The Sheikh's Surprise Triplets (Azhar Sheikhs Book 3) Page 8

  She rubbed at her face, trying to remember how she’d gotten here. Who had brought her. Where Basri had gone. Nothing came to her. She gazed at the timber lathing of the stone walls. Please tell me I’m going to make it home.

  She drew a shaky breath, trying to squelch the fears and questions, and pushed out of bed. At the very least she was well-rested. And her ankle hurt slightly less once she bore weight.

  “Basri?” Her voice sounded weak and fearful. She started to hobble toward the door, and it opened slowly, the head of a gray-haired old woman poking in.

  Juliette’s eyes widened. “Hi. Um…hello. I’m looking for Basri. I…Is this your house? I have no idea where I am. I’m just…I need Basri.”

  The woman shut the door behind her, waving at the bed. She tutted and murmured to her in a foreign language, something that sounded strange yet soothing. Juliette sat back on the bed, looking up at the plump lady, dressed in what amounted to floral-patterned rags.

  “Um…yes.” Juliette leaned back on the bed as the woman lifted her injured foot, placing it back on the bed. “Thank you. It’s a good idea. I know. I just…I need to find my friend.” She swallowed hard, folding her hands over her belly as the woman fiddled with the strange wrap, murmuring in her language as she did. “Have you seen him? He’s about yay tall, extremely handsome, dark hair…” She pinched her eyes shut. This was useless. The woman didn’t speak a lick of English. And her Georgian was equally non-existent.

  The door creaked open again, and a young woman poked her head in, serious gray eyes settling on Juliette. She rushed inside, kneeling at the bedside.

  “Hello,” the young woman said. She tucked a strand of dark hair behind one ear.

  Juliette’s mouth parted. “Oh my God. You speak English.”

  “I speak English,” the young woman said, smiling shyly. “I can translate for you. My grandmother does not speak your language.”

  Juliette’s heart raced with happiness. “This is amazing. What’s your name? Thank you so much.”

  “I am Anna,” she said. Her voice was melodic and sweet, like she could make even the dourest phrase sound like music. “You are Juliette. Your partner told us.”

  Juliette hesitated, until she realized the word partner here didn’t mean the same thing as back home. “Yes. Excellent. Where is he, by the way?”

  “In another house.” Anna folded her hands primly at the edge of the bed, like she was praying at a confessional. “We do not have much room here where we live. So we sent him with my uncle.”

  “Beautiful.” Juliette leaned back onto the bed, mind roiling with questions. Where to begin? “Where did you learn English?”

  “In the city,” she said, her accent thick. “I go study there five years until I come back to marry.”

  Juliette’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? Have you married?” The girl couldn’t be more than fifteen.

  “Soon.” The girl offered an unconvincing smile.

  “Congratulations.” Juliette smiled nervously. This was more than just an entirely different world. It was like maybe she’d stepped back in time, too. “So where are we? Is the city close?”

  “The city is far away,” Anna said, gesturing with her hands. “Far, far down the mountain. One truck comes every three weeks to bring us what we need.”

  Juliette nodded, the words ‘three weeks’ echoing inside her head. Could she even survive here for three weeks? What if the truck didn’t come? Her parents would take her for dead if she waited that long.

  Just as she opened her mouth to ask another question, a small cry came from nearby. Like a baby. The grandmother made hushing sounds, shuffling toward the other side of the room. She picked up a small child from a bassinet, hidden in shadows, and held the swaddled baby up to her chest.

  The baby quieted, but then another one began to wail. Anna went over to the bassinet and picked up a second baby. Juliette squinted.

  “Who—?”

  Another baby began wailing, and Juliette blinked hard. It couldn’t be. She pushed herself up, hobbling over to the bassinet. A third baby lay inside, fidgeting and screaming. She gasped and reached for the tiny bundle. The grandmother pointed toward a rocking chair, waving her toward it.

  Juliette settled heavily into the chair, sighing contentedly as she adjusted the baby in her arms. The weight of the little one felt good in her arms—it always felt so good to hold babies. She smiled down at the child, cooing softly.

