Howie tried to relax but his muscles were tense and sore. The flight to Spain from England had been late in arriving and boarding, plus they’d sat on the runway for two hours before takeoff. The flight was interrupted with long stretches of turbulence and the high pitched screams of several kids in coach had penetrated even into first class. He hadn’t been able to relax on the plane, and even now, on the small bus, he was still uncomfortable as he tried in vain to recline his seat.

The venue and hotel were a good two hour drive from the airport; he and the rest of the group were packed into a dingy sightseeing bus. It was just plain bad luck to have their luxury bus break down before they could even board. So many things had gone wrong this trip. Although Howie wasn't superstitious, sometimes these things were hard to overlook. He was anxious to get this tour finished and get back to his home in Los Angeles.

The last leg of this tour seemed to drag on forever; they’d been on the road off and on for eight long months. They were all exhausted and ready for some down time, even their families had gone home. Only two shows in Italy were left after tomorrow’s show, and then they would be jetting home. In a week, he’d be sleeping in his own bed, he could hardly wait.

It was nearly lunchtime, according to his watch. He wasn't sure what time it was in this country, but his stomach was telling him he was hungry.

“Need a cheeseburger, Howie?” Nick asked, laughing. He had heard his band mate's stomach growl from three feet away.

“I need something,” he admitted. They had eaten before boarding the plane but that had been many hours ago. The food had been barely palatable and he’d just picked at it, thinking that he’d eat on the plane, but they’d been unable to serve the meal because of the turbulence.

“We'll be at the hotel soon,” Brian said. “Then we can all get something to eat.”

“There is a nice restaurant very close, I eat there all the time,” Juan Antonio said. “With all this traffic, it will take another hour or so to reach your hotel, and then wait for room service…” He shrugged his shoulders; they all knew just how long room service could take to deliver a meal. “We should stop now to eat if you are hungry.”

Juan Antonio was their liaison from the European branch of their record company, in charge of making sure the band had everything it needed while in Europe.

“Sure, why not?” Marcus said. As head of their security team, he was responsible for the safety of the group. Marcus had worked with Juan Antonio during the last world tour three years earlier. He had seemed proficient enough then; nothing had gone awry while dealing with him.

“It's just up here, to your right.” He guided the driver to the low, nondescript building. They were on the outskirts of their destination, but traffic congestion inside the city would make getting to the hotel difficult. “It is not a tourist attraction, the locals mainly come here.”

Between the band, security, and the rest of their people, they made up a large group and took up more than half of the restaurant. Their family members had gone on to the next venue and were waiting for them there, seeing as the hotel in this city was unable to accommodate that many people on one secure floor. After perusing the menu, they all ordered and sat back to enjoy a glass of wine while waiting. Howie sipped at his, savoring the light fruity taste and delicate bouquet of the wine.

As Howie turned to speak to AJ, a great crashing noise startled them.

“What the hell is that?” AJ yelled, jumping to his feet as a metal canister rolled past their table. They looked down at it, not knowing what it was.

There was a blinding light and deafening boom, then the room suddenly filled with smoke. Howie started choking, he could barely breathe. He couldn’t see anything either, he had no idea where the exits were, he knew he should’ve paid more attention as they entered. Someone grabbed him and started dragging him off. He sent a prayer upward in gratitude; someone was going to save him. It was his last thought for a very long time.

**********************

Howie woke to darkness, unable to see or move. With no concept of time, he had no idea how long he had been out or where he was. Panic filled him, he struggled to loosen his bonds but it was no use.

He was blindfolded, gagged, and tied hand and foot. Beneath him the hard concrete surface radiated so much heat that he sweated profusely. Fear tasted metallic on his tongue, he’d never felt this frightened before in his life. There were voices coming from another room, but he couldn't understand what they were saying. He listened closely, trying to glean some clue to their identity and to his location. The men were speaking a Middle Eastern language, that much he could figure out, and it filled him with dread.

“Has he heard back from the filthy American dogs yet?” one man asked.

“They are refusing to talk; they say they do not negotiate with terrorists.”

“Not even for American celebrities?”

“They must not place much value on them,” the other one said. “Maybe we have misjudged them?”

“No, they will pay to get them back. We have all five of them, I have heard from the others that they all got away safely.”

“That is good; with all of them we have more power. Our Spanish friend did well; he deserves the money we paid him.”

Howie wondered what they were talking about, but then decided it was probably a good thing he didn't - they might be plotting his death. The adrenaline that surged through his body slowly receded and his pulse returned to normal. He laid there for a long time; he could tell that night had fallen when the room became chilled. He fell asleep, despite the cramps in his legs and arms.

When morning came, Howie was still laying on the floor. His muscles ached, his mouth was so dry he could barely swallow, his fingers were numb. He heard footsteps coming closer, blood started rushing in his head and he struggled to control his breathing.

“Is this it? Are they going to kill me now?” he thought desperately. He didn’t want to die this way, so far from home and his family. He fought to control his emotions as he heard the bolt in the door slide open. He was yanked upright; his bonds were removed, then the blindfold. He blinked in the dim light, rubbing his hands together to restore circulation.

“Do not try to escape, it would be very foolish,” the man said in heavily accented English.

Howie looked up at the man. He was dressed all in black with a white scarf wrapped around his head to hide his face. An automatic rifle hung from a sling on his shoulder.

“I’m not stupid,” Howie managed to croak, his throat dry. He couldn’t take his eyes off the gun, wondering if these were his last few moments on earth.

“Good, remember you are our prisoner. We would not hesitate to kill you if necessary.” The man turned and left, closing the door behind him. Howie heard a bolt slide home in the door.

Taking a deep breath, he was cautiously optimistic that he had a little longer to live. He climbed slowly to his feet, stretching his cramped muscles. There was a small open window in one wall, but it was only a foot square and near the top of wall, too high for him to even see out of. The room was empty, nothing but a rough floor and four concrete block walls. He had a sudden need to relieve himself. Looking around he spied a metal bucket in one corner. When he got closer, he could smell that it had been used for that purpose before. Grimacing in disgust, he emptied his bladder and then sat back down in the farthest corner.

“Where the hell am I?” he asked himself, his mind in a whirl. “And where are the others? Are they here in another room?” He realized now that he had been kidnapped, probably by terrorists. The thought didn’t ease his mind any, he knew what happened to most Americans kidnapped by holy warriors.

A short time later the door opened and a woman entered, the man with the rifle standing just behind her. She carried in a tray and set it down on the floor just inside the door. She was dressed in the traditional black burkha that many Islamic women wore; he could only see her eyes through a slit in the fabric. The man closed the door after the woman left and bolted it from the other side.

On the tray was a cup of green tea, a small slab of flat bread and a bowl of something that smelled unappetizing. He ate the drab bread and drank the tea, wishing he had more, but ignored the food, no matter that his stomach protested. He wasn't so desperate for food that he would eat what looked like pig slop, they hadn't even given him a utensil to eat with.

He wondered what happened to his band mates - had they been taken prisoner too? Were they close by or taken to another city? He prayed that they had gotten away, but thought that they too probably had been taken. The whole assault had been too perfectly executed for it to have been random - he wondered if Juan Antonio had been in on it - he had been the one to suggest that restaurant.

It was no matter now, he was a prisoner of terrorists and that was not a good thing. He remembered watching in horror on TV as other American prisoners were found dead when the US refused to negotiate their release. It was American policy, he knew. However, he was hoping that perhaps someone was trying to find him and get him out.

*********************

It was mid afternoon when the doorbell rang. Hoke went to answer it, they didn’t get many people coming to the door in their gated community, and usually the front gate called to let them know they had a visitor coming in.

He opened the door to find a man dressed in a somber black suit, carrying a small, thin briefcase. A dark four door sedan was parked in the driveway.

“Are you Hoke Dorough?” He nodded; the man removed his sunglasses and tucked them into the inside pocket of his suit coat. “My name is Special Agent Alex McDonald. May I come in please?” He flashed his badge and then stepped inside.

“Who is it, Hoke?” Paula asked, coming to his side. She got there in time to hear the man’s name, her heart skipped a beat. Hoke recognized the man as government before he said a word, he’d had enough dealings with them during his time as a policeman to instantly recognize the demeanor and look.

“Mr. and Mrs. Dorough, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. We received word earlier that a group of Americans traveling in Spain were kidnapped. We’ve verified their identities – and your son was one of five men taken captive. We believe that the men who’ve taken your son are Islamic terrorists.”

Paula blanched, her heart nearly stopping in her fright and sudden panic.

“And the others taken were…?”

“Your son’s friends, the other members of the group.”

“I see,” Hoke said softly, trying to still the dread in his soul.

“I have some paperwork…” the man said, indicating his briefcase.

“Of course. Come this way, please.” Hoke led the agent to the dining room table. The man’s words were just a jumble of sounds to Paula; all she could think of was her baby being held captive. After signing some documents, Hoke led the government man back to the front door.

“I am sorry, sir. I know this is difficult for you both. But we are doing everything we can to retrieve them.” Agent McDonald slid his sunglasses from his pocket and carefully put them back on.

“Is there anything we can do?” Hoke asked.

“Nothing you can do right now but pray, Mr. Dorough. We’ll contact you when we learn more information.”

As the door shut, Paula could hold it in no longer. “What are we going to do?” she asked. When she saw the tears running down Hoke’s cheeks, she became very afraid - he rarely cried.

Paula fell to her knees and prayed that her son would be released quickly and unharmed. After a long and fervent prayer, she rose and looked at her husband. “We have to do something,” Paula said. “Make some phone calls. I can’t just sit here and wait for something to happen.”

She picked up the phone and dialed a number, the woman who answered was crying.

“Jackie? You’ve heard?” The women talked for a long time, consoling each other and trying to make plans. Brian’s mother was just as upset as Paula, but they knew that together they would be stronger and they planned on calling the other parents too. Banding together would be their strength over the coming ordeal.

*************************

The woman came back a little later to remove Howie’s tray. When she saw he had not eaten much, she didn’t say anything. He sat in his cell alone for the rest of the day, sleeping off and on to ease the pain of his loneliness. He started at every noise, thinking it was his captors coming to get him. Sweat ran down his sides as the heat of the day built to an unbearable level. He wished they would bring him some water, his throat was so dry.

During his waking hours, reality came crashing over him and he had to fight to keep from sobbing in despair. Sleep was his way of dealing with his emotions; he didn’t want his captors to know just how afraid he was. But his dreams were of home, of family and friends he might not ever see again, so sleep was not the escape he thought it would be.

Just after nightfall, the woman returned with another tray. Once again the same revolting food was offered. Again he refused to eat, despite the yawning emptiness of his belly.

For the next three days, his captors came in every couple of hours to interrogate him.

“You work for the CIA,” the short man would shout at him.

“No! I’ve told you a million times, I’m a singer,” Howie insisted. The man punched him in the stomach, doubling him over.

“We know you are a spy. Confess and it will make things easier for you.”

“I’m not a spy.” Again, a punch to the stomach and Howie fell to the floor, curling into a ball to protect himself.

“You lie!” The short man kicked him hard, the heavy leather boots more punishing than the man’s fists.

“I swear to God I am only an entertainer,” Howie kept telling them over and over again, but they didn’t believe him. Every time Howie heard the bolt slide he began to tremble, knowing that the men were returning to question him, to hit him. He wondered if each interrogation would be his last, if they were coming to kill him.

He could not stand up straight any longer; his ribs were bruised and battered. One eye was swollen but he could still see, thankfully. He thought maybe a couple of teeth were loose as well, but he couldn’t tell for certain. Howie wasn’t sure which was worse – the pain in his body or that in his soul.

Fear drove away his hunger, his stomach revolted if he even thought about food. After five days of captivity and continuing harassment, Howie still had not eaten anything but bread and tea. In his confused state of mind, he thought they were trying to poison him since it appeared that they were bringing him the same bowl of food every day.

He was weak, almost unable to hold his own weight. He knew he needed food but couldn’t bring himself to eat what was in the bowl. When the woman entered that evening, she looked at the tray and saw the bowl was still full.

“Is there a reason you are not eating?” she asked. Howie was startled; he had not expected her to talk to him, especially not in perfect English.

“I can’t eat it,” he admitted.

“Why not? It is the same food that we eat.” Her voice sounded cold and indifferent.

Howie didn’t want to insult her, assuming correctly that she had cooked the food. “It is not…appealing to me,” he tried to explain. “The smell…” His stomach flipped just at the thought of the food, he had to suppress a gag.

“It is called kubba – it’s made from minced goat meat, nuts and raisins.” When he heard what was in the bowl, Howie was glad that he hadn’t eaten. The woman could read the disgust plainly on his face. “Do you not eat goat in the United States?”

“Not where I live,” he said.

“Is it against your religion?” she asked, perplexed.

“No, it’s just not a meat that most of us eat. We don’t eat horses either, like some European countries do.” He shuddered at the thought; he had almost eaten that once in a restaurant in France. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the food, I realize you could let me starve.” He thought he saw her eyes soften just a little bit.

“I am sorry the food is not to your liking,” she said in a low voice, glancing back at the door. “I will make you something without goat then. I could perhaps get a chicken.”

“Thank you, that is very kind.”

“I will do what I can. I have little money to spend and four people to feed.”

Howie felt ashamed for asking for special treatment. He was in fact a prisoner, but she had offered. “I have some money I can give you – if that will help,” he volunteered. In the dim light, he could see her eyes harden.

“That would get me killed,” she said, stooping to pick up the tray.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as she reached for the door knob. She hesitated, as if to say something more, but then left without another word. His stomach growled that night and, as he had the previous nights, he ignored it.

As dawn broke and a little light filtered into the room, Howie groaned and stretched. After realizing that their prisoner would be spending some time with them, Howie’s captors brought him a small cot to sleep on, a blanket, and a low table.

After two weeks the beatings stopped. Howie was glad as he didn’t know how much longer he could’ve survived the pain without breaking. He didn’t know if they finally believed him or if someone had ordered them to desist.

From their demeanor, he could tell that they had expected this to be a short captivity. The men had not been prepared to have him there for any length of time. The two men argued frequently with each other and with someone on the phone. Their anger seemed to grow each day he was their captive, and it made him very nervous.

The woman entered the room a short time later, bearing his breakfast tray. He noticed that there were two bowls and two cups of tea this time.

“I will be eating with you,” she informed him. “They said that I needed to get information out of you.”

Howie laughed. “What kind of information could I possibly give you? I’m a singer in a band, not a spy.”

“I do not know either,” she said. She handed him a bowl, it was filled with bits of various items – olives, goat cheese, small tomatoes, and grapes. She gave him some flat bread as well, and set the cup of tea before him. “I am sorry it is only food left over from the men’s meal…”

“This is wonderful, thank you,” he said softly. He glanced at her bowl, in it was more kubba.

“You are welcome.” She tore off a chunk of bread and used it to scoop out the stew, lifting the bottom edge of her veil in order to eat. He stared at her, wondering why she was eating that instead of what he was eating. She caught his glance. “You are eating my breakfast, the remnants of the men's meal. I will eat this…and they will think that you ate it.”

“Why would you do that for me?” he asked.

She hesitated for a long moment. “I am but a woman, only fit to eat the remains of the men’s meals anyway.”

Howie could hear bitterness in her voice, but did not press her for more. They ate in silence for a moment.

“You must've prepared alot of kubba,” he said, realizing that that was the only dish they had officially offered him since his arrival there.

“We eat it often as it is Sabir’s favorite. He tends a large herd of goats for a wealthy landowner. Goat meat is plentiful and cheaper than other meat.” She took a sip of the tea. “We eat it whenever he can borrow a goat.”

“You mean steal one,” Howie said softly, hoping the man was not listening at the door.

She looked directly at him for the first time, he thought she was smiling. “We do not steal. But Sabir often permanently borrows items,” she said, a hint of laughter in her voice.

“The mint tea is very good,” he said, she nodded without replying. “What kind of information do they think I have?” he finally asked as they neared the end of the meal. He didn’t want her to have to return to the men and possibly face their anger.

“I do not know,” she admitted. “I will tell them you refused to talk, that way maybe they will let me continue to talk with you.”

“I would like that,” he said, smiling at her. She ducked her head so that he couldn’t see her eyes.

Howie sat in the dimly lit room for the rest of the day, sweating, and wondered about the woman and who she was. From what little he understood about the Islamic culture, he was surprised that the men were letting her talk to him at all; they usually did not allow their women to talk to men who were not relatives.

Thinking about her kept him from thinking about his family. He wondered how his family was holding up, how his mother was doing – he knew she would be beside herself with worry.

When the woman returned that evening, she once again had two plates and cups. She sat down on the floor on the other side of the table.

“That smells delicious. What is it?” he asked. He noticed that both plates held the same food.

“Pilau – it is like a…what is the English word? Oh, a casserole, made with rice, beef, and potatoes.”

“No more kubba?” he asked.

“Somehow the dog got it – ate it all.” There was a mischievous lilt to her voice; he had to fight to keep from grinning. “They were unhappy, kicked the poor dog, but he will get over it – he is well fed for the time being.”

May I ask you something?” Howie asked.

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me your name?” He hoped he wasn’t being too forward with her; her visits were helping him keep his sanity.

She bowed her head, her voice quiet. “It’s Hira.”

“That’s a beautiful name. My name is Howie.”

**********************

Paula sat in church all alone, praying. God had not answered her prayers, her son Howard was still a prisoner in a foreign country.

Since that first visit from the special agent, they had spoken with many people in the State Department and in various departments overseas. No one had been willing or able to help them, for any amount of money.

They knew now that the group had been kidnapped in Spain and taken to Iraq, where they were being held. The terrorists had demanded money and the release of prisoners in US custody. Paula knew that the government would not negotiate on her son’s behalf.

After making many phone calls, she received a call from a high ranking official in the White House, demanding that she step back and let them do their job. He insisted that the effort the parents were making was hindering their efforts to garner a release.

Paula wasn’t happy about it, but their group did decide to stop their efforts for the time being – until they could see if the government was actually doing anything. They had been assured that the military was actively searching for the hostages. That didn’t reassure Paula, hadn’t they been looking for Osama Bin Laden for years and still hadn’t found him yet?

She walked slowly back out to her car, after having lit candles for the five missing men. Prayer was all she had at this point, and her faith in the Lord was keeping her strong.

************************

As the days passed, the pain in Howie’s body eased, the bruises healed. But the pain in his heart only grew, the despair over his condition threatened to take over. Only by sheer strength of will did he keep from losing his mind. He could imagine the heartache his parents were feeling, the anguish in their hearts. He wished there was some way he could contact them, assure them he was ok. He prayed like he had never prayed before, asking God to give his mother peace – and for the strength to continue living in the hell he was facing.

Howie still heard nothing about his release, and he dared not ask his captors. The men had backed off some, coming in every couple of days now to question him instead of every couple of hours. He couldn’t give them what they wanted; to lie would bring a certain death sentence. And telling the truth could bring the same results, he was afraid.

Hira brought his food to him still, lingering as long as she could. He thought maybe she enjoyed their conversations too; she was beginning to talk more now, although about nothing personal.

He yearned for his family, but with each passing day the ache was a little less intense. He wondered if the others were still alive, if they were feeling the same emotions, dealing with the same demons. The tensions of the early days of his captivity were turning into the tedium of endless hours of boredom.

For an hour or so each day, late in the afternoon, they let him come out into the living area of the house and watch TV. The dog would sidle up to him and lick his hand; Howie would pet the poor thing, it seemed starved for attention as well as food. Howie knew how it felt, he’d never felt so alone in his life.

Exercising made the day go by more quickly, Howie discovered. He would run in place and do sit-ups and push-ups until exhausted. He did whatever it took to keep his mind off his family. At least he was getting enough food to keep up his energy. He knew he had lost weight, his pants were loose on him now, he didn’t mind because he’d needed to lose a little. He was happy to see that all the exercise had the side benefit of toning his arms and stomach, his abs were starting to come back.

Bored beyond tears, Howie’s daily visits with Hira were the highlight of his day. He desperately wished for a long, hot shower too. He was allowed to use the restroom twice a day, but wasn’t allowed to shower. He rinsed off the best he could with cold tap water. Despite rinsing out his clothes as well, the stench of them was unbearable – he wondered how Hira could stand to be near him. He swore he could feel bugs constantly crawling on him; he wondered if he was losing his sanity.

Hira went to the men one morning, a month after his capture. “He needs some clean clothes and to bathe – I think he has lice. We’ll all have them if you don’t do something about it.”

Sabir ignored her request. “Is he eating?”

“Yes,” she said. Hira had been hiding from them the fact that she was giving him more food than they intended. He had been eating as well as they had, not the meager portions they had told her to feed him. They never checked anymore, giving her complete freedom when it came to caring for the prisoner. They felt it was beneath them to care for a prisoner of a holy war.

“Good, I knew he would give in once he got hungry enough. We cannot have him dying before he has served his purpose,” Sabir sneered.

“You are clever, my brother, to use food as a weapon of torture. He will be more willing to cooperate.” Rahmat sipped at the cup of coffee. “So, did he tell you anything useful?”

“No, he assures me he knows nothing that would be helpful to you. He said he is nothing but a singer.” She kept her head bowed, her voice low – her whole body showing submission.

“I think he lies,” Sabir said. “Why would he be traveling with so many bodyguards if he was not someone important?”

“Abu Hasal said we must keep him alive, for right now. They are trying still to arrange a deal with the Americans.”

“I wish they would hurry, I am getting tired of having the pig in my house,” Rahmat said.

“Abu Hasal is sure that these Americans are more than singers - he thinks they are spies...and he is determined to get the truth from them.”

“And I am sure that Abu Hasal knows everything,” Rahmat said sarcastically, he didn't like the leader of their little group but he had few allies and not the influence to oust the man from power. “But we will continue to work on the prisoner, I am sure he is not telling us everything he knows.”

“You are right, my brother. I think he knows more than he is telling us.” Sabir scratched his chin through his straggly beard. “We can either starve him or torture him…”

“Or we can use Hira against him – he seems to like her.”

“That is an idea. It is not like she is good for anything else,” Sabir leered. “Except to warm my bed.”

Rahmat laughed. “I do not know about you, my brother, but I value my penis. You know she is cursed, I would not stick mine in her for any amount of money.”

“Who is to say she is cursed? Even if she is as ugly as her father says she is, a woman is still a woman.”

“You can always tie a blindfold around your eyes,” Rahmat joked. “Shall we see what is behind the veil?” He started to reach for her but Sabir batted his arm away.

“Not just yet, it would ruin the pleasure I get at night…” He made a rude up and down gesture with his hand near his groin, his brother laughed.

Hira shuddered; bile rose up in her throat. She pretended not to hear their comments, to do so would give them more power over her; she didn’t want them to know that she was afraid of them. So far she had avoided their beds and she wanted to keep it that way.

“We will start our little campaign tomorrow morning,” Rahmat said with an evil smile.

Hira wondered what they had in mind so she could warn Howie, but they didn't discuss it any further. They dismissed her after she served them another cup of coffee. She knew they would sit up drinking for a while, and might even discuss their plans, but she would face dire consequences if they caught her eavesdropping on them. She went to bed, hoping for the best.

***********************

“Get up, you lazy dog,” Sabir growled, pulling the blanket off Howie and dumping him from the tiny cot onto the hard floor.

“Our little whore says you are crawling with vermin,” Rahmat added. “Come with us, and do not try anything stupid.”

Howie followed Sabir from the room; Rahmat brought up the rear, his rifle slung over his shoulder. They led him outside, the bright sunlight made him blink - it had been more than a month since he had seen the sun.

Hira stood nearby, her head bowed. Other villagers crowded around, elbowing each other for the best view. Howie wondered what was going to happen to him.

“Strip,” Sabir ordered.

“What?” Howie asked, not sure he understood.

“Remove all of your clothing,” the man ordered, the tone of his voice indicating he would brook no disobedience.

Glancing at the villagers, he saw their faces lit with anticipation. Howie didn't want to be naked in front of all of these people, but he really didn't have a choice. He slowly removed his shirt and pants - he had long since removed his shoes and socks, preferring to be barefoot rather than have to deal with the stench of weeks old socks. He turned his back to the crowd and removed his underwear.

“Go ahead, Hira, you know what to do.” Rahmat shoved Howie closer to the woman. There were several buckets of water and towels on the ground next to her. He suddenly realized what the men were up to - they were going to force her to wash him. In a society where women were kept isolated and had little contact with men, this kind of treatment was highly unusual and insulting.

For once Howie was glad of the veil over her face, he knew she must be terribly embarrassed. He wished he had one too right about now.

Hira picked up a rag and a small tub of an evil smelling liquid and proceeded to cover him from head to toe with the nasty concoction which burned his skin. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out. The villagers were shouting at her, he supposed they were making rude comments. He couldn't see her face, but from the jerky motion of her usually graceful limbs, he could tell she was upset.

“You missed his privates,” Rahmat shouted, pointing.

“He can clean that himself,” she said, for once defying them. The villagers shouted insults at her, condemning her as a whore, a soiled woman. She knew that she wasn't, but what were they to think since she was a woman alone living with two single men? They figured she was hiding a checkered past.

“You will wash every inch of him,” Sabir warned.

“No,” she said, defiance blazing in her eyes.

He slapped her as hard as he could, bringing tears to her eyes. Howie jumped at Sabir, wanting to protect her, but Rahmat grabbed his arm with a stern warning. Howie struggled to get free, but Rahmat was much larger than he and held him with an iron grip.

When Hira didn't bow her head before him, Sabir hit her again, knocking her to the ground. He kicked her several times when she didn't instantly rise. Howie shouted at him to stop; the villagers laughed at Hira, enjoying her humiliation.

She didn’t want to die, not like this, so she climbed to her feet. “I will kill you one day for what you have done to me,” she thought to herself. “And for what you are doing to an innocent man.”

“You know who is boss, whore,” Sabir growled.

Hira lowered her head in submission. “I will do as you demand,” she said, picking up the rag from the dirt where she had dropped it and rinsing it out in a bucket of tepid water. She scooped up more of the lice killing lotion, and then washed Howie's privates without a word. Howie did his best to think of everything except what she was doing, not wanting to react to her touch.

“Look at that, not even woman enough to rouse an American pig,” one man laughed.

“He is not much of a man,” one stoop shouldered old woman commented. “I have seen goats better hung than him.”

The crowd roared with laughter. Howie could only guess at their words, he could tell from their faces that they were making fun of him now too. He didn't know that he was causing himself and Hira even more shame by not getting an erection - he thought he was saving her. And she wouldn't risk the men's wrath by saying anything to him either.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered so only she could hear. She didn't look at him, only finished the job by washing his hair. She then dumped several buckets of water over his head to rinse him off. Hira then dried him with a rough towel.

“Back inside, dog,” Sabir ordered. “Go away, no more show today,” he growled at the villagers. It wasn't often they had something so entertaining to watch.

Once back in his room, Howie expected them to give him his clothing back but they didn't. He was thankful he had hidden his little stash of money; they hadn't searched him beyond a cursory weapons check when he was captured. It wasn't much, but it might come in handy.

Howie turned away when he heard a hand on the door knob. Hira came back into the room carrying a towel, a comb and a chair. She handed him the towel and he gratefully wrapped it around his waist.

“Sit,” she ordered, pointing to the low stool she had pulled up. He did as he was told, and she began to comb through his hair.

“What are you doing?” he asked, after she had worked for a few minutes.

