Page 35 of The Princess Home for Christmas

Her face pinched, and she could hardly respond. “I don’t think there’s a way.” She sucked in her breath. “I’m coming though, and we’ll talk about it when I get there.”

“Ok. See you soon.” His kind eyes, his hopeful expression were almost too much for Dahlia.

The drive took longer than she thought any drive should take. When her car pulled into the village, the women and children gathered to greet her. She had offered refuge to men also, but there were far more women and children. She was hugged, kissed, embraced, and loved.

She played with the children, packed with the women, helped plan with all the adults. The worst part about all of it, besides the fact that her country was kicking out her friends, those she had promised safety, was the remaining unknown. Where was the international organization going to make them go? To the tent city? To another location? Every refugee was typically without a home for at least two years. Then if they were lucky, a country was found that would take them in. “If you wait long enough, Torren will ask for you. If we can.”

They were only permitted a certain percentage every year. She would have to put more pressure on the ministers to up that number.

If she returned. She adjusted the strap on her pack. She couldn’t let them go without somehow ensuring their safety.

One of the children came running, pointing to the south. A dust cloud announced the approach of the buses that would take them to the port where they would load onto the deportment ships.

Everyone gathered their things. No tears, only resignation and a light of hope which she found curious. “How is it you are not scared?”

A kindly woman rested a hand on Dahlia’s arm. “Oh, I feel scared. But I know Allah will provide. It is written. Our destinies are known. I will walk the path and discover what mine will be.”

When the buses pulled to a stop, men unloaded, security from the palace. Dahlia was surprised but pleased to see them. They gently helped each person and all their belongings load into the buses. And then Dahlia loaded with them.

“What are you doing?” The leader of their village asked her with great concern.

“I’ve decided I’m coming with you.”

They gasped in surprise. The nearest woman said, “Oh but princess, you must not do that. Where we go, will not be so safe. You would be a target. We can’t let you be at risk like that.”

“But I want to be. I have nowhere else I’d rather be if you are without homes. My own bed would lose its softness, my own water taste bracken. If you cannot live in safety, then I won’t either.”

“Nor I.” Thomas entered the bus behind her.

As angry as she was, her heart skipped in happiness to see him approach, confident, grinning.

“Aren’t you what got us into this problem?”

The driver asked them to all be seated and she and Thomas sat in the front seat, right behind him.

“What are you doing here?” Dahlia couldn’t see his presence as anything but a hindrance to what needed to happen.

“Same as you. I’ve come to be with these good people.”

“Thomas, can’t you see how this would look. What, now we live together in a tent with the refugees?”

He wiggled both eyebrows. “Move in with you? I thought you’d never ask.”

She laughed, without meaning to, and then said, “But seriously, Thomas. I appreciate you seeing us off, but you must stay in Torren.”

He didn’t answer, just grabbed her hand in his. She could see that he was far from convinced.

The bus made its way to the freeway but instead of going east to head to the public ports and ships, it went west. She leaned to the side to get the driver’s attention but he shook his head slightly. So she sat back in silence.

Thomas did not glance her way, but she knew he was in on something. She didn’t dare talk about it for hope that perhaps there was yet a way to save these people.

They drove for forty-five minutes, the bus strangely quiet. She looked back over her shoulder. The other bus followed. They continued onto an underused highway out to the far western side of the island. At last, they pulled to a stop in an old parking lot. The men led them down to the docks. A lone yacht waited. The largest Valdez boat. “What is this?”

They were loaded onto the boat. Everyone found a place to sit or stand, their belongings loaded into storage. Then one of the men approached. “I was asked to give you this phone. As soon as we arrive at our destination it will ping you our location.”

“Wait, I’m coming.”

“No, you aren’t.” Lucan’s voice sounded from the device.

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