  “Are these your babies?” She looked up at Anna.

  Anna laughed, rocking a child in her arms. “No, not mine! I am only fourteen.”

  Juliette blushed, focusing instead on the tiny features of the baby. No way to tell girl from boy—all the blankets were wispy thin and stained.

  “These are my cousins,” Anna went on, bouncing the baby lightly. “My aunt’s children. She had them six month ago but did not live afterward.”

  Juliette frowned, absorbing the soft, sweet features of the child in her arms. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  “We all raise them,” Anna said. “My grandmother especially. And some other women in the village.”

  Sadness trickled through her. Grandma’s face lit up when she coddled the baby, that was for sure. So maybe that was the silver lining—a little bit of joy among the pain. The three women rocked each baby until their cries subsided.

  Juliette looked up at Anna. “Can we go find my partner, Basri?”

  Anna nodded, and helped nestle the child she held into Juliette’s open arm. “I will bring him to you.”

  Basri ran a hand through his hair, trying to piece together an action plan. The entire misty morning had been spent batting back and forth poor translations, struggling to make sense of the beautiful but confusing world around him. Two of the leading men in the village, Giorgi and Alexander, stood with him near the edge of the village, where the only paved road passed by, cracked and full of potholes. Giorgi pointed up at the mountain, where the road wound away.

  “Trade. There.” He pointed again for emphasis, then mimed using a steering wheel. “Truck.”

  He nodded. So far, he’d caught the drift that only two villages lay nearby, and neither had much hope of having a radio—the only thing he hunted for.

  “But problems,” Alexander insisted. He’d been repeating this word for eons, it seemed. Basri groaned, rubbing at his face.

  “Yes. Problems. But of what kind?”

  The men blinked dully at each other.

  Basri drew a patient breath. Allah give me the strength to figure this out. Next time he went on a wilderness trip, he’d learn the local language before touching down. Footsteps sounded behind him, and he swiveled, finding a young dark-haired girl approaching. She smiled shyly, waving at them.

  “Your partner is awake,” she said, her English resonating like harmony through him.

  “Dear God.” He held out his hand, shaking her vigorously. “This is fantastic news.”

  “You come with me?”

  “Yes. Except, wait!” The village’s only translator so far. She was a precious commodity and couldn’t be more than sixteen years old. “Can you help me understand these two nice men? I want to go someplace to find a radio. But I don’t know what they’re trying to tell me.”

  The girl rattled off a complex string of words to the men, to which they both responded vehemently. When she spoke, her eyes were troubled.

  “There are few places to travel up here,” she said, “but the problem is the…” She furrowed her brow, searching for the word. “The bad men. They come and take our things. Steal from us. They come all the time.”

  Basri blinked. “Bad men? Well don’t you have some…police or something to help deal with them?”

  She shook her head. “We are all alone up here, sir. They are bad men, from the war.” She swallowed hard, looking at her village mates. “We deal with the problems.”

  Basri nodded, gnawing at the inside of his cheek. “Okay. So where can we try first? I can use anything—scr
ap metal, whatever is available.”

  The girl relayed this message to the men, and their response seemed hesitant. The girl translated for them, “The village nearby, they can take you soon.”

  Basri nodded, holding his hand out for a handshake from each man. “It’s a deal. Tell them I’ll be back after I see Juliette.”

  The girl relayed the message and then turned, nodding for him to follow. She led him down a dirt path, which wound between stone and wood structures, buildings that looked more like hobbit houses than any modern creation. She paused at a heavy wooden door, pushing it open cautiously. She gestured for him to go inside.

  Basri stepped across the threshold, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. The room felt reverent somehow, as if hushed in prayer. Juliette sat in a rocking chair in front of him, two babies in her arm. His eyebrows shot up, and he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry with relief.

  “Juliette.” He fell to his knees in front of her, clasping her legs. “Look at you. How long was I gone?” He laughed incredulously, gazing at the bundled babies. “Seems like it was much more than a night.”

