Epilogue
“No, you can’t eat Pablo’s dog food,” Calista said to her five year old son. Timar glared at the dog’s bowl and Pablo glared back. Obviously, this was an ongoing battle between the child and his four-legged best friend.
“But why not?” Timar demanded.
Goran stepped into the dining room, lifting Timar up into the air with a growl. Instantly, Timar’s disgruntlement broke into giggles as his father nibbled on his tummy. Finally, Goran rolled his son around so that they were looking at each other eye to eye. “You can’t eat the dog’s food because you don’t have fur!”
Timar and Goran both looked down to find the dog staring happily up at the duo, his tail wagging so hard that the back end of his body wagged with it.
“But maybe if I eat Pablo’s food, then I’ll grow fur.” His eyes widened as an idea struck him. “Maybe I can even grow a tail.”
Pablo barked, unwilling to be ignored.
Goran set his son back down on the floor, then rubbed Pablo’s rough fur. “That’s not how it works. And if you steal all of Pablo’s food, then maybe his tail will fall off. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”
Timar looked appropriately horrified at that idea that he knelt on the floor, hugging his faithful companion. “I won’t eat your food!” he promised with all the solemnity that only a five year old could convey.
Goran walked over to Calista, bending down to nibble on her neck with a bit less fanfare than the tummy nibbling moments ago. “And how are you?” he asked, resting his hand on her swollen belly.
“Don’t ask,” she grumbled, shifting on her chair.
Timar moved back onto his chair, grabbing his fork and stabbing a piece of watermelon. “Momma said you’re in trouble.”
Goran sat down in the empty chair, flipping his linen napkin over his lap as one of the servants poured coffee for him. “And why am I in trouble?” he asked, looking over at his wife with amusement.
“You know exactly why you’re in the doghouse!” she muttered, thinking of the previous night when he’d teased and toyed with her until she was almost desperate for release.
“I wanna be in the doghouse!” Timar called out, brightening at the possibility.
Goran laughed, not saying a word as he took a sip of his coffee. “I didn’t hear you complaining last night.”
She rolled her eyes. “Then you weren’t paying attention.”
He threw back his head, laughing with delight at his beautiful wife.
“Can I live in the doghouse with Pablo?” Timar asked, his eyebrows tightening as his confusion over the conversation increased. “If Daddy can do it, then why can’t I?”
Calista looked over at her husband, smiling as she lifted her eyebrows, silently telling him that he must answer their son.
Goran turned, looking at Timar. “How about if you and I try and build a doghouse-like structure that will go around your bed?”
Timar sat up straighter in his chair, absently reaching down to touch Pablo, whose tail began wagging again. “Really? Could we really do that?”
Goran shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Your momma thinks I can do anything.”
Timar’s face broke out into a huge grin and he nodded. “I think you’re a hero too!” He wiggled off of his chair and raced over to his father’s seat. Goran lifted his tiny son up into his arms, settling him onto his lap. “Momma says it all the time!” he whispered.
Goran looked over at his wife, his glance telling her that he loved her. Reaching out, his fingers touched hers and Calista knew that her world was absolutely perfect at that moment.
A message from Elizabeth:
I always write the story and then title the book. When I finished the second draft of this story, I sat back, trying to figure out an appropriate title for the book. I initially came up with “The Sheik’s Rescue” but hesitated. In all of my stories, I try to make the female characters strong and confident. That title implies that Goran did all of the “rescuing” in this plot and I didn’t like taking the credit away from Calista, who was pivotal to every aspect of the escape scene.
However, I decided to go with it when I realized the title could mean two things at once. The sheik could be doing the rescuing, or he could be the one being rescued. My feminist mind still jumped to images of a tall, dark, and handsome champion. But the title can be interpreted either way. It’s unfortunate that our minds are taught to think of the male doing the saving of the heroine. So I offer the challenge to each of you. When you read the title, did you ever think of Calista saving Goran?
I don’t know if I’m correct about the title, but it was an interesting mental conundrum.
Regardless, I hope that you enjoyed the story – not as a feminist treatise, but merely as a happy escape from the challenges of our daily lives.