“Getting rid of the lice in your hair. I must comb the eggs out before they hatch or you will get infested again. I could just shave it all off but I did not think you would want that – you have such nice hair.”

“Thanks.” Howie shuddered, he hadn't known he had lice - he just knew that he had itched badly the last week or so. He reached up and scratched his cheek, his beard had grown long.

“I will have to shave that,” she said. “They are in your beard too.”

Howie sent up a prayer to God, thanking Him for looking after him, and for sending Hira to take care of him. His impromptu shower wasn't the hot bath he had been fantasizing about, but at this point he didn't care as long as he was clean.

He glanced at the door, it was shut. “I'm sorry for what they did to you.”

“It is no more than I deserve.” She continued combing without even a pause.

“Why do you think you don’t deserve anything good in life?” he asked.

“Because I am a woman and a cursed one at that.”

He hesitated to ask her anything personal, she had been so reticent about it before, but all she could do is refuse to answer.

“Why do you think you’re cursed?” he finally asked.

“If I tell you, will you sit still?” she asked, he had been wriggling about on the chair.

“Yes, I'm sorry.”

Hira was quiet for a long moment, and then hesitantly started her story. “On the day that I was born, 28 years ago, my mother died from complications of my birth. She was young, only 27, and could have borne my father more sons, he was very angry. Not only did she die, but she died giving birth to a worthless girl.”

“Women are not valued in your society, are they?” he asked. Hira shook her head. “Do you have other siblings?”

“I have four full brothers, three half brothers and two half sisters.” She continued combing his hair with the tiny, fine toothed comb. “It is tradition to name your female children after something beautiful, but my father was so angry over the loss of my mother that he named me Hira, which means darkness.”

“I wondered if your name had any meaning. That was mean to do that to an innocent baby.”

“It is just a name,” she shrugged, but he could tell that it still hurt, deep within her soul. “When I was an infant, I was given to others to raise. My father sent for me when I was 12, he had promised me in marriage to the son of the local magistrate. The wedding was to take place when I was 14. My stepmother planned the wedding for two years - it had to be grand since my father is a man of high standing in the village. As my fiancé was coming to the wedding, a car crashed into the wedding procession and killed him and his father, leaving the family with no means of support.”

“How terrible,” Howie said. “I suppose your father blamed you for the tragedy?”

“Yes, of course. I was sent to a private school for girls in Baghdad so everyone would forget what happened. When I was 17, my father brought me home and informed me he had arranged a marriage with a merchant several towns away, he was 40 years my senior. The night before the wedding, he had a heart attack and died.”

“Oh no, Hira! What happened then?” He was thoroughly caught up in the story.

“My father tried to buy me a husband, but no one was interested, no one wanted to risk the curse I carried.” Howie could hear the pain in her voice. “He knew then that I would never be able to marry, so I became my stepmother's servant. She has five daughters-in-law to wait on her, but she hated me for what I had done to my family, so she made me pay for it every day of my life.”

“I'm so sorry.” He wanted to reach out to her, to touch her hand, but felt that she would find it an invasion of her privacy.

“Ah, but the story does not end there. Earlier this year, my father finds himself in trouble. He owes a large sum of money to the drug lord and cannot pay it. Father's opium crops had been ruined by the weather, the second year in a row, and his bank account was empty. The drug lord insisted on one of his daughters – my only unmarried sister is just 11. Thankfully the man did not want me as his wife, he knew of my curse and my ugliness. He sent me here, to the house of his two sons. I am their servant, their slave - I must do whatever they tell me to do.”

“Oh Hira,” he whispered, hearing the desperation in her voice.

“I will run away when I get the chance,” she whispered, glancing at the door. “I have a friend from school that lives in Farhan and she will take me in. No one will ever find me there, they don't know about her.”

“I wish I could help you,” he offered. “I would do anything to get you out of here; you’ve been very kind to me.”

“I know what it is like to be a prisoner,” she said. Hira worked in silence for a while. “Do you have a woman waiting for you back home?” she asked timidly.

“Not really. There are several women that I date but nothing serious.”

“Women there are free to do as they please?” she asked.

“Yes. They make their own decisions about life, love, work, and children.”

Hira sighed. “So many choices for a woman. How do they cope with making so many decisions?”

Howie laughed loudly, and then clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. He glanced at the door to make sure one of the men hadn't come inside.

“Some have more problems than others deciding what they want,” he said, sarcasm coloring his voice, as memories of failed relationships flooded his brain.

Hira questioned him at length about American women, in awe over the freedom they enjoyed. Thinking of American women and their lack of clothing, Howie wondered about her mode of dress. “Have you always worn that?” Howie asked, indicating the voluminous black tent she wore.

“No, they make me wear the burkha, this horrible thing.” Howie could feel her body shudder behind him. “I did not have to wear it at home. I hate it, and I hate them for making me wear it.”

“At home, did you wear a veil?”

“It is called a hijab and yes, I wore it all of the time. Only my stepmother and stepsisters have seen my face.”

“Not even your father?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not since puberty when I first put on the hijab. Islam says our male relatives may, but I did not want to insult them with my ugliness.” She was quiet for a moment. “I do not know if I will ever have the chance to marry, but the only man who will ever see my face will be the man that I love.”

After she finished combing his hair, she put down the comb and looked to make sure the door was still closed.

“Does your skin still hurt?” she asked softly.

He nodded. “I…I didn’t want to complain,” he said quietly.

“I have some lotion that will help.” She reached into a pocket and pulled out a container and poured a small amount into her hand. “I will put some on your back…since you cannot reach it,” she added.

Her fingers were soft as she gently rubbed the lotion into his raw skin. “That feels wonderful,” he whispered, not sure whether he meant the lotion or her fingers.

“Good.” Touching him was churning up all kinds of emotions in Hira; she’d never been so bold as to touch a man like this before.

Her touch was causing much more havoc in Howie, resulting in a stirring in his loins. He tried to adjust the towel to hide it. Her fingers smoothed lotion down his arms; he could feel that she was trembling.

Hira jumped back when the door suddenly opened. She carefully hid the container in the folds of her burkha and backed away from the prisoner.

Sabir stood in the doorway, a lethal looking straight razor in his hand. Howie’s stone-like erection turned to jell-o in an instant.

“You can shave him now, whore,” he said to Hira, his voice a growl. He turned his steely gaze to Howie. “But do not try anything foolish,” he said.

Howie had never been shaved with a straight razor before, it made him rather nervous. But he trusted Hira and she did a wonderful job, not even nicking him once. It felt great to be clean shaven again. He hoped that all the itching would now be a thing of the past.

Hira left the room, leaving him alone with Sabir. He wanted to say something to him about the way they treated her, but he thought it just might make things worse so he held his tongue.

“Give me the towel and the blanket,” Sabir demanded as he turned to leave. Howie reluctantly gave them to him.

“Are you going to give me my clothes back?” he asked.

“Do you want to be infested with lice again?” Howie shuddered and shook his head. “Then the answer is no.” With that he left, shutting the door and sliding the bolt home.

Howie slumped on the bed, glad to be clean again, but dismayed over the fact that they had not given him any clothing back. Hira was not likely to visit him while he was naked, and his chances for escape were even dimmer now.

He knew that this was some kind of psychological game they were playing with him, and he vowed not to give in to it. They were trying to deprive him of anything from his former life, anything he could hold on to which would give him hope for the future.

But two could play this game, he decided. He knew that they wanted him alive, needed him alive, in order to make their demands of his government. But how far was he willing to take it?

When Hira came in later that afternoon with his dinner, she found him huddled in the corner with his back to her. She laid the container of lotion on his bed, and then turned to him.

“Are you ok?” she asked, suddenly terrified that he was ill.

“Yes, I’m fine...but don't bother leaving the food.”

“And why not?” she asked.

“Because I’m not going to eat until I have some clean clothing and a blanket once again.”

“But...”

“I mean it, Hira. I will not let them abuse me this way...and abuse you as well. I know it is...distressing...for you to have to see a naked man.”

Hira thought it wasn't quite as distressing as he thought it was, but she would not admit that to him. She rather liked his body, it was tan and firm and not nearly as hairy as that of her brothers, who resembled bears more than humans.

“I will tell them but they will not be happy.” She turned and left the room, shutting and bolting the door behind her.

“What do you think he’s doing?” Paula asked Hoke as they sat down to dinner.

“Why do you torture yourself like this?” he asked, laying down his fork.

“If I think of him doing normal things, like eating, then I can pretend that he’s just gone out on tour…and not in the hands of terrorists,” she said, her voice breaking.

“We have to be prepared for the worst, you know that.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “The officials told us that there is a very slim chance that he’ll come home alive.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “I know, but I just can’t stop believing that he’ll come home. It’s like admitting that I have lost faith.”

“Harold called today while you were at church. He said he and Jackie are going to Washington in a couple of days to meet with someone they know there.”

“I wish them luck,” Paula said. So far they’d had no luck in getting in to talk to anyone. The military had been good about updating them on their efforts, but nothing had come of that either.

It hurt them both badly to not be able to do anything to save their son. Waiting was torture to them, not knowing what was going on.

“We’ll hear something soon,” Hoke assured her. He wished he felt as confident as he tried to sound; he too was trying not to lose hope.

Marcus kept in constant contact with all of them, calling them as often as he could to let them know what was going on there in Baghdad. He had flown there as soon as he’d recovered from the attack; he’d been injured trying to fight off the terrorists. Their small security force had been horribly outnumbered from the beginning.

Using money from the families, he hired an ex-military security expert to lead a small group of Iraqi citizens to help him search for the prisoners. The record label had refused to assist him, saying that the government was doing what it could. Marcus knew better than that, his dealings with the authorities in Baghdad had shown him the ineptitude of both the local and military police in the area.

Hoke knew that Marcus was doing everything humanly possible to find the boys; they were his responsibility and he felt that he had let them down. He knew Marcus would let nothing get in the way of the search.

*********************

“He is refusing to eat,” Hira said when she returned with the tray still in her hands.

“He is what?” Sabir shouted.

“He said that he will not eat until you have given him clothes and a blanket.”

Rahmat jumped from his chair and approached her. “You told him to do this! You know that we need him alive.”

“No, I swear I did not.”

Rahmat knocked the tray from her hands, the food went flying. The scrawny dog bolted in from under a table and grabbed at the food, no one noticed.

“You lie, whore!” He slapped her hard, knocking her to the ground.

“I had nothing to do with this,” she whimpered, bowing her head in submission before the men.

“On your feet, you sniveling slut,” Sabir ordered, and Hira slowly stood upright, using a chair as support. She was already sore from the beating she had taken earlier in the day. She was careful to keep her head lowered; her hands behind her back so they could not see her clenched fists.

“Until he eats, you will not eat either,” Rahmat growled, kicking at the dog who snarled back at him. “So you better convince him to eat....or you both will starve to death together.”

“Are you sure that is wise?” Sabir questioned him. He didn't normally question his brother's actions but he was afraid of their charge dying before their leader, Abu Hasal, came to get him.

“When he gets hungry enough, he will eat...and seeing Hira starve will convince him to eat,” Rahmat said, defending his decision.

Hira entered her room and closed the door softly, silently sliding home a small bolt. She had installed it without the men's knowledge, she didn't wish for unwanted company during the night. They would beat her if they knew it was there, she had been careful to conceal it. It would not prevent someone determined from entering, but would discourage a casual invasion.

She pulled off the hated burkha; the dark material covered her from head to toe, leaving only her eyes visible through a small slit. Since she had come to this house, she had been required to wear it. At home she had only worn the hijab, the scarf worn over the head and beneath the chin, but she always pinned it so that it also covered the lower half of her face.

Hira carefully hung the garment on a peg in the wall, glad to have it off. She had to take care of it; she knew they would not give her the money to purchase another if this one was damaged. It had taken her quite some time to get used to it since it limited her visibility and hindered her movements. She had even nearly caught it on fire once while cooking. The material of the burkha was coarse and cheap, it chafed her where it touched her skin. To show off his wealth and status, her father bought her nice clothes but her step mother had taken them away, giving her instead her cast offs. Her step mother’s clothes were luxurious compared to the material of the burka.

“I am going to kill you both,” she whispered as she lay down on her tiny cot. “You are evil and do not deserve to live.”

Hira wondered just how she had gotten into this mess. It had not been her fault that her soon to be husbands had died - how could her father, and the other men in the village, think it was somehow her fault? Men never blamed themselves for anything; it was always the woman's fault. Like when her mother died giving birth - her father had been angry not only at her, but at her mother as well. If only her father had not insisted that she bear a child every other year. She blamed him for her mother's death - she had been exhausted by bearing five children in nine years.

She leaned over and blew out the candle next to her tiny bed; she was not allowed to use the electric light. As she lay in the darkness, she wondered what Howie was thinking about. She knew he was cold; the nights there grew chilly when the sun went down, even in the middle of summer. She wished there was something she could do...and she wondered how she was going to convince him to eat, or convince the men to give him some clothes. A plan began to formulate in her brain, it was risky but the only way to save her new friend.

*********************

Howie looked up when Hira entered his room the next morning. He could see the dark purple bruise around her right eye through the slit in her head covering. The men had yelled at her the night before, he figured they beat her again. It broke his heart, knowing that he was the cause of her pain, and he swore to himself that he would make it up to her.

Huddled in the corner still, he turned slightly so he could see the door. He didn't want to offend her with his nakedness and sat so his privates were as shielded as he could get them. It had been an uncomfortable night; he had shivered through the cold, dark hours.

“They said they will not give you your clothes back until you tell them what they want to know.”

“I have nothing to tell them – and I won’t eat until they give me some clothes,” he said firmly, ignoring the growling of his stomach. He figured it was unwise to get into a power struggle with them, but he had little to bargain with. He felt that their treatment of him was unfair, not realizing that they could be doing much worse to him.

“So be it,” she said, leaving the room and taking both the food and water with her. The men took the tray from her and sent her to her room for the rest of the day.

Howie didn't like being alone all day; he missed his little TV time and his conversations with Hira. He didn't exercise any more, knowing that he would need to conserve his energy. He wondered how long he could go without food or water before giving in.

As he lay in bed the second night, he heard a light scratching noise, like that of a rat. The noise came from his door, but it didn't open. In the faint moonlight, he saw something slide underneath the door.

He waited a few minutes to see what, if anything, would happen next. It remained quiet so he went to see what it was. Laying on a piece of torn newspaper was a slab of bread, soaked in goat's milk. He carefully ate it one little bite at time so as not to cramp his stomach.

Hira didn't come to his room the next day at all. Howie sat and thought about his family, wondering if they missed him as much as he missed them. He felt overwhelmed with sadness; despair ate at him like a cancer. He decided it would be best not to think of them at all. His thoughts kept returning to Hira, her soft voice echoing in his head.

That night, well after the house had gone silent, the bread appeared underneath the door once again. He ate it gratefully; knowing that that little bit of food could make the difference in his survival. He was still ravenously hungry and thirsty, but he felt he could endure a little longer.

On the third night of his hunger strike, he was waiting by the door for the delivery. When the bread slid under, he touched the fingers that just barely peeked underneath the door. There was a soft gasp, and then just the tips of the fingers showed again. He brushed his fingertips against them and then they were gone.

Howie knew it had to be Hira bringing him the food, who else would it be? Even after everything she had gone through because of him, she was still willing to help him, despite the fact that if she got caught the men would beat her bloody.

He once again was waiting for her on the fourth night of his nightmare. His stomach ached and cramped and his thirst was unbearable, but what kept him going was the thought of Hira, risking her life to bring him food. This time her fingers lingered under the door, and he stroked them ever so lightly. He had never touched her before this, their only physical contact had been when she had washed him and combed the lice out of his hair.

The fifth night, Hira's fingers searched for his underneath the door. When their fingers touched, he could hear her sigh. He crouched there, touching her fingers, for several minutes before they were hastily pulled away. He could hear her soft footsteps in the hall.

This routine continued on for several more days, the stealthy delivery of food followed by a brief encounter under the door. Howie began to feel weak, despite the food, and he wondered how long he would last. He knew he was seriously dehydrated; he didn’t sweat during the heat of the day any more.

On the eighth day, Hira came back to his room, but she didn't bring any food with her. Howie tried to read her expression, but she kept her eyes lowered. He wondered if the bread had all been a hallucination as she acted cold towards him, not like a co-conspirator.

“Are you ready to eat?” she asked. At the thought of food, her stomach growled loudly. True to their word, the men had not let her eat or drink anything either. She felt weak and disoriented; she had not gone this long without major sustenance before. Although she had eaten a little of the stolen food, most had gone to Howie.

He wanted to give in, but he was too stubborn to let his captors beat him in this. They had humiliated the both of them in front of the villagers; he would not let them get the better of him in this. He felt in his heart that they would not let him starve to death, he would be useless to them then.

Dread overcame him when another thought came into his head - how would anyone know that he had died? No one would know until it was too late and the men had gotten whatever it was they were demanding in return for his release.

“No, Hira.” He could see in her eyes her disappointment. “Don't you understand why I am doing this?”

“You have never known what it is like to have someone else be in control of your life before. You are spoiled, coming from a land where there is plenty of everything.” She sank to the floor, her legs no longer able to hold her, her muscles trembling. “I understand that you mourn the loss of your freedom and cannot accept the fact that you are a prisoner...”

“But I have a chance still - I can escape...”

“No, you do not. Everyone in this village knows who you are and would kill you on sight if they discovered you outside of this house. You are in an area where foreigners are shot without question - you would not last five minutes unless you had help, and no one can help you now.”

Howie bowed his head; he didn't want her to see the tears in his eyes. “But surely someone is planning to come rescue me.”

“Your government is refusing to even speak to their leader and even the US troops do not come into this area, they have suffered high losses of life when they have ventured in here.”

“So you are saying that I have no hope.”

“I am saying that you have no hope of any outside help. Your only way out is if Abu Hasal tires of this game and decides to let you go, or if Sabir or Rahmat lose faith and decide you are more trouble than you are worth - but then they just might kill you for the fun of it rather than let you go.”

Howie closed his eyes; he was too weak to even get angry at her words. “So I might as well die then. Better now than to sit in this hell and die a slow death, with no hope of rescue.”

Hira cringed at the hopelessness in his voice. She had wanted him to finally face the reality of his situation, not give up hope completely. She rose unsteadily to her feet and left the room, wondering if she should've just let him die. But she couldn't forget the touch of his fingers on hers, the warmth, the hope that they gave her.

“He is willing to die,” Hira told the men as they devoured their breakfast in front of her. Her stomach cramped terribly but she forced herself to show no pain in front of them. “He sees there is no hope left and is not willing to let you slowly starve him. I have talked to him but he doesn't care, not even if I starve along with him.”

That was a lie. She had not told him of her hunger, knowing that he would give in if he knew. Hira needed this victory as much as Howie did; she needed to feel that she had a little control left over her own destiny.

“So he is close to death then?” Sabir asked.

“Yes. He is not used to going without food, he is weak. He will not last more than another day or two.” Another lie, but they didn't need to know the truth. With her sneaking him food, he could last much longer than they thought.

“Abu Hasal would be very angry if the prisoner died,” Sabir said.

“So let our glorious leader be angry, he is not here.” Rahmat coveted the leader's position; he thought by challenging him in this that he would be able to take over their group.

“You are wrong about that,” said a voice from the doorway. A tall and imposing figure stood there, wearing western-styled clothes but with the traditional head scarf over his head.

“Abu Hasal...” Rahmat stammered. The two of them jumped to their feet, the dog scrambled to get away - he had been nosing around for scraps. Hira was not surprised to see him – she had secretly contacted him in order to save Howie from an early demise.

“I came to visit our prisoner - take me to him,” he demanded. Sabir led him down the narrow hallway to a locked door.

When the door swung open, Howie was huddled in the corner still. He was shivering despite the fact it was well over 90 degrees in the room. He didn't even look up when the men walked in, nor did he move when Abu Hasal shoved him with a booted foot.

“Is he dead?” Abu Hasal asked, his face stony.

“No, he has been refusing to eat,” Sabir said. “He has gone for eight days without food or water.”

“And why is that?”

“Rahmat would not give him any clothes, so he went on a hunger strike. Rahmat said he would eat eventually.” Sabir was trying to earn back some points with his leader by sucking up to him. Rahmat shot him a glare. “He even was starving our woman, trying to get the prisoner to give in and eat.”

Howie started at that news, he had been listening to their conversation, strangely enough conducted in English. His heart sank when he realized that Hira had been suffering again because of him.

“We need all of our prisoners alive,” Abu Hasal said, staring at Rahmat, who finally bowed his head in acquiescence. “Give him some clean clothes and food immediately. I am going to come for him soon and he needs to be able to walk and talk coherently.”

They left the room, locking it behind them.

“Why do you need him?” Sabir asked as Abu Hasal prepared to leave.

Abu Hasal turned, filling the doorway. “Because I am going to use him as an example to the American dogs of what will happen if they do not give in to our demands.”

Hira shuddered. In her effort to protect him she might have unwittingly shoved him closer to death. She knew what Abu Hasal had planned for their captive - first he would videotape Howie, begging the US to give them what they wanted. A week later he would behead him and send the tape to the US media. Then a few days later they would find his body left somewhere in the city, mutilated almost beyond recognition. She prayed that she had a few days to get Howie's strength back before Abu Hasal returned.

**********************

The first weeks after the kidnapping, the media went overboard in its coverage, showing clips of the group performing and at home with their families. Paula couldn’t turn on the television to watch the news without seeing a reminder of the nightmare she was living.

The media asked for endless interviews, they granted every one in an effort to keep their cause before the public eye – trying to garner help from any and every sector possible.

Then as the weeks went by, the story lost its luster and no one called asking for interviews, no mention was made during the evening news.

Every avenue turned into a dead end; even Marcus’ heroic efforts in Baghdad were unsuccessful. The once daily phone calls between the families for support became further and further apart as stress threatened to tear them all to pieces.

For weeks, there had been no word from the terrorists, other than their initial demands. They had provided no video of the captives to prove they were still alive and in good health.

Paula turned on the evening news; the anchor came on with breaking news. She gasped as video of Nick and Brian was shown on the air. They sat in front of a black banner, two gunmen stood behind them, automatic rifles at the ready.

Yelling for Hoke, she turned up the volume. It was the typical speech captives were forced to recite – they pleaded for the government to give in to the terrorist’s demands. Paula was glad to see that they both looked well and unharmed – but where was Howard?

“Please God, bring back my son, alive,” Paula whispered in bed that night.

**********************

For the next three days, Hira came to see him several times a day. She brought him delicious, nourishing broths and bowls of rice and vegetables. He drank glass after glass of water, finally starting to feel hydrated again. At night, she would bring him a cup of tea before he was forced to give up his lone candle. He relished these days, for they talked for hours at a time. She told him of her youth, of being sent off to school where she learned to speak, read, and write English - much to her father's displeasure.

He in turn told her of his childhood and of his rise to fame and fortune. Howie could see that his tales seemed fantastic to her. Sometimes he thought that she didn't believe him, but he didn't care - he could tell that she enjoyed his stories and that was all that mattered.

His strength began to return, he no longer felt shaky any more when he stood up. Hira too was stronger, her voice more confident. She often ate with him when she brought his meal, although never removing the veil from her face.

Their friendship grew, Howie could tell that Hira trusted him now. She confided little things to him, much as she would with a close friend. He knew her fears and her desires, her dreams and her nightmares – and she knew his.

On the fifth day after Abu Hasal's visit, Hira entered his room very early, bearing his food. She seemed nervous, and urged him to eat quickly, saying she would return shortly. When she reentered his room, Howie could only stare - she was no longer wearing the burkha. Hira was dressed in peasant clothes, nondescript loose fitting pants and long tunic. A gray hijab covered her head, the silk concealing not only her hair but her face as well.

“Are you finished eating?” she asked and he nodded. She tossed him a bundle of black cloth. “Put this on, quickly.” She kept glancing over her shoulder at the open door.

Howie unfolded the cloth; it was the hated burkha which she had been wearing. Without questioning her, he slipped it over his head, instantly feeling claustrophobic. He wondered how women could wear this, it felt like a black tomb surrounding him.

Hira rolled up his pants legs so that they couldn't possibly show beneath the garment. The burkha wasn’t too short since they were close to the same height.

“It is time to go,” she whispered, taking his hand and leading him out the door.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, stopping her for a moment.

“Do not ask any questions, just do as I say. Keep your head lowered, do not stare at anyone. Keep your hands inside the sleeves and absolutely do not speak to anyone, no matter what. I will do all the talking, you pretend to be mute.”

“But Hira...” he protested.

“Just promise me that you will take me with you?” He could see the tears in her eyes.

“I swear,” he said, squeezing her hand.

Howie was totally taken by surprise at the turn of events. He knew that Hira was desperate to leave the house but never thought she would also break him out of the same prison.

Hira stopped in the kitchen and picked up two bundles, handing one to him. She instructed him to tie it around his waist under the burkha, she wanted him to look pregnant, which would further disguise him and as a bonus keep men from looking at him too closely. Before he really had caught his breath, she whisked him out the door and into the street.

“Won't you get recognized?” he whispered.

“No, no one here has ever seen me without the burkha; they will not recognize the clothes I am wearing. You and I will look like nearly every other woman in the area going to the market.”

They walked briskly for some time; Howie could tell she was very anxious. She tried to appear nonchalant, but her eyes darted around, searching the crowd for familiar faces.

“You need to relax,” he whispered. “Anyone looking at you can tell you are nervous - they will wonder why.”

Hira took a deep breath and willed herself to calm down, slowing her steps to appear more casual. As they entered the market, Hira took his arm to guide him through the mass of people milling around. Voices called to them in a language Howie could not understand; Hira ignored them, pushing on toward her destination.

When they were clear of the crowd, Howie took a chance of whispering to her. “Where are we going?”

“To catch the bus to Baghdad, but we are going to several other towns first to throw off anyone looking for us. As soon as they discover we are gone, they will call all of their men to search the buses going south. But we are going to go north and then south and hopefully evade them.”

“That is a smart plan.”

They walked for several hours before coming to a small town, where they caught a bus to the north. Half a day later, they got off the bus and began walking again, this time to the east. Near sunset, they got on another bus, this one headed south. All night they bounced along the rutted road, neither slept as they were too worried about getting caught. At dawn, Hira decided they needed to change buses once again.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, Howie nodded. At a tiny restaurant, Hira bought them some fruit and a small meat pastry, which they shared. After they ate, they began walking again. Howie's feet hurt terribly, Hira had given him a pair of women's shoes which were too small for him, but he would not complain.

“Are you feeling ok?” Hira asked later that morning.

“Yes, I'm great,” he said, and meant it. For the first time in weeks he had a glimmer of hope that his life would not end in an Iraqi prison cell. “How are you doing?”

“I feel free,” she said, and he could hear the happiness in her voice. “But I am scared too. I do not want to get caught.”

Howie knew that feeling all too well, he had lived in a perpetual state of anxiety since his capture six weeks previously. Now his nerves were jangling even more tightly now, feeling as if everyone was looking at him, waiting to turn him in to his captors.

He needn't have worried about that, though, as there were many women walking along this same road, carrying goods to market. They were all dressed about the same, a few wearing clothes that were of a better nature, but mostly they all looked the same. He prayed that their captors would not be able to recognize them in their drab clothes.

Around noon, they hopped another bus which took them to the far outskirts of Baghdad. Hira chose to exit the bus in a community that was still very anti-American, insurgents commonly used the town as a launching point for attacks, she explained to Howie.

