Sleeping with the Sheikh. Brenda Jackson

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      “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 СКАЧАТЬ