Sleeping with the Sheikh: The Sheikh's Bidding / Delaney's Desert Sheikh / Desert Warrior

Chapter Eight

“Where on earth are they?” Andi paced the length of the kitchen as she stared at the clock that read 3:00 p.m. Long past time for Sam and Chance’s arrival home from the camp.

“Maybe they stopped off for some lunch,” Tess offered as she poured her and Riley another glass of tea at the table.

“I packed them a lunch,” Andi responded, unable to keep the panic from her voice. “I wanted to make sure Chance has the right things to eat.”

“I’m sure they just stopped off for a picnic, then,” Riley said. “Sam seems like a fairly responsible guy.”

Andi spun around to face the pair. “Yeah, that’s how he seems, but how well do we really know him?”

Tess frowned. “Andi, you’re talking nonsense. This is Sam, the boy who practically lived here for four years. The same one who worked on the barn for the past two weeks like some hired hand.”

“He’s changed, Tess. He’s not the same. What if he’s decided to go to the airport and just keep going from there? What if he takes Chance back to his country?”

Tess rose from the kitchen table and took Andi by both arms. “Just listen to yourself, Andi. You’re not making any sense. Sam promised he wouldn’t try something like that.”

“He promised a lot of things, Tess, and he didn’t keep those promises, either. How can I trust that he won’t do the same thing again?”

Tess narrowed her eyes and studied Andi dead-on. “Trust your heart, Andi.”

Andi didn’t dare. She’d done that before only to be crushed in the process.

The shrill of the phone caused Andi to jump. Pushing away from Tess, she grabbed it on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Could I please speak to Ms. Andrea Hamilton,” a soft feminine voice asked.

Frustrated that it wasn’t Sam, Andrea sighed. She didn’t need home repairs or a magazine subscription. “That depends on who you are.”

“I’m Mrs. Murphy with the hospital in Lexington, and I’m calling concerning your son.”

Sheer panic pierced through Andi’s momentary shock. “Has there been an accident?”

Tess quickly came to Andi’s side as the woman continued to speak. “No, no accident. A Mr. Yaman brought Chance in. The boy’s blood sugar is low.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s in the E.R. being examined now. Mr. Yaman asked if I would notify you.”

“I’m on my way.” Andi hung up without saying goodbye and grabbed her keys from the hook by the back door. “Chance is at the hospital,” she called to Tess on her way out.

“Let me drive you, Andi,” Tess said at the door while Andi crossed the yard to the pickup.

“I’ll call you.”

“Andi, are you sure?”

She dismissed Tess with a wave. “I’m fine.”

But was Chance?

Andi managed the thirty-mile drive in record time. She rushed into the emergency room barking inquiries to anyone who would listen. Finally one nurse directed her to a curtained cubicle down a narrow corridor.

Stepping inside, Andi stopped short at the scene playing out before her. Among the all-too-familiar sterile scents and scenery, Sam was stretched out in the small hospital bed, Chance curled against his side with his face turned in profile as his head rested against his father’s solid chest.

Andi covered her mouth to stifle a sob when she caught sight of the IV tubing trailing from Chance’s slender arm. But she couldn’t hold back the emotions when she noted how natural they looked—one beautiful man with his large hand enfolding the equally beautiful child’s smaller one, an overt display of protection. The identical dark hair, the dark lashes fanned against their cheeks as they slept, presented a picture of peace that starkly contrasted with the colorless surroundings.

As Andi took another step forward, Sam’s eyes snapped opened and he attempted a smile. Quietly he slipped his arm from beneath Chance and slid out of the bed without disturbing their son. He gestured for Andi to step outside. Reluctantly she complied, torn between wanting to hold her precious child and needing to hear what Sam had to say.

“What happened?” she said, her voice hoarse with fear, clouded with emotions that she tried to keep at bay.

Sam rubbed a hand over his jaw. “On the ride home he became very pale. I offered him some juice, as you’d instructed, but he refused. Then he began to perspire and became agitated. We were nearing Lexington so I instructed Rashid to come here. I knew not what else to do.”