  She laughed softly, her eyes lighting up. “These are her grandchildren.” She nodded behind her at an old woman, who held another baby. “Triplets. Can you believe it?”

  The old lady on the bed said something in Georgian. Basri turned to the young woman for translation.

  “She says that her ankle will need a few more days of rest. She walked too much on it. Very important to rest.”

  “Thank you, Anna,” Juliette said, giving each baby a kiss on the forehead. “I promise I will.”

  “Yes, thank you, Anna.” Basri smiled at the Georgian women. “Thank you both. So much.” Turning to Juliette, he caught her up to speed on what he’d learned from the men out front. “We’re planning a trip to a nearby town for supplies. I’m going to pick up whatever I can to make a radio, or repair the one they have here that’s broken.”

  Juliette arched an eyebrow. “Make a radio?”

  “I’m an engineer…remember?” He knocked her chin lightly. “But we have to act fast. They want to leave after lunch. Will you be okay here if I go?”

  She hesitated and then nodded. “Yes. I think I can keep my hands full here. Just…” Her voice lowered. “Be safe. Safer than you’ve ever been before. I can’t have something happen to you out here.” Her voice cracked. “Please.”

  He nodded, rubbing the sides of her arms as she cradled the babies. “I promise, Juliette.” He stood, pressing a kiss to her lips, and then one to her forehead. “I will be back as soon as I can.”

  Basri stood, brushing his fingers over each baby in her arms. He smiled over at the grandmother, who held a bit of cloth up to her mouth. She coughed discretely, something rattling and ill.

  “I’ll be back,” he promised again, kissing the top of Juliette’s head. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Basri let himself out of the dim room, running back to the main road to find the men. If they ever wanted to make it out of here…he had to act fast. And smart.

  12

  In Basri’s absence, Juliette struggled to swallow the fear and panic that told her he’d never come back. This is the only option. He has to find materials to save us, to get us home. But the anxiety of his departure, while they were buried in the mountains with no way of contacting home, refused to leave her.

  Anna took a baby from her arms, sitting on the bed next to her grandmother. The three women rocked each baby quietly, until Juliette spoke up.

  “So, Anna.” Juliette smiled brightly, as if it might convince her anxiety to fall away. “Do you want to have children someday?”

  Anna smiled sadly, looking down at the baby in her arms. “Maybe. I want to wait, because there is chance that I will need to be mother to these babies.” She looked over at her grandmother, who was absorbed in the baby. “She is very sick.”

  Her words hung like threats in the air. What could a fourteen-year-old do in her situation? Juliette was stunned into silence.

  Anna spoke up a moment later. “Your clothes are beautiful but dirty.” She stood, placing each baby in turn back in the bassinets. “We wash. Come.”

  Juliette hobbled after her, through a squat wooden doorway that led into an earthy side room. A clawfoot tub sat in the middle of the room, next to a big basin of water. Anna knelt, reaching under the basin, and a flame emerged, heating the water.

  “Your clothes.” She held out her hands. Juliette paused, wary about undressing in front of a relative stranger…much less a young girl.

  “Are you—?”

  “I wash them.” Anna smiled shyly.

  Juliette nodded and stripped down, shivering in the cool air. When in Rome. She dragged a finger through the water in the basin. Still only lukewarm. Anna disappeared from the room with the clothes and returned a moment later, empty-handed. She helped to scoop the water into the tub.

  Once the water was readied, Juliette eased herself in slowly, shivering against the contrast of warm water and cool air. She sank against the side of the tub, letting out a small sigh. Small luxuries, even in the middle of nowhere. Just as her eyes fluttered shut, a knock sounded on the door.

  Anna went to answer it. Someone spoke in hushed tones on the other side, and then Anna came over, her eyes wild.

  “We must go.” She pulled at her arm, yanking her to standing. “Come. We leave now. There is danger.”

  Juliette stumbled out of the tub, receiving a shawl and tunic from Anna. She tugged the tunic over her head while she followed her into the bedroom. There, the grandmother waited beside an open trapdoor in the floor.