“So why are we here? Wouldn't another town be safer?” he whispered.

“No, they will be looking for us in the American sector - they would never think to look here, it is very dangerous for us to be here.”

That bit of news didn't help his nerves any, but he didn't voice his concerns to Hira. He had to trust her - she was risking her life as well. They walked the streets for a bit, finally entering a low building where Hira arranged a room for the night.

“I could not get two rooms, that would raise suspicions...and you must not speak too loudly as we are in the women's wing, no men are allowed.” He nodded, trying to stay as quiet as he could. She led them to their room and opened the door; the room was not any larger than his prison cell had been. There was a bed, a rickety chair, and a small table with a pitcher of water, a bowl, and a used bar of soap. Only a washcloth and one small towel hung from a peg in the wall.

“It's not the Hilton,” he whispered, teasing Hira, his voice imitating that of a petulant child. She sighed, and then bumped him gently with her shoulder.

“But we will be safe here for the night,” she said, flipping on the light and closing and locking the door behind them. “At least they have electricity here, which is unusual. But do not be surprised if it goes out, the power is very unpredictable.”

Howie was so tired that all he could think about was sleeping. But the bed was tiny, they would have to snuggle together and he was sure that Hira would not want to do that.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he volunteered.

Hira giggled. “I do not think you will want to do that,” she said. Howie glanced down and then shuddered. Insects scuttled around and droppings from mice filled the corners. “We can share the bed, I do not mind,” she volunteered. The thought of laying beside him caused a shiver to run through her body.

“That is gracious of you, thank you.”

“I will go find us something to eat. You can wash while I am gone - there is a bathroom down the hall but it is for women only. I do not think it would be a good idea for you to visit the men's wing either, since you do not speak the language you would be suspect if anyone talked to you.” She helped him remove the burkha and then left, Howie locking the door behind her as she requested.

He took off his clothes and poured some water into the basin. He used the washcloth to remove as much grime as he could - the water in the bowl was soon brown. He desperately longed for a good long soak in a hot tub, some shampoo, and a shave. As he washed, he prayed that this ordeal would be over soon and that he and Hira would be safe. He didn't want to think about what might happen after that.

He put the pants back on but left his shirt off while his torso air dried - he didn't want to soak their only towel, he knew Hira would want to wash as well. There was no sink in the room; he didn't know where to empty the basin so he left it.

Hira returned a little later and they ate in silence, perched on the edge of the bed. “Be sure to drink all the tea,” she said. “You are probably still dehydrated.”

He noticed that she wasn't drinking. “What about you?” he asked.

“I drank mine on the way back here from the market.” She urged him to drink and he did so. “I am going to the bathroom down the hall to wash; I will be back in a little while.” She took the basin of dirty water and their only towel with her.

After she left, Howie laid down on the bed and closed his eyes. In no time at all he was asleep, his body craving the rest that had been denied for the previous 48 hours.

****************************

Howie slept deeply, bits and pieces of dreams filled his head. In one dream, he was running from some unknown danger, and then the next minute he was diving into a pool of the clearest blue water. He felt like a dolphin, swimming easily through the water until he felt the need to breathe. As he broke the surface of the water, someone called out his name. He climbed with some effort from the water; he was now in a candlelit room. A woman stood there, naked and glorious in the flickering light.

She was gorgeous, one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She was petite, with full breasts, a tiny waist, curving hips, and shapely legs. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, the color of wild honey. She had amazingly high cheekbones with a slight arch to her nose, which gave her a regal air. Her lips were inviting, but it was her eyes that held him - a brown deeper than his own, nearly black, but with a sparkle that was inviting

“Do you want me?” she asked, her voice silky smooth and soft.

“Yes,” he said, reaching for her hands, pulling her to him.

She pulled away from his grasp. “You must undress first,” she said. “I will do it for you.”

In his dream, the woman undressed him quickly, tossing his clothes to one side. Her hair was a lustrous dark brown, halfway down her back, with a slight curl at the end. She looked up, her eyes shining in the candlelight.

“You are ready for me, I see,” she whispered. He looked down; his erection was indeed hard and throbbing. She took his member in her trembling hand, caressing it ever so lightly. Howie shuddered; her touch sent shock waves through his body. She touched her lips to it, and then ran her tongue along the length.

Howie shut his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her warm mouth enveloping him. With fingers and tongue, she pleased him until he could no longer control himself, spilling his seed with abandon. She pushed him down on the bed, laying down next to him.

Reaching out, he caressed her breast with his fingertips, the skin as smooth as silk. She pulled him to her and captured his mouth, gently thrusting her tongue between his lips. They kissed for a long time, all the while exploring each other's bodies with inquisitive hands, finally pulling apart, breathless.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, and she silenced him with a finger to his lips.

“You must be very quiet, my love...no one must hear us,” she said softly.

“I'll be as quiet as a mouse,” he promised, his lips teasing her neck. She lay back and let him explore, her body arching as his mouth found her nipple and sucked very gently. His hand was hot as it cupped her other breast, then created a trail of fire as it ventured further south.

“Ahhh,” she sighed as his fingers found the center of her being, caressing, teasing, and then finally entering.

He kissed her deeply to keep her from calling out as he educated her to the pleasures he could give her. He released her suddenly, turning his body so that his mouth was where his fingers had been. He tasted her, running his tongue along her womanly warmth, making her moan with desire.

She shoved a fist into her mouth to keep from crying out as he took her to the pinnacle and beyond. Her body convulsing, he held her, whispering in her ear as her breathing slowed.

“Did you like that, sweetheart?” he asked, his breath hot on her neck.

“Oh yes, very much so,” she admitted. “But I want to feel you inside me.”

“I think that can be arranged,” he sighed, easing his body on top of hers. She spread her legs, eager to have him within her. She arched to accept his member; it slid in to her hot depths.

“Oh dear lord,” he whispered into her hair, which he noticed smelled of fragrant flowers. “You are so tight, my love.”

She caressed his back as he slowly eased into her, his lips teased her neck. She arched her hips against him and he thrust deeper, only to find resistance.

“What the hell...” The woman dug her fingernails into his buttocks and he jerked involuntarily, thrusting himself deeply into her, breaking through the barrier. The woman cried out very softly, and then moaned at the pleasure of having him buried within her.

“Oh Howie,” she sighed, wiggling underneath him, urging him to continue.

By now, Howie was beyond thought as the tightness of her overwhelmed him and he lost himself in the pleasure. One stroke followed another, each one more pleasurable than the one before, until his mind was completely filled with the sensations of her. Together they rode the crest, finally plunging down the slope to the ultimate ending, shuddering in each other's arms.

“I love you,” she whispered, stroking his cheek with gentle fingertips. “Thank you, my beautiful man, I will never forget you.”

*********************

“Are you finally awake?” Hira asked, looking down at him, the veil covering her face as usual.

Howie rubbed his eyes and sat up; light was streaming in through the tiny window. He realized that he was laying on the bed alone, his shirt still off. He must've fallen asleep before Hira came back from her bath the night before. With a start he remembered his dream from the night before, a deep blush colored his face.

“Are you ok?” she asked, alarmed at the color of his skin.

“I'm fine,” he said softly, remembering her admonition to be quiet. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Yes, did you not feel me in bed next to you?” Her voice was silky smooth and slightly husky, her eyes glittered in the early morning light.

“No, I’m afraid I didn’t,” he admitted, wishing fervently that he had. He had long wondered what she looked like, what her body beneath all that cloth felt like. Some of the passion from his dream returned, he had to turn away from her to hide his growing erection. “I hope that I didn’t...” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

“You were very tired, you slept the night through. And you were the perfect gentleman,” she said, as he pulled on his shirt. She suddenly turned very businesslike, her voice becoming harder. “You must put the burkha back on today, but hopefully just for a bit.”

She helped him don the garment. “What are the plans for today?” he whispered.

“I arranged for a truck to take us closer to the American sector they call the green zone. Once there, we will walk to the checkpoint and turn ourselves in.” She adjusted the fit of the monstrous black tent and reached underneath to roll his pants legs back up. She glanced up at him, her big brown eyes shining with some emotion he couldn’t define. He started, something inside of his brain screamed at him but he couldn't figure it out.

“Won't that be dangerous?” he asked softly.

“Yes, very much so. It is possible that Abu Hasal will have his men watching the checkpoints.” He could hear a touch of panic in her voice, but she fought it back. “We will have to stay extremely calm - the soldiers will be very nervous seeing us approach.”

“Do you have something white, like a handkerchief?” he asked. She nodded, pulling out a white silk scarf. He tucked it into the sleeve of the burkha, out of sight for the moment.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“No, I'm too nervous,” he admitted.

“Me too. We need to go; the truck should be here any time now.”

Hira cautiously checked out the hallways and the tiny lobby before letting Howie come out of the room. They went outside and waited around the corner, out of sight of the main street. A few minutes later, a rattling truck stopped and Hira urged Howie to climb into the back.

“How long will it take?” he asked, the dust swirling around them as the truck navigated the crowded streets.

“About 30 minutes before we get to our drop off point, and about 10 minutes to walk to the check point.”

“I think that will be the longest 10 minutes of my life,” he said, Hira agreed.

A bit later, the truck pulled off the main highway and into a deserted side street. The two of them hopped off the back of the truck and began walking south, using some of the less crowded streets.

“Abu Hasal may be watching the main streets; we will approach through this old neighborhood.” Children ran in the streets, dogs barked, and men lounged in the bombed out remains of buildings. Howie could tell that some major fighting had gone on around there, few buildings were left standing.

As they approached the checkpoint, they talked quietly so as not to be overheard. They both were terrified, but tried to calm each other down with stupid jokes.

“We are almost there,” she said. They could see the soldiers standing just 50 yards in front of them; some were talking to a man in a car, checking out his papers.

Howie held out his hand to Hira, when she took it she could feel something it in. “Take it, please. You may need it, if we get separated.”

She slipped her hand into the pocket of her pants without even looking at what he had given her. She already knew it was the American money that he had offered her before.

“Howie...I am scared.”

“Me too, Hira. But we’ll make it, I know. And I promise you that I will take you back to America with me, I'll do everything that I can, ok?” She nodded, but he could see the tears in her eyes. “I can't thank you enough for what you’ve done for me, Hira. I'll never be able to repay you for all that you have suffered on my account.”

“It has been all my pleasure,” she said, her voice husky. “Without you, I would still be stuck with those two horrible men. You gave me the courage to leave.”

They walked in silence for a few more yards. “Hira...do you know where my friends are being held?”

She bowed her head but kept walking steadily. “Yes.”

“Will you tell me where they are?”

“I am sorry, Howie, but it is my only bargaining power. I will ask for political asylum in exchange for that information.” Her hand reached out and touched his for a brief moment. “I know you promised to help me, but if your government would not ransom you out, how do I know that they will allow you to take me with you? I do trust you, but I have to look out for myself too.”

“I understand, Hira, it's the only logical thing to do...and I'm not upset about it.”

Their steps slowed as they approached the checkpoint. The soldiers were watching them now, having let the truck go on through the gate. Howie let the white scarf slip through his fingers and dangle out the bottom of his sleeve, it waved gently in the slight breeze. He felt the sweat pour from between his shoulder blades.

Hira took his free hand and they walked together up to the soldiers.

“May we help you, ladies?” The soldiers were quite wary; they had been attacked using female suicide bombers before.

Hira took a tiny step forward, she was shaking badly. “The woman with me is actually an American man who was kidnapped from Spain six weeks ago. I am trying to get him back to you safely.”

The soldier turned to Howie. “Is that true?”

“Yes, my name is Howie Dorough and I'm from Los Angeles, California.”

“You need to remove your scarves and let us pat you down first,” one of the soldiers said. Hira backed up a step in terror.

“We must not, there are men on this street looking for us!” she cried. “They will shoot him rather than have him back with you,” she warned.

“I'm sorry, ma'am, but we can't take your word on who you are.”

Hira tried to argue with him, but the solder took them by the arms, pulling off their veils. Howie had only a second to see Hira's face before shots rang out, a bullet whistled by his head, missing him by only a hair. Hira's body slumped to the ground. The other soldiers began firing as civilian Iraqis ran for cover.

“Hira!” Howie screamed as they dragged him away. A soldier picked her up and was carrying her in the opposite direction. He wept as he realized that the dream from the night before had been no dream - it had been Hira who had come to him in the night.

The soldiers loaded Howie in a truck and hurried away to a building farther inside the green zone. None of them spoke to him, which was a good thing because he was in no mood to talk. He was worried sick about Hira and what they had done with her. Would they take care of her? He thought that they would, he had read stories of how American soldiers had cared for wounded Iraqis, taking them to field hospitals for treatment.

When they arrived, a lieutenant came out to escort him inside a small but elegantly furnished room. “Please wait here,” he said, and Howie took a seat in one of the chairs. The building was magnificent; he guessed it must have been one of Hussein's many residences in the city.

“Mr. Dorough? I'm General Adamson. We’re very pleased to have you here.”

“And I'm glad to be here,” Howie agreed. A woman came in bearing a tray of drinks which she offered to him, he gladly took a large glass of water. The officer took a glass of iced tea and settled into one of the chairs.

“My granddaughter will be very pleased to hear that you're ok, the Backstreet Boys are her favorite group. She has been so worried, and so have the rest of your fans, so she tells me.”

“I'll sign something for you to give her,” Howie offered. “Have any of the others been released? I assume they were all captured?”

“Yes, they were all captured at the same time you were...and you are the first to be recovered, despite our best efforts to find you. There are many men out looking, gathering intelligence.”

“That's good to hear.” He drank greedily from the glass; it had been a few days since he'd had more than just a small cup of tea.

“Can you tell me what happened since you were captured?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

Howie was getting impatient with the formalities. “Gladly, sir, but can you tell me what happened to Hira? Is she ok?”

“Is that the woman that was with you at the checkpoint?” Howie nodded. “She is being cared for, she should recover, I was told.”

Howie leaned forward, pinning the general with a dark stare. “She knows the location of the rest of the hostages.” That bit of news got the general's attention. “She wants political asylum, and I would take it as a personal favor if everything possible was done to see that she gets to America - her life is in danger if she stays here.” Howie didn't like throwing his celebrity around but this was one of those times that required it.

“Certainly, Mr. Dorough. Would you excuse me for a moment, please?” The general practically jumped from his chair and walked briskly from the room, the door shutting soundly behind him. Half an hour later, the lieutenant appeared in the doorway.

“Sir? The general sends his regrets that he is unable to finish his talk with you at the moment. He has arranged a room for you, he thought you would like to rest as it may be tomorrow before he can meet with you again.”

“Thank you very much.”

Howie followed the man up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway. They stopped in front a room where a soldier stood guard.

“If you require anything, Mr. Dorough, you can let Private Emerson here know and he'll arrange it for you.” He opened the door and watched Howie walk in. “Food and clean clothing will be brought to you shortly. I'll come by in the morning to let you know how the recovery efforts are going,” he said before leaving.

Howie knew the man was telling him that he wasn't allowed to leave, and the presence of the private confirmed that. It's not like he had anywhere to go, but he did wish he knew how Hira was - he was so worried about her.

The room was large by anyone's standards, beautifully decorated, with windows that looked out over a courtyard. Below, soldiers patrolled the perimeter. Howie felt like he must be in an important place for there to be so much security, even within the US's tightly controlled command area.

There was a soft knock on the door; he opened it to find a young female soldier with a cart. “I've brought you some food, sir, I hope you're hungry,” she grinned. “The cook loaded it up once he found out you had been a prisoner of the Iraqi's for so long.”

“Thank you,” he said, grinning back at her. The smells coming off the cart made his mouth water.

“The Lieutenant also sent you some clothes - all we have are camo though, sorry.” She reached underneath the cart and brought out a bundle of clothing, including desert camouflage pants and a tan t-shirt. “If you’ll tell me your shoe size, I’ll bring you some boots as well.”

“Thank you. I've been wearing these clothes for way too long,” he said. He had removed the burkha during the truck ride from the checkpoint.

“Just let us know if you need anything else,” she said, smiling.

“Thanks again, I appreciate it.” As the woman started to leave, a thought came to him suddenly. “Oh wait, there is something. Can I call my parents?”

“Let me check for you – I’ll be back.” She returned a few moments later. “The Lieutenant said that they will let you call them as soon as the rescue operations are completed.”

Howie was disappointed in the news; he knew how worried his family must be. But he understood the need for secrecy and didn’t dare do anything that would jeopardize the rescue of his friends.

After the woman left, he wandered into the bathroom - it was fit for royalty. A huge tub at the far end beckoned, but he wanted to eat first. Going back to the cart, he lifted the lids on several dishes and found a huge hamburger with all the fixings, French fries, and a bowl of chocolate pudding with whipped cream. He dug in with relish, although he knew he would get a stomach ache, it was wonderful to have real American food again.

But Hira crept back into his mind again; he remembered how she had worked so hard to fix food that she thought he would like...and how she had smuggled him food when the men were trying to starve him. He brushed the tears from his face; he had to have faith that she was ok.

After his meal, he ran a bath and gratefully sank down in the hot water. He tried to clear his mind, to relax, but images from the night before would not let him rest. He had thought it was all a wonderful dream, but after seeing Hira's face, even for an instant, he knew it hadn't been a dream. He had made love to her last night, enjoyed that beautiful body...and taken her virginity.

“Why did she do that?” he asked himself. Howie felt deceived - she had deliberately given him the tea to drug him, and then seduced him. Did she think that she had to drug him to get him to sleep with her? No man in his right mind would refuse her - she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. But then again, he was the first man to have ever seen her face, and he knew that she considered herself ugly. Another thought jumped into his mind – she had told him that only the man that she loved would see her face. Did that mean that she was in love with him?

Many things Hira told him began to make sense now. Her stepmother and sisters had been jealous of her because of her beauty. And they wouldn’t have told Hira’s father, preferring to keep her enslaved and under their control. He figured that if her father had any idea of what his daughter looked like, he’d have found many men willing to overlook the curse.

Howie shuddered to think of what would’ve happened to her if Rahmat and Sabir had ever seen her without her veil – she surely would’ve been raped. But then again the drug lord probably wouldn’t have sent her to them if he’d ever seen her either.

Putting Hira out of his mind wasn’t easy; she had been so much a part of his life for the last six weeks. He didn’t want to examine his feelings too closely, he had too many other things to worry about at the moment.

Howie washed his hair thoroughly; it felt wonderful to finally have clean hair again. There were personal hygiene items waiting for him too - he shaved and brushed his teeth. Pulling on a pair of Army issue boxers, he returned to the bedroom and enjoyed a leisurely dessert of chocolate pudding. His stomach finally full for the first time in weeks, he climbed into bed and was instantly asleep.

************************

A knock on the door woke him the next morning. He pulled on a robe and answered it to find the Lieutenant, along with a breakfast cart.

“If you'd care to dress, sir, I'll have breakfast with you and brief you on the night's events.”

“Give me five minutes,” Howie said, inviting the man in. He hurriedly dressed and returned. A private had laid out breakfast on the table; the officer was drinking a cup of coffee while he waited.

“Coffee sir?” the private asked.

“Do you have hot tea?” he asked. The man nodded and poured a cup for him; Howie added a slice of lemon and let it sit for a minute. The Lieutenant dismissed the man and they were finally alone.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked. “And was the food to your liking?”

“Yes, on both counts,” Howie said with a smile. “No more kubba.”

“Did they make you eat that horrible stuff?” he asked, grimacing.

“They tried, but didn't succeed,” Howie grinned.

“Well, have some good food,” the officer offered, removing the lids from the covered plates. There were scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, ham, and biscuits and jelly.

“I'm in heaven,” Howie sighed, digging into the food.

The Lieutenant chuckled at the amount of food that Howie was putting away; he surely could eat for someone of his size.

“We have some news for you,” he said, taking a bite of eggs. “Your friend was able to give us the locations of all the prisoners and teams have been sent to recover the men. So far we have word on two successful recoveries, the other team has not checked in yet.”

“That's great news. What about Hira, though?”

“She’s in a hospital, recovering from a bullet to her shoulder.”

“Can I see her?”

The officer set down his fork. “I'm sorry, Mr. Dorough, but they won't authorize that. The General has scheduled a meeting with you at 0900 and then you’re to be taken to the airport.”

“I'm leaving, already? But I promised Hira...” Howie suddenly lost his appetite; he pushed his plate away with a sigh. “Where am I going?”

“To Landstuhl, Germany, where you'll be debriefed and have a complete medical checkup. Then you'll be flown back to the States.”

“But Lt. Grimes, I made a promise to Hira that I would take her back to the States with me. If she stays here, they will kill her for what she’s done.” He got up and began to pace. “What about her request for asylum?”

“It’s being considered,” the lieutenant said.

“She risked her life for me...and for the others,” Howie begged.

“The Army understands that, Mr. Dorough, and we can appreciate her bravery. But it’s out of our hands – it’s a political matter now, for others to decide.”

Howie finished his meal at the officer's urging, warning him that he wouldn't be able to eat again until he reached Germany. Afterwards, the lieutenant escorted him to the general's office.

The officer greeted him warmly, and then they spoke for over an hour about his ordeal. He answered every question that he could, being as truthful as he could. Howie didn't mention Hira much, only the details of how she had helped him. He didn't even ask about Hira, Lt. Grimes had already told him that the matter was out of the general's hands. He signed a few things for the general's granddaughter before leaving, as he had promised.

Before he knew it, Howie found himself on a transport plane winging its way to Germany. On the plane were patients being transferred to the army hospital there. It broke his heart seeing them laying there; some had lost limbs or suffered serious internal injuries. He was allowed to visit with some of the patients, he even sang for one young woman, a supply truck driver whose vehicle had been blown up by a roadside bomb.

Although he had visited many hospitals over the years, this was somehow much more personal. Someone he cared for was lying in a hospital bed right now. No matter how hard he tried, he could not get Hira out of his mind.

Once in Germany, Howie spent the afternoon in the hospital undergoing tests. They decided to keep him overnight as he was dehydrated and suffering from hypothermia. The next day he spent in debriefing, going over everything all over again. They wanted to know every detail about every day - what he ate, what was said, what he heard.

After the Army people left, a man in a black suit came in and questioned him about Hira. Howie didn't know what to say, he hesitated before answering anything. What if something he said kept her from coming to America?

“Mr. Dorough, I sense that you are unsure of how to answer my questions. I need you to be as honest as if you were in a court of law. We need to know as much about her as we can before any asylum can be considered.”

“I understand, I'll do my best,” Howie assured him.

They spoke for an hour, Howie telling the man every detail about Hira that he could - where she came from, her family name, how she came to be associated with the terrorists.

“Her father gave her to them, in payment of a debt,” he told the man. “She had only been there for a few weeks when I arrived. She was their servant, nothing else, she only cooked and cleaned.”

“She wasn't part of their terrorist group?”

“No, of course not. She hated that they were hurting innocent people.”

“And she didn't have sex with them?”

Howie started. “No, she didn't,” he said angrily.

“How do you know that?”

“She despised them, couldn't stand to be in the same room - they made her skin crawl. Plus they made her wear a burkha day and night; she hated them for that too.”

“That doesn't mean she wasn't being forced to have intercourse with them.”

“I know for a fact that she was still a virgin. We, uh, made love the last night of my captivity.”

The man was quiet for a moment. “So you had sex with her? And she was a virgin?”

“Yes. We stayed at this awful little hotel somewhere in Baghdad the night before we went to the checkpoint. I had never even so much as seen her face before then - but she came to me that night, offered herself to me. She was so beautiful - and I had already fallen in love with her.” It was hard to admit to the man that he was in love with her; he had just admitted it to himself only a day earlier.

“Is that why you want asylum for her? Because you think you love her?”

“No, she deserves to have a life of freedom,” he said vehemently. “She saved my life and the lives of my friends - isn't that enough?”

“Or did she sleep with you in order to get asylum?”

Howie got up and started pacing, he was so angry. “No, it’s not like that at all, damnit. She is a wonderful, sweet soul and would never use anyone like that.” He stood looking out the window at the green lawn outside. “She had been used her whole life, a pawn in her father's game - she just wanted to be herself, to have a life of her own. Whether it was in America or in Iraq, all she longed for was freedom.”

“If she was granted asylum, would you vouch for her? Provide for her until she can become a productive member of society?”

“Definitely yes,” Howie said, a surge of hope running through him.

They continued to speak for another hour, Howie dutifully recalling every detail about Hira that he could remember. He sent a quick prayer to God, asking for his assistance.

After the meeting concluded, Howie was escorted to a military base nearby and given a room in a small house. A private was stationed at the door, once again as a courtesy, but Howie knew the real reason he was there was to keep him from leaving.

He lay down and took a long nap; voices from the front of the house woke him. He wandered out, yawning, wondering who had come to see him this time. A tall, blonde man stood looking out the window; he turned when he heard footsteps.

“Nick!” They embraced, it was a tearful reunion.

“Damn, Howie, it's great to see you!” Nick had tears in his eyes too.

“I wasn't sure the rest of you were ok, they wouldn't tell me anything.”

“Me either, and I've asked so much they finally got mad at me.” Nick led them over to a couch to sit down. Howie laughed, that sounded like his friend and fellow band mate. “How long have you been here, D?”

“I flew in yesterday afternoon; I've been in debriefing most of today. What about you?” Howie asked.

“A couple of hours - I just finished my debriefing.” Howie went into the little kitchen and brought them both back some water. “Why did yours take so long? Have more to confess?” he smiled.

“I'm trying to get political asylum for the woman who helped me escape - and who helped ya'll too.”

“A woman helped us?”

“Her name is Hira; she was a servant living in the house where I was kept. She told the military where the rest of you were being held, she had been eavesdropping on the men in our house.”

“Wow, I didn't know that. I thought that they had found us and rescued us.”

“No, Hira told them where to find you. Without her, we'd all still be there.”

“You don't know anything about the others, do you?” Nick asked.

“No, they won't tell me anything. And they won't tell me anything about Hira either - she's still in Iraq as far as I know.” He got up and started pacing, still quite agitated that they hadn't told him whether or not they were granting her asylum. He knew it could be a long process, but surely they would know something soon.

They sat and talked for an hour, comparing notes on their time spent in captivity. Nick said he had been treated quite well, given plenty of food and water too. He told him that he had seen Brian a few days earlier when they forced him to make a videotape for the kidnappers.

“You look like you've lost some weight, D,” Nick said.

“My captors weren't as nice as yours...sadistic is more like it,” he said, grimacing. “Without Hira, I'd have starved to death. They were convinced I was some kind of spy and had information that I was keeping from them.”

Nick laughed; Howie soon joined him as he thought about the absurdity of it all. “I just hope the others are ok,” Nick said softly.

A little later, dinner was brought to the house and they ate, relishing the American style food after so much of the foreign recipes. They retired to bed early, still worn out from their ordeal.

When the phone rang early one morning, Paula dreaded answering it. The caller ID showed a European number – it was probably Marcus as he usually called in the mornings. He’d had nothing new to tell them in weeks, she didn’t know why he even bothered to call any more.

“Mama?” The voice at the other end sounded distant and tinny.

“Howard? Howard!” Paula nearly dropped the phone in her excitement. “Hoke! It’s Howard on the phone,” she yelled.

“Mama, it’s me, and I’m ok.” She could hear the tears in his voice, knew he was crying as she was.

“Oh son, are you really ok? When are you coming home?”

