But as he and Willow strolled through the construction site, pointing out little things and talking about the future of this school, he couldn’t help but recall all the plans they’d made when they were together. All the wild ideas they’d tossed around, like starting a chain of international schools on every continent. Well, here they were. One continent down. It made his heart squeeze, and he didn’t like it.
Yes, he was definitely angry at Fatim.
They surveyed the site until almost dusk, when the driver came up to them with a worried face.
“We need to seek cover,” he said, his voice pinched. “A sand storm has erupted a few miles away, and I don’t think we’ll be able to make it back into the city before it hits.”
Nasser’s stomach twisted. Willow knew enough Amatbahn to get the gist, and she looked at Nasser with concern.
“What should we do?” she asked.
Shouts broke through from down the road. Some of the construction workers emerged from the tents, waving everyone nearer. Nasser guided Willow to follow the driver as they headed toward the tents, where the workers urged them to take cover there as the storm approached.
In the distance, the dark swell of the sand storm already loomed, making a huge portion of the sky ominously dark against the encroaching dusk. These storms were notorious, and out here, even worse without the infrastructure of the city to help beat it back.
“We need to take cover in the tents,” Nasser said to Willow. “At least until it passes.”
“How long will it last?” Willow asked, clutching his arm.
“I don’t know. It could be hours. Maybe even overnight.”
She sighed but nodded. “And these tents? They’ll withstand the storm?”
They walked into the open flap of the main tent—big enough to host smaller, individual tents within it for the workers’ sleeping areas. Heavy burlap walls rose above a steel frame. At least they were protected in here.
“Sir, you may spend the night with us.” A construction worker approached him, bowing his head in deference as he gestured behind him. In the center of the tent, workers were already preparing food, and the scent of fresh flatbread wafted in the air. “We will all be safe in here.”
“I think this is our best bet,” Nasser said to Willow, who looked a little deflated.
“Okay,” she said, voice small. “Yeah. If this is what’s best.”
From outside, buffeting winds started to pick up. Dust kicked up at the bottom edge of the tarp. Anxiety streaked through Nasser, but he wouldn’t let it show. Not when he could see that Willow was getting nervous.
“We’ll just ride it out,” Nasser said, squeezing her shoulder. He was accommodating to a fault, even when he knew he should stay as far away from her as possible. “I’m sure once we have dinner it’ll be fine to drive back.”
Except it wasn’t fine to drive back after dinner. The sandstorm whipped and howled outside, buffeting the sides of the big tent. Some gusts that got so bad even Nasser thought the tent complex itself would lift up and blow away. Forget driving back in this. They’d be lucky if the car was still outside
when morning came.
After filling their bellies with flatbread, curried stew, and a slightly sour wine that the workers passed around like water, Nasser was ready to try to call it a night. He spoke with the foreman to find out where they could lay their heads.
“We have one extra tent for you and your companion,” the foreman said, leading them toward a tent tucked into the back corner of the campsite. Nasser opened his mouth to correct the assumption, but they were already weaving through people, and it seemed pointless. Nasser thought about requesting separate tents—for Willow’s sake, of course—but felt it wouldn’t be exactly prudent in this situation.
“Will my driver have a tent as well?” Nasser asked.
“We have an open area near the fire,” the foreman responded. “He can sleep there.”
So no extra tents. Nasser glanced back at Willow to find her wide eyed and keeping close behind him. He grabbed her hand on instinct as they wove deeper through the workers. Beyond the encampment, wind howled, underscored by the tsss of sand buffeting the walls of the tent.
The tent they’d been given was small and spartan. A mattress large enough for one-and-a-half people lay on the ground, thick blankets tossed to the side.
“Here we are.” Nasser rubbed at the back of his neck, knowing where this was headed: an extremely uncomfortable night with him likely sleeping directly on the ground.
“Home sweet home,” Willow said, hugging herself. “You don’t think this storm will let up soon?”
“I think it’s safe to say we’re here for the night.” He scuffed his toe against the ground. “It would be too much of a risk to try to get back at night, anyway. Let’s get some rest and see what we can do in the morning.”
Willow nodded and then shrugged off her cardigan and slipped off her shoes. She sighed as she eased onto the foot of the mattress. Then she looked up at him, something like a smile stuck on her face, and suddenly he was falling, falling back into the past. How many times had she looked at him with those gorgeous green eyes, waiting for him to join her in bed?