Page 92 of High Treason
“Yes.” The elevator door opened and Wasi remained.
Prince Omar’s forgetfulness of his phone had saved his life previously. Not a habit in the past, but his mother hadn’t been facing a terminal illness, and he didn’t have an assassin wanting him dead either.
Kord hated the emotional turmoil for his friend. Omar loved his family, while Kord grew up in a house that aligned with a sterile environment. No love. No hate. Tears forbidden. Laughter at a minimum. No praise. Overload on criticism. If Kord’s mother were the one suffering, he’d be grieving what he’d missed. Why think about it when he’d long since grown into a man?
Fate was such an unstable foe. And this wasn’t about him. Never was.
Dr. Carlson emerged from Princess Gharam’s room. He approached the group, his shoulders slightly slumped, and focused on the prince. “Good morning, Prince Omar. May I have a word with you?”
“Most assuredly.” He turned to Kord. “Would you join me?”
Wordlessly, the three men assumed a secluded seating area. Did the prince fear the worst?
“Prince Omar,” Dr. Carlson began, “unfortunately your mother is not responding to treatment. She’s weakening. I’m not confident of her ability to survive surgery on Monday.”
“How much does she know?” The prince’s expression was stoic as expected.
“I’ve told her the procedure has been postponed until she’s stronger. But she’s insistent upon it,” Dr. Carlson said. “She wants to speak to you. Per your instructions, she is not aware of the critical nature. I’ve canceled the surgery until her body can withstand the stress.”
“When do you think that will be?”
“Prince Omar, I’m afraid we’re at the point where all we can do is make her comfortable.”
“How long?”
“I don’t give time. I believe a patient chooses to surrender life.”
“Is pain medication being administered?”
“According to the nurses, she takes the meds when she knows you aren’t scheduled to visit. She wants to be awake when you and her daughters are there.”
“Thank you, Dr. Carlson. I will encourage her to fight and cooperate with the medical staff.”
“I’ll be in your mother’s room completing my examination.”
When the conversation ended and the doctor disappeared into Princess Gharam’s room, the prince inhaled deeply. “I’m not ready to tell my sisters unless they ask. Excuse me while I phone my father and report the doctor’s conclusion.”
Kord returned to the group until Prince Omar completed his call and walked back to those waiting. He offered a diplomatic smile.
“Wait here while I talk to my mother alone.” Prince Omar took the several feet to her room as though it were the last time he’d see her.
MONICA KEPT PACEwith Ali’s huge strides to the gift shop. The sadness on Prince Omar’s face stuck in her mind. Such a complicated man.
“Prince Omar’s trip here has been anything but positive,” she said.
“He won’t give up until she breathes her last.”
“His sisters need to be told. They need to be prepared for the inevitable. The shock of what they’ve already experienced coupled with losing their mother is tragic to say the least.”
“Your caring for others is one of the traits I admire about you.”
Uneasiness crept up her spine. “I’m assuming there are women back home who will comfort them.” Princess Gharam wasn’t the favored wife, but did that mean the other women shunned her? Unfortunately she couldn’t ask Ali.
He nodded, his bearing impressive, and no wonder, with his huge frame and designer suit, tie, and gold cuff links.
She’d much prefer being with Kord. Realization made herinwardly curb her thoughts. She should concentrate on the task force and not her confusing attraction to Kord. If she forced honesty into her emotions, she thought about him more than she wanted to admit. But memories of Liam refused to let her linger long.
Ali and Monica entered the gift shop. Her eye caught the fanciful artwork of the many children treated at the facility. She’d purchased gifts here at Christmas for her mother and sisters-in-law, all painted by children.