“You did the right thing, Sam.”

He glanced away but not before Andi glimpsed the worry in his near-black eyes. “I have never feared much in my lifetime, Andrea. But this terrified me.” He finally turned his gaze back to her. “I only now realize how much you have been through with this disease.”

“What Chance has been through,” Andi corrected. “It’s something you learn to deal with as a parent of an ill child. My love for him has seen me through.”

“I suppose I am only beginning to understand that concept.”

Andi bit the inside of her cheek to stop another onslaught of tears over Sam’s obvious pain. She had to stay composed. “Has the doctor seen him?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago. He said that his levels seem to be stable, but he would like him to stay for a few hours to be certain.”

Andi drew in a slow breath of relief and released it on a shaky sigh. “That’s routine.”

“Then he has suffered this before?”

“Yes. Several times at first, but not in a while.”

“The doctor believes that Chance’s exhaustion perhaps brought on this attack.”

Andi silently cursed her stupidity. “I should never have let him go to camp.”

Sam took her by the arm and guided her against the wall opposite the cubicle. “Do not blame yourself, Andrea. Chance told me how much he enjoyed his time at the camp. You had no reason to believe this would happen.”

She shot a glance at the parted curtain to see that Chance still slept. “I should’ve known.”

Sam brushed a lock of hair away from her face, damp with the tears she had shed on the ride to Lexington. “The doctor also said you should consider putting Chance on a medicine pump to replace the shots.”

“I’ve wanted to do that,” Andi said. “But it’s very expensive. I’ve been trying to save enough money to cover what the insurance won’t pay.”

“I will take care of it,” Sam insisted. “You need not worry about funds.”

She was worried about many things at the moment. “Did you tell anyone you’re Chance’s father?”

“I told the physician, but Chance did not hear me, if that is your concern.”

Andi felt incredibly selfish to question him at such a time. “I wasn’t worried exactly. I’d just hate to think that Chance learned something so important while he’s sick.”

“I’ve told him nothing, even when he asked many questions on the ride back.”

Andi’s concern came calling again. “What questions?”

“He wanted to know if I knew his father. I told him that I did, but not very well. And that is the truth, Andrea.” He streaked a hand over his face. “I realize I don’t know myself at all.”

Andi laid a hand on his arm. “I know you, Sam. You’re a good man. A good father.”

He studied her with weary eyes. “Am I, Andrea? I am a father who must leave his son. There is nothing good in that.”

“You can enjoy the time you have with him now so he can get to know you as his father.”

“Perhaps it would be best if he never knows.”

Best for whom? Andi wanted to shout. Best for him, no doubt. No ties except for providing money. No commitment to their son, or to her. “Let’s not talk about this here. I need to be with Chance.”

“I only wanted you to know that I am considering our son’s well-being. If that entails giving him up, I will not hesitate to consider it.”

Andi’s heart plummeted, causing a painful ache in her chest brought about by an overwhelming sadness. “If that’s what you want.”

“I promise you, Andrea, it is not what I wish at all. But it could be the best decision for Chance.”

Too tired to fight, too heartsick to talk, Andrea walked away to see her son, the only constant in her life.

Sam spent the better part of the week getting to know his son. While looking on with the eye of a concerned parent, he’d taught Chance how to hammer a nail. Yet he felt it necessary to treat the boy as if he had no deficit. On the surface Chance appeared to behave as any normal boy would, active and enthusiastic, embracing life to its fullest. But now that Sam had witnessed the effects of his disease, he worried all the more.

At least Andrea seemed to be very optimistic, now that Chance had begun using a pump that kept the medication flowing into his body. She had told Sam that his levels were much better, and that Chance was much more energetic than before. A very good thing, Sam decided. And he certainly could confirm his son’s zeal for activity.

Presently Chance was helping him sweep the aisle between the stalls. With his small hand—a miniature version of Sam’s own—poised on the push broom that was almost as tall as the child, he asked, “Do I look like my dad?”