“I’m truly fine, mama. I’m in Germany right now but I don’t know when they’re going to let me leave. Nick and Brian are here with me now, AJ and Kevin are in debriefing but will be done later on today…so we might be able to come home tomorrow.”

“Oh thank God,” Paula said, sinking into the chair next to the living room phone. Hoke came running in.

“Did you say Howard is on the phone?” he asked. Paula shoved the phone into his hands; she was trembling too hard to talk any more.

“Son? Are you ok?”

“Hey Dad, yes I’m fine. And the others are too – I’ve talked to them briefly, we’re supposed to all have dinner together tonight. I should know more later on, I’ll call back and let you know the details when I get them.”

“Ok, Howard, be sure and do that. Thank God you’re alright.” Hoke looked over at Paula, a smile creased her face from ear to ear.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. And Dad? Don’t say anything to anyone yet – this will be released to the media in an hour or so but they let me call you so you wouldn’t see it on the news before I talked to you myself.”

“No problem, Howard. Just let us know when to expect you; I’m sure the whole family will want to be here.”

“I’m sure they will,” Howie laughed, imagining his mom’s house full of people waiting for him. “I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, son.”

****************************

Howie sat on the deck of his townhouse, watching the gulls wheel over the ocean. His homecoming had been very emotional - his mother had wept for an hour at seeing him, his sisters had hugged him until he thought his ribs would break. He'd spent the day with his extended family, telling them stories of his captivity, leaving out the worst parts of course; he didn't want to put his mom through any more trauma. They were all interested in Hira, what she was like and why she had helped him. He hadn't told them about making love to her, of course.

He couldn't get her out of his mind; her face filled his dreams since that night together. Just thinking of her made him hard with desire; he had to fight back all the emotions swirling within him.

Picking up his cell phone, he called a friend in New York who had connections to a politician. He asked him if he could try to find out what was going on with Hira, surely they could find someone who knew something about her. His friend promised to try and would call him back later on.

He hung up the phone and sighed, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes. He could picture her perfectly, her face with the high cheekbones, the dark eyes, the luscious lips that had tasted so good. God, she was so beautiful it hurt to think about her.

For several weeks, Howie called everyone he could think of to try to get information, but no one had heard anything or was willing to try. Frustrated, he flew to Washington DC and scheduled an appointment with his state senator. The man of course knew who Howie was and knew how much he and his group had done for his state - he didn't want to piss him off so he promised to do what he could, which sounded rather lame to Howie's ears.

As he was leaving the man's office, his cell phone rang - it was his friend in New York. He had pulled some strings and called in many favors but he finally had something solid for Howie - Hira had been granted asylum but no one knew any more than that. Howie turned around and went back to the Senator's office and told him what he had just found out - the senator promised to make a few calls and see if he could find out if Hira had entered the country, that much he could do.

For two days, Howie sat in the hotel room waiting for a call. He had put his life on hold and cancelled plans because he could focus on nothing until he knew Hira was safe. He had promised her and he didn't make promises lightly.

The senator called late that afternoon. “Mr. Dorough, I have news of your friend.”

“Please tell me she's safely in the US,” Howie said.

“I'm sorry, I wish I could. But my sources tell me that she was indeed granted asylum but she never came into the states at all - she was kidnapped from the military hospital in Baghdad two days after you appeared at the checkpoint.”

“Does anyone know where she is, if she's still alive?” Howie felt his heart drop into his feet.

“No one seems to know anything about her, I'm sorry. I wish I had better news for you.”

“Thank you, Senator Drescher, for looking into that for me. I won't forget this favor.”

“It's the least I could do, Mr. Dorough. The Backstreet Boys have been very accommodating to the state of Florida when we needed help in fundraisers in the past. I know we'll be able to count on you in the future too.”

Howie didn't like the veiled hint to future favors, but he knew it was how things worked. “Of course, whatever we can do to help.”

Disappointment filled him, he felt like it would crush him. He had promised her - it was there for the taking if he could just find her. He picked his cell phone back up and started making more calls.

**********************

“Are you sure you want to do this, Howard?” Hoke asked. “It seems to me a very foolish thing to do, putting yourself back in danger like that.”

“I promised her, Dad. And I’m not going to be able to rest until I know I’ve done everything I could to find her.” He stuffed some clothes into his suitcase and slammed it shut.

“Your mom is worried sick, she doesn’t want you to go,” Hoke said softly.

“I know that, and I don’t mean to worry her. God knows you both have been through enough.” He picked up the small suitcase and laid it on the floor. “But she risked her life to save mine, and I owe her. I’ll stay for a month and if I don’t find her then I’ll come home and get on with my life, ok?”

Hoke pulled him into a bear hug. “Just don’t get yourself killed.”

“I’ll try not to,” Howie said with a smile.

He said his goodbyes to his family, and although his mother’s tears broke his heart he knew he had to go. Before long he joined Marcus at the airport, and they were winging their way back to Baghdad.

Hira lay in the hospital bed, her headscarf wrapped around her head and over her face. She couldn't bear to have her face showing to strangers, after all this time of keeping it hidden. For the most part, the doctors and nurses had been kind to her and allowed her to keep her face covered. If it was necessary to show it, a woman did whatever was necessary. Hira appreciated their sensitivity to her religious beliefs.

The bullet had gone through her shoulder and done little damage, it just hurt more than anything. It would take a while before she would have full use of her arm again, but that didn't bother her. What did bother her, though, was that they would give her no information about Howie.

Hira had seen the soldiers dragging him off, he had called out to her. She was sure that he had seen her face, had known that she had slept with him the night before. She wondered what he thought of her - was he mad that she drugged him? Or sorry that he had slept with her? She really wanted to talk to him, to make sure he was safe.

A nurse came in and gave her some medication for the pain. She fell into a deep and dreamless sleep; it was morning when she woke. When a man in a dark suit came to speak with her, the nurse made him wait until she'd eaten, had a sponge bath, and her dressing had been changed.

“I'm Steven Johnson, assistant to the US ambassador to Iraq,” he introduced himself. “I need to speak with you, if you feel up to it.”

“Yes, of course.” She took a sip of water from the glass next to her bed. “But first can you tell me how Howie is? No one will tell me anything.”

“Mr. Dorough is fine. He's on his way to Germany right now for a medical check and then will be flown back to the States to be reunited with his family.”

“He was not hurt?”

The man shook his head. “He's suffering from a little malnutrition and dehydration, that’s all.”

“I did what I could,” Hira said softly. “They did not want to feed him, but I snuck him food.”

“He told us that you did that, even though the two men would've beaten you if they had caught you.”

“It is true. But it would not have been the first time, or the last, that they beat me.”

“Can you tell me how you came to be with those men?”

Hira explained all the humiliating details. Instinctively she knew she needed to be honest with him. The fact that Howie had told him what happened assured her she needed to do the same, so she answered all of his questions.

“And how do you feel about Mr. Dorough?” he asked softly. He had been treading very lightly with her, she seemed very fragile at the moment and he didn't want her to break down.

“I...I care for him very much,” she said. She didn't want to examine her feelings for him too closely, afraid of what she might find. She was not at all sure they were going to give her asylum, despite the fact that she had told them where the rest of the prisoners were the night before.

“You care about him enough to have had sex with him?”

Hira blushed a deep red beneath her veil. “I did not do it in order to get asylum, if that is what you are thinking,” she said, her voice hard. “I would never use him that way.”

“That is what he said too,” Steven assured her. “I just needed to hear it from you too.”

“Am I going to get asylum, Mr. Johnson?”

“I don't know yet. It is a very political thing, you understand.”

“If I am forced to stay in Iraq, I will certainly face a long and terrible death if they catch me. I am considered a traitor by many for helping you recover the prisoners.”

“We understand that, but there are certain protocols that we must observe.” He leaned over and touched her hand softly. “We're doing everything we can - we don't want you to have to go back,” he assured her.

“Thank you.” They talked for a few more minutes and then he left, leaving her feeling more depressed than ever. She had a gut feeling that they were going to turn down her request.

Hira slept off and on all day, the nurses fussing over her and cajoling her to eat. Several of them sat and chatted with her once they learned she spoke excellent English. She asked them many questions about life in America. They confirmed everything that Howie had told her, even down to the skimpy bathing suits that were the norm for American women. The nurses, in turn, asked her about her life and were amazed at how little freedom Iraqi women had, and the limitations that were placed on them because of the dominance of men in their culture.

When night fell, a nurse brought her medication for pain again, which made her very sleepy. During the night, she woke to see a man standing over her. She was groggy, she wondered what he wanted - no one except the nurses came in during the night.

The man grabbed her arm and yanked her from the bed; she tried to scream but his hand covered her mouth. He pulled out her IV; blood ran down her arm and dripped onto the bed. It was then that Hira realized she was being kidnapped and she fought with all her strength to get away from him.

Biting down on his hand, she managed to twist away briefly - but he grabbed her injured arm and twisted it, the pain caused her to nearly black out. As he dragged her away, she kicked at his shins and tried to break free. Down a long hallway, she struggled to get free, desperation giving her strength. He finally turned and hit her hard in the face; she fell against the wall, unconscious. He picked her up and carried her to the end of the deserted hallway.

At the side entrance of the building, at the end of the main hallway, a large cart of dirty linen sat near a door. The man looked around, no one was nearby and the place was quiet. He threw Hira into the cart, covered her with dirty linen, and pushed the cart out of the building.

When the nurse came in a few hours later to check on her charge, she found her gone and blood everywhere. She called security, who then called Mr. Johnson from the ambassador's office.

“We believe she was taken against her will,” the officer told Steven. “The blood droplets by the bed and in the hallway are scattered, not in a line as if the person was walking. Looks like she was fighting pretty hard, there is blood on the walls too.”

“So you don't believe she left voluntarily?”

“No, she was on pain medication and a mild sedative, she couldn't have left on her own without help.” They were walking down the main hallway as they spoke. “Now look here - there is a smudge of blood on the wall, as if someone had fallen against it and slipped down. And the blood trail ends here too. We think someone picked her up and carried her at this point.”

“How did someone get in here and kidnap one of your patients without anyone seeing a thing?” Steven asked.

“I don't know, sir. It's possible they had a man inside with security clearance - we have quite a few civilians working in this area. Could've been someone in food service or laundry or the cleaning crew - most of them are Iraqi's.”

************************

When Hira woke, she found herself in the back of a beat up pickup truck. It was just before dawn, the glow of the sun barely lighting the horizon yet. She was gagged, her hands tied in front, but her feet weren't tied at all. She didn't move for fear of alerting her captors that she was awake. She looked around the best she could - there was no one in the bed with her. Two men were sitting in the cab, talking quite animatedly as they drove along the highway.

Hira inched her way towards the back of the truck, moving ever so slowly so as not to attract the attention of the men in the cab. When her feet reached the tailgate, she pushed it softly - she could tell that it wasn't shut securely. It swung down, Hira closed her eyes and braced for the loud noise she was sure it would make. But the tailgate didn't make any noise - the bumper was long gone and the tailgate just swung in the breeze.

With a sigh of relief, Hira inched ever closer to the opening. She could see the dirt road outside, the tires kicked up a fine dust as they drove along. They were in a deserted area, Hira wanted to get out in an area where there would be someplace for her to hide. Before long, the truck slowed slightly as it entered a village. It was just past dawn, few people would be out this time of day.

Hira braced herself for the impact; she knew it was going to hurt when she rolled out of the truck. She hit hard, and then rolled towards the side of the road. The flimsy hospital gown did little to protect her; she could feel the rocks tear into her skin. It took a few minutes to regain her breath, but when she looked around the truck was gone - she could see the taillights disappearing down the road. With great effort, she climbed to her feet and headed for the nearest building. The place had been abandoned after it was shelled. The roof was missing but the walls still stood - a perfect place for her to hide while she decided what to do.

Her wound had started bleeding again because of the fall; she pressed the bandage against it to try to stop the flow. What she really needed was to get the ropes off her hands. A large piece of shrapnel was imbedded in the wall; it was just what she needed. Hira ran the rope over the sharp metal edge, eventually cutting through. With her hands free, she pulled off the gag and threw it into the corner. On second thought, she picked it and the severed rope up and buried them in debris; she didn't want to leave behind any evidence of her being there.

Hira peeked out the doorway; there was no sign of anyone in the road. Luck was with her again when she saw laundry drying at the house next door. She snuck over and took a shirt, pants, and a plain headscarf. She removed her own silk one and left it to replace the items she stole, she hoped the woman wouldn't be too upset; she’d be able to sell the silk headscarf and buy replacement garments.

Hira crept back to the burned out building. She removed the gown and tore it into long strips, then removed her bandage and used the strips to dress the wound. She buried the bloody dressing and carefully pulled on the new shirt - she did not want to appear in public with a bloodied shoulder - it would be a dead giveaway for anyone looking for her. She adjusted the headscarf so that none of her face showed and then crept from the building again.

Once in the village, Hira waited for the market to open. It was a good sized village; she prayed that someone there would be able to change some American dollars into Iraqi dinars. She had hidden Howie’s money in her underwear; the nurses let her use the bathroom instead of a bedpan so she was able to keep it a secret. Hira wandered the market, finally identifying a man capable of changing her money. He charged a large sum for the exchange, but she knew it would buy his silence.

Hira bought some food and waited for the bus to arrive. She squeezed into the crowded vehicle and found a place to stand near the back. Once again she changed buses several times, backtracking and going in the wrong direction to throw off anyone trying to locate her. She finally arrived at her destination two days later, exhausted and in great pain.

Going to the back door of the house, Hira knocked and waited for someone to come. She explained to the man she was a friend of Saleena's and he invited her in, calling out to her friend. It was a tearful reunion; they hadn't seen each other in several years. Saleena asked her brother to bring the doctor to the house; when he came he examined the wound and dressed it, giving her a shot of antibiotics in case it became infected.

“Oh Hira, I cannot believe what has happened to you since school. Did your father really give you to the drug lord?”

“Yes, I did not want to go but I could not let my little sister go to that horrible man.” She took a sip of the tea her friend had brought her. “And my brothers did nothing to stop my father. They are afraid of him and what he might do to them.”

“Then they are cowards,” Saleena said vehemently. “Your brothers should have protected you.”

“You are not married?” Hira asked. Her friend was only a year younger than she was.

Hira’s heart broke at the look of sadness on her friend’s face. “Salid and I had a home, we were expecting our first child…but our home was destroyed by a mortar shell. My husband and his parents were killed, I lost the baby.”

“Oh Saleena, I am so sorry.” She hugged her friend, holding her tightly until her tears eased.

“I loved him very much, Hira. My father allowed me to marry for love; he wanted me to be happy.”

“I am so sorry that happened. You deserved so much better than that.”

The women talked for hours, catching up on their lives since they were roommates in school. Saleena consulted her brother and he agreed to let Hira stay with them until she could find a permanent home. Hira had no idea what she would do in the future or where she would go. She couldn't go back to her family, her father would kill her for the shame she had brought upon them. And if anyone of Abu Hasal's group found her, it would be a long and painful death.

Hira settled into the routine of the house, cooking and cleaning in return for them letting her stay. She didn’t like going to the market with Saleena as she felt it was too dangerous, but she did it anyway because her friend asked her to. She still wore her face veiled, even inside, although Saleena begged her to remove it. Hira still was not prepared to do so; she felt great shame at everything that had happened to her.

Saleena's brother Naseem thought her the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. He watched her bathing through a secret hole in the wall. He lusted for her and dreamed of taking her as a second wife, but he didn’t think she or his first wife would like that plan. Naseem knew men who would pay many dinars to have her. Perhaps he could find a way to force her to prostitute for him. She was now dependent on him for everything, which gave him control over her life.

Hira wandered the market with Saleena, looking over the merchandise offered for sale. They were there for food items, not clothing, but they had already purchased what they needed and were just browsing to see if anything caught their eye.

“You really should unpin that hijab,” Saleena said to Hira. “You have a beautiful face. You should share it with the world.”

“You only say that because you are my friend,” Hira replied. “I am not ready yet, I feel more comfortable with it on.”

“When the men of this town see you, they will all want you,” she teased.

Hira frowned behind her veil. “You know as well as I do that I cannot have anything to do with any of them.”

“Do you really think that matters in this day and age, Hira?” Saleena fingered some bolts of fine silk, wondering if she had enough money to buy a couple of yards. “We are not as old fashioned here as in your village.”

“I will be a wife, but not a whore,” she hissed. “No respectable man will take a non-virgin as a wife, even in places as upscale as Baghdad.”

“Times are changing,” Saleena said, smiling at a young man who was eyeing her. “I am free to choose who I want to marry…or if I even want to marry again.”

“Do not rub it in,” Hira said miserably. “Your brother will be sure to insist on your marrying again, I think he is tired of having you in his house.”

“He is not tired of me, it is Aasmaa. She has been jealous of me ever since I moved in with them – and now that you are there too, she has gotten even worse. I do not know how my brother stands her, she nags him constantly.”

“Maybe she is good in bed,” Hira said, blushing.

“I never hear them moaning,” Saleena said with a wide grin. “Must not be too good.”

Hira thought back to her lovemaking with Howie, it seemed like ages ago. She had wanted to scream out with the pleasure of it. She wished she could experience that again, but she knew it was not to be. Never again would she feel the pleasure that a man could give her.

*************************

“Hira, would you mind running to Miskeen’s house to pick up a package for me?” Naseem asked. Hira wasn’t surprised; he’d sent her to his brother’s house on numerous occasions. Saleena was the baby of the family; Miskeen was the oldest of her three brothers. It’s not like she had anything else to do, once she’d cleaned the house, gone to the market, cooked dinner and seen to the laundry. She’d been there for six weeks now. She was bored but not complaining, she had a roof over her head and the work wasn’t as hard as what she’d been doing at home for her stepmother.

She set off down the street, and then made several turns until she came to the correct house. She’d been there before, although usually not by herself.

“Ah, come in, Hira. I have the package around here somewhere. Now where did I put it?” It took a minute for Hira’s eyes to adapt from the bright sun to the gloomy house. She could hear Miskeen rummaging around in the next room, and then there was a huge crash.

“Are you alright?” she called, he responded with a cry for help. She rushed in, only to feel hands grab her and shove her against the wall. She didn’t know the man who held her.

“Let me go! Miskeen, help me!”

“So, you gave your virginity to a foreigner who then left you behind,” the man chuckled. “Did he promise to take you with him? That was very naïve, Hira.”

“It wasn’t like that at all,” she whispered.

“Naseem laughed as he told us about you, did he not, Tamir?” Hira’s eyes widened as she realized the man was Saleena’s other brother, the one who lived in Baghdad. Tamir nodded his face only inches away from hers. “He wants you for himself but Aasmaa would castrate him if she caught him.”

“No self respecting Muslim would have you for a wife now,” Tamir said. “Looks like prostitution is your only choice.” He laughed at the fear in her eyes.

“She thinks she is too good to give the poor men of this town some comfort,” Miskeen said. “Let’s see what you are hiding from all of us.”

“No, please, let me go!” Hira struggled to get away but the man was too strong.

Miskeen tore away her veil and then laughed out loud. “She is too good for us,” he said. “With beauty like that, we can take her to Baghdad and make a fortune! How much do you think Naseem wants for her, Tamir?”

“Whatever it is, it will be worth it. She will be popular, she is quite spirited.” Tamir blocked a knee aimed for his groin. “I say we sample her, Miskeen. That way we will know what to charge our clients.” He captured her lips and thrust his tongue into her mouth. Hira thought she would gag from the stench of his breath. With his free hand, he groped for her breast, squeezing it until Hira cried out in pain.

“Take her into the bedroom,” Miskeen said. Just as Tamir dragged her into the living room there was a knock on the door.

“Miskeen? It is Saleena; I am looking for Hira…”

“Say a word to anyone and you will end up dead, do you understand?” Tamir hissed in her ear. Hira nodded. “We will be coming for you soon – and do not try to run away, we will find you no matter where you go.”

Hira staggered towards the door, hastily pinning her veil back in place. “I am here, Saleena,” she called. “Miskeen is looking for the package now.” She yanked open the door, careful not to look her friend in the eyes.

Miskeen came up behind her and handed Saleena a small box. “Here it is. I am always misplacing everything! See you later!” He closed the door behind them, turning to his friend.

“Do not worry, Tamir, we will get her yet. That is one prize that I am not going to let get away from us.”

As Hira walked back to Naseem’s house, she mentally counted her small stash of money. She knew her days in Farhan were numbered, it wouldn’t be long before Tamir and Miskeen convinced Naseem to sell her to them. She needed an escape plan, one clever enough to outfox the two men who planned on prostituting her in Baghdad. But she needed more money - she hoped time wouldn’t run out on her before it was too late.

*************************

“Come on, Hira, come to the market with me. And do not pin up your hijab, ok?”

“I do not know, Saleena – I am scared. What if they are still looking for me?”

“It has been two months now.” Whenever Hira went to the market, she covered her face and Saleena thought it high time she removed the veil. “And why would they be looking for you way out here?” Saleena's town was far to the south of Baghdad and was not on a main road.

Hira sighed. “I do not know, I guess I am being paranoid.” Saleena didn’t know what had happened at Miskeen’s house, she had kept the incident a secret. Hira’s stash of money wasn’t yet enough to get her away safely, she needed just a bit more. Going out in public without the veil seemed too risky for Hira, afraid that someone else would get the same idea as Miskeen and Tamir.

Saleena pinned the silk hijab on her friend, leaving her face showing. “There, you look gorgeous!”

“No, not yet – I am not ready,” she protested.

“Yes, you are ready. No one is going to stone you for showing your face, Hira. The old ways are nearly gone here; we are more Western since the Americans freed us from the Taliban.”

“Alright, but I can put it back up if I want to.” Hira planned on repining it as soon as her friend wasn’t looking.

“Of course.”

The two women walked the short distance to the market, Saleena’s brother and his wife followed behind them. It felt good to Hira to be outside; she loved the feel of the sun and the breeze on her face. As they entered the crowded market, Hira felt people staring at her. It was only natural as they had not seen her face before. She ignored their stares and whispers. Hira soon lost herself to the pleasure of wandering through the shops, looking at the merchandise.

“Having fun?” Saleena asked, Hira nodded. She still felt a little apprehensive, although the admiring glances from the men made her heart pound with excitement. It made her sad at the same time, as she knew that she was destined to a life alone. “See anything that you want to buy?”

“No, I am saving my money.” Hira knew she couldn’t spend anything; she needed every bit of it in order to escape. Tomorrow Naseem would grudgingly give her a small allowance, only enough to buy the necessities a woman needed. She would then leave town, but she still wasn’t sure where she would go.

“I wish you had told me you were going to Baghdad to look for a place to live,” Saleena said with a pout. “I heard Naseem tell Aasmaa that you were going there tomorrow.”

Hira bit her lip hard to keep from crying out. “I think it is time I moved on, got on with my life,” she said as casually as she could. “You have been such a dear friend to put up with me for so long, I thank you for that.”

“What are friends for?” Saleena said, looking over some bolts of fine silk. “Oh look, there is that man again – he has been hanging out at the market for the last two weeks.”

“What man?” Hira asked, picking up a length of silk. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out how she was going to elude Miskeen.

“I told you about him last week - a foreign man and his two bodyguards. One is huge, the other is kind of cute, but too old for us!” She nudged Hira and pointed discretely. “I hear he is American. Very handsome, if you like foreigners,” she added with a laugh.

Hira looked in the direction Saleena pointed, her body suddenly felt on fire and freezing cold at the same time. She could only see him in profile, but she would know that face anywhere, it had haunted her dreams for months. “Howie...” she whispered.

As if the man heard her, he turned and they locked eyes from across the marketplace. “Hira? Hira!” he shouted, she could barely hear him above the din of the crowd.

Hira grabbed Saleena's arm to keep from falling. “Are you ok? You are trembling...” She turned to see what Hira was staring at, she saw the foreign man fighting his way across the market, coming right for them. She pulled Hira out of the vendor's stall and hustled her down the street towards their house.

“What is wrong?” her brother asked, catching up to them.

“There is a man after Hira, a foreign man – he has frightened her.”

“I will take care of him,” he offered. “He will not bother you, Hira.”

“Wait,” Hira shouted, stopping him. “I...I want to see him. It is the man I helped escape back to America...”

“Bring him to the house,” Saleena ordered. “We do not want her seen with him in public.” Saleena's brother rushed off to intercept Howie, who was just now shoving his way out of the crowded market.

Hira was shaking so hard she could barely walk. She wondered what she would say to him, and what he would say to her. Had he been looking for her? What else would explain why he had been hanging around in this town, he should've been back in America and getting on with his life.

Saleena rushed Hira into the house, her mind swirling with the implications of this meeting. Had the handsome American come looking for her friend, ready to steal her away? Or just come to satisfy some morbid curiosity? Saleena had been shocked when Hira confided in her that she had slept with the man, given him her precious virginity. But Saleena also was aware of the stigma already attached to her friend and how she would never be marriage material because of her father's actions.

The door opened and Howie was shown inside, Marcus and Randall right behind him. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dim light in the room. Hira turned to face him, holding her breath, not knowing what his reaction would be.

Howie walked slowly towards her, his eyes focused on her face. “Hira...” he said softly, joy and relief filling his face, love lighting his eyes.

It was all Hira needed to see; she threw herself into his arms. He held her close, tears pouring down both of their faces.

“Oh my god, I thought you were dead,” he whispered. “I've been looking everywhere for you!”

“I thought you had forgotten me,” she whispered back.

“Never,” he said fiercely, and then captured her mouth in a demanding kiss.

Saleena stood there with her mouth open at the sight of her friend in the stranger's embrace. Public displays of affection were not the norm in their society, even one as progressive as Saleena's. She cleared her throat and Hira suddenly jumped out of Howie's arms. She reached up and wiped the tears from her face, trying desperately to pull herself together.

“Howie, I would like you to meet Naseem, and his sister, Saleena, who is my best friend.” She didn't introduce him to Naseem's wife; it would be his place to introduce her if he wished to.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Howie said to Naseem first. His month in the country had taught him some of the manners expected of him. Only after he had greeted the man did he turn to Hira's friend. He bowed his head to her but didn't touch her or let his gaze linger on her for too long. Randall had drilled into him the expected behavior of guests. Saleena was attractive but not the beauty that Hira was.

“What is your intention with Hira?” Naseem asked, his voice gruff.

“Let us get to that in a moment,” Saleena interrupted. “I think we should offer our guest some refreshments first.”

Naseem agreed and the three women went into the kitchen to prepare food and tea for their guest. The two men sat there, each uncomfortable, not knowing what to say to each other. Marcus stood by the door, ready to assist his friend if Naseem moved to harm Howie. Randall leaned against the wall, a smile on his face, watching the scene unfold before him.

“Have you been in Iraq long?” Naseem finally asked.

“Two months as a prisoner,” Howie said softly. “I’ve been here nearly a month looking for Hira.”

“You came back to find her? For what reason?” Naseem asked, not wanting to wait until the women came back, he considered this business between men.

“She has been granted asylum into the United States. I came to tell her and take her back, if she wants to leave,” he added.

“And what about when she gets there? Who will take care of her?”

“I will, if she'll let me,” he said, looking Naseem in the face. “I care for her deeply.”

“Enough to marry her?” he asked. “Or just as a mistress, your plaything?”

“I don't know what her feelings are towards me, but I would consider marriage if that is what she wants as well.” Howie’s voice was soft, but full of emotion.

“How do I know you are not lying?” Naseem was suspicious, he had heard plenty of bad things about Americans and he was determined to protect Hira, especially since he intended on selling her the next morning for a nice amount of cash.

