Princess: Stepping Out of the Shadows, стр. 45
I pursed my lips and frowned a little while thinking through all that Kareem had said, but I did not immediately react, for I have discovered that when I make sudden decisions I often live with regret.
My husband’s expression became very sad. ‘Sultana, one day we will be gone from the earth. It is written. No one lives for ever. We, too, shall one day pass from our earthly life. We, too, will be buried in the sands of our country. This is written. Your daughter, or someone else you trust, will need to have full knowledge of your charities and how they operate so that your good works will continue without pause.’
I conceded this point, at least, for I had felt nervously close to my own mortality over the past few months. I thought to myself that Kareem was right.
‘Yes, husband. I hear what you are saying. Only fools do not plan for the future, even if that future does not include them.’
I shrugged, knowing that Kareem only had my best interests in mind. Truthfully I would enjoy more free time to spend with my grandchildren, especially with the highly anticipated twins arriving in only four months.
‘Yes, it is best for Maha to know all that I do and then, in a few years, Little Sultana will be a perfect assistant for her.’ My heart suddenly felt full emotionally, imagining my daughter and my granddaughter carrying the torch of generosity after my passing, continuing my work helping those of a different generation, those not yet born perhaps, but those who would one day be abused and would need help.
I felt a twinge of excitement at the idea of working closer with Maha. She had become a dream daughter, devoting much of her life to charity work. In fact, I was so proud that Maha was following in my footsteps by organizing several charities of her own.
While my thoughts strayed to all that might be possible working more closely in collaboration with Maha, Kareem waited patiently for me to respond. When he extended his hand for the second time, I accepted it and we embraced each other.
‘You make me very happy, Sultana,’ Kareem told me with a smile. ‘I look forward to spending more time with the woman I love.’
Just then both our phones began to buzz with great intensity. When each of us rushed to retrieve our devices, we collided and nearly lost our footing. We both laughed with pleasure. While we were planning more leisure time in our lives, it was rewarding to know that others still needed us. Kareem no longer worked in his chosen career; he had once been an attorney in his own legal office, but after retirement had begun various business projects with his brother, Assad, the husband of my sister, Sara. There were occasions when Kareem, Assad and Abdullah took trips abroad to oversee some of those projects.
‘It is Assad,’ Kareem said. ‘He is asking me to meet him at his office.’
‘Sara is texting me,’ I replied. ‘She is rushing over and says there is an urgent matter she must share with me.’ I felt a sudden panic and quickly considered the possible problems she might be facing. I only hoped that no one in her family had met with an accident or was seriously ill.
‘I will see you for dinner tonight?’ Kareem said.
‘Oh, yes,’ I replied. ‘I will be here.’
And we happily parted, for we had amiably compromised, for one of the few times in our married life.
* * *
I was not happy for very long.
Sara walked into my home within the hour and her tear-streaked face told me that indeed something terrible had happened.
‘Sara!’ I rushed to her. ‘Are you unwell?’
‘Sultana. No. No, I am well – I am well physically, at least. But my heart is broken.’ Sara shook her head vigorously, as though trying to rid her mind of something very bad. ‘Sultana, the past is coming back to us. The past is repeating itself.’
‘What past? What do you mean, Sara?’ During our years of being close sisters we had met many challenges. I could not imagine which event from our past was now coming to plague us once more.
‘There is a big problem with daughter Sabrina’s friend, Nona.’
‘What? What?’ Perplexed and anxious, I raised my hand to my forehead, as I tried to recall all I knew about Sabrina and Nona’s friendship.
My niece Sabrina was Sara’s youngest child, only fourteen years old, a baby who came unexpectedly when Sara believed she was no longer of a child-bearing age. I had a lively remembrance of the day Sabrina was born. In a sumptuous lounge area of the hospital, a waiting room which was reserved exclusively for members of the royal family, both Kareem and I thought Assad had lost his mind as he leapt for joy in the nearby delivery suite and then danced around the waiting area on hearing the news that Sara was recovering from childbirth nicely and they had an unusually small but healthy baby girl. Assad, unlike most Saudi men of that time, always claimed to be happier with his daughters than with his sons, and Sabrina, we believe, quickly became his favourite child.
Like a beautiful little doll, Sabrina was born delicately small and remained petite the rest of her childhood and teenage years. Her size prompted most to aspire to protect her. Considering that she was the baby of the family and ultimately spoiled by her parents and her siblings, Sabrina had never created the least problem. She was sweet, lovingly devoted to her family