Sam carefully weighed the question. “Yes, to some degree.”

“Like how?”

“The color of your skin and your hair. I believe your eyes are lighter in color.”

Leaning the broom against one stall, Chance studied his arms then wrinkled his nose. “I’ve got Mama’s freckles.”

Sam laughed as he had many times in previous days over his child’s antics. “Yes, you do.”

Chance toed a pile of hay with one booted foot. “My friend Bobby says that where you live it’s nothing but sand.”

As Chance had done, Sam propped his broom against the opposite stall. “That is true to a point, we do have quite a bit of sand. But we also have trees and mountains. And a very good university we’ve built in the last few years as well as an excellent hospital.”

Chance frowned. “I hate hospitals.”

Sam’s first fatherly faux pas. “I’m certain you do, and with good reason. But they are necessary.”

“I still hate ’em.” Chance turned his eyes to Sam, eyes so very much like his own. “Do all the people look alike in your country?”

“Most have dark skin and features, but they are all very different.”

“Are they nice?”

“As it is in America, there are some very good people and some not so good people. There are mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers who play together and argue with each other. Teachers, doctors and builders. Overall, it is a very peaceful place to live.”

“Do you live in a palace?”

“Yes. It has been in my family for many generations.”

“Can I come visit you sometime?”

Sam’s chest tightened with remorse, wishing that were possible. “Perhaps when you are older.”

He released a long sigh. “I sure wish you could stay here. Don’t you like America?”

“I like it very much. In fact, I was born here, in the state of Ohio.”

“Then if you’re American, how come you don’t live here?”

At times Sam had desired that very thing, now more than ever, but he still had a strong allegiance to his country. Although they had made many strides, there was still much to be done. “I cannot live here because my father is the king of my country and I am to take his place one day.”

“Maybe you could call him and tell him to hire someone else to do it.” His eyes widened with innocence. “One of the girls at camp said her dad doesn’t have a job. Maybe he’d do it.”

Sam knelt at Chance’s level with a tenderness radiating from his heart over the child’s simple logic. “It is very complicated, Chance. I was born to lead my country, to help my people.” He brushed a tendril of hair from his forehead. “Do you understand now why I must leave?”

He shrugged. “I guess, but I still wish you would stay.” Chance wrapped his frail arms around Sam’s neck in an embrace, taking Sam by surprise and his heart by storm. “I still wish you were my dad.”

Andi stood outside the barn, frozen in place while awaiting Sam’s response to Chance’s wish. Yet he only said, “Let us finish our work so we’re not late for supper.”

She leaned back against the outside wall of the barn, closed her eyes against the setting sun and re leased a slow uneven breath. He’d had the perfect opportunity to tell Chance. Maybe he was still honoring her request that she be there when the moment arrived. Or maybe Sam was serious about not telling Chance the truth.

That made her incredibly troubled that she would continue to live a lie. If Sam insisted that Chance not know, should she tell him anyway? Maybe when he was much older, then she would make the revelation—and more than likely face his wrath because of her deceit. Would Chance blame her or would he blame Sam? Would he ever understand that his father thought it best? Would he realize that Sam was being unselfish in his decision, and that it had caused him great pain?

“You’re looking a little pale, Andi girl. Did you work too hard today?”

Andi opened her eyes to find Tess staring at her inquisitively. She pushed off the wall and folded her arms across her chest. “Sam leaves tomorrow,” she said.

Tess patted Andi’s shoulder. “I know, honey. And I wanted to talk to you about that very thing.”

“I’m going to be okay.”

“You will if you do what I tell you to do.”

Andi rolled her eyes skyward. “Do I really have to hear this?”

“Yes, you do.” Tess forked a hand through her short gray hair. “Tonight I want Chance to come to the bunkhouse and stay with me. That will give you the opportunity to say your goodbyes to Sam, and I want you to do it properly.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Tess sent her a stern look. “Yes, it is. You take tonight and you spend it with him. You make those memories because they’ll be all you’ll ever have. You keep them in your heart and you bring them out when times are tough.”