“I nearly died while I was a prisoner, and I run that risk again just by being here. Does that not say something about me?”

“Yes, you are crazy,” Naseem laughed.

Howie pulled off his watch and handed it to Naseem. The yellow gold Rolex, with a diamond bezel and inset diamonds on the face, was worth more than Naseem would make in his lifetime. He’d won the $50,000 watch at a movie premiere. It wasn’t one he ever wore, it was far too gaudy, but he thought it might be handy in this place where money usually talked louder than words.

“To show you I’m sincere, I will give you this watch.”

“Truly? You would give this to me?” It was an unprecedented gift, one of extreme value. No man of his standing had anything even close to it. He wasn’t sure of its actual value, but he figured it was worth at least 50 times over what his brothers had offered him for Hira. He’d be a fool to turn it down.

“I offer this watch as a token of my respect for her and my gratitude for taking her into your family and keeping her safe.”

“I am honored to accept this, my friend. It does indeed show much respect for Hira.” He held the watch up and watched the diamonds sparkle. “I believe your intentions are honorable and I would be happy to see her go to America with you.” And he was happy to finally have her out of his house; his wife had been demanding that she leave. He held out his hand and Howie shook it firmly, sealing the deal.

When the women reentered the room, the two men were talking like old friends. Hira set down a tray of fruit and nuts, and poured first Howie and then Naseem a cup of tea. Aasmaa asked Saleena to go with her into the other room, but Saleena refused - she wanted to be in on the excitement.

Hira sat with her head down, wanting to stare at Howie, trying to convince herself he was really there in the room with her. It was considered bad manners to look at male guests for long, to acknowledge them any more than just serving them food, unless they spoke to you first.

“So Hira, I understand that you want to go to America?” Naseem asked softly. Hira looked up at him, her eyes glowing. She still couldn't bring herself to even peek at Howie's face.

“Oh yes,” she cried, then tried to calm herself down, to remember her manners. “If you will permit me, Naseem.” As the only male in her life, he had control of her destiny, although Hira knew she would do whatever she pleased anyway.

“Howard has paid a rather large meher for you, Hira, although I doubt you are worth it,” Naseem joked, showing off the watch now on his wrist. The women’s eyes widened, the gift would certainly elevate Naseem in the eyes of the townspeople. “You will marry him when you arrive in America.”

Hira’s heart began to pound, she was to marry after all – and she would be going to America! “I can go back with you, Howie? You want me to be with you?”

“Yes, Hira, I do. They granted you asylum the night before you disappeared from the hospital. When they came to tell you, they discovered you were gone.”

“They know I did not go willingly?”

“Yes, they knew, but finding you wasn’t a priority, and they wouldn't tell me what was going on. It took me a month of making phone calls before anyone would tell me that you had been kidnapped.” He got up and sat down next to her, taking her hands in his. “I came to Iraq as soon as I found out. I've been here nearly a month, looking for you.”

Hira blushed and looked down. “How did you find me?”

“I came here first, but we didn't see you and no one knew anything about you. Then we went back to Mandali and found Sabir.”

“Oh Howie! That must have been frightening for you.”

He admitted that it hadn't been easy. “I went in disguise, I couldn't risk being recognized. Randall did all the talking, he speaks Arabic. Sabir said that you had escaped from them after you were kidnapped, that they hadn't been able to find you and had given up looking.” He squeezed her hands, she finally looked up at him - he was overjoyed to see her face light up at his news. “Most of the men were killed during the raids to recover my friends, including Abu Hasal. Rahmat tried to take over the group after that but no one wanted him to be leader as he was more interested in finding you than in doing anything else.”

“So what happened to him? Was he with Sabir?”

Howie shook his head. “He went to your village to look for you and mysteriously ended up dead, his body dumped in a ditch. His father demanded an investigation but nothing was ever found - no one knew what happened to him.”

Hira had a good idea of what had happened to him - her brothers still lived in the village and any one of them was capable of disposing of filth like Rahmat. They had not been happy when her father had sold her but they had been unable do anything without incurring their father's raging temper.

“It was what he deserved,” Hira said softly. “And what about Sabir?”

“He lives alone in a tiny hut in the hills, a small herd of goats for company - ragged and half starved.”

The thought didn’t bother her; it was what he deserved as well. “So then you came back here?”

Howie nodded. “Today was my last day here; I had almost given up hope of finding you. We’ve been in the market for two weeks straight, talking to the vendors, and no one recognized you or admitted to knowing you.”

“I have not gone out much,” she admitted. “I was scared they would find me.”

“You don't have to worry about that ever again,” he said softly. “In America, you won't have to worry about a thing.” Hira smiled at him and Howie felt his heart shatter into a million pieces.

Hira breathed a sigh of relief; she’d been snatched away from Miskeen in the nick of time. She thanked Allah for sending Howie back into her life.

Hira was afraid to enter Baghdad, not only were Abu Hasal’s men still living in the area but she also had to worry about Tamir and Miskeen. Marcus and Randall both assured her she was safe, telling her they would be under military protection until they left. They were escorted into the green zone, where they were the guests of General Adamson in the luxurious palace that once belonged to Saddam Hussein.

“How do you feel about all this?” Howie asked her as they dined in his room.

“I feel a little nervous, but more excited than anything. I still can’t believe that this is all happening!” Hira glanced down at her cheeseburger, it smelled appetizing. It was against Islamic rules to eat but it fascinated her and she took a tiny bite. She asked Allah to forgive her and took a larger bite; she was entranced by the taste. Howie didn’t know Hira had just taken her first step against Islam, he only saw the rapt expression on her face as she chewed. She was so interested in everything American that she asked hundreds of questions every day, but he didn’t mind.

“I have a question for you, and I don’t ask it lightly,” he said.

“What is it? You know you can ask me anything.”

“Have…have you ever thought about changing your name?” Howie asked hesitantly. He didn’t want to upset her but an official had asked him about it. “Not that I don’t like your name, but I thought you might want to pick something out that has better memories.”

“You mean I could? I guess I never really thought about it.”

“The guy from the US embassy said they tried to locate your birth certificate when they first granted you asylum, but the records building for your province had been destroyed. He said they would have to request a new one from the government anyway, and that you could put whatever name you want on there.”

“I do not know, Howie…”

“Maybe it would help you erase some of the pain from your past. A new name to go with your new life in America?”

“What would I put? I have only ever been called by this name.”

“Maybe something that sounds like Hira? That way I wouldn’t get confused,” he laughed.

Hira was quiet for a few minutes, thinking. “Abeera means rose, which might work. Or I had a distant cousin whose name was Suheera, that’s pretty similar. And it means beautiful.”

“I like Suheera, and it certainly fits you,” Howie said, reaching out to stroke her cheek with gentle fingers. When they were alone together, she still wore the hijab but left her face uncovered.

“Then Suheera it is,” she said, smiling. “A new name, a new country, a new love.” She leaned over and kissed him, making his heart flutter.

Howie accompanied Suheera when she met for the first time with embassy officials. The paperwork was set in motion to get a new birth certificate and all the forms necessary for her to enter the US legally. She stoically endured several extremely long debriefing meetings with military officials. She knew it was all necessary in order for her to leave the country, however she was anxious to get on with her life.

Six weeks later, sitting in a first class seat on a jet bound for the United States, Suheera could not settle down. “Are you excited?” Howie asked as the jet taxied down the runway prior to liftoff. She had not been on a plane before, let alone a plane bound for a world totally different than anything she had ever known.

“Yes, and a little nervous too. What if your family does not like me?”

Howie squeezed her hand; he could feel her trembling slightly. “Don't worry, they are going to adore you,” he assured her. “And you won't have to deal with them all at once. My parents are the only ones meeting us at the airport and I know for sure that they will love you.”

“I hope so.”

It was a long flight and Suheera eventually calmed down enough to take a nap. Howie looked over at her and smiled to himself, he prayed America would be everything she hoped it would be.

When they landed in New York City, the line through customs was long. They questioned Suheera extensively and insisted that she show them her face, which she did reluctantly, but finally they let her continue on. Marcus hailed them a taxi, they’d booked a quiet hotel for the night, and far from the noisy city that Howie was sure would overwhelm her.

When the taxi pulled into the hotel, the doorman whisked them inside and soon they were shown upstairs to a luxurious suite.

“I got you your own room,” he explained. “I wasn't sure...”

“I think I prefer to have my own room for right now - if that is ok with you.”

“Certainly, whatever you feel the most comfortable with.” He took her bag into one of the rooms and laid it on the bed for her. Suheera followed him, removing her hijab as she walked. He turned to her, his heart skipping a beat as it always did when he looked at her.

“You are very kind,” she said, kissing him softly on the lips. Howie wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss her deeply, but he could tell that she was stressed and needing some time to adjust. In little more than a month, Suheera’s life had been turned upside down; he didn't want to do anything that would upset her delicate balancing act. He knew she was just as scared as she was excited - everything had been happening so quickly.

“Let me know if you need anything at all,” he said softly, his eyes drinking in the glory of her beauty.

“I am a little hungry,” she admitted.

“What would you like to eat? I can call and have it delivered to the room.”

Suheera looked at him a little sheepishly. “A cheeseburger?” She had become addicted to them while they were guests of the General's before leaving Baghdad. The chef had outdone himself in introducing Suheera to American cuisine. She’d tried to stay within the Islamic doctrines dictating food, but half the time she didn’t know what she was eating and had no say over it anyway. It was a price she was willing to pay to get out of Iraq.

“Whatever your little heart desires,” he said, winking at her. When he left the room, Suheera turned to her bag and opened it. Inside were the rich fabrics of her native clothes, Howie had insisted on buying her a new wardrobe before they left Iraq. He knew that she would not feel comfortable with Western clothes for a while and he didn't want to rush her into them.

“I think he will like this,” she said softly to herself, pulling out a richly colored tunic and pants. She took a shower and washed her hair and then donned the sumptuous new outfit. The silk felt like a dream against her skin, so soft and light and totally opposite of the oppressive burkha. When she entered the living room, she found him watching the local news.

“Wow!” was all he could say, his breath taken away. She glowed at the compliment.

She looked around the large, elegantly furnished room. “It is not the Hilton,” she said, trying not to smile at her own joke.

“Actually, it is,” he laughed. “But it certainly is nicer than the last hotel we stayed in together, isn't it?”

“But I would not trade that night for anything in the world,” she said softly, her eyes flashing.

“Me either,” Howie added, taking her in his arms. “You are better than any dream.” He kissed her slowly, deeply, passionately.

“You are my dream,” Suheera said, returning the kiss, but then pushed him reluctantly away. She might be pushing the limits on food, but she could not depart from the modesty required of her faith and she would not sleep with him, not until they were married.

The next morning they headed back to the airport for their flight to Los Angeles. Looking out the window as they departed New York, Suheera was awed, and a little frightened, by the massive buildings and sprawling city. “We are not…going to be living in a place like this, are we?” she asked hesitantly.

“No, not at all. It is a big city but we'll live far away from the busy part. It will be quiet and peaceful.”

Hira thought back to her village. “Will it be dry and dusty there? My home was always hot in the summer and cold in the winter.”

“Oh no. They call Los Angeles the city of angels. It's right on the ocean and the land is green with trees and grass, there are flowers growing in the yards. The summers can be hot but nothing like Iraq - the breeze off the ocean cools it off at night usually. Winters are not bad at all - no snow or bitterly cold winds.”

“That sounds nice. I am sure I will like it there.”

“I hope so,” Howie smiled, squeezing her hand. “I thought about taking you to my Florida house first, but decided that would be too much to take in. My parents will be waiting for us in Los Angeles; you can meet the rest of the family later.”

“You have two houses? You did not tell me you were so wealthy.” Although she still wore the veil, Howie could tell she was smiling.

“I did tell you, but I think you didn't believe me.”

“Those stories you told me - they were true?” Her eyes were wide.

“Every one of them.” He grinned at her shocked expression. “I have more than two houses actually, and I own a hotel and commercial real estate around the country.”

Suheera sat back in her seat, thinking back to the stories he had told her in Iraq. She’d thought them all tall tales, embellishments meant to impress her or distract her. The thoughts worried her; she wondered how she would fit into a lifestyle so foreign to her.

For the flight to Los Angeles, Suheera put on her prettiest clothes and hijab, pinning it up to hide her face. She could not bring herself to go without it, even though people stared at her.

“What if they do not like me?” she asked, gripping Howie's hand. He’d told her his parents would be meeting them at the airport.

“Don't worry. My parents are very nice people and they will adore you,” he assured her. Suheera wasn't sure but decided to put a brave face on it. They couldn't be any worse than her own parents and she knew they wouldn't be living with them, not like she would be in Iraq.

“Do you see them?” she asked as they exited the secure area of the airport.

“Over there...see the woman holding the flowers? That's my mom.” Howie led her over and introduced her.

“It is wonderful to meet you,” Paula said, handing Suheera the beautiful bouquet of flowers. “Welcome to the United States of America.”

“You are so kind,” Suheera said, tears in her eyes. Paula opened her arms and Suheera fell into them, amazed at the feel of motherly arms around her, something she had never felt before in her life. She could just feel the love pouring out of Howie's mother; it filled her heart with joy.

Howie's eyes filled with tears too, he was glad that his parents had so warmly welcomed Suheera. He hoped they would react as warmly when he told them he was planning on marrying her, if she would have him. He hadn't asked her yet, the time hadn't seemed right.

His parents had arrived the day before and opened his house, airing out the stuffiness. The house was warm and welcoming, full of fresh flowers and lit candles. Paula made dinner and then they sat and talked for a while. Howie was happy to see Suheera felt comfortable enough with his family to unveil her face. Suheera was pleased that Howie’s parents were indeed just as nice as he had told her they were.

When Suheera excused herself to the restroom, Paula pulled Howie into the kitchen for a private chat.

“She is a stunning woman, Howard. I can see why you've fallen in love with her.” Howie blushed; he hadn't told his mother anything about his feelings for her. “She's smart, courageous, and has a sense of humor - exactly what you need in a woman. Are you thinking about marrying her?”

Howie’s mouth hung open at his mother's directness. “I don't know,” he stammered, shocked that his mother had been so perceptive. “I want to ask her but I'm afraid to.”

“Don't be,” she admonished him. “She's just as much in love with you as you are with her.”

“How do you know?”

“A mom just knows these things,” she said, smiling.

“And you and Dad approve of her?”

“Of course, she's perfect for you...as long as you think she will be able to adapt to your world. You'll be away from home frequently, around many other women - does she understand that?”

“Not yet, I haven't really explained everything to her. She didn't believe me when I told her who I was, when I was a captive. She has a lot to get used to, I'm afraid. I won't throw that at her until I have to.”

“Well don't wait too long, she needs to know what she is getting into before she completely loses her heart to you.” Paula hugged him and then gently pushed him back into the living room, where Suheera and his dad were talking.

As Paula entered the room, she saw Suheera try to discreetly cover a yawn. “I think we’ll turn in now, Howard, it’s been a long day for everyone,” she said. “We’ll see you in the morning.” She took Hoke’s hand and pulled him towards their room.”

“Good night,” Suheera said, giving Paula a hesitant hug.

“Sleep well,” Paula said softly. “We’re so glad you’re here.” She kissed the young woman on the cheek.

“I will certainly try, but I think it will be hard to get to sleep,” she admitted. “And thank you for welcoming me into your family, I am so happy to have all of you in my life.” Suheera was embarrassed by the tears in her eyes. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed having a mother.

“We can’t stay but a day or two, but I’ll come back and we’ll get to know each other better.” She gave Suheera another hug. “I know Howie’s going to be in the studio in a month or two. I’ll come then, we’ll have plenty of girl time.”

Suheera was quiet as Howie tidied the kitchen. “Would you like a glass of wine before bed?” he asked.

She hesitated, she wasn’t allowed to drink alcohol, but surely a small glass wouldn’t hurt. “I think that would be nice,” Suheera said. He grabbed a bottle and two glasses and steered her out to the back deck. It was a clear night, warm with a bit of a breeze.

“So everything you told me, about being a celebrity, is true?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” Howie waited to see where her questions were leading.

“Your mother said you would be in the studio, what does that mean?”

“In about six weeks, we’re scheduled to start recording our next album. While we were stuck in Baghdad, the fellas were already meeting with producers and songwriters. I’ll need to catch up quickly; I’ll be pretty busy for the next few weeks.” He took a sip of his wine. “It will take about three months to record. We try to stay close to home but we might record in different cities, maybe even other countries.”

“I see.” Suheera gaze traveled over the well manicured garden.

“Then when the album is finished, it takes a little time to get a tour planned and get everything ready for the release. In less than a year from now, we’ll have to go out on a concert tour to promote it. We usually go to Asia, Europe, North America, sometimes South America and Australia too.”

“So then you would be gone for months,” she said softly.

Howie nodded. “But our families are always welcome to come along. Brian and Kevin’s wives and kids usually spend a lot of time on tour with us. Alex’s fiancé toured with us until the last leg; thankfully none of the family was with us then.” He reached out and took her hand. “We try to build breaks into the schedule so that we have some down time, weeks that we can spend with family.”

Suheera didn’t know what to think, everything was happening so fast. “I had no idea your life would be so busy. I guess that I do not understand your culture at all, life seems more hectic here.”

“It isn’t all that bad, I promise. When we tour, we get to see so many countries and meet wonderful people, try new food and learn new customs.” Howie wanted her to understand just what she’d be committing to. “We normally take a year or so off between albums, but couldn’t this time. When we aren’t recording or touring, it’s nothing but family time.”

“And you would be home then?”

Howie looked sheepish. “I have businesses to tend to, other singers that I manage, and my foundation. I’m not one to just sit at home doing nothing. Do you think you’d even want to deal with all that?”

“I do not know. It is all just so much to take in,” she admitted. “I do not know where I fit into your life. You are so busy and I…well, I have no idea what I will do. I do not know anyone here in this country.”

“I’ve thought about that, Suheera. I’ve worried about it a lot too, whether you’d really want to be with me, knowing the sacrifices that we make to do what we love.”

“I know about making sacrifices, Howie. I have done it my whole life.”

“If it was just me, honey, I’d do whatever I could to be home more. But there are so many other people involved. I can’t just quit, it wouldn’t be fair.”

“I understand that,” she said. “I do not want you to change for me. I just need to figure things out, so much has happened…” She left the sentence hanging.

“You don’t need to make any decisions now,” Howie said, taking her in his arms. “Let’s get settled in here and see how things go.”

Suheera pulled into the driveway, her hands shaking and muscles tense.

“That was very good, sweetheart! But I think you’ve had enough for today, ok?” He took a deep breath and released his hold on the arm rest, his knuckles showing white. This was the sixth driving lesson he’d given her, and although she was a fast learner, she’d had little exposure to driving, even as a passenger.

“Am I doing it right?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“You’re doing great,” he assured her. “You’ll have the hang of it in no time at all.” He wished he felt as optimistic as he sounded. Suheera had been trying very hard, but some things just didn’t come easily to her and driving was one of those things.

“I hope you are right,” she said, climbing slowly from the driver’s seat. “I do not feel very confident.”

Three months had gone by since she’d first arrived in America, and the culture shock was slow to wear off. Suheera had her own cell phone and debit card, a car to drive once she’d gotten her license, but she didn’t venture out of the house much. Howie took her out when he was home, but his schedule kept him busy and Suheera found herself alone more than she liked. She was learning American recipes, but still leaned towards cooking those things that she was familiar with. Howie didn’t mind, he loved food of all kinds.

He took her hand and led her inside; they spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing poolside. She felt uncomfortable showing any part of her body, and in a city where less is more, finding a suit that was acceptable was impossible. Howie finally found a website specializing in bathing attire for Muslim women and ordered her a suit that left only her feet and hands bare. He thought it a shame to cover such a body, but he respected her decision to stay true to her religion.

Suheera was overwhelmed with the differences in their cultures; Howie too was feeling the strain. Her ways were as odd to him as his were to her, but they tried their best to be sensitive and understanding. Howie yearned to touch her, to make love to her like they had done that night in Baghdad, but so far Suheera had only let him kiss her goodnight. She covered her magnificent body with layers of clothing, hid her glorious hair beneath silk hijabs, but at least she didn’t cover her face around him.

Howie was surprised at dinner when Suheera appeared wearing a long tunic and pants. She had been wearing long, flowing kaftans, with full sleeves and high necks. The tunic was beautifully embroidered in gold thread, with a slight scoop neckline and elbow length sleeves.

“You look amazing,” Howie said, giving her a hug. He was happy to see her hair uncovered as well, the shining length fell to the middle of her back. He yearned to stroke it but resisted, knowing that it might offend her.

“Thank you,” she blushed. “I thought it time to try a little more western style dress. I am sure you are tired of my old fashioned clothing.”

“Suheera, you wear whatever makes you comfortable.” He dished up their food; it was his turn to cook dinner, one of his rare nights off.

“I…wanted to ask you a favor,” she said hesitantly as she gathered their dishes after the meal. “I discovered that there is a mosque not too far from your home. I would like to attend, if that is ok with you?”

He reached out and took her hand. “I don’t want to keep you from your faith. Of course you may go; you don’t have to ask me first. I’m not your master, you do as you please.”

“I did not want to offend you.”

“Would it offend you if I went to my church?” Suheera shook her head. “There is nothing that you could do that would offend me, sweetheart. I worry about offending you though, I know little about your culture. Women are treated so differently than what I’m used to, I’m afraid I will say or do the wrong thing.”

“You have treated me with the utmost respect and consideration since we met,” she said softly. “I appreciate so much everything that you have done for me.” She pulled him to his feet, and then entwined her arms around his neck.

“It’s been my pleasure,” he said, his voice thick with desire. This was the first time she had initiated any intimate contact between them. He kissed her gently, then with more insistence. Suheera returned the kiss, running her fingers through his hair.

With a small groan, he finally gave in to the temptation of her hair. It was just as soft as he imagined it to be, thick and heavy and silky to the touch. His lips moved to her neck, the velvet skin held the lightest fragrance of fruit; it tickled his senses and left him reeling.

Suheera felt as if her heart would jump out of her chest it was beating so hard. Howie’s kisses trailed down her exposed neck; she felt his fingertips pressing lightly into her back, stroking her hair. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensations washing over her. With a sigh she pushed him away.

“We must not continue,” she whispered with regret. Seeing the hurt in his eyes, she tried to explain. “It is not that I do not want you – but we are not married.”

“Then marry me, Suheera. I’ve asked three times already but you never give me an answer.”

“You paid Naseem a great deal of money for me, but I am not ready,” Suheera said, her eyes downcast. “We do not know each other well enough yet, Howie.”

“I didn’t buy you, Suheera. You are not my property; you can marry whom you wish.” He turned away from her, not wanting her to see the pain in his heart. “You want a Muslim as a husband. Now it doesn’t matter as much if you’re not a virgin.”

Suheera cringed at the accusation in his voice. “That is partly true. An orthodox Muslim would not consider me for marriage, but others in the faith would,” she admitted. “I now have options that I did not have before. But I promised that I would marry you, so I will keep my promise, when I am ready.”

“I won’t hold you to that promise, Suheera. You obviously don’t want to marry me.”

“I never said that,” she said. She reached out to touch him but he flinched away, the nearness of her only fueled the passion he was feeling. He was afraid if she touched him he would lose all control. “I am afraid that our feelings for each other are based on our situation in Iraq, and what happened in Baghdad.”

“I don’t know about you, Suheera, but I know what love feels like and I love you.” He turned and walked out of the kitchen, pausing in the doorway. “I’ll give you time to decide what you want…but I won’t wait forever.”

With tears running down her face, Suheera washed the dishes and put them away. The evening had not gone as she planned. She loved Howie, she was sure of that, but she wasn’t sure that she could give up completely her old way of life so that she could be a woman he would be proud to be with.

The day before they’d gone to the beach, walking along the sand while the wavelets tickled their toes. It was her first time to play in the ocean, she’d marveled at the vast expanse of blue. As it was an extremely hot and windy day, she’d worn a lightweight kaftan. But she’d made a bad choice of fabric; it stuck to her sweaty skin as the wind blew around her.

Suheera tried not to stare at the women around her; they were practically naked, their private parts covered only with tiny triangles of fabric held together with strings. Men openly stared at them; she’d seen the lust in their eyes. And she’d seen the appreciation in Howie’s eyes as well; he hadn’t been immune to them either.

In her society, it was a sign of respect to cover yourself. Only a woman’s husband was allowed to bask in her beauty, her body was for his eyes only. Yet these women thoroughly enjoyed displaying themselves to any man who cared to look.

But the men looked at her as well; she was unaware of the appealing sight she made when the kaftan clung to her generous curves. She pretended not to notice the admiring glances, but to her consternation, she’d liked their attention. All her life she’d been hidden away, told she was too ugly for any man to ever want, but the men’s eyes told her differently. Howie wanted her, she could see that quite plainly, but she’d written that off to puppy love – she’d rescued him from certain death and he was grateful to her, nothing more.

Suheera felt a great confusion. She wanted to fit in but her conservative Islamic upbringing prevented her from embracing the western values that she knew Howie admired, and expected her to adopt. She didn’t know if she could, she didn’t want to disappoint him.

Turning off the kitchen light, Suheera headed for her bedroom. She heard the water running in Howie’s bathroom; she could imagine him standing naked in the shower. The image of his body was burned into her memory, every night she dreamed of him making love to her. With a sigh she entered her own room and closed the door.

Howie was indeed in the shower, the water cold enough to quell the passion that he’d had to hold in check. Suheera’s reaction to his advances puzzled him; he’d thought that she wanted him. She had seduced him in Baghdad, drugged him even. Like he’d have to be drugged to want her, she was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever set eyes on.

As he lay in bed, he wondered if she had indeed used him just to get into the United States. He hadn’t thought so before, but now he was not so sure. He wasn’t legally responsible for her; he had only promised her friends that he would take care of her, which he was doing. Soon she would be capable of fending for herself, if that was what she wanted.

The thought of her leaving broke his heart, no matter what she said he knew he was deeply in love with her. Even his last relationship, which had lasted six years, hadn’t felt like this. He couldn’t go an hour without thinking about her; his dreams were filled with her luscious body. With a groan, he rolled over and closed his eyes, knowing that sleep would be hard to find this night.

Howie yawned as he left the studio, it was four in the morning and they’d been recording all night long. This was the sixth day in a row they’d been in the studio, just one more day was left of this session and he’d be able to go home for some rest.

Nashville was nice this time of year. The oppressive heat of the summer had been replaced by autumn’s slightly chilly days. He pulled his jacket closer, it was foggy and damp. They climbed into a van and while they drove to the hotel, Howie checked his cell phone for messages. There were several, but none from Suheera.

“Why the big frown, D?” Brian asked, covering his own yawn. They were all exhausted but pleased with the progress they were making on the new album. Most of the songs had been recorded; they were now putting the finishing touches on them.

“I haven’t heard from Suheera in a couple of days. I’ve been trying to call her but she never answers.”

“Maybe she lost her phone again,” AJ said.

“It’s possible; she has a hard time keeping up with it.” Howie smiled to himself, she was on her third phone so far. She had a bad habit of setting it down and forgetting where she left it, thankfully they’d all been lost somewhere in the house or car – he didn’t want his cell phone number getting out.

