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“Home is where the heart is,” Lucy said.
“What does this mean?”
Lucy shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never felt it. Except, perhaps, here with you. For Arabs?” she asked, “What does home mean for you?”
“Home is rest,” Anwar said, “A sacred place to restore amongst Divine Beings.“ He looked at her, ready for ridicule, but her wide smile encouraged him.
“That’s so beautiful,” she said. “I’d love to feel that. I’ve spent my whole life in chaos.” She wrapped her arms around him and snuggled into his chest. “Tell me more about what home means for Arabs,” she murmured.
“Being at one with nature,” Anwar said. “Nature knows instinctively how to rest. We draw inspiration from Mother Earth and Father Sky. As above, so below. Sacred geometry connects them both. There is a time for rest and a time for work. A time for day, a time for night. Our homes directly link nature, home, and tranquillity.”
“Is that why the palace has a courtyard and rooms open to the sky?”
Anwar nodded. “Our traditional ways of building are quickly being eroded.” He gestured East to the city in the distance, “Western architecture has not only added the worst of Western life patterns— drinking, divorce, adultery, and crime—into our lives but also eroded its previous spiritual quality. Historical values have been forgotten. But with you, my love, with the family we will create, we can awaken lost dreams. We can take the best of both worlds—the innovations of Western technology and science and the spirituality of our ancestors. We can create a palace of profound healing and tranquillity where our souls can rest and replenish.”
He folded his arms around her and lowered his face to the top of her head, kissing the silky blonde hair that shone like gold. “I would like to show you a surprise.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
“What is this? Lucy said as Anwar took the silk blindfold from her eyes.
“Our son’s bedroom.”
Lucy’s eyes widened as she scanned the walls lined with gleaming gold panels and the intricate marble floors polished to a high shine. “It looks like a bank vault.”
“I want our son to feel treasured,” he said. His lips curled downward as if his pride had been hurt.
“Like this?” Her head turned to face Anwar in a slow, disbelieving shake. “Do you want our son to feel like a toy boy living in a high-class jewelry box?”
Anwar’s brow furrowed. “Everything is the best that money can purchase.”
“Oh my god, what is this?” she thrust a finger toward the gold, bejeweled falcon perched fiercely at the crib’s edge.
“I commissioned it from Massimiliano Balforni’s atelier in Milan. He designed it personally.”
“He did?”
“I told him what was important.” Anwar pressed his hand to his chest and rubbed his hand over his heart.
“Which was?”
“That my son feels protected.”
She pressed her palms to her cheeks. “With that?”
“The diamond and ruby-incrusted falcon is the only one in the world,” Anwar said, reaching out to touch it.
“I bet!” Lucy said.
His dark brows knitted together. “You don’t like it.”
"You mean well. I know you do," she began. She loved Anwar too much to hurt him. "It's just, well… He looks so real… Those claws, that beak…” Her eyes rushed over the blood-red rubies gripped between the sculpture’s claws. "He looks so menacing."
Anwar smiled. “Massimiliano has done a tremendous job of capturing the traits of a fierce protector. It's very realistic.”
“The world is already too realistic,” Lucy said softly. “I want our son to live in a world of dreams. The whole vibe needs softening."
"Softening!" Anwar spluttered.
