
He laughed and spun her around. “Yes, as many as you wish to attend. I don’t go often, except the ones with the polo team. But that could change. I receive dozens of invitations.”
“I would imagine attending them all would prove tiring. And it would dim some of the splendor if you saw this kind of thing all the time. What makes it special is being rare.”
“A wise woman.”
The music ended. In a moment another song began. Rashid held her hand during the short break, rubbing his thumb lightly over the soft skin. The couple next to them smiled but said nothing, for which he was grateful. Even more grateful when the music began again and he could draw her back into his arms again. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed spending time with anyone beyond his family.
The evening flew by. Bethanne focused on the offhand invitation to stay. She wasn’t sure if he were serious or not. It was tempting. Maybe too much of a good thing. What would happen if she actually fell in love with the sheikh and he only wanted her as a pilot because Alexes was incapacitated? She gazed off, picturing him with other women—beautiful women with pots of money. He’d ask her to fly them to Cairo or even Rome on holiday. She’d be dutiful and resentful. She didn’t want to fly him and some other woman anywhere. She wanted him for herself.
Startled at her thoughts, she glanced at him quickly, and found his gaze fixed on hers.
“If you are ready to leave, we can return to the villa,” he said.
“I’ve had a lovely time, but it is getting late.” Her heart pounded with the newly admitted discovery. She was in love with Rashid.
“Too late for a walk along the beach?”
To walk along the Persian Gulf in the moonlight—who could pass up such an opportunity?
“Never too late for that.”
On the ride to the villa, he continued to hold her hand. Bethanne told herself it was merely a continuation of the evening. But she felt special. Would it ever be possible for a sheikh to fall for a woman from Texas? With no special attributes except the ability to fly planes? Undoubtedly when he chose a bride, he’d want a sophisticated woman who was as at home in the capital city as she would be anywhere in the world.
When they reached the villa, he helped her from the limo then bypassed the front door to head for the gardens. The pathways were discreetly lighted by soft lamps at foot level. Selective spotlights shone on a few of the topiary plants; the ambient glow felt magical. Fragrances blended delightfully with the salty tang of the sea. She heard the wavelets as they walked along.
“Should we change?” she asked, concerned for the lovely gown.
“More fun this way.”
An unexpected side of Rashid. Every time she thought she had a grasp on his personality, he surprised her.
When they reached the beach, they sat on the chairs to take off their shoes. Rashid rolled his pant legs up and held out his hand for her when she rose. They ran to the water. Bethanne pulled her skirt to above her knees in an attempt to keep the beautiful silk from getting wet, holding it with one hand.
The water was warm. The moon was low on the horizon, painting a strip of white on the calm sea. Stars sprinkled the dark skies. In the distance a soft glow showed where the capital city lay. As if in one accord, they turned and began walking north.
“I can’t believe you live in the city when you have this house,” Bethanne said. “I’d walk along the beach every chance I got if I lived here.”
“You seem to like simple pleasures,” he said. Unlike other women he knew who loved new clothes, jewelry and being seen in all the right places.
“What’s better? Maybe flying.”
“Tell me why you like that so much.”
“I’m not sure I can put it into words. There’s a special feeling soaring high into the sky. The power of the plane at my command. The view of the earth, seeing the curvature, seeing the land as it is and not as man has rearranged it. I never tire of it.”
“I see flying as an expedient way to get from one place to another in the shortest time.”
“Then you need to fly in the cockpit more and give work a rest.”
He laughed. “I would not be where I am today if I didn’t pay attention to business.”
“There’s such a thing as balance.”
“So you suggest I take more time off?”
“Take time to relax. Even in your time off you’re busy. Do you ever just lie on the beach and listen to the waves?”
“No.”
She danced in the water. “I do when I’m home. Galveston has some beautiful beaches and I like to just veg out and do nothing but stare at the water and let the rhythm of the surf relax me.”
“Not often, I bet.” She was too full of energy to be content to sit and do nothing for long.
“I guess not. That’s why when I do, it’s special.”
He stopped and turned to face her. “You’re special, Bethanne Sanders.” He put his free hand around the back of her neck and drew her slowly closer, leaning over to kiss her.
The night was magical, the setting perfection, the woman with him fascinating and intriguing. The temporary nature gave an urgency to their time together. Too short to waste.
She kissed him back, slinging one arm around his neck, her other hand still holding her skirt.
For a long time Rashid forgot about responsibilities, about duties and about the pretense of their relationship. There was only Bethanne and the feel of her in his arms.
Both were breathing hard when he ended the kiss. They were alone on the beach, quite a distance from the villa. He was tempted to sweep her in his arms and find a secluded spot and make love all night long.
