Lost in Thyme , livre ebook

Hamad Bin Khalifa University Press - Lilas Taha

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

179 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

Sami Amara, heir to the Amara & Sons Construction Company, has been plagued by visions of a mysterious red-haired girl that he just can't place. When his father suddenly dies, he is confronted with a past that he never knew existed: a mysterious girl, now woman, and promises unfulfilled. Petra Haddad, a single mother living in Kuwait, has grown accustomed to a life of routine, predictability and...loneliness. When a lawyer calls her up to discuss the last will and testament of a man she never even knew, her world is turned upside down. Thrust together by fate, Sami and Petra begin a whirlwind journey that explores their families' mysterious past, from America all the way to the precarious rural landscapes of their native country, Palestine. As their lives and histories entangle and intertwine, will they be able to forge a shared future together or will fate once again intervene?

Sujets

Romance

Informations

Publié par	Hamad Bin Khalifa University Press
Date de parution	12 mai 2018
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9789927151507
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0424€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

To the warm heart of my mother,
Nawal

CHAPTER ONE
Kuwait, 2016
This must be a mistake. He was not the one who should be here.
Sami Amara eased onto the backseat of the black Mercedes-Maybach S600. He studied a lost luggage receipt and gritted his teeth. He couldn’t bear being caged in this car for long, no matter how luxurious the interior. The driver’s slow exit from the airport added to his misery. Stuffing the receipt into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, he stretched his legs as far as he could in the limited space.
Several car horns blared from behind.
Everything around him objected to his presence. He buckled his seat belt, freed his trapped tie and loosened it.
His mobile phone buzzed. He searched his pockets until he discovered the phone had slipped out of his trousers and lay on the seat beside him.
He eyed the caller ID and answered his brother’s call. “What’s wrong, Fareed?”
A red Ford truck in the farthest lane to the right cut sharply into the left lane and screeched ahead of the Mercedes. Sami’s driver slammed on the brakes. Sami’s seatbelt locked and dug into his chest. The Ford sped off. Cars in other lanes honked, burying whatever Fareed said. Sami unlatched his seatbelt and fumbled to adjust it. “Say that again?”
“We really need to get to work.”
“Hell, I just landed.”
“I can’t sign or do anything in Houston until you finalize things with this Haddad woman in Kuwait.”
Sami’s eyes followed the Ford squeezing its way between cars. A bright yellow Maserati speeding up from the left sprayed sand onto his window. He shuffled to the other side away from the dirtied glass and latched his seatbelt. “Don’t worry. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Fareed exhaled into the phone. “Who the heck is she? Where did she come from?”
“I have no idea. Haven’t seen anyone yet.”
“Vaughn didn’t meet you at the airport?”
“He sent a limo service. I’ll call you as soon as I have something.” Sami ended the call and braced himself.
Once they reached the highway, the limo driver surprised Sami with his skill, weaving away from careless motorists who drove as if they owned the road.
Sami’s sight adjusted to the yellowness of his surroundings. Small patches of trees and sand-dusted shrubs sprinkled sides of the road that cut through the desert—a black ribbon floating on a sea of sand. Villas and houses, some the colour of dried mud, dotted the horizon in the shimmering distance, their architectural designs varying in degrees of complexity. Lonely palm trees poked their heads above high walls. A concrete one-story cube with small windows stood out. The car turned into its parking lot and cruised to a stop.
Sami planted his feet on the hot ground and gripped the door’s inside armrest to keep his balance. The asphalt under the soles of his leather shoes felt viscous. His sunglasses fogged, and he took them off to check he wasn’t sinking into the molten surface. He used his necktie to clean his lenses, adding smudges with the sweat-soaked silk. He slipped his glasses into his shirt pocket and took in a long breath, inflating his lungs despite the heat, tolerating its swift burn.
This hostile environment did not matter. He could take it. He could take anything but being confined in that car for another minute. He watched the Mercedes drive off and shook his head. His torturous ride was an oddly fitting way to top-off a miserable twenty-three hour trip from Houston.
Sami entered the office building, noting the big sign overhead that spelled Amara & Sons Construction Company in bold red letters. The same was written in Arabic next to the company emblem. Walking into the chilled interior, he faked a cough to hide a shiver brought on by the sudden temperature drop. Where were the restrooms? He felt a sudden urgency.
“Mr. Amara.” A stout, white-haired man met him in the lobby and offered his hand. “Allan Vaughn, chief legal counsel. We spoke on the phone?”
“Right.” Sami matched Vaughn’s strong grip. “Everyone calls me Sami.”
Vaughn clasped Sami’s elbow with his other hand. “Wish we’d met under better circumstances. Your father will be greatly missed.”
