Controlling Interest (39 page)

“Yeah, but that wasn't . . .”

He could feel her gaze, sense her uncertainty. He made himself smile at her, cool and neutral. “I told you before, and I meant it. You're a first-class detective. You win the finder's fee, and that gets you controlling interest in the agency.” He held out a hand. “Congratulations, partner.”

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR

D
read roiled in Yasmine's stomach as she walked through the lobby of the Peabody Hotel Saturday morning. The strength of Zach's shoulder above hers was comforting beyond measure. There was no way to predict how Abbi was going to react when he saw her. Maybe he would at least tolerate her presence and allow her to talk to Ammi.

Zach reached out and hooked his pinky through hers; the gentle, slight touch stopped the tears about to escape from her eyes. Whatever happened, she had him.

But oh, how she wanted her parents' acceptance.

She and Zach got on the elevator and rode up to the fifth floor. The beautiful old hotel reminded her of places she'd stayed in Europe. Maybe it was the quiet hush imposed by thick carpet; maybe it was the rich paneling. In any case, by the time she reached her parents' room, a sense of supernatural calm had descended. She knew it had less to do with the man beside her and her surroundings than the presence of the Holy Spirit.

“Yasmine.”

She looked up at Zach, whose somber blue eyes searched her face.

“Whatever they say to you, remember you belong to God. And we belong to each other.”

Her lips trembled toward a smile. “Yes. I know.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.” Raising a hand, she knocked timidly on the door.

It opened. Ammi stood there, one hand clutching the doorknob. She looked as if she might open her arms, but after a moment, stepped back. Her lips trembled.

Dread sank like a stone in Yasmine's stomach. “Ammi, I missed you. I am sorry to make you worry.”

Her mother laid her beautiful hand across her lips. “Is it true? Have you taken on the infidel religion?” Ammi looked at Zach, a challenging, resentful glare.

Yasmine gulped. The dreaded question had come. “It has nothing to do with Zach. I love him, yes, but I have accepted Jesus as my Lord — because he is truth. He is the way. He is my life.”

“Yasmine — ”

“No, listen, Ammi. You will not change my mind about that. I should be sorry — yes, so
very
sorry to lose your and Abbi's regard. But I must follow the Lord Jesus now.”

Ammi's tears began to flow. “Your father is heartbroken. The marriage — ”

“Ammi, you can't seriously regret the fact that I won't be marrying a criminal like Jarrar Haq!”

“No — of course not. But we both want to see you settled with a good husband to care for you. Otherwise you remain a woman alone.”

Yasmine started to speak, but she felt Zach's large, gentle hand cupping her shoulder. “Mrs. Patel, may I speak with you and your husband?”

Ammi stared at him, reluctantly, fiercely. “I don't know what you have to say to us.”

“Please.” Zach's voice was respectful but firm.

Ammi looked down. “Oh, I suppose. Come with me.”

Taking courage from Zach's presence, Yasmine followed her mother into the beautifully furnished living area of the suite. She stopped when she saw her father seated on the edge of a brocade wing chair. His posture and expression were every bit as stiff as his portrait hanging in their home in Karachi.

Then her sister appeared in a doorway to the left. “Yasmine!” Liba flung herself at her.

Yasmine, distracted by her father's stoic face, hugged Liba with all her might. Tears, always near the surface, overflowed. Maybe it was her imagination that her little sister seemed to tower over her now. It had been nearly a year since they'd seen one another. “Liba, oh Liba. I missed you so much. Why did you tell where I was? How could you, when I asked you not to? But I love you anyway, bad girl.”

Liba was sobbing. “I missed you too. I couldn't let you run away and never see us again.” She drew back, holding Yasmine's shoulders. “Why did you? Don't you love us anymore?”

“I told you. I have become a believer in the Christian God. In Jesus his Son. I didn't mean to hurt you, but I didn't know what else to do.” Yasmine smeared her tears away with a tissue she pulled from her jeans pocket. “Besides, I knew Jarrar was hiding something. I had to find Zach and get his help.” She looked over her shoulder. Zach stood quietly at the door to the entryway, watching the reunion. His eyes smiled at her. Encouraged, she turned to her father. “Abbi, I want you to meet Zach Carothers. He saved my life.”

Her father jerked to his feet, outrage in every line of his face and body. “
Saved your life?
He is the one who takes you away from us.”

Yasmine straightened, moving away from Liba to stand beside Zach and proudly take his arm. “Zach is a good man, Abbi. Would you have me married to a terrorist who sells weapons designed to kill innocent people?” When her father didn't answer, only staring at her stubbornly, Yasmine sighed. “I know you do not want to sanction my marriage to a Christian, but it is going to happen whether — ”

“Yasmine,” Zach said gently. “I would like to say something to both your parents.”

She looked up at him. Confidence and love radiated from his eyes. She swallowed. “Alright.”

Zach stood tall, but respect restrained his tone. “Mr. and Mrs. Patel, I did share my faith with Yasmine, but she made her own decision to follow Christ. No one can do that for another person. You can't make her Muslim either. But I want you to know that even if you choose not to see either of us again — and that would put a considerable damper on our happiness — you can know that I'll take good care of your daughter. I love her in the way Christ loved his church, and that is enough to give my life for her.” He paused, looked down at Yasmine. Tears stood in his eyes, unexpected in this strong man she loved so much. “If there's any way you could allow her to remain part of your family, I'd be grateful,” he said simply.