He hoped that she’d lost it yet again instead of the sneaky suspicion that she was avoiding him. The last couple of months he’d been gone more than he was home. It wasn’t by choice; he’d explained to her, his work required that he travel. She’d said that she understood, but he’d seen the loneliness in her eyes. He sent her a text message, hoping that she’d get it.

On the bedside table, the cell phone vibrated softly, waking Suheera from her dreams. She picked up the phone; it was a text from Howie. ‘I love you, I miss you, I’ll see you very soon,’ he’d written. She turned off the phone and placed it back on the table.

Suheera felt guilty for avoiding his calls lately. It would be easy to explain it away, declaring that she’d misplaced her phone for a few days. The truth was she didn’t want to talk to him, her mind in turmoil over the recent turn of events.

Two months ago, as Suheera left the mosque, she accidentally backed into a man’s car. Her SUV had not been damaged but his had a large dent. He’d been quite gracious about the accident, assuring her that his insurance would cover the repairs so she hadn’t even mentioned it to Howie. Since then, she’d seen him around the mosque a number of times.

Three weeks later, the imam called her into his office after prayers. “A man is interested in courting you, and since you have no male relatives living here, I’ve been asked to introduce you,” he told her. Suheera was stunned by his words; she hadn’t considered such a possibility.

“I guess I could meet him,” she stuttered, not sure how to respond. Although she was living in Howie’s home, they were not technically a couple. He had asked her to marry him but she hadn’t answered since she believed that he wasn’t serious. Since then, he’d made an effort to court her but his work schedule took him away from her for long stretches of time. She wasn’t sure just what their relationship was at this point.

The imam opened the door and gestured to a man standing outside to enter his office. “Suheera, this is Fareed.”

Suheera was glad she had pinned her hijab over her face, it covered her look of surprise at seeing the man whose car she had damaged a few weeks earlier.

“It is a pleasure to meet you once again,” Fareed said, a smile on his handsome face. He was tall and muscular, his clothes well fitting and expensive.

She felt suddenly tongue tied, unsure of what to say. The imam came to her rescue, inviting them to walk with him around the grounds while they got to know each other. Custom decreed that they not be left alone together.

“You seem surprised,” Fareed said. Suheera nodded, she was feeling very shy at the moment. “I was shocked to learn that you are still single. You have not been married before?”

Suheera knew she had to tell Fareed about her past, it would not be fair to him to keep it from him. His request to court her meant he was interested in marrying her, and he might change his mind once he knew more about her. She didn’t think she could take the look of disgust she would see on his face once he learned of her past. “I do not think this is a good idea,” she said. “I made a mistake agreeing to this.”

“Please, give me a chance.” She thought he sounded sincere.

“You will not want to be associated with me, believe me.”

“Let me decide that, Suheera. I cannot imagine what would be so horrifying in your background that would drive me away.” He smiled gently at her, his eyes sparkling with humor. He thought she was being overly dramatic.

Suheera decided there was no point in sugar coating the truth. “Since you asked, no, I have not been married but I was twice engaged. Both times my fiancé died right before the ceremony,” she admitted. “After that, no one asked to court me. My father was unable to even pay someone to marry me, everyone said I was cursed. He locked me away in his house; I became a servant to my stepmother.”

Fareed could hear the bitterness in her voice. It was understandable, no young woman wanted to be a servant. He wondered why no one would marry her; a beautiful woman would be sought after even if she carried some kind of stigma. Suheera always wore a full veil to mosque which made many people wonder about her. Her clothes could not hide a shapely figure, but her face was an unknown. “How did you come to be in America? It is a long ways from Iraq.”

Suheera glanced at the imam; he was far enough ahead of them that he couldn’t hear what they were saying. “My father sold me into slavery to repay a debt. I ended up as the servant to two unmarried brothers.” She glanced quickly at his face; she could see the shock written plainly. “They stuck me in a burkha and worked me mercilessly, beat me whenever they felt like it. But they did not take my innocence, they feared my curse.”

“But your reputation was forever ruined,” Fareed said.

Suheera nodded and then continued. “They brought an American prisoner into their home, forced me to care for him. I had never been that close to a man before, he terrified me, but over the weeks we became friends. He treated me as an equal and listened to me. He respected me, the first time any man had ever done that.”

“I’ve heard nothing to dissuade me yet. Your purity can be verified,” Fareed said softly. “Although it is irregular for a Muslim woman to have a male friend, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Suheera knew that soon he would change his mind. “I learned that the American was about to be killed, so I smuggled him to Baghdad. He promised to take me back with him.” Suheera paused for breath, she was talking fast to try to lessen the blow her next words would bring. “We had been on the run for three days straight. We were exhausted, and it was too dangerous to sleep on the city streets so I found us a hotel room. That night I…I drugged him and seduced him. I knew he would not make love to me otherwise, he respected me.”

Fareed gasped. “Why in the world would you give him your innocence? A complete stranger, and an unbeliever as well.”

Suheera bowed her head; tears ran down her cheeks unchecked. “I knew in my heart that I would not be going home with him, sometimes promises cannot be kept no matter how much you wish for it. Because of my father’s actions, no Muslim man would marry me, even though I was still a virgin. I knew my only options would be to live my life alone, become someone’s mistress, or prostitution – and I would rather die.” She pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. “I wanted to know what it was like to be loved. I knew Howie would be gentle with me, he cared for me and I cared for him. I thought that I could live my life alone and be happy with that one wonderful memory.”

“You gave in to the temptations of the flesh,” Fareed said. Suheera thought she heard an undercurrent of anger in his words. He was angry, but not for the reason she thought. He had counted on her still being a virgin, her value was now much less than before.

“Yes, I did,” Suheera admitted. “But in all honesty, would you not have done the same thing, faced with the knowledge that you would live your entire life not knowing what it was like to be loved?”

“Men are not as weak willed as women; they are not as easily tempted by the flesh. But I doubt Allah would approve of your actions,” he said. His words were harsh but not unexpected. She had thought he would have a more violent reaction; Fareed was more tolerant than she thought he would be. “But he must have taken you with him after all, since you are here now.”

Suheera shook her head. “I was granted asylum but was kidnapped from the American hospital before the arrangements were made. I managed to get away and made my way to a friend’s house, I was terrified that they would find me again. It was there, several months later, that Howie found me. Next thing I knew, we were flying to America.”

“And is it what you thought it would be?” Fareed asked.

“I had no idea what to expect. I am feeling very overwhelmed, western ways are so different from what I was raised to believe in.”

“Which is why you spend so much time at mosque,” Fareed added, remembering seeing Suheera there quite often over the last few months. “And where are you staying?”

“I am Howie’s house guest.” Fareed’s head jerked around at that. “He respects my customs; we have not had any further encounters.”

“Is he courting you?” he asked, feeling a tremble start deep within him.

“Yes and no.” Suheera fumbled with the tissue, shredding it into tiny pieces. “He is a celebrity, a singer, and is gone much of the time. When he is home, we go out and everything is good. When he is gone, I am bored and lonely.”

Fareed knew then that he still had a chance with Suheera. She was lonely and overwhelmed; having someone who understood her would give him the advantage he needed to win her away from her American boyfriend. “Even after everything you have told me, I would still like to court you.” Her background was unconventional but there was something about her that drew him in.

“It does not bother you that I am no longer a virgin?” she asked, glancing at the imam to make sure he couldn’t hear her question.

“I understand the motivation behind your decision. To be honest, I was looking for a virgin to marry but it is not a deal breaker,” he said with a laugh. “I appreciate your honesty; you could have lied to me and faked it on our wedding night. It has been known to happen.” She wondered at the bitterness in his voice.

“I would never lie to you,” Suheera said. “I have deep feelings for Howie, I think you should know that. He has asked me to marry him, but I have not given him my answer.”

“Then your feelings must not be as deep as you believe, otherwise you’d have told him yes.”

“It is not that easy, Fareed. I am obligated to marry Howie; he paid a large bride price for me. He saved me; I was only a day away from being sold into prostitution.” She swallowed the lump in her throat; it was hard thinking back to that time. “But he has released me, told me I am free to marry as I please. In my heart I do not know what I want.”

Fareed wondered if he would have to pay the man for Suheera. He had the money, but he would look weak to his family if he had to buy a bride – normally the bride’s parents paid the groom. He decided she was worth the risk, he could always back out at the last minute if need be. There were several things in her background which would make it an easy thing to do without losing face. “So will you consent to my courtship? I understand that I am not the only one courting you, I can accept that.”

Suheera blushed; she’d never had so much male attention before. “I do not even know you.”

“That’s what courtship is for,” he explained gently. “But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll tell you about myself. I’m 31, I was married for three years but my wife died in a car accident five years ago. I have a master’s degree in engineering, and I have my own architectural company. I’m not as wealthy as your celebrity, but I make a good living and could provide handsomely for you. My family lives here as well, we all attend mosque and are well respected in our community. Our children would be raised in the tradition of Islam.”

“Would your family approve of me?”

“My family doesn’t need to know all the details of your former life,” he said after a long moment of thought. “They trust my judgment.”

That answer told Suheera a lot about Fareed’s family, she knew that they would not approve of her if they knew what she had gone through. Fareed seemed to be able to get past it, but his family would not. It had been different with Howie’s family; they had welcomed her with open arms. When Paula came to visit, Suheera told her about her past. Paula had hugged and comforted her, she had not judged her.

Even though she was still leery of him, Suheera agreed to Fareed’s courtship – but that didn’t mean she was locked into marrying him. Courtship wasn’t common in Islam, usually a marriage was arranged between families, but since Suheera had no family, the imam had agreed to courtship so that they could get to know one another before deciding on marriage.

Over the next six weeks, and only when Howie was out of town, she’d gone out with Fareed. They met in a public place and then went to dinner and a movie, which seemed to be Fareed’s idea of a good time. Although the imam had given them permission to meet without a chaperone, Fareed was cautious in his courtship, never giving anyone cause to comment negatively on their relationship.

Fareed was kind and gentle, never asking more of her than she was prepared to give. She didn’t feel comfortable removing her veil; he had yet to see her face. She knew he was curious but etiquette rules forbade him from asking her to remove it. Suheera had not meant for any man but her husband to see her face, and that would’ve been after the ceremony. Most Muslim women in America did not cover their faces, only their hair and necks, the rules here were more relaxed then they were in her village.

She felt awkward with Fareed; he never seemed to be completely at ease with her either. They talked at length about themselves, spoke of religion and their hopes and dreams. From their conversations, she knew that her only role would be as mother to the many children he wished to have. That realization made her think of her mother. Suheera had a faded photograph of a woman who looked to be in her 40s although only in her 20s. She had aged prematurely by constant pregnancies, caring for so many children, and running a household for a demanding husband and sons.

The more Suheera thought about the two men, the more confused she got. On paper, Fareed was the perfect mate for her – he was wealthy, well respected, and of the same religion. But there was something missing from their relationship, that spark she felt with Howie. But she had real doubts about her ability to withstand the pressure of being the wife of a celebrity. She couldn’t bear to think of the loneliness and boredom she would face when he was gone, not to mention the temptations she knew he faced on a daily basis.

Suheera didn’t know how she was going to explain Fareed to Howie, but she knew she had to tell him. She had dinner on the table when Howie arrived home from Nashville. He’d called her from the airport to let her know when he’d be home.

“This is an unexpected surprise,” he said, sitting down to eat. “It looks delicious!”

“I hope you like it. I wanted to make you something special, I know you have been eating out for the last week.”

They made casual conversation over dinner, but Howie felt Suheera seemed nervous. He wondered what had happened while he was gone, she seemed different to him. After they cleared the dishes, Suheera pulled him into the living room, he could feel her trembling.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, alarmed at the blush that colored her face.

“I have something to tell you, I just do not know how to say it,” she said, unable to meet his eyes.

He looked at her for a long moment, studying her. “You’ve met someone else, I can see it in your face,” he said. “You’ve been avoiding my calls, not returning text messages.”

“You are very perceptive.”

“I’ve been dumped before, I know all the signs,” he said. “I guess this is where you tell me how fun it’s been but that it’s over between us.”

“It is not like that at all,” Suheera said. “Yes, I met someone else, but I do not want to end it with you.”

“So you want your cake and to eat it too?” Howie asked sarcastically. Suheera looked confused, that was a phrase she’d never heard before. “What I meant was that you want to date him and me.”

“Is that a bad thing?” she asked. “Back in Iraq, when I asked you if you had a woman back home, you told me that you were seeing several different women.”

“I lied,” Howie said. “I wasn’t seeing anyone; I didn’t want you to think I was a loser.”

“I would never think that of you,” she said softly. “But I thought it was common in America for people to date more than one person at a time.”

“It is, but I don’t do it.” He swallowed hard, trying to push his heart back down his throat. “What does he have that I don’t?”

Suheera winced at the tone of his voice. “He is Muslim like me, and he understands me. He knows what a hard time I am having right now. He is helping me learn to adjust to a new life.”

Howie felt guilt replace the anger in his soul. “I wish you had told me, maybe there is something that I can do to help you.”

“You are never home,” she said gently, not wanting to hurt him.

“Mama told me that this would be difficult for you, I didn’t believe her. You’re such an amazing woman; I thought it would be an easy transition for you.” He sighed, then took her hand and squeezed it. “All I want is for you to be happy. If that means letting you go, then I’ll step aside.”

Suheera felt her heart drop at his words. “You do not want to be with me?”

“I want to be with you more than anything in the world. But if I can’t be the man you need me to be, then it’s best that you find someone who can.”

“I am afraid I cannot be the woman you want, Howie. I cannot wear a tiny bathing suit or show my breasts in glamorous dresses. I cannot dance in nightclubs until 2 am and drink until I throw up.”

Howie laughed. “You’ve been watching too much TV, Suheera! My life isn’t like that, and I don’t want you to be like that either.” He scooted next to her, put his arm around her hesitantly. She didn’t push him away so he pulled her closer. “I love you for who you are, and what you are. My days of bikinis and barfing are long gone, sweetheart, I’m ready to settle down with a wife and children of my own.”

“Really? You want children?”

“Yes, of course. I can’t wait to have a child.” He laughed at the shocked look on her face. “I’m a family man at heart, Suheera. I want to spend every moment with you, but right now I can’t. I wish that I had a job where I could come home to you every evening, but it’s not what I do. It’s really hard on the wives and girlfriends, I know, but the life has benefits too.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Like getting to live in gorgeous houses like this,” he indicated the century old beautifully restored house he lived in. “Meeting other celebrities, travel to exotic places, eating in the finest restaurants, driving nice cars, and the finest silk and lace hijabs to cover the most beautiful hair in the world.”

Suheera blushed; she did have the finest clothes of anyone at mosque. Howie had been extremely generous in filling her closets with only the best fabrics.

“Look, we’re going to Japan in three weeks to do a couple of promo shows. Why don’t you come with me? It will just be for a week, and that way you’ll get to see what being on the road is like without all the pressure of a full tour.” Howie knew it was the safest place to take her, the Japanese people adored him but they were also quite respectful and not as fanatic as other places they played.

Suheera felt like she owed him something, he had been willing to step aside if she chose Fareed. “Alright, I will go. It will be an adventure!” She felt a glow of excitement in her stomach, she could hardly wait.

“Before then, though, I think you should meet the guys I work with. I’ll arrange a small dinner party, just for them, and we’ll have it catered so it won’t be any work for you.”

“I would like to cook for them,” Suheera said. “I used to cook for my father when he entertained; it would be fun to do so again. Do you think they would like Iraqi foods?”

“As long as it isn’t kubba,” Howie said with a grimace.

“No, no kubba!” Suheera laughed. “I have been experimenting with recipes, making them more American. I think they would like them, you do.”

Howie was glad to see the sparkle back in her eyes. Planning a party would maybe keep her mind off of her other beau. The fact that she was seeing someone else distressed him immensely, but at least she had told him about it and not lied to him. He knew he was going to have to work hard to win her back, to prove to her that she was meant to be with him. Why else had God brought them together?

As the jet touched down in Tokyo, Suheera felt her pulse begin to race. Although the city of huge skyscrapers frightened her, she knew Howie and Marcus would keep her safe, she trusted them. They were soon whisked away in a large tour bus and taken to a five-star hotel.

As they settled into their suite, she finally began to relax. The hotel was the nicest she had ever seen, with marble in the bathroom and the softest linens she’d ever felt. The view of the surrounding buildings left her breathless, she’d never seen so many crammed into one place.

“What do you think of the city?” Howie asked while unpacking his bag.

“I have never seen such crowds before!”

“Hard to believe so many people live here, isn’t it?” He’d carefully explained everything that she’d see and be expected to do, what his schedule would be like and who they were traveling with. He didn’t want anything to catch her off guard or upset her, he was sure that this trip could make or break his relationship with her. “Some people live in apartments that are smaller than this suite.”

“Really? I could never do that!”

Howie laughed. “Your clothes wouldn’t fit, would they?”

“Be quiet!” she teased. “You have just as many clothes as I do.”

“That’s true,” he admitted. He glanced down at his watch. “Can you be ready for dinner in two hours?”

“Of course, can you?” She squealed and ducked the flying pillow. “Missed me, ha!” But she didn’t see the second pillow and it smacked her right in the face.

“I’m so sorry, Suheera! Are you ok?” He rushed to her side, she hadn’t said a word. She swung the pillow in her hand and walloped him upside the head, giggling madly. “Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be!” Howie grabbed another pillow and soon a fight was on, the two of them laughing so hard they didn’t hear the knock on their door.

“Children, please!” Marcus said, standing in the doorway. “Do you think you can keep the noise level down, huh?”

Sheepishly they dropped the pillows. “Sorry Uncle Marshmallow, we’ll behave like good little children now,” Howie said with a smirk.

“Uncle Marshmallow my ass!” he growled. “I need to see you in my room in five minutes.”

As the door closed, they both burst out laughing again. “I hope I did not get you in trouble,” Suheera said.

“Oh no, Marcus is just being a grouch - he doesn’t mean it. He’s just jealous because he’s usually the one who starts these things.” He threw the pillows back on the bed. “It’s probably just a quick team meeting about security. Why don’t you take a hot bath? The tub will help you relax after all the stress of traveling.”

“Sounds like a good idea, I think I will.” She gave him a quick kiss and headed off to the bathroom. Howie wished he could join her, the tub looked big enough for four, let alone two, but they were still not at that stage of their relationship. He understood that it was going to take time, but a man could only take so much without exploding.

When she joined him for a late dinner, Howie marveled at just how beautiful she looked. Instead of her usual loose fitting clothes, she wore a more form fitting kaftan, one that didn’t disguise her curves. She’d made up her eyes, giving them an even more smoky appearance. Her hijab was a fine, sheer silk and she wore no under scarf so that her hair shone a deep brown beneath it. With the veil pinned up to cover her lower face, she looked mysterious and sultry.

Howie escorted her to the private dining room, where they joined the rest of their party. Suheera unpinned the veil, the dinner party the week before had gone so well that she felt completely comfortable with Howie’s band mates and their families. She even laughed at AJ’s jokes, toned down of course because of Suheera and the two kids. Howie had begged them to be on their best behavior this trip and so far they had complied, they all could see just how important Suheera was to him.

Howie ordered her dinner, careful to get something he thought she would like. Suheera was open to experimenting with new foods, but he knew she had her limits, and there were things that she wasn’t allowed to eat. He figured she might not appreciate eating octopus or something else exotic. She sipped at a glass of wine.

“Go easy on the sake, Suheera,” Howie warned. “It doesn’t seem like much right now, but it’ll sneak up on you later.” But as dinner went on, he forgot to watch how much she drank and by the time they left the private dining room, Suheera was quite unsteady on her feet.

She was glad Howie took her elbow and guided her through the hotel restaurant. He’d been right about the sake, she’d never felt this way before. She noticed all the eyes that turned her way - appreciative glances from the men, and jealousy from the women.

“Why are they staring at me, Howie?” she asked as they walked towards the elevators. She’d left the veil unpinned, unusual for her while appearing in public.

“Because you are a beautiful, exotic flower,” he whispered.

“I am not pretty, look at me,” she pointed to her reflection in the mirror. “My stepmother and my half sisters all told me I was the ugliest girl they had ever seen.”

“They lied,” AJ said, coming to stand next to them in the elevator. “You are one of the most stunning women I’ve ever seen.”

“And he’s seen a lot of women,” Howie said with a laugh.

“Very funny,” AJ said. “Really, Suheera, I mean it. Perhaps they were all jealous of you. I don’t know why they lied, but you have to believe that you are definitely not ugly.” He was about to extol further on her virtues but a look from Howie stopped him. Instead he just made small talk as they found their way back to their rooms.

“It’s been a long day, sweetheart, and I bet you’re tired. And you’ve had too much to drink,” Howie said as he closed the door behind them, keeping a hand on her arm to keep her from falling over. “You’re not used to traveling, you should try to get some sleep,” he said when she protested it was still early.

“Can I just sit and watch television with you for a while?” she asked.

“Sure.” He got them each a bottle of water from the mini fridge and flipped on the flat screen. Suheera sat down next to him, letting him hold her close. He breathed in her unique scent, he never tired of it.

“I like this new snuggly you,” he said. When they were together around other people, she usually kept him at arm’s length. She allowed him to hold her hand or hug her only when no one was around to see.

“I like to feel your arms around me, makes me feel safe,” she said.

“Good, I like to feel you in my arms too.” For a while they watched a local show, subtitled in English. Suheera yawned; he felt her body relax into him.

“Will I see you in the morning?” she asked sleepily.

“Probably not until the afternoon, we have early morning interviews.” He kissed the side of her head. “I’m sure that Leighanne will want to go shopping. I’ll have her check in with you in the morning, ok?”

“That sounds like fun.” Minutes later she was softly snoring in his ear. With a grin, he picked her up and carried her into her room and laid her on the bed. He didn’t dare attempt to get her into her night clothes, he figured she would wake up on her own later and change. He closed her door and went back to the TV, but soon retired to his own room.

Howie woke up later, disoriented, and then remembered he was in Tokyo. He snuggled deeper into the covers, and then suddenly realized he wasn’t alone in bed. Suheera laid behind him, an arm draped over his chest, her fingers buried in his chest hair.

He turned over so that they were face to face. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “I want you to make love to me,” she whispered.

“No you don’t,” he whispered back. “That is the sake talking.” He looked over at the clock; he’d only been in bed an hour. He knew just how drunk Suheera had been earlier, he felt she was probably still under its influence.

“Please, Howie?” When she wiggled closer to him, he realized that she was completely naked. He groaned, trying to resist the temptation.

“You need to go back to your own bed,” he said firmly.

“I don’t want to,” she pouted. “I want to make love.”

“If we did, you’d be upset in the morning,” he whispered. She pulled his head down for a long kiss and pressed her body against his, he could feel her taut nipples pressing against his chest. With a groan he pushed her away. “No more sake for you, sweetheart, ever again.” He led her back to bed, helped her put on her nightgown and tucked her safely back under the covers.

It took all his willpower to walk away from her. He could make love to her and she probably wouldn’t even remember it in the morning. But he’d know what he’d done, and Howie couldn’t live with that. He closed his own bedroom door and turned the lock, just in case she decided to try again. He didn’t know if he could turn her away a second time.

Howie was up at 5am the next morning and dressed for a long morning of interviews. He peeked in at Suheera, she was sound asleep. As he left his room, he ran into Brian and Leighanne.

“Do you mind checking in on Suheera after while?” he asked Leighanne. “I imagine she’s going to have the hangover from hell this morning.”

“She drank that much last night?” Brian asked.

“I woke up last night to find her in my bed, naked, wanting to make love.”

“You didn’t!” Leighanne said, ready to jump on Howie for misbehaving.

“Don’t worry; I didn’t take advantage of the situation. Although I was sorely tempted,” he admitted with a wry smile.

“Good for you,” Leighanne said. “I’ll see if I can’t distract her with some retail therapy.” Howie thanked her and took off towards the elevators with Brian.

“Did you really sleep with her and just tell Leighanne what she wanted to hear?” Brian said, curious.

“I took her back into her own room – and then locked my door because I didn’t trust myself,” Howie said with a laugh.

After breakfast, Leighanne knocked on Howie’s door. Suheera answered, dressed in a silk hotel robe and looking far worse than she had the night before. “You feel that bad?” Leighanne asked.

“I have had better mornings,” Suheera said softly. She invited Leighanne to come inside.

“Why don’t you take a shower and get dressed, I’ll order you some breakfast and then we’ll go out shopping. Spending money always makes me feel better after a bad night.”

Later that afternoon, the two sat in a restaurant, lingering over a late lunch. One of the group’s bodyguards sat at another table, close enough to protect them but far enough away to give them a little privacy.

“I have only had one real girlfriend before,” Suheera told Leighanne. “I met her while I was in school in Baghdad. We used to confide in each other all the time, not that we really had anything to keep secret,” she laughed.

“Having girlfriends is great. Sometimes it really helps to have another woman to talk to, someone who understands you,” Leighanne said. “Especially if you aren’t close to your mother.”

Suheera was quiet for a bit. “I have never really had a mother. My real mother died giving birth to me and my stepmother despised me, she treated me worse than the servants.”

“I’m sorry for that, Suheera. I can’t imagine growing up in a household where you weren’t loved.” She took a long sip of tea. “If there’s anything that you want to talk about, I’m always here for you.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” Leighanne thought that maybe Suheera was going to open up to her, but she remained quiet.

That night at the concert, Suheera sat with Leighanne and Baylee in the audience. She didn’t want to call attention to herself so she’d worn a plain tunic and hijab. Leighanne watched her closely, ready to pull her backstage if she seemed to be getting overwhelmed, but she soon saw that Suheera was mesmerized with watching Howie onstage. She smiled to herself; the Boys had so much stage presence and energy that you couldn’t help yourself.

Suheera found she could not sit demurely and watch the concert as she’d intended. The girls around her screamed and danced and sang along, it was so contagious she soon joined in. By the end of the show she was exhausted but exhilarated, her pulse pounding, and she wanted more.

In the bus going back to the hotel, she couldn’t sit still. Howie grinned; he knew the music would win her over. “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked.

“Yes! I have never had so much fun before in my life!” Her eyes were shining brightly and she squeezed his hand. Sometime during the concert her veil had come unpinned and she hadn’t even noticed. “When is the next show?”

Howie laughed, it made him happy to see her like this. Suheera was like a butterfly, shedding her protective cocoon of shyness and insecurity to become the radiant woman she was destined to be.

“There’s another show tomorrow night. But I’m not sure I can find you a ticket,” he teased. Suheera’s face fell.

“Don’t worry, if mean old Howie won’t take you I will,” AJ said with a smile, winking at his band mate to let him know he wasn’t trying to move in on his girl.

She stuck her lower lip out in a pout. “You two are just messing with me!” Howie laughed again, she had already learned many new American phrases, fortunately none of the obscene ones.

“You’ll always have a ticket, my love,” he whispered in her ear.

Their time in Japan flew by way too quickly for Howie; he was truly enjoying this trip and the new Suheera he was seeing. Instead of flying to their third appearance, the group opted to ride the bullet train to Osaka, traveling at nearly 200 miles per hour.

“Can I ask you something?” Suheera said, watching the countryside slide by at an alarming rate. Howie nodded, entranced by the sight as well. “As much as I love taking care of you, doing that and going to mosque just are not enough to keep me busy.”

“I’m sure we can find something for you to do.” He turned to look at her face. She was veiled, as usual, but he could see she was sincere in her request and not just idly complaining. “Do you want to find a job so that you have your own money?”

“No, that is not it. I am just…bored.”

