style="font-size:15px;"> The arrogant statement caused Melissa’s blood to boil. Men who were obscenely rich thought money could buy everything. But not family ties, not love and loyalty, nor negation of his responsibility to his cousin’s children.
“Maybe not to you, but think of them,” she said. “It would be horrible.”
“They are unhappy and disruptive. During the day they run wild around the house, yelling and breaking things. At night Hamid has nightmares and awakens the entire household. Their nurse cannot control them. I believe a more structured environment would be beneficial. It is not open for discussion; I was merely informing you of my plans.”
They had reached the site of the hotel and he turned to park beside the row of cars and trucks near the building. The activity at the site was a stark contrast to yesterday. The lot was crowded with workers. Trucks of cement were dumping their loads. Men and machines worked as if choreographed, building a structure that would reflect the desires of their sheikh to expand tourism for his country.
Melissa ignored it all, however. She was so angry she could spit! How dared he mess those children around like that? They needed stability and love, guidance and assurance that they were part of a family—not to be sent away from the only relative who was apparently able to look after them.
She reached out and caught his arm, stopping him from exiting the car.
He looked at her with some surprise.
Amazed at her own audacity, she nonetheless held onto her courage. “There has to be other alternatives. Think, please. They’re babies. They need comforting, love. You are their cousin, their guardian. Spend time with them or find other family members who can care for them. Don’t send them to some institutional school so far away.”
“I believe I know what is best for the children.” He slipped his arm from beneath her hand and climbed out of the car.
“I don’t think so,” she muttered, opening her own door and getting out before he could come around to assist. Her opinion of the man dropped significantly! How could he do that to those precious children?
Max had said he was looking for a wife. Maybe his attitude was one of the reasons he wasn’t already married.
Yet her heart ached for those sweet children. Maybe she’d find a way to make him change his mind.
Melissa was tired by the time she and Max returned to Surim’s house in the late afternoon. Dinner would not be for a couple of hours. She quickly showered and put on some casual, light trousers. No one had said she couldn’t visit the children, so she went up to the third floor.
They were sitting in front of a television, the program in Arabic. Why weren’t they outside in the sunshine?
“Hi,” she said, stepping inside the room.
All three kids scrambled to their feet and rushed to greet her.
“You came back,” Alaya said in perfect English. “I didn’t think we’d see you again. I’m sorry Hamid woke everyone up last night.”
“I had a nightmare,” the little boy said.
Nadia held up her arms and Melissa scooped her up, hugging her gently, then resting her on her hip.
“What are you doing inside on such a gorgeous day? I heard there’s a path to the beach,” Melissa said. She smiled at the older woman sitting with crochet work in hand.
“Do you mind if I take the children out for a walk?” she asked in French.
With the nurse’s agreement, she told the children to get ready. “We’ll walk there and back. But only on the condition you are on your best behavior,” she admonished, remembering what Surim had said about their running wild.
“We haven’t been outside except to the gardens. Annis doesn’t like to go far. She’s old,” Alaya ended in a whisper.
“Well, I’m not and I’m up for a walk to the beach. Sun cream first and then we’ll leave,” Melissa said. The nurse wasn’t that old—she looked to be about fifty—but to a young girl she probably did seem elderly.
The outing proved to be full of fun. Melissa forgot about being tired and held Nadia’s and Hamid’s hands. Alaya walked on the other side of Nadia, chatting freely.
“We’ve been here a long time it seems and never seen the beach. Our parents died, you know. I really miss Mummy. Is the water cold?” Alaya asked.
“I think it’s warm. We’ll find out together.” Melissa found the gate leading out of the garden and followed the neatly kept path. In only five minutes they reached a pristine stretch of beach totally empty in both directions. The children ran toward the water.
“Don’t go in until I get there,” Melissa called, running after them. It felt so good to be free of office clothes, to be running in the sunshine. The laughter of the children warmed her heart. She was glad she’d followed her instincts and sought them out.
The children kicked off their shoes and waded in the warm sea. Melissa quickly followed, getting the bottoms of her trouser legs wet, but she didn’t care. She was happy to enjoy the excitement of the children.
“I want to go swimming,” Hamid said, splashing his sisters.
“Whoa, not so much water. Another day we’ll ask about swimming. How about we race along the water’s edge? Who can run the fastest?” Melissa said, looking to channel some of their energy. They probably got into trouble in the house from sheer curiosity and exuberance. She’d make sure they got enough exercise to sleep soundly tonight.
“Me,” little Nadia said.
“I can,” Hamid said.
They were off, running at the edge of the water, splashing and laughing. Alaya took off after them, with Melissa following.
When they tired of that, Melissa suggested they build a sandcastle.
Alaya looked sad. “Mummy and Daddy built a fabulous one the last holiday we had. We went to Cornwall.”
“I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you are building a new sandcastle on this beach. It’s a long way from Cornwall, but sand is sand. Won’t you join us?” Melissa wasn’t exactly sure what to say to grieving children, but she knew it was good for the children to talk about their parents.
“You can tell us how to make one like your mummy and daddy built. Did you help them?” she asked.
Alaya nodded. “I miss them.” She started to cry. The other two ran to her, upset by their older sister’s tears.
Melissa reached out to draw her into her arms, hugging her warmly. “I know you do. You will miss them all your life. My daddy died when I was five and I still miss him. But the aching, crushing hurt will diminish, I promise. One day you’ll look back at all your memories so grateful to have them. They’ll bring smiles to your face and a lift of love to your heart.” Melissa wished she had more memories of her father. Alaya was older than she’d been. She would remember. But the others would not. It was so sad.
“I miss Mummy, too,” Hamid said.
Melissa