Sami gave a curt nod and freed his arm. He had no desire to waste a single minute on small talk. He needed to finalize this business as quickly as possible. He shrugged off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and told his bladder to calm down. “I’d appreciate an update.”
“Of course.” Vaughn led the way to his office.
The industrial fluorescent lighting and low ceiling pressed onto Sami. He fought the need to hunch his shoulders and headed toward the only window in the room. If he opened it to this sweltering heat, he would look like an imbecile. His eyes sought the air-conditioning vent between the white ceiling panels, and he imagined the ventilation duct opening to the outside world at the other end. He willed his nervous heartbeat down a notch.
Over the years, he had mastered a couple of tricks to suppress his claustrophobia. Up to a point. And today was proving to be a hellish trial. He had endured the arduous flight on tightly-sealed planes to sort out the mess his father had left for him in this place. His control over his body slipped from his grasp.
“Kuwaiti heat getting to you?” Vaughn said in a condescending tone. “You’ve worked in harsher climates than this, haven’t you?”
Out in the open , Sami wanted to say. He clenched his jaw and let the snide remark roll over him. “Just a little tired from the flight. So, where are we?”
“I have the documents ready.” Vaughn produced a folder from the massive desk. “All you need is to have Mrs. Haddad sign them.” He motioned toward one of the leather chairs. “Drink?”
“Water’s fine.” Sami stayed rooted to his spot by the window. Heat radiated from the glass pane and gave him a strange measure of comfort. He took the icy water bottle Vaughn offered. “Have you contacted her?”
“We’ll meet with her tomorrow at nine. Thought I’d give you time to rest. Get over the jet lag.”
Sami decided against taking a sip of water, to appease his bladder, and placed the bottle on the windowsill. “We’re meeting here?”
“I advised her to hire a contract lawyer. Recommended someone I know. She declined and chose someone else.” Vaughn checked a business card on his desk. “Rida Al Faisal. He arranged for the meeting to be at his office downtown.”
“And she has no idea what this is about?”
“Only that it concerns her father. She asked me questions. I had no answers.” Vaughn tapped his index finger on the folder. “Do you?”
Sami shook his head. “I’m in the dark, too.” He pointed at the folder. “I’d like to see those sealed envelopes Dad left in his will.” He studied Vaughn, trying to gain the measure of the older man. Vaughn had come into the company two years ago to oversee the Kuwaiti branch. His eyes shifted like a ferret and landed everywhere except directly on Sami. Would he prove trustworthy?
Vaughn sauntered over, a white envelope in each hand. “Since your father stated you both need to be present to open them, I saw no point giving this woman a heads-up over the phone.”
Sami examined the seals and the handwritten names. Was this his father’s handwriting? Working on construction sites, his occasional correspondence with his father was through emails and typed documents. At thirty-two years of age, he struggled to remember what his father’s handwriting looked like. When was the last time they had spoken? Last summer when he was on assignment in Costa Rica. And what was it about? Nothing personal. He had discussed business details to assure his father the resort project was completely under his control. Ever since the Chile disaster early in his career, Sami scrutinized contractors and worked hard to regain his father’s trust. He had quickly learned to depend on no one.
Sami handed back the envelopes. “Did you find out who this woman is? Is she any relation to Dad?”
“Nothing I could find in any records. Her father Waleed Saba and your father went to the same high school before your father left Kuwait for America.”
“That was more than forty years ago. They didn’t keep in touch?”
“It doesn’t seem so.” Vaughn shrugged. “The school was destroyed during the first Gulf War. No records remain. And your father didn’t elaborate, told me to find Mr. Saba’s daughter.”
“Haddad is her husband’s name, I take it?”
“Therein lies the problem.” Vaughn raised his hand. “Her mother changed her name to Clayton when they moved to the States. When she died, a spinster aunt adopted Petra, and she became Petra Keats. Then she married and returned to Kuwait as Petra Haddad.” Vaughn shook his head. “I spent a number of billable hours searching for Petra Saba.”
“How much time?”
“Since March. Your father asked me to search for her soon after he was diagnosed.”
Vaughn finally looked Sami in the eye. He let his sentence hang in the air for several heartbeats.
Sami maintained eye contact and didn’t flinch, certain Vaughn had known long before he did about his father’s illness. Vaughn had watched his father draw his last breath. Here in Kuwait. Away from his sons, his family. What other secrets did this guy possess?
“And her mother?” Sami asked.
“Deborah Kirkwood was from Milwaukee. Died of breast cancer when Petra was seven. Like I said, the sister adopted her. That’s all I could gather.” Vaughn scratched his head. “As far as I know, Petra never met your father.”
Vaughn went to the long row of metal filing cabinets opposite his desk and pulled out a manila folder. “Everything my detectives discovered is here.” He waved the file in the air, a faint smirk on his face, daring Sami to abandon his spot by the window.
Sami turned his gaze toward the dancing leaves of a lonely tree at the edge of the parking lot. “What line of work was her father in?”
“Partner in an im