“We should return,” he said. Duty over desire, hard to harness.
“Yes.” She let go of his hand, gathered her skirt in both hands and began walking briskly back to the villa.
“Wait.” He hurried to catch her. “Are you okay?” He tried to examine her expression in the faint light but she kept her head averted.
“I’m fine.” She did not stop walking.
“Then the kiss upset you.”
She stopped at that and turned to glare at him. “It did not upset me. What upsets me is that I don’t know the rules of this game. We’re pretending. But that kiss seemed real. You are solicitous in public playing the perfect gentleman who is showing someone around. It’s all fake. Why the kisses?”
Rashid paused. “Because I can’t resist,” he answered, daring to reveal his feelings. It had been a long time since he’d let emotion make inroads. Would he regret the confession?
She blinked at that. “What?” It almost squeaked out.
“Why should that surprise you? I find you beautiful, fun, interesting, different. I want to be with you, touch you.” He reached out his hand and trailed his fingertips down her bare arm, struck again by the warm softness of her skin. “I want to kiss you.”
He could see her indecision. Finally she nodded once. “Okay, but unless we are really going somewhere with this relationship, no more than kisses.”
Her words jerked him from the reverie he had of the two of them spending time together. He was not going anywhere with any relationship. He had tried love and failed. He had tried arranged marriage—and that didn’t look like it was in the cards, either. Was it too much to ask just to enjoy being together for a while—as long as they both wanted?
“Then I’ll just have to settle for kisses,” he said, drawing her back into his embrace.


Bethanne awoke the next morning feeling grumpy and tired when Minnah entered with the usual breakfast fare. She refused to let her crankiness show and almost screamed with impatience while the maid fussed around before leaving. Bethanne had not had a good night’s sleep and it was all Rashid’s fault. She’d been a long time falling asleep thinking of the kisses at the beach. And the words he had not spoken—that their relationship had a future. That hurt the most.
She sipped her chocolate and wondered what she was doing. Always one to face facts, she simply could not let herself imagine she was falling for the sheikh. She needed to visit the places she wanted to, search for her father and remind herself constantly that Rashid’s interests did not coincide with hers.
If she told herself a dozen times an hour, maybe she’d listen. But her heart beat faster just thinking of Rashid and the kisses they’d stolen in the night. His scent was permanently affixed in her mind, his dark eyes so compelling when he looked directly at her she could feel herself returning his regard, wishing there were only the two of them. She had run her hands through his hair, pulled him close and shown her feelings while all he had wanted were a few kisses.
She frowned. Time to rise above the attraction that seemed to grow by leaps and bounds and forget any flighty feelings of love. She had her own quest that being here afforded. Today she’d return to the square to see if the man her father had met had returned. Yesterday the waiter who had spoken to her that first day wasn’t there. The one working had not understood English. Maybe the other would be back today.
She’d focus on her search for her father and get over Rashid before she saw him again!
Arriving at the square around ten, she went straight to the sidewalk café, searching for the waiter she’d spoken with before. Thankfully he was there. He came out of the interior to greet her.
“I have a note for you,” he said with great pride. With a flourish, he withdrew it from his apron pocket and handed it to her. “I knew you would return,” he said.
“Thank you. I’ll sit over here and have coffee, please.” She sat down at a side table and opened the folded paper.
“Hank was a friend of mine. A fellow American. I will stop by the café each day this week in hopes of seeing you.” It was signed, Walt Hampstead.
Another American. That made it simple; at least she and he would speak the same language. She would have needed Teaz to translate if Hank’s friend had been a native of Quishari.
“What time did the man come?” she asked the waiter when he delivered her coffee.
“Before lunch each day. He will be here soon.” Setting the small cup and carafe on the table, he walked away.
Bethanne sipped the hot beverage while she waited until Walt showed up. She had a feeling things were speeding up and she needed to get any information she could before it was too late.
Sometime later a middle-aged man stopped at her table. She’d been writing a letter to a friend at home and looked up when he cast a shadow over the paper.
“Are you Hank’s friend?” he asked. “No, that’s not right. You’re his daughter, Bethanne.”
“Walt?” she asked, feeling emotion welling up inside her.
He nodded. Pulling out another chair, he sat down at the table. “He spoke of you often. I saw a picture once. You were younger. I’m Walt Hampstead. Pleased to finally meet you.”
“You knew my father? He mentioned a professor at the university, but not by name. Is that you?”
He nodded. The waiter appeared and Walt gave an order for coffee.
“What happened to him? He’s dead, isn’t he?” Bethanne asked, hoping Walt would deny it all and tell her where Hank was.
