the other side. She wished she could hold each one until the hurt eased.
“Of course you miss them. They were your parents and loved you very much. You know they didn’t want to die.”
“It was a truck, crashing into them,” Alaya said. “The brakes failed, that’s what the policeman said. Why did it have to happen?”
“No one knows things like that, sweetheart,” Melissa murmured. “But you will be cared for here.”
“Nobody here knew our parents or talks about them. It’s as if they were never alive,” Alaya said.
“Your uncle knew your mother. Get him to talk about her and your father. I bet he has wonderful stories about when they were young,” Melissa suggested.
“He’s our cousin,” Alaya said, bitterness tingeing her voice. “He doesn’t want us. Mummy asked him long ago to be our guardian if something happened to them and he said yes. But he doesn’t want us.”
“He’s your family,” Melissa said, hoping it wasn’t a total lie. “He’s just not used to children. We need to find a way to have him feel more comfortable around you.”
“He’s getting married,” Hamid said, looking up at her. “Will she be our new mummy?”
“No, we are not getting another mother,” Alaya said firmly.
Nadia slipped her thumb into her mouth, watching with large eyes.
“Because of the age difference, I’m sure the sheikh wouldn’t mind if you called him Uncle Surim. His new wife will be your new aunt. Have you met her yet?”
“He’s looking,” Alaya said.
“Looking?”
“He needs to get married to have sons to carry on when he dies,” Alaya said.
“But he’s not going to die soon,” Hamid said, looking at his sister. “Is he?”
“No, he has to get married first,” Alaya said.
“How do you know this?” Melissa asked, curious.
Alaya and Hamid looked away.
“Sometimes we spy on him,” she said in a low voice.
“We sneak down the stairs and listen at the door, then run like the wind when someone leaves the office room,” Hamid said.
Melissa was torn between laughter at the picture, and telling them that spying wasn’t really a good thing.
“So he wants babies. They’ll be new cousins for you to play with,” she said, wondering why he was planning to send these adorable children away if he wanted children of his own. She hoped he found his wife soon, and she’d insist on keeping the children.
Paul’s scathing denouncement echoed in her mind. He hadn’t wanted children at all. He considered her involvement with them immature and beneath a woman he’d want to marry. For a moment she was back in the small restaurant hearing his voice, feeling each word as a dart piercing her heart. She’d thought they had so much going for them, until she’d voiced that thought and been soundly corrected. How had she misjudged him so much?
Shaking off the melancholy, she smiled.
“Let’s get going on those sandcastles. Dinner will be soon and we’ll have to return to the house.”
The children scrambled up and ran to the water’s edge again. Soon they were all mounding wet sand, trying to sculpt it with fingers. Melissa made a mental note to see if there were sand toys in the children’s nursery for future visits to the seashore.
Surim walked down the path to the beach alone. Annis had come to tell him the children had not returned in time for their supper. She was worried she’d done the wrong thing by allowing them to go off with his guest. Sometimes it was almost more than he could do to control his frustration. His aunt had insisted Annis be hired to watch her grandchildren. But however qualified Annis appeared on paper, her skill with the children lacked a great deal in his opinion.
As he approached the beach he heard laughter and happy chatter. Pausing by the last of the green grass, he observed four people caught up in building a sandcastle. Little Nadia for once didn’t have her thumb in her mouth. Hamid was laughing so hard he fell over and rolled on the sand. Alaya stood, running to the water to scoop some in her hands and carry it, dripping all the way, back to the ditch they’d built around the castle.
But the person he had the most difficulty recognizing was Melissa Fox. She looked like one of the children. Gone was her suit and her business attitude. Her hair was flying in the breeze, and her trousers were damp and sandy. He could see the joy in her expression. He was struck by how beautiful she was. Suddenly he was gripped with an urge to see her dressed in a designer gown, with pearls from Qu’ Arim at her throat.
Every one of them was having so much fun a pang of envy struck. Surim couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like that. Or spent a carefree afternoon doing nothing more important than building a sandcastle.
Hamid rolled to his knees and caught sight of Surim. The merriment dropped instantly from his face. He said something and the others looked his way. Alaya stopped smiling and stepped closer to Melissa. Nadia popped her thumb back into her mouth and regarded him warily.
Was he frightening to these children? He remembered his cousin Mara fondly. They’d played together when he was younger—not any older than Hamid. He’d seen her often when home from school, before his father had died and his life had changed so drastically. He’d never expected her to die young, or for himself to wind up responsible for her children.
Melissa rose, dusting some of the sand from her clothes.
“Are we late?” she called. She spoke to the children and as one they turned to walk to the water and swish their hands clean. Picking up their shoes, they moved to stand just behind her. In a moment, the little line headed his way, almost like a mother duck with her ducklings following in a row.
Surim watched, fascinated at the change in his guest and the laughter he’d seen from the children. He had only seen them sad or scared or defiant. Melissa still looked carefree and happy, but the children had become solemn.
“Annis was worried when they didn’t return for dinner,” he said when Melissa drew close.
“Sorry about that. I forgot my watch. Guess my estimating the time from the sun isn’t very accurate.” She laughed. “But we were having such fun time seemed to fly.”
He looked at the pile of sand, then at the children. “A very fine castle,” he said awkwardly.
“I bet you and their mother made sandcastles when you were young,” Melissa said.
He was startled. He hadn’t said anything about Mara or her husband, fearing to upset the children.
“Did you?” Alaya asked hesitantly.
Surim regarded the little girl and nodded. “We did. And when we grew older, we had swimming races, and went waterskiing together. She and I were great friends during the summers when I was home,” he said, remembering back