Abbi pressed his lips together in silence.

Father
, Yasmine prayed, looking at her sister, who stood with her knuckles pressed to her mouth,
let me not lose my family.

“Abid.” Yasmine's mother cleared her throat. “I think we must move into the twenty-first century. It is very common for modern young people of different faiths and cultures to intermarry.” Her voice faltered. “I do not want to lose my baby again! Please, Abid.” She buried her face in her hands and began to cry.

Helpless, Yasmine watched her father's face tighten in resentment and confusion. He stared at his wife and shook his head.

“Is it the modern way for a man not to be the ruler of his family?

Have we come to this, that a rebellious young woman demands acceptance after she flouts her father's authority?” He folded his arms. “I do not agree with this.”

Liba fell to the carpet in a heap of grief. Ammi began to sob as if Yasmine had died.

Perhaps she had. Yasmine lifted her hands to her father. “But Abbi, I love you so.”

“You are not my daughter.” He stared at her, eyes stone cold. “You will please leave.”

She would have fallen if Zach had not taken her hand. She clutched him like an old woman and backed toward the door. “Ammi . . .” Zach waited, not pulling her, simply moving with her like a rock of comfort. “Liba, I love you.”

Liba wailed, and Yasmine moved toward her. Her father stepped between them.

She let Zach hold her up as they left the suite.

Ah, Jesus, you are truly my father
, she thought in despair.

“I can't believe he disowned her!” Natalie, pressing her recovered cell phone to her ear, sat in the wooden rocking chair in Cole and Laurel's living room. It was the only piece of furniture in the house not dusted with cat hair. She eyed Charles Wallace, perched on top of the armoire in the corner. “Poor Yasmine . . .”

“Abid was furious she became a Christian,” her father boomed. “But it looks like he's going to come through with the finder's fee after all. You two hardboiled detectives are going to be rolling in the dough.” He chuckled. “How about that?”

“That — that's great.” Natalie shoved the rocker into violent motion. In the dining room she could hear Matt talking and laughing with the McGaughans. They weren't leaving her out on purpose, but she didn't feel part of their triumvirate of friendship. After that disappointing congratulatory handshake in the hangar, Matt's attitude toward her had been casual to the point of rudeness. He'd all but held up a sign that said, “Back off, Barbie.”

“What's the matter, sissy?” demanded Dad. “Now that the excitement's died down, you can get back to Memphis, find a new office for the agency, maybe work on some marketing and publicity. I knew you and Hogan would make good partners.”

Natalie felt her throat close. After everything they'd been through, the thought of working with Matt on such brotherly terms was more than she could stand. “I don't know, Dad,” she blurted. “I'm thinking about going back to Tunica.”

“Are you nuts? You hated Tunica.”

“No, I — I just needed a break. Now that I know how to handle Bradley, I'll be fine. He won't intimidate me anymore.”

“Natalie — ”

“Gotta run, Dad. I'll call you on my way home, and we'll talk about it some more.”

“Okay, but — wait a minute, peanut, I called you for another reason. Your mom and I wanted to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Natalie was afraid she sounded desperate. The tears were close to the surface again.

“Well — humph. You know how much I've always loved your mother, even when we were having problems.” He paused, blew out a loud breath.

Speechless, Natalie waited. She could hear her mother in the background. “Just tell her, Eddie.”

“Tell me what?”

Dad hemmed and hawed. “We, well, we went to the justice of the peace and got remarried yesterday.”

“You got
remarried
? Without telling Nick and Nina and me?
Now
who's crazy?” Natalie clutched the phone. The whole world was spinning out of control.

Her mother's voice came again, louder. She'd confiscated the phone. “I told him we should wait, but he thought it would be romantic to elope and have a honeymoon here at the Peabody, like we did the first time.” Mom sounded giggly, of all things. “We'll have a reception or something later. Please be happy for us, Nat.”

“Of course I'm happy for you.” Natalie couldn't help smiling, though her head ached from the effort of controlling her emotions. “This is wonderful, Mom, truly. I'll throw you a party. But I have to go, okay? I'll see you and Dad next week.”

“Alright, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mom — and Dad. Give him a kiss for me.”

She closed the phone.

Her parents had remarried. How perfectly screwy.

But nice. She grimaced at Charles Wallace. If only her own love life had had such a happily ever after.

Matt woke up Sunday morning with the feeling that something was wrong.

Messed-up, down-the-toilet wrong.

He sat up on the attic futon and cast off the sheet Laurel had insisted he bring up with him. The temperature was close to eighty up here, and he was sweating like a pig, but that couldn't quite explain this feeling of general malaise.

Guilt. He mentally poked around, trying to figure out where it came from and decided it must be lack of prayer and Bible study.

Yeah, that was it.

Nothing to do with Natalie's expression when he'd reached out and grabbed her hand yesterday, shaking it like a fraternity brother. No, not even that close. Like an acquaintance who'd won a raffle in a gas station.

Okay, so he was a classic chicken in the love department. He wasn't going to take any chance on her finding out what a loser he was and throwing it in his face. He'd never been any good at holding onto relationships, and the thought of laying himself out there to a woman like her — a woman who followed God with all her heart even when it was painful and embarrassing —