“I understand. Leighanne started her own business to stay busy; you could always talk to her about it. Maybe she would have some ideas?”

“You do not have any objection to me working?” she asked hesitantly.

“Of course not. I’d love for you to get out of the house more.” He took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Maybe you’d like to go to school? There are several universities nearby, or trade schools.”

“What is a trade school?” Suheera asked.

“It’s where you go to learn a specific skill, like fixing cars, computer science or photography or even cooking.”

“They have schools to learn how to cook?” She was intrigued, she’d never heard of that before.

“They’re quite popular. Many people go to school to learn to be chefs and then go on to work at restaurants – or even open their own restaurant.”

Suheera was still thinking about school as they pulled into the Osaka station. When she’d asked Fareed the same question, he’d told her that she’d be much too busy taking care of their children to work outside of the home. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be chained to the house as her mother had been.

On the final day of their trip, Leighanne and Suheera went for one last shopping excursion before heading back to the United States. They were booked on an overnight flight so they had plenty of time to kill before they had to be at the airport.

“Did you know there is a large Islamic community in Tokyo?” Leighanne asked, Suheera shook her head. They were once again in Tokyo; the ride back on the bullet train wasn’t nearly as exciting as the first one had been. “Muslim men from several countries come here to work, there are more jobs here than at home. Close to the Islamic Center are some shops I thought you might like.”

So far Leighanne had been unable to convince Suheera to purchase anything for herself. She’d bought Howie some clothes, with Leighanne’s help, and some mementoes but nothing to wear, despite the relative low cost of silk in the stores.

The stores were exactly what Suheera had been hoping to find, and she happily spent several hours shopping. They offered clothes which were stylish and well made, but kept her modesty intact. “Will Howie be mad that I am spending so much of his money?” she asked Leighanne over lunch. At her feet were shopping bags filled with clothes and head scarves of a quality she was unable to find in Los Angeles. “My father insisted that I wear nice clothes, but my stepmother would only allow me to have two nice outfits, for when I went out in public. The rest of the time I wore her worn out clothes.”

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, honey. Howie is generous to a fault.” The more Leighanne learned of Suheera’s childhood, the more thankful she became that Howie had brought her back. No one knew much about her, Howie had not shared much information at all. And Suheera was reticent to talk about herself.

“I think that is a good thing, it appears I bought half the store,” she laughed, and then excused herself to the restroom. Leighanne noticed Suheera’s cell phone on the floor; it must have fallen from her bag when she stood up. She laid it on the table next to her own plate as a reminder to give it back to her. A moment later it beeped softly; she couldn’t help but look down at it.

The text message was from a number identified as Fareed. It read ‘I know I promised not to text you while you’re with him, but I can’t help it. I miss you so much and can’t wait to see you again, call me when you get back.’

“You dropped your phone,” Leighanne said when Suheera returned. She slid the phone across the table. Suheera glanced down; the text message from Fareed was clearly visible. “Are you seeing someone behind Howie’s back?” she asked. Leighanne normally didn’t get involved in Brian’s co-worker’s lives, even though they all felt like family. But she couldn’t ignore the message; she cared too much for Howie.

“No, I am not. They are both well aware of each other,” Suheera said.

“So you are dating two men at the same time? Why, isn’t Howie good enough for you?”

“Howie cannot give me what Fareed can,” she said softly.

“Do you love Fareed?” she asked. Leighanne knew Howie was madly in love with Suheera, she could see it in his eyes every time he looked at her. And she thought that Suheera loved him back, although now she had her doubts about that.

“I am…fond of him. Many Muslim women do not love their husbands when they first marry. It comes over time,” she said. “I do not need love, Leighanne. It is only a complication.”

“Then you’re fooling yourself, Suheera. Everyone needs love.”

“I have lived for 28 years without it, I can live the rest of my life without it as well,” Suheera declared. “What I need is respect and security.”

“But Howie can give you that too, and he loves you.”

“But Fareed reminds me of home. He is familiar and predictable. I know what he will say and how he will act. He is Muslim to the core of his being. I know our children will be raised in the Islamic traditions that I was raised with.”

“Howie cannot give you that, but he has plenty of other wonderful things to offer,” Leighanne said.

“Fareed and Howie are very much alike, actually. They are both warm, kind, generous, successful and handsome men. They treat me with more respect than I deserve,” she said with a sigh. She looked at Leighanne; there was no anger on her face, only concern. She decided she could confide in her. “I would be lucky to have either of them, considering that six months ago I was an outcast to society.”

“Why is that?” Leighanne asked.

“Because I was an unmarried woman who was no longer a virgin.”

“I don’t understand how that is a problem,” Leighanne said. “Very few women in America are still virgins when they marry.”

“Things are different in the Islamic culture, Leighanne. Muslim men expect their wives to come to their marriage beds as virgins, unless they are widows. Fareed is unhappy that I am not one, I am fortunate that he is willing to overlook it. Many Muslim men would not even consider me.”

“If all young women are virgins, how did…” Leighanne faltered, she didn’t want to offend Suheera. She knew the young woman was intensely private. “Do you mind me asking how…?”

Suheera looked around to make sure no one could eavesdrop on them, and then told the woman her story. Leighanne was amazed at what Suheera had gone through, and saddened that the young woman had had so much heartache in her life. “Howie is the best thing that has ever happened to me, but I cannot be with him,” she said sadly.

“Why not?” Leighanne asked.

“Howie feels responsible for me because he took my innocence. He tells himself he is in love with me; he paid a huge dowry for me. But I cannot marry him, even though he has asked me several times already. I do not belong in his world, I would never fit in. I am better off marrying a Muslim.”

“So you will marry a man you don’t love because you think Howie isn’t really in love with you, and because you don’t think you need love to survive?”

Suheera nodded, she looked miserable. “I do not deserve someone like Howie.”

“What a load of bullshit, pardon my French,” Leighanne said. Suheera was shocked at the woman’s language; she’d never heard a woman curse before. “I’ve known Howie for many years; he’s got more common sense then most men. He doesn’t spend money on foolish things, he doesn’t make promises he can’t keep, and he doesn’t give his heart away to just anyone. If he said he loves you, then he does. And if he asked you to marry him, then in his heart he believes that you are the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with.”

“I mean no disrespect to Howie…” Suheera stuttered.

“He may get mad at me, but I’m going to tell you something he doesn’t like to talk about.” She found her mouth suddenly dry, she took a sip from her water bottle. “Howie was deeply in love with a woman. They were together for six years but he never asked her to marry him.”

“Why not?” Suheera asked.

“Because he wasn’t 110% sure she was the right woman for him. Howie never commits to something unless he’s positive it’s the right thing to do.”

“I know someone hurt him deeply. Did she leave him because he would not marry her?”

“Yes, she did. I asked him if he would do anything differently next time and he said no. He said he wouldn’t ask a woman to marry him unless he truly knew she was the one.”

“He has not gone out with a woman since then?” she asked. “He told me it had been several years.”

“Not as far as I know. When you are hurt that badly, you don’t think that you’ll ever find love like that again,” Leighanne said. “Suheera, Howie has never asked a woman to marry him before – and he’s asked you several times. I would bet everything I own that Howie is truly in love with you. I know him, he wouldn’t ask you because he felt like he owed you or because of money, he isn’t like that at all.”

“Maybe I have underestimated him,” she admitted.

“Do you love him?” Leighanne asked.

“From the first moment I saw him,” she whispered. “But love has nothing to do with marriage.”

“It has everything to do with marriage, honey.” She reached out and took Suheera’s hand. “You aren’t in Iraq anymore. In America, you are free. You can marry anyone of any age, nationality, religion, even gender,” she said, laughing at Suheera’s startled face.

“Homosexual marriage is permitted here?”

“In some states, yes. Not everyone agrees it’s a good thing, but because we value freedom of choice it’s an option.” Leighanne gathered up her shopping bags. “Come on, we need to head back to the hotel. We can talk some more in the car.”

Howie was true to his word; once they got back from Japan he began gathering information for Suheera about schools in the area. As she read over the catalogs, Suheera once again felt overwhelmed. There were too many choices; she’d always been told what to do – never given the opportunity to choose for herself.

“What do I do?” she asked Howie one evening. “Tell me what I should take, where I should go.”

“Nope, you need to make your own decision.” He laughed at her crestfallen expression. “Life is full of choices, sweetheart. You can weigh the merits of each, look very logically at it and come to a decision – or just go with your heart.”

“You are not helping much,” she said crossly, then smiled at him when he laughed.

“What is your favorite thing in the world to do?” he asked. Suheera blushed suddenly as the image of Howie laying naked in bed came to her. “Besides that,” he added hastily. Suheera saw his face was as red as hers must be.

“I love to cook, and I am good at it,” she said.

“Ok, that’s a start.” He hunted through the myriad of catalogs and came up with several for cooking schools. “Do you think you’d want to become a professional – or just learn some new skills?”

“I do not know. I had not really thought that far ahead yet.”

Howie was glancing through one catalog. “Here you go, this place is close by and it offers an orientation seminar about their program. They explain what classes they offer and help you decide if you want to take the professional courses or just come casual classes.”

“That sounds interesting. I will call them in the morning, if that is ok?” She looked up at him with questioning eyes.

“Of course it’s ok. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because it is your money,” she said shyly.

“I can think of nothing better to spend it on than your future,” he said softly, reaching out to stroke her cheek. She blushed and looked down, his touch sent shockwaves of sensations racing through her.

“If we were to be together,” she started then stopped, blushing again. “You would not mind if I had a career of my own? Or do you expect me to be home all the time and raise our children?”

It was Howie’s turn to blush, the thought of having children with Suheera made his heart race. “If you wanted to work and have children too, we would hire a nanny to help out. Many celebrities have at least one nanny, especially when they’re traveling.” He paused, not sure if he should say what was on his mind. He decided to risk it. “Fareed doesn’t want you to work, does he?”

“He said that my place would be at home, raising the children.”

“And you’re not sure that’s what you want…” He let the sentence hang.

Suheera shook her head. “My mother…she had no life of her own, all she ever did was take care of children. I do not know if I could do that, it is what killed her,” she admitted.

“You are your own woman, Suheera. In this house, you are half of a team. We would make decisions together; try to find a resolution that works for both of us. I would never dream of telling you what to do, no more than you would tell me what to do.”

Suheera laughed. “Women do not tell men what to do.”

“They do here,” Howie chuckled. “Many women feel it’s their God given right to tell men what to do.”

“Women in Iraq just have to be clever about it, make the men feel it was their idea,” she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I’ll have to remember that,” Howie said. “I’m off to bed, sweetheart. I’ll be at the studio a lot this week so I don’t know how much I’ll be home. Let me know what you find out about that cooking school, ok?” He gave her a hug and headed for his own room, wishing she was coming with him but knowing that if it was meant to be it would happen eventually.

Suheera retired to her own room, and then laid in bed for a long time thinking about the men in her life. Fareed offered her stability, a life identical to the one she would’ve had back in Iraq. It was comforting to know what would be expected of her, that her days would be filled with meaningful tasks such as cooking, cleaning, and raising children. With Howie, her life would be an unknown – she could be in a foreign country one day and back home the next, she could be alone for weeks at a time or have Howie all to herself.

With thoughts swirling around inside her head, Suheera finally fell asleep. Her dreams were filled with handsome men and passionate kisses; she awoke feeling more overwhelmed than ever before.

Putting all her doubts aside, Suheera drove to the cooking school to check it out in person. She still didn’t like using the phone if she could do business in person instead, a leftover from her days living in a small village.

The people at the school made her feel welcome; overlooking the veil she wore to cover her face. Suheera found most people tolerant of her head scarf, most usually were just interested in why she wore it rather than thinking she was hiding something. She signed up for the orientation class to be held in little over a week, she was excited for something to look forward to.

Back home, she finished their laundry and put it away and then read for a while. She had a date with Fareed that night, he’d texted her that morning and asked to go out. Fareed had been like that from the beginning, never giving her much notice. She frowned; it suddenly occurred to her that he expected her to drop everything to go out with him, as if she was just waiting for him to call. Next time he did that she was going to tell him no, she didn’t want him to think she was at his beck and call.

Suheera took a long time getting dressed; she liked to look nice for Fareed. She dressed far more casually for date night then she did for mosque, Fareed didn’t seem to mind. She drove herself to their meeting spot, a busy parking lot not far from their destination. Fareed greeted her with a smile and helped her into his car, a sporty Porsche that he was quite proud of.

“Where are we going?” Suheera asked as Fareed drove past their usual restaurant.

“My mother invited you to dinner,” he said, not taking his eyes from the road.

“I wish you had asked me first. I am not ready to meet your family yet.” Suheera felt a slight tremble begin deep within her; she wasn’t prepared mentally for this step in their courtship. And she wasn’t dressed for it either. Her clothes were too casual and she wore a bit of makeup, something she wouldn’t normally do on a formal visit.

“I’m sorry, she didn’t give me any warning either,” he said with a smile. “It will be fine; they are going to love you.”

Suheera wished she felt as confident as he seemed. She wondered why Fareed had not postponed the visit, knowing that neither one of them was ready for it. It was a bit of a drive to their home, they lived on the outskirts of town in an area of large estates. At the end of a quiet street, Fareed pulled into a driveway and waited for the wrought iron gate to open. Although all of the houses on the street were gated, this was the only estate with several houses inside the fencing.

“Who lives here besides your parents?” she asked, awed by the grandeur of the homes.

“My two older brothers live in these houses,” he indicated the two residences to the right of the main house. Another home stood to the left of the main house, but the windows were dark and no cars sat in the driveway.

Fareed circled the fountain in front of the main house and parked. As they’d driven in, Suheera noticed the house had two wings off the main building, both of which looked to be newer construction. He didn’t lead her through the main door, instead whisking her to a side entrance.

“This is our wing of the house,” he explained. “My parents live in the other wing, we all eat together but we have our own living space separate from theirs.”

Suheera thought that was a wise thing, she knew how hard it was when multiple families lived together, she’d had to endure that in her own home in Iraq. “It is a very lovely home,” she said, noting the fine carpets, paintings, and heavy carved furniture.

On the ground level of the two story wing, he opened a door and invited her inside. “This would be our living space,” he said with a smile. He opened a door and Suheera peeked into an opulent bedroom. “This is the master bedroom and bath; there are also two smaller rooms that share a bathroom. We have our own living room but all the families share the kitchen in the main part of the house.”

“We would not have our own home?” Suheera asked, remembering the nice houses that lined the driveway. “One of the houses looks like it is not being used right now.”

Fareed shook his head. “My parents believe that newlyweds should live with their parents for a minimum of five years before they are allowed to have their own home. They want to make sure the children are started off properly – and that the parents are getting along.” He showed her the other two rooms in the suite. “And the empty house is my brother’s – it hasn’t been occupied since he died five years ago.”

Suheera frowned, she knew it was common for families to live together in Iraq but she thought that things would be different in America. “How many people live in the house?” she asked.

“My parents and my father’s parents live in the other wing. Temporarily, my mother’s two sisters and their husbands also have rooms. They just recently moved here from Iraq and are looking for homes nearby,” he explained. He guided her back into the hallway and they wandered slowly towards the center section of the house. “Mother doesn’t believe in having servants. As the youngest wife, you’d be expected to do the majority of the cooking for the families – and quite a bit of the cleaning as well.” He smiled to himself at Suheera’s frown.

“Who else lives in this wing?” she asked, quickly changing the subject. Fareed’s mother was sounding more like her own stepmother all the time, and it wasn’t something that made her happy.

“It’s pretty quiet around here right now, only my sister-in-law and her children live upstairs…” He was interrupted by the pounding of small feet on wood floors. Two young boys came running towards them, one hesitated but the other launched himself at Fareed.

“Daddy!” he yelled, demanding to be picked up. Suheera shot him an inquiring glance.

“I’ll explain later,” he whispered.

Suheera was quite taken aback; he hadn’t ever mentioned having a child. Before she could ask any questions, they were surrounded by people, all talking at once. Within minutes she had met his extended family, she’d be hard pressed to remember any of their names. Already Suheera was feeling overwhelmed, and she was used to being around many people in a small space, more than a dozen people had lived at her home.

“Would you please join us in the living room?” his mother asked, indicating a room off the main hallway. She and Fareed were shown into a formally decorated room which didn’t seem to get much use. Fareed’s father and grandparents followed them inside, his siblings were excluded.

“I am glad to finally meet you, Miss Karimi. My son has been remiss in bringing you to visit,” Fahada said, giving her son a glare.

“That is my fault,” Suheera said, standing up for Fareed. “I have been out of the country.”

“Visiting relatives in Iraq perhaps?” she asked.

Suheera swallowed hard. “No, I was in Japan. I have friends in the music business and I went with them on a promotional tour for their new album.”

“That must have been…interesting,” she said, her tone indicating she didn’t approve.

“I enjoy learning about new cultures. We toured several ancient buildings and temples, and visited a museum. Their food is excellent, have you ever tried Japanese cuisine?”

“No, we eat only halal.” The woman indicated she should sit, she settled in a chair opposite of her. Fareed remained standing, he looked like he was about to bolt out the door. “Fareed tells me you have no relatives living in the United States.”

“No, my family still lives in Iraq. I have only been here a short time.”

“Why would you come alone, all the way from Iraq? You were perhaps coming for a job?”

“I was granted political asylum.” Suheera felt her heart begin beating faster, the woman was steering the conversation into dangerous waters. “And I did not come alone; a friend escorted me and has been helping me learn western ways.”

“And why would a woman need to request political asylum?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

“It is a complicated story…” she stuttered.

“We have the time to listen,” Fahada said.

Suheera swallowed hard. “I came into contact with several Americans who had been kidnapped in Europe. By helping them escape, I made enemies who wanted to kill me. One of the Americans offered to bring me to the United States so I agreed.”

Fahada seemed to accept the story. “I believe Fareed said your family comes from Rayat?” Suheera nodded. “It is a small world! My sister’s husband is from that village. He said he knows a Nafi Karimi, a man of some prominence. Is that perhaps your father?”

“Yes, my father comes from a long line of leaders in the province.” Suheera felt the sweat begin to form in her armpits, she hoped it didn’t show.

“He remembers Nafi had a daughter who would have been just about your age,” she said. Suheera said nothing, waiting to see where Fahada was going with this conversation. “He said the girl was cursed, men engaged to marry her ended up dying right before the wedding could take place. But her name was Hira, although that is very similar to Suheera,” she noted, frowning.

Suheera could not deny she was Nafi’s daughter; the woman had too much information. “No disrespect intended, but I was the victim of unfortunate circumstances.” She stopped for a moment and then continued, unsure of their reaction to her next statement. “I was a pawn in the political agenda of our drug lord, who wanted to remove my father and his allies from office. The elders also wanted him gone; their talk of curses was a way of getting back at him.”

“What does a teenage girl know of politics?” she snapped angrily, then immediately composed herself again. “You are, of course, still a virgin as you never married,” Fareed’s mother said. Suheera felt her face redden but she did not say a word.

“She says she is a virgin, and I believe her,” Fareed said, finally finding his voice. Suheera was startled that he would blatantly lie to his mother, but she was glad that he did – she did not know how she could explain her lapse in judgment. “And it is not like I am coming to the marriage as a virgin myself,” he added.

“My brother-in-law said that when he left the village, you were still living in your father’s house. I got to wondering how you came to be here, so I made some phone calls.” Suheera heard a note of accusation in her voice but she dared not look at the woman.

“Was that really necessary?” Fareed asked. “Suheera has told me her background and I accept it, and even though it is unconventional it doesn’t mean she is not acceptable to be my wife.”

“You have already proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that your judgment in women is flawed, Fareed. You think with the wrong part of your body.” Fahada shot him a look which made him want to run for cover.

“You are right, Mother,” he said softly. Suheera was embarrassed by Fahada’s disrespectful tone of voice. Even her stepmother wouldn’t have talked to her brothers like that, not without incurring Father’s temper. She glanced at Fareed’s father; he seemed quite intimidated and uncomfortable. She knew then that Fahada ruled this marriage.

“My source told me that your father sold you to a drug lord. Is that true?” Suheera nodded miserably. “Who then sent you to service his two unmarried sons. In the eyes of Allah that makes you a whore. You even dress like a whore,” she added, disgust in her voice.

Suheera felt anger surge throughout her body. “I am not a whore! I was a servant to them, yes, but I never shared my bed.” She stood tall in defiance. “I wore the burkha they demanded I wear. They beat me, starved me, humiliated me in front of the villagers and they used me to entice a prisoner of war to talk. But I was still a virgin when I left their house!”

“Then you won’t mind letting my physician examine you.” Her tone of voice left no doubt that there would be no avoiding the exam, no matter what she said.

“Yes, I mind very much. Fareed has said my past doesn’t bother him. If you cannot accept me for who I am, then I do not want to be part of this family.” Suheera headed for the door, indignation shining in her dark eyes.

“Sit down! I do not think you have much say in this matter, Hira. It’s not like you have many choices, Fareed may well be your last chance to marry.” Suheera stopped in the doorway, her breath catching in her throat. Fahada could make life very difficult for her at mosque, warning away any would be suitors. She hated to admit that Fahada was right - if she rejected Fareed there most likely would be no other chances at marriage with a man of good standing in the Muslim community. “My brother-in-law said that Nafi’s daughter was just about the ugliest girl anyone had ever seen. Fareed says he has not seen your face.”

She turned to face the woman, forcing herself to talk slowly and calmly. “There is no foundation to that rumor. No one in Rayat ever saw my face from the time I wore hijab,” she said, trying to keep the terror from her voice.

“I will not have ugly grandchildren,” the woman said. “Remove your veil.”

Suheera stiffened. “You have no right to demand that of me. It is my prerogative to keep my face veiled until the ceremony.” She looked to Fareed for support; he would not meet her eyes.

Fahada’s face darkened with anger. “If you want my son to continue courting you, you will remove your hijab immediately.”

Fareed started to protest but stopped at a hiss from his mother. She knew then that she would not get any support from Fareed, in any matter, if she joined this family. Her gut told her to leave, to refuse the woman’s request, but the religious training instilled in her since birth demanded that she honor her elder.

“As you wish,” she said stiffly, reaching up to remove all the pins that held the hijab and under scarves in place. With a yank she pulled them off and shook her hair free. It tumbled down her back in glossy brown waves. She stood with her head bowed for a long moment, then finally lifted her chin to gaze into the woman’s glaring face.

Fahada gasped, taken by complete surprise. She had been expecting a plain woman, not the ravishing beauty who stood before her. Her gaze darted to her son, his mouth was hanging open. She could see the lust fire in his eyes. Fahada circled her, taking in every detail as one might a horse they were thinking of purchasing.

“Do you wish me to disrobe as well, so you may judge whether my hips will be wide enough to bear your grandchildren?” she said, her voice bordering on the disrespectful.

Fareed’s grandmother cried out, shocked at the woman’s brazen words.

“I apologize,” she murmured, bowing her head in submission. Fareed’s family had every right to question her suitability as wife and mother. Her parents would be ashamed of her behavior.

“Your stepmother warned me you’re an insolent bitch, I see she was right.” Suheera stiffened but said nothing. “She also said she thought you would be able to bear many children. Your mother would have had many more if not for her untimely death while delivering you.”

“My mother was exhausted! There is no sense in having a child every other year. It is pure insanity and I do not plan on following in her footsteps.”

“We will see about that, Hira. It is not your decision on when to have children and how many.” Her tone of voice left no question that it wouldn’t be Fareed’s choice either.

Suheera glanced at Fareed; he still would not meet her eyes. The instinct to leave was even stronger now; she had to fight to control her temper. “My legal name is now Suheera. I would prefer that you call me by that name. The other reminds me of a time I’d like to forget.”

“It is best that you not forget the lessons your elders have taught you,” Fareed’s grandmother said, a look of disgust on her aged face.

“I came to America because I was told that women here have choices, that I can do as I please,” Suheera said, not taking her eyes from Fahada’s face.

“Whoever told you that was obviously not Muslim,” she said, her voice low and dangerously calm. “In our community, it is just like being in Iraq. You do as you are told, we will not tolerate disobedience.”

Suheera swallowed the harsh words that filled her mouth. She really wanted to tell the woman exactly what she thought of her but didn’t dare risk the woman’s wrath, she held too much influence in their community. “I thank you for your hospitality, but I am feeling ill and cannot stay for dinner.” She turned to Fareed. “Please take me home now.”

“I did not give you permission to leave,” Fahada said to Suheera’s back.

She turned slowly, controlling her temper with an iron will. “Perhaps you wish me to vomit on your immaculate carpets?” she questioned, raising an elegant eyebrow.

Fareed’s grandmother laughed. “You will have a hard time breaking that one,” she said to Fahada. “She is a strong willed woman.”

“Bah! She is nothing but a spoiled child,” Fahada said, dismissing her with an arrogant wave of her hand.

It was more than Suheera could bear. “How dare you! You know nothing of me!”

“I know what your stepmother told me, and what your neighbors said about you too – that is all I need to know,” Fahada said.

“Sometimes things are not what they appear to be,” Suheera said, a deadly calm to her voice.

Fahada looked her up and down, disdain on her face. “You are lucky I am even considering you for marriage, cursed as you are.” She turned to Fareed’s grandmother. “A little hard work is all it will take to break this one, she is soft. She does not know what real work is like.”

Suheera stiffened at the woman’s words. “You are wrong on that. My mother’s body was not even cold yet when my father remarried. My stepmother could not be bothered to raise me, so she took me from my crib and gave me to illiterate farmers. I worked the opium fields from the time I could walk until I was twelve years old, when my father finally noticed I was gone.” She looked Fahada in the eyes. “My father only cared about politics and the power it brought him. The only reason he brought me back home was because a political ally had a son who needed a wife and no one else would marry him. I was only a pawn in his political games.”

“That is just your opinion,” Fahada sneered.

“Actually, I know it for a fact. The drug lord who owned our village wanted father’s ally dead so he arranged for his sons to take care of it. They drove the car that killed my fiancé and his father, they bragged about it in front of me. There was no curse, it was all political.”

“That doesn’t explain the second groom that died right before your wedding.”

Suheera laughed. “He was 57 years old, a hundred pounds overweight, and smoked 3 packs of cigarettes a day – he was a heart attack waiting to happen.”

“Your stepmother said you were a willful and disobedient child, resistant to the teachings of Allah, and required much discipline.”

“When my father brought me home, my stepmother took one look at me and told me Allah found me so ugly that I had to wear the hijab day and night to keep from offending him. Every day I was in that woman’s house, she beat me, worked me until exhaustion, and then locked me in my room at night, starving. I was never a child, and certainly never spoiled. I know how to work; I’ve been a servant since I was born.” She looked down her finely sculpted nose at the old woman. “I try to follow the words of Allah, to be kind, forgiving and respectful. You are none of those, and I will not allow the likes of you to treat me in such a disrespectful manner.”

With all the grace she could muster, Suheera showed herself out the front door and waited for Fareed to bring the car up. Once inside, Suheera could not stop the hot tears from running down her cheeks. The hijab lay forgotten in her lap.

“I don’t know what to say, Suheera, besides I’m sorry. I really had no idea my mother was planning on ambushing you.”

She thought he was sincere, but it still bothered her that he had not stood up for her. “It was not your fault, Fareed. She is just trying to protect you from marrying someone unsuitable to your elevated status.”

