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“If you ever need anything, Jazmina, you can have it,” Brenda asked, winking at her. “Just don’t ask me to hide a body for you or clean up a crime. I would, but it would be an awkward spot for a Head of State to be in.”
“I am a law-abiding woman, this I swear, but I will think of my payback carefully. Still, I’d have done everything I could to save you all. You’re my family too, sheikha.”
She hugged Jazmina once more before returning to Jamsheed’s side. “I feel the same way.”
Jamsheed pulled her flush against him and led her to the next part of the nursery suite. For several minutes they had to scrub their arms and put on gowns and masks to ensure they wouldn’t bring any microbes into the room that might assault Baby C’s immune system. The pneumatic doors of the clean room slid open and they walked hand-in-glove-clad-hand to the incubator. Her heart fluttered when she saw their son there, so much tinier than Franklin and Farook. Tears threatened to well in her eyes and one or two may have slipped out when she followed Jamsheed’s lead to reach with her fingers through the portholes and stroke their child’s back. The tiny infant brought a small thumb to his mouth and sucked at it.
“He’s so little,” she said, the quiver in her voice threatening to overwhelm her words.
“He’s a fighter, like his mother. He’ll pull through. Like Haley said, it’s only a week more until he can join his brothers in a proper crib.”
“He’s beautiful,” she said, grinning broadly when their child opened his eyes, that same golden gaze of Jamsheed—of all their sons—glinting back at her. “Walheed.”
Jamsheed’s eyes opened wide. “What?”
“It’s only fair. We named one after my father, and the proud Rahal line should always remember one of its best sheikhs, no matter what happens to your father, he’ll always live on.”
Jamsheed nodded and leaned forward to kiss her, even though he didn’t move his hand from their son’s back. She didn’t either. “We’ll live on because that’s what we do. It’s who we are, my phoenix.”
“Exactly.”