  “We must go inside with the babies,” Anna said, her voice hushed and firm. She received a baby from her grandmother, nodding at the rickety stairwell leading into the dark hole. “Go. I will pass the babies.”

  Juliette clambered into the hole, settling herself before receiving one infant and then another. Anna came down a moment later with the third, and the trap door swung shut. Muffled shuffling sounded overhead, followed by the distant din of voices.

  “We must be quiet,” Anna said. “The babies cannot cry.”

  Juliette sat, paralyzed with fear, for what felt like hours, listening to every scratch and whiff from above ground. Questions made painful cycles through her head, but she couldn’t voice a single one. She rocked the babies methodically, praying that they’d stay asleep, or at least calm.

  The earth was damp and cool in this hideout, and the darkness felt suffocating at times. Juliette practiced every mental technique she knew to keep herself sane and levelheaded while they waited…and waited.

  Finally—minutes or hours later, she had no idea—the shuffling on the floor above resumed. The trap door creaked open, and Grandmother peered inside. She barked something in Georgian, and Anna sighed with relief.

  “They have gone.” She came to her feet, her dark hair glowing in the sudden shaft of light. “The bad men have left. If they discover the babies, they take them.” She passed a baby up to Grandma, and then said, “And if they see you, they take you too.”

  The rhythmic saunter of the donkey lulled Basri into a false state of relaxation. After so long trekking uphill, it was easy to think they’d never make it to the next village. But then again, these animals were notoriously slow. His two companions glanced back at him occasionally, as if checking to make sure he hadn’t fallen off the edge of the mountain.

  The mountain route wound and curved, something fit for an exposé on the world’s most dangerous roads. Low hanging limbs lined the side, leaves brushing against his forehead on occasion. A rumble sounded in the distance—like the lumbering of a large truck. Both men turned to face him, waving their hands toward the side of the road.

  They spoke frantically as they dismounted their donkeys, urging him to do the same. They led him to a small gulley off the side of the road, pushing him and the donkeys as deep as they’d go. One man revealed a large green tarp from his rucksack, and he tossed t
he tarp over top of Basri and the donkeys. A moment later the men scooted underneath, fingers pressed to lips.

  At least the sign for “be quiet” was the same in all languages.

  Basri sat rigidly still, barely breathing for fear of ruining whatever they were trying to accomplish. It had to be the “bad men”—there was no other explanation. Up on the road, the rumbling grew into the roar of a motor. A large vehicle lumbered by, seemingly on top of them. His guides waited until the roar of the truck faded into a distant murmur before tossing the tarp back.

  They chattered heatedly amongst themselves, packing up the tarp and urging the donkeys back out of the gulley. Basri did his best to push his donkey along, but the animal was stubborn and doltish. It took them at least twenty minutes to get resituated on the mountain road.

  The donkey clopped listlessly forward, and the next village emerged, sleepy and scant, from the mountain foliage within another half hour. They passed a ramshackle wooden house, mostly loose beams and cracked paint, where a man nursed a black eye on the front porch. He eyed them suspiciously, until a woman came out onto the porch and began shouting at them. Whatever she said, it wasn’t entirely friendly.

  Basri’s guides answered her heatedly, and lots of arms waved in the air while the exchange took place. The only thing he could glean was that it had to do with the thugs. The woman and man quieted, and their caravan continued on, until they reached what looked like a small village center. A loose grouping of trees lined with a low brick wall gave the sense of a town square. Basri’s hope for scrap metal parts plummeted into the tip of his toes, a dense knot of worry.

  A straight-backed man emerged from a nearby house a few moments later, dressed in what Basri took to be formal wear, a neat black tunic over dark gray slacks. He carried himself with the air of someone important, approaching Basri’s guides with a neutral face.

  The three men conferred quietly, and then Giorgi gestured toward Basri. Basri offered a tight smile, holding out his hand to the new man. “Hello. I’m Basri.”