It sounded simple enough, but past experience had taught Andi it was anything but simple. “I don’t need more memories, Tess.”

“Yes, you do. I could never have made it without mine all these years.”

Andi sported a frown of her own, confused over Tess’s veiled revelation. “Does this have to do with you and some man other than Riley?”

Glancing away, Tess muttered, “Yes,” then after a pause continued. “It was a long time ago. He was a soldier, a real good-looking fellow, not that I couldn’t hold my own back then,” she added with a grin. “He asked me to marry him before he left for the war, and I turned him down.”

Andi shifted her weight from one hip to the other. “And he didn’t ask again when he came home?”

“He never came home.”

“Oh, Tess,” Andi said, hugging her aunt against her. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Tess said when they parted. “I confess I regret that I didn’t say yes, but I regret more that the should-have-beens have kept me from living my life all these years. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

Andi sighed and pushed back the tears. “It’s going to be so hard, letting him go.” Harder than the first time. Harder than anything Andi had ever done before.

Tess braced Andi’s shoulders and gave her a little shake. “But you have to let him go. You have to for your sake and for your son’s. You take tonight and you show him that you love him. Tell him that you love him, because I know you do. If he walks away after that, then it was never meant to be in the first place.”

The “give them wings” theory that Andi was coming to despise. But she saw the logic in her aunt’s advice, and she made the decision to have one last night with Sam, her lover, the love of her life.

Chance came bounding out of the barn door shouting, “I’m hungry!” interrupting the emotional moment.

Tess caught him on the fly and whirled him around. “You eat as much as a moose these days.”

“I am a moose,” Chance proclaimed, followed by a high-pitched giggle.

Tess set him on his feet and grinned. “Tell you what, Mr. Moose. Why don’t you come spend the night in the bunkhouse with me? Riley’s coming over and we can play some checkers.”

Chance’s expression brightened. “Can Riley teach me how to play poker?”

Both Andi and Tess laughed then. “I guess we can do that, Little Bit,” Tess said. “As long as your mama doesn’t mind.”

Andi pretended to think long and hard before saying, “As long as you don’t bet away the house and the horses.”

“We’ll stick to pennies,” Tess said. She turned her attention back to Chance. “Then it’s settled. Right after dinner, we’ll play some poker.”

“Can Sam play, too?” Chance asked.

Tess sent Andi a meaningful glance. “I think Sam has a few things to tend to tonight with your mama.”

Sam had longed to tell Chance the truth, yet he hadn’t. He had longed to declare that he was the father Chance had wished for, yet he couldn’t. If he had made that admission knowing he would leave the next day, never to return, it would have been selfish on his part and totally unfair to his son. And he couldn’t return, not after knowing what it would be like to remain a part of this blessed family. Knowing each time it would be more difficult to leave. He could only hope that one day Andrea would find a suitable father for Chance. That consideration made him wince with a pain so deep that it threatened to consume him.

“It is for the best,” he kept repeating to himself as he had during dinner, quite possibly the last meal he would ever share with his son or Andrea.

The finality sat heavily on his heart as he began to pack the rest of his belongings. He’d saved the most significant for last—the baseball, Paul’s graduation gift to him, even the pair of tattered jeans he had left behind before. All mementos from the past that he would cherish throughout his future. Yet when he opened his suitcase once more, he found lying atop his clothing a souvenir that captured the present.

The photograph was much the same as the one of him, Andi and Paul except Chance had replaced his uncle. Tess had taken it earlier in the week, but he had no idea when she’d had it developed or how it had ended up among his things. Perhaps she had placed it there when he had returned to the stable for one last look after the evening meal. Perhaps it wasn’t Tess’s doing at all. If his instincts served him correctly, Andrea had left the keepsake, another precious gift she had given him.

Andrea.

He wanted desperately to go to her, to take her in his arms one final time, to spend a few more moments in her presence, to make love to her as he had desired to do the past week. He would deny himself that pleasure for he did not deserve her attention. And more than likely she would refuse if he dared make the offer tonight.