But Walt nodded sadly. “I’m afraid so. I haven’t heard from him in almost three years. He was a good friend. Not many Americans live in Alkaahdar. We’d meet and hash over how things were going at home. Expats sharing tales of home to fend off homesickness. And he’d tell me the amazing stories about his daughter.”
“Have you lived here long?” Bethanne asked, trying to remember all she’d read and heard about his professor friend. She knew her father had liked the man, but always called him the prof.
“Yes, actually, longer than Hank. I teach English as a foreign language at one of the universities. I married a Quishari woman and we have made our home here.”
“Tell me what you know about my father. It’s been years since I’ve heard from him. Time just got away. I’ve been busy and I thought he was as well. But I can only find out the al Harum family thinks he stole a plane. He wouldn’t have!”
The waiter returned with Walt’s coffee. Once he’d left, Walt began to speak. “He told me two days before he left that he had a top-secret assignment, then laughed. Just like the movies, he said. I asked him what he was talking about, but he said he was sworn to secrecy, but maybe he’d give me some hints when he returned. He seemed in high spirits and I thought I’d hear from him soon after that. Only I never saw him again.”
“I’ve heard he stole a plane and then vanished,” Bethanne said, disheartened. This man had known and liked her father, but knew no more than she did on what had happened to him.
“There were stories going around. Then the head of Bashiri Oil died unexpectedly and the news was full of that and the stories of his twin sons. I never knew the official result of that secret mission,” Walt said. He looked pensive for a moment. “Hank was a true friend. It was good to have someone from home to talk over things with. I miss him.”
He sipped his coffee. “He flew the plane for the old sheikh, and often told me about where they went, what the different cities were like. Hank loved seeing the world and knew the job he had was great for that. He flew the sheikh to Europe, Egypt, even once to India. Most of the flights were around the Persian Gulf, though.”
“Did the secret mission have something to do with the sheikh?”
“That I don’t know. I could speculate it was because he worked almost exclusively for the man. But being a secret, I never heard any more. Your father did not steal a plane. He was too honorable for that.”
Bethanne felt a wave of gratitude toward Walt for his comment. “I want to find out exactly what happened and let others know he wouldn’t do such a thing.” Especially let Rashid know. Every time he looked at her he had to remember his belief her father had caused the death of his. It was so unfair!
“Don’t know how you’ll find out. Do you speak the language?” he asked.
“No, except for pleased to meet you.”
“This country is still very much a man’s world. I bet they were surprised to discover you’re a pilot,” he said.
“At first. What happened to my dad’s things?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I went by his apartment once I realized he was probably dead. It had already been rented and the young woman who answered the door said it had been immaculately cleaned before she moved in. I guess the sheikh’s people packed up. I don’t know if they threw his things away or stored them.”
“My mother tried to find out what happened to him—as his onetime wife. But no one told her anything. I guess if they had any of his things, they would have sent them to her.” Bethanne gazed across the square, seeing the buildings her father would have seen every day. She missed him with a tangible pain.
“He spoke of you a lot. You were a bright spot in his life. He talked about when you’d come to visit and what you two would see.”
“We discussed it more than once. I longed to see Quishari, but not like this. It’s a beautiful country and I’ve enjoyed everything I’ve seen. But I had hoped to see it with my dad.”
Walt scribbled on a page of his notebook and tore it out. “Here’s my phone number and address. Call me if you need anything. Or wish to visit. My wife would be delighted to meet you. She liked Hank, too. He came to dinner occasionally. Her English is not as fluent as it could be, so she enjoyed listening to our conversations and hearing English spoken by natives.”
“Thank you.” She took the paper and put it in her purse. “I don’t know how you could contact me if you remember anything. I am staying at the sea villa of Sheikh Rashid al Harum. But I have no idea what the address is, or the phone number.”
“Do you like him? Hank really respected his father.”
“I do like him.” Understatement, she thought. But she certainly didn’t know this man well enough to even hint at more.
Walt rose. “I’ll contact the sheikh if I think of anything else you might wish to know. Nice to have met Hank’s daughter. He’d be proud of you. Do consider coming to meet my wife.”
Bethanne rose as well and shook hands. “Thanks for coming each day until I was here.”
Walt walked away, then stopped and turned. “I do have a photograph of him with me at home. Call me when you can come again and I’ll bring it for you to see.”
Bethanne nodded. Disappointment filled her and she smiled, blinking away tears. She had so hoped her father’s friend would know more. What could a secret mission have been? One filled with danger that ended up costing him his life? How could the old sheikh have demanded that? Did Rashid know?