Fareed winced at the anger in her voice. “I have never cared about your past, Suheera, I mean it. My mother will just have to get used to the idea because I have no intention of giving you up.” He finished the thought in his head, ‘especially now that I’ve seen how beautiful you are.’ His loins stirred as he looked over at her, he’d never wanted a woman as badly as he wanted her.

Suheera didn’t like the possessive note to his voice, but decided that she was just imagining it. Fareed wisely kept quiet and soon her anger drained away. “Your mother criticized your choice in women. Did something happen with your first wife? And what about the little boy?” she added before he could speak.

“Since you shared your story, I will tell you mine,” he said with a sigh. “Mother was trying to find a suitable match for me, but no girl could meet her high standards, which is why I was still unmarried at 23. My brother Roshan told Mother about a girl named Mahveen. The girl was of a very good family, so she went to them to make the arrangements, but they were against the pairing.”

“Why? It seems like most families would want to align with yours as your mother has influence in the community.” Suheera knew her own stepmother would’ve eaten glass to get in good with a family like that.

“We found out she was already promised, but then the family suddenly agreed to the match as long as the wedding could be held right away. A month later, Mahveen announced she was pregnant, but soon after miscarried.”

“Oh Fareed, how horrible!” Suheera had a sneaky suspicion Mahveen was already pregnant when they married, but kept the thought to herself.

“But then Mahveen became pregnant a second time. There were some scares, but the doctor was confident that she would be able to carry it full term. Roshan’s wife Soraya was also expecting.”

“I am sure that made it easier for her, having her sister in law pregnant as well,” Suheera said softly.

Fareed only nodded. “I was at school, studying, when I got a call to come to the hospital. There had been a terrible car accident involving my wife and Roshan.” He paused for a long moment. “As he lay dying, Roshan admitted that he was Mahveen’s lover and was the father of her child.”

Suheera gasped, adultery was a terrible sin in their religion. “The doctors delivered the baby by C-section, but Mahveen didn’t survive. Paternity tests showed Roshan was the father, but to save our family from embarrassment Mother decided I should acknowledge the child as my own.”

“I am sorry, what a terrible thing to happen to you,” she said, unsure of what to say to him. She knew now why he had insisted on courting her instead of going right into marriage, as was usual in their religion. He’d been badly burned in his first marriage and didn’t want it to happen again.

Suheera looked out the window, finally noticing that Fareed wasn’t taking her back to her car. They had just entered a residential area in the hills above Malibu, an area not too far from where Howie lived. The houses were huge but built closely together on the hillside. Fareed pulled into a driveway and stopped, then came around and opened the car door.

“Where are we?” Suheera asked.

“This is a friend’s house that I designed. I wanted you to see it.” He rang the doorbell; a young woman answered the door and invited them inside. “Come on inside. He’s out of town, he won’t mind if we’re here. This is his wife.”

Suheera hesitated, but Fareed had never given her any reason to not trust him, so she went inside. As he gave her a tour of the house, Suheera was dazzled. The furnishings were all modern, none of that heavy carved wood that his mother seemed to adore. They ended up in the master bedroom, the huge floor to ceiling windows overlooked the Pacific Ocean far below.

“What an amazing view!” she exclaimed.

Fareed came to stand next to her. He reached out and stroked her cheek. “May I still call you, Suheera?”

“I do not know...” She twisted the hijab still clutched in her hands; confusion, anger and anxiety muddling her thoughts. “There is no way I could live in the same house as your mother. We would have to live somewhere else, in our own place, where she would not be part of our lives every moment of the day.”

Fareed smiled to him, the evening was going as planned. “It would only be for a couple of years, and then we would have our own house,” he said softly. “Mother really isn’t that bad. You could always stay in our rooms to get away from her.”

Suheera hated to think that she’d be forced into isolation just to get away from his overbearing mother. “I do not know if I could do that,” she admitted. She’d been alone her entire life; she couldn’t stand the thought of more years without family around her.

“I know Mother wants us to marry, I could see it in her eyes,” he said softly. “She’s not going to let you marry anyone else; you know that now, don’t you? Once she saw your face it was all over, she won’t let any other man have you.”

Suheera knew he was right, she’d seen the look of greed on the woman’s face. There would be no other man for her, Fahada would see to it. If she wanted to marry a Muslim, it would have to be Fareed – and his mother came along with the package. She shuddered at the thought of spending the next five years living in the same house.

“But you’ll have the children to keep you company,” he said gently. “We could have two or even three by the time we move to the other house. Then we’ll have room for three or four more…” He was pleased to see the panicked look that crossed her face.

“But what if…” Suheera suddenly felt claustrophobic, her heart pounded in her chest.

“Shh, we’ll talk about that later. Although we can’t wait too long, I know Mother will be pressing us to marry soon.” He leaned over and kissed her. “I’d better get you back to your car. You don’t want to still have dinner, do you?” he asked, checking the time on his wrist watch as he led her back downstairs to the front entryway.

“Fareed, I do not know if I…”

He suddenly pulled her into his arms and kissed her. With gentle fingers he stroked her face and hair, deepening the kiss until Suheera was breathless. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him, pressing his hips against her body. She could feel his desire, hard and urgent. She pushed him away, trembling.
She was totally unprepared for this, she thought him a gentleman. They had kissed before, but they were never passionate or demanding – and he’d never touched her body the way he was doing now.

“Fareed, stop! We cannot do this until after we are married, you know that!” She struggled to get away from him but he just tightened his grip on her.

“Don’t say no, Suheera. You’re even more beautiful than Mahveen! I want you to be mine and mine alone,” he growled. He pushed her against the wall, his mouth insistent. The thin silk of her tunic was no match for his hands, it ripped easily when he grabbed the neckline and yanked it hard. Suheera gasped and tried to push him away but he was much stronger than her.

“Please do not do this, Fareed,” she begged as he shoved her pants down her legs, leaving her only in her underwear. She whimpered, sending a prayer to Allah to save her from this humiliating act.

He picked her up and carried her to the couch and threw her down. She tried to rise but he slapped her, his ring slashing her cheek. Pushing her roughly back onto the couch, he warned her not to move. Suheera looked around in desperation, there was nowhere for her to run, no one to help her. With an insolent smile, Fareed disrobed quickly and then finished stripping her.

“Allah would not approve of this,” she cried, hoping to talk some sense into him. “You condemn yourself to hell…”

“I am already damned, Suheera. There is no redemption for me, so I might as well enjoy myself now. And don’t bother calling out for help, the woman you saw earlier works for me.”

Suheera began to cry, she’d been so stupid to trust him. He laid down on her, shoved her legs apart and entered her none too gently. With total disregard for her welfare, he would bring himself to the edge of pleasure, only to back off after checking the time. Finally, with one last glance at his watch, he climaxed. Suheera could only lay there, numb and in shock.

He looked down at her and laughed, the sound harsh in her ears. “Soon you’ll be begging me to take you…” He pulled his pants and shirt back on, but left his shirt unbuttoned. She heard the front door open, heard voices calling out to Fareed. “No Suheera, I told you we cannot! It would not be right, please, put your clothes back on…”

“What is going on here?” his mother asked, her eyes wide. The imam stood next to her, his mouth hanging open in shock.

“I’m so sorry, Mother,” he said, humiliation coloring his face a deep red. “She tried to seduce me once she realized you weren’t going to let me marry her. She thought she could convince me to marry her anyway.”

Suheera could not believe her ears, his words were all lies. “That is not true!” she cried out. “He raped me.”

“You had better reconsider your claim, Suheera, you do not have four male witnesses,” the imam said. “If you accuse him without witness, you admit your own sin of adultery.”

Suheera gasped. Back in Iraq, the punishment for adultery was 100 lashes – she didn’t know if the same was true here or not.

Fahada turned to the imam. “See! I told you the woman was a prostitute but you assured me she was not!”

The imam led Fareed a few feet away, putting some distance between himself and the naked woman on the couch. Suheera just sat there, too much in shock to even try to cover herself. “I cannot in good conscience marry the two of you, not after this,” he said. “She obviously lied to me about her background. No respectable woman would allow herself to be alone with a man in his house…”

Fahada picked up Suheera’s clothes and threw them at her. “Get dressed!” she hissed and turned away.

Slowly Suheera fumbled her way back into her garments. The tunic was torn down the front but she was able to secure it with several of her hijab pins.

“She will not find a welcome at the mosque from now on,” Fahada said loud enough for Suheera to hear clearly. “Everyone will know her for the whore that she is.” She took the imam’s arm and led him from the house.

“How could you?” Suheera asked him when they were alone again. “I trusted you!” Tears ran unheeded down her face; they did not move Fareed in the least.

“No Muslim in LA will ever marry you, Suheera. Your reputation is ruined for good, my mother will see to that.” He casually buttoned his shirt back up. “But I’ll let you stay here. You could work for me, make a good living. Men will pay a lot of money to sleep with you.” He reached out to caress her cheek.

Anger flared in her eyes, Fareed stumbled backward as she shoved him away. “I will not be a man’s possession ever again,” she said. Grabbing her purse from the table in the hallway, she ran out into the night.

“That didn’t go quite as I had planned,” he said softly to himself. “But I’ll still get her.” He went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine.

Suheera ran blindly down the street, the rough asphalt bit into her bare feet. It took her two hours to walk the four miles home, even using the GPS program on her cell phone. Every time she started crying she’d have to stop and try to compose herself. She let herself into the house, anxious to climb into bed and try to sort out everything that had happened this evening.

“Hey, there you are.” Howie’s soft voice startled her. “I was wondering where you were.”

“I thought you were recording tonight,” she said, trying to hurry past him.

“We were, but the power went out in the studio and they couldn’t get it back on.” He noticed her bare feet, the hijab hanging from her hand, her torn clothing, and then her blood stained face. “Are you ok? What happened?” Panic made his heart begin to beat faster.

“I am fine.” She headed for her room but then stopped. “No, I am not fine. Something happened and I am…I am so confused, Howie!”

He led her into the living room, settled her on the couch and then sat down next to her, holding her hand. “Were you with Fareed tonight?” he asked, Suheera nodded. “Did he do this to you?” He had to fight to keep his voice calm.

The story poured out of her, she was helpless to stop the words. Anger tightened his features when Suheera told him of her confrontation with Fahada, and her accusations. But when he heard what Fareed had done to her, he wanted to commit murder. He picked up his cell phone to call the police but Suheera stopped him, tears running down her face.

“You cannot report this!” she cried. “I do not have the proper witnesses; I will get lashes in front of everyone!

“This is not Iraq. We have laws against rape and ways to prove it without witnesses,” he said. “He raped you, he should be arrested. Don’t let him get away with this, Suheera,” he pleaded.

“I will be humiliated in front of the entire mosque! Fahada and the imam will tell everyone that I am a whore! The police will never believe me, it is his word against mine. He will say I lay with him willingly.”

He pulled her into his arms and held her while she cried, supporting her while she finally let go of all the emotions she’d been holding inside. He was torn between wanting revenge on Fareed and protecting Suheera. When the doorbell rang, Howie reluctantly left her in the living room alone while he went to answer it. A tall dark man stood in the doorway.

“I’d like to speak with Suheera,” he said.

Howie knew immediately that this was Fareed. “Haven’t you hurt her enough tonight? You’re damn lucky she wouldn’t let me call the police,” he said angrily, and tried to shut the door but the man put his arm out and caught it.

“Please, Howard, I need to apologize to her.”

“I think you and your mother have said, and done, more than enough already, you fucking bastard!” He tried again to shut the door but Fareed was stronger.

“How much do you want?” Fareed asked. “I’ll give you twice what you paid for her.”

Howie was stunned that the man was actually offering to buy Suheera from him. “You don’t have enough money, Fareed.” Once again he tried to close the door but was prevented from doing so.

“No, I mean it. What would it take?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Howie saw Suheera come down the hallway. She stopped before coming into the foyer, Fareed could not see her. “I’ve put a lot of time, effort and money into bringing her to the States. I expect to get a decent return on my money. I might consider two fifty…” He let the sentence hang. He glanced quickly at Suheera and winked to let her know he wasn’t serious.

“Is that all?” he asked. “Two hundred and fifty dollars? You must not think much of her.”

Howie laughed. “Actually, I think she’s quite priceless. You misunderstood - I meant two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

It was Fareed’s turn to be shocked, the amount was outrageous. It would be difficult, but not impossible, to get his hands on that kind of cash. But no woman was worth that, not even Suheera. “Perhaps I could trade you – I’ll design a house for you, whatever you want…” He saw his chance of getting Suheera slipping away.

“Maybe in Iraq you buy and sell women like they are cattle, but not here. Suheera is not for sale, at any price! How could you even believe that I would…” Suheera pushed her way in front of Howie, cutting him off.

“Fareed, I do not want to see you again. Please do not call me.”

“I’m so sorry for what happened, Suheera, I lost my head. Please, give me another chance.” Suheera hated to hear a grown man whine and beg.

“I realized tonight, Fareed, that I made a huge mistake. I cannot live in a world like the one I left behind in Iraq. I will not live with a tyrant, telling me what I can and cannot do.”

“I’ll protect you from her, I swear.” There was desperation in his face. Suheera thought it funny that he assumed she spoke of his mother and not him. “We may have to live with my parents until I can find another place…”

“What’s wrong with your house in Malibu?” Howie asked. “Or doesn’t she know about that?”

Suheera turned wide eyes on Fareed. Now that she thought about it, his suite at his mother’s house hadn’t looked lived in; there were no personal items or clothing lying around. “That was your house? You led me to believe you lived at your mother’s home.”

“He’s being very modest, Suheera,” Howie said. “He actually designed it himself – and it was featured in Southern California Architecture magazine just last year. Seems it’s a very hip place to party too, a friend of mine has been to many parties there. He said Fareed’s girls are exotic and very friendly…” Suheera gasped as she remembered what he had said to her earlier. She suddenly realized that Fareed had wanted to prostitute her, not to marry her.

Fareed’s face darkened in anger. “You should mind your own business, Howard. This is between me and Suheera.”

“Until she says otherwise, she is my responsibility. I brought her into the US and vouched for her, and swore that I would take care of her. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t investigate someone she’s dating? You could be a convicted felon for all she knows.” Fareed started and the color drained from his face. He realized Howie knew more than he was saying.

“And what does she know of you? You are a musician who travels the world, sleeping with any woman who asks. I’ve read all kinds of nasty things about you.” There was a sneer on his handsome face.

Howie laughed. “Like everything you read in the tabloids is the truth, right? Suheera’s been on tour with me, she knows what goes on. I don’t have any worries about that.”

Fareed turned to Suheera and reached for her hands. She backed away, angering him. “I’m offering you redemption, Suheera. If you go forward with your relationship with this unbeliever, you will be considered an adulterer in the eyes of Allah.” His voice was harsh and condescending. “You know you cannot marry him and remain a Muslim, it is not allowed. So make your choice, Suheera. Islam or this man – is he worth throwing away your life?”

Suheera snorted. “The Prophet says that a woman is encouraged to judge whether the man is worthy of her respect and love, and if he is capable of providing her happiness in life.” She took a deep breath. “You are not worthy of my respect and love. If loving Howie means I can no longer be Muslim, then I renounce Islam!”

Fareed was startled; he hadn’t expected that of Suheera. He realized then that he’d lost, that Suheera wouldn’t give him a second chance. His desperation turned to anger. “You’re right to renounce Islam. No Muslim in his right mind would ever have anything to do with you, whore! Howie bought you as a prostitute and that’s all you’ll ever be! And my family will make sure that everyone at mosque knows just what you are.”

Howie felt Suheera tense; he put a hand on her arm to calm her. “Do not forget, Fareed, that I know your family’s dirty laundry.”

“I will not make this offer again, Suheera. Come with me, we’ll live in my Malibu house and you can remain a faithful Muslim. Surely you do not want to walk away from your upbringing, from everything that you know.”

“Live with you as your wife or work as one of your prostitutes?” Howie asked, noticing that Fareed hadn’t mentioned marrying her in his offer.

Fareed lunged at him but Suheera jumped between them. “I will not live with you either way, Fareed. And if I hear even one word about me at mosque, everyone will know Mahveen and Roshan for the adulterers that they were!”

“Everything I told you was a lie, Suheera, to get you to feel sorry for me. No one would believe you anyway, my family’s reputation is solid and always will be.” As Fareed turned to leave, Suheera saw his face was dark with anger.

“I am sorry, Fareed, I really did like you – before tonight. But if I had wanted to live in misery for the rest of my life I would have stayed in Iraq,” she called to his retreating back.

Howie shut the door firmly and led her back to the living room. “Are you ok?” Howie asked softly.

“I thought Fareed was the perfect match for me, Howie.”

“But he wasn’t what you thought he was?”

“Oh he is exactly what I expected, but perhaps I am not the person I used to be.” She was quiet for a moment, thinking. “A year ago I would have been ecstatic to have someone like Fareed interested in me. I never thought I would be able to marry anyone, let alone marry someone handsome and rich and from such an influential family. I would not have cared that his mother ran his life, it is what I was used to anyway.”

“But your life has changed a lot in the last year.” He gently stroked her hair, loving the silken feel of it beneath his fingers.

“He wanted to possess me, like I am some kind of prize. I am tired of being the game piece; I want to be the one in control for a change.”

“You are, sweetheart. You can be whoever you want to be, do whatever you want to now. There’s no one to tell you what to do.”

“Not even you?” Her eyes were wide and filled with tears.

“Especially not me,” Howie said with a laugh. “Whatever you want to do, I am behind you 100%.”

“I want you to make love to me,” she said solemnly. “I realize now that I should have married you as soon as we landed in America. We were meant to be together and I wasted so much time!”

He reached out and stroked her face with gentle fingers. “It wasn’t a waste of time, my love. You needed to discover who you are inside, find out what your heart truly desired.”

“I desire you,” she said softly.

“And I you, Suheera.” He gently pushed her away. “But we can’t make love, not yet.”

“But why?” she said, tears threatening to flow down her face again. “You do not want me now because Fareed raped me.”

“That’s not it at all, sweetheart. I want to kill the bastard for what he did to you!” He pulled her into his embrace, holding her tightly while he tried to explain. “Because I love you, I won’t dishonor you or your religion. I don’t want you to renounce Islam. Perhaps we can find a way around it, so we can marry and you can stay a Muslim.”

“What if I want to convert to your religion?” she asked softly.

“If that is what you truly wish, then we can explore that too. But I want us to talk to an imam before any decision is made, ok?” She nodded. “But there is something we need to do first.” Howie picked up his cell phone and dialed a number.
q95;

When the doorbell rang, Suheera made no indication she had heard it. She didn’t move, her gaze remained glued to the scene outside the window. Howie sighed; she’d been aloof ever since he’d driven her to the hospital the night she was raped. He knew it was the right thing to do, Fareed belonged behind bars – there was no telling how many other women he had raped or forced into prostitution.

Officer Bryce called earlier in the day to inform them that Fareed had been arrested. She said his DNA matched that collected at the emergency room. Howie thought the news would make Suheera happy, but it only deepened the depression she seemed to be experiencing.

“Don’t get up, I’ll answer it,” he said, trying not to let a note of frustration creep into his voice.

“We would like to speak with Suheera, please,” the man at the door said. He was a very large man, dressed in a highly embroidered salwar kameez, a long shirt over pants, and kufi cap. His voice was deep and gruff, his manner brusque. The woman next to him glared but said nothing. Howie instantly felt ill at ease, anger radiated from every pore in her body.

“I’ll see if she’s available, please wait here.” Howie started to shut the door but then the man spoke quietly.

“Tell her it is Zaffar, her imam.” Howie hesitated then invited them to wait in the foyer instead of leaving them on the front porch. He saw the frown deepen on the woman’s face as she looked around his home.

“You have visitors,” he said softly to Suheera as he entered the living room. “Your imam and an evil looking woman,” he added.

“I should speak with him,” she said, the first words she’d uttered in days. She rose gracefully and went to the front of the house. Howie followed, not wanting her to be alone with the guests as the woman’s obvious anger worried him.

As Suheera approached, Howie saw the imam put a restraining hand on the woman’s arm and speak softly to her. “We have come to ask you to reconsider your actions, Miss Karimi,” Zaffar said. “Mrs. Shakir’s son is in jail because of your accusations, which we believe to be false.”

Howie saw Suheera stiffen. “Unfortunately neither of you were there so you could not know exactly what happened that evening, could you?” she said. “I told the truth, Fareed is the one who lied.”

“My son would never lie,” Fahada hissed. “Only a whore would go alone to a man’s home. Or live in a single man’s home.” She gave Howie a glare that made him wince.

“We are willing to forget the unfortunate incident if you would drop the charges and tell the police that it was all just a misunderstanding,” the man said. Howie didn’t like the condescending tone to his voice. “Mrs. Shakir will overlook this indiscretion and would be honored if you would join their family as a greatly valued daughter in law. She is willing to waive her rights to your bride price, seeing as you have no male relatives in the area.”

Howie suppressed a laugh; he knew the woman would make Suheera’s life a living hell if she got her claws into her. He could see the greed in her eyes, and anticipation in her face – he knew that did not bode well for Suheera. When he felt Suheera shudder he knew she felt the same. Even if she chose to marry Fareed, which was highly unlikely now, there was no way he would allow her to marry into that family.

“Fareed never wanted me as his wife, imam. He just wanted to add me to his stable of prostitutes. Or did you not know about those women?” she added at the shocked look on the imam’s face.

“I find that hard to believe,” Zaffar stuttered. “Fareed is an upstanding member of our society.”

Howie glanced at Fahada; he saw a look of pain and then annoyance flash across her face. He realized that the woman knew just what her son was up to, as far as his lifestyle was concerned. “If you’d like proof, I can give you the names of several people I know who have been to lavish parties at his house,” Howie offered.

“We know what kind of people you mingle with,” Fahada said with a sneer. “Their word is worth nothing!”

“I was going to give the imam the names of the police officers who’ve arrested his girls for prostitution – or do you not believe the word of a police officer?” Fahada quickly shut her mouth.

“Did you not find it odd that Fareed invited the two of you to his home at a very specific time? The whole thing was staged so that you would walk in and supposedly catch me in the act of seducing him.” Suheera could see the doubt creep into the imam’s eyes. “I did not agree to accompany him to his home; I thought he was taking me back to my car. What you saw was rape. Why would I be crying and bleeding, my clothes torn? If I had been trying to seduce him, like he told you I was, why would his semen be inside me?”

“Because you are a liar and a whore!” Fahada shouted. Zaffar laid a hand on her shoulder, asking her to restrain herself.

The imam now doubted Fareed’s words, Suheera made a convincing argument. But he had to push aside his doubts; he needed to stay on Fahada’s good side. “Your good standing at mosque can be restored if you settle this matter with the police to our satisfaction. I will make sure that everyone believes your innocence is still intact so that you may marry Fareed.”

Suheera looked at Fahada, hating the smirk on her face. She thought she had won, she thought that Suheera valued her reputation more than anything. Howie moved to stand behind her, his presence comforted her and gave her strength.

“Fareed is where he belongs, in jail. I was raped by your son, Fahada, and I will testify under oath in court if need be.” Suheera saw anger fire in the imam’s eyes.

“In a court of law you may win, Suheera, but in the eyes of Allah you are damned. Mrs. Shakir has told me of your background in Iraq and there is no doubt that you will burn in the fires of hell, there is no redemption for you!”

Fahada shrieked in anger. “Allah has no mercy for liars and whores!”

Suheera began to tremble; Howie took her hand and squeezed it tightly. “Then he has no mercy for you, Fahada, or your sons,” she cried. “You have told the imam lies about me; you know nothing of what happened to me.”

“You are no longer welcome in the house of Allah, Suheera. I will see to it that you cannot gain entry to any mosque!” the imam said, his voice cold and hard.

“If you were in Iraq, your father would kill you for the dishonor you have shown your family,” Fahada said. “My family will make sure you pay…”

“That is enough!” Howie said, putting himself between the angry women. “I’m calling the police if you do not leave immediately.” He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and started dialing.

The imam took Fahada’s arm and pulled her out the front door and down the driveway to their car. Howie shut the door and led Suheera back into the living room, where she collapsed on the couch.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” he asked gently.

Suheera was weeping, the tears coursing down her cheeks. “The imam said I am condemned to hell for what I have done…”

Howie sat down next to her and took her into his arms, holding her tightly. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Suheera. It was Fareed who raped you, you didn’t ask for that to happen.”

“But I went into the house with him, I was not wearing my hijab – I tempted him. I am a whore like they said I am.”

“You are not! And you didn’t tempt him, Fareed used you.” He lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. “I am around you all the time when you’re not wearing your hijab. You are alone with me yet I haven’t raped you. I can control myself, any man can if he wants to. Fareed is a bad man, he’s in jail and he can’t hurt you ever again.”

Suheera struggled to rein in her emotions. “But Fahada said they would kill me for what I have done…”

“You will have a bodyguard whenever you go out, darling. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” He buried his face in her hair; he was worried about the death threat as well.

“But I have to go to school tomorrow – it is my orientation for the cooking classes…”

“That’s not a problem; I’ll make the call right now.”

******************

Suheera trembled as they approached the mosque; Howie squeezed her hand to reassure her. It had been three weeks since the encounter at their home and Suheera was leery about going out. Howie had managed to talk Randall into becoming her bodyguard. He’d led the search team and accompanied Howie in his search for Suheera, he trusted the man completely.

Randall accompanied her everywhere and even watched over her at home. He’d set up security cameras and motion detectors at the house. Howie felt better about going off to work now that he knew Suheera was no longer alone.

The bodyguard walked behind them, his watchful eyes scanning the area. He looked like any one of the other men coming to prayers at the mosque, dressed in tunic shirt and pants. With his dark complexion and hair he could easily pass as Middle Eastern.

Her initial thoughts were that a bodyguard would be a huge inconvenience; however her opinion soon changed. Randall was retired military intelligence and worth his weight in gold to Suheera. He spoke Arabic fluently and was familiar with her culture. He acted as bodyguard, driver and personal assistant. But it was his knowledge of both cultures which she treasured, he understood the difficulties she was facing and gave her valuable advice and support.

Suheera wasn’t sure if she was happy that this was a much smaller mosque than the one she had attended before. It was only a quarter of the size but she still felt intimidated by it. Because it was smaller, the community would be even more tightly knit than her other mosque, where its size gave her the advantage of becoming invisible if she desired.

“It’s going to be alright,” Howie whispered. He knew her world was turning upside down once again – the prospect of converting weighed heavily on her mind, despite her assurances otherwise. He’d insisted on talking with an imam before going forward with her stated desire to convert to Christianity. After several weeks of searching and many phone calls, he’d found a mosque that he thought could help Suheera.

“But what if they know?” she whispered. “What if Fahada has called them? What if my imam told him about me?”

“Then we explain what happened and hope this imam is a reasonable man,” Howie replied.

They were met inside by a man totally opposite of Suheera’s former imam – this man was short and slightly built, his voice quiet with an unassuming demeanor. Randall had already run a background check on the man; he had no ties to Iraq or to Fareed’s family.

“Welcome!” he greeted them warmly, showing them into a small room which turned out to be his office. The furniture and rugs were worn but the room felt comfortable, not cold like the ostentatious display of wealth Suheera had seen in Zaffar’s large office. Randall waited outside while Howie and Suheera spoke at length with the imam.

“We have several couples of mixed religion at the mosque,” he explained. “We are not as strict in interpreting the Quran as most Muslims are. Allah has said that a Muslim man may marry a Jew or a Catholic woman, we also allow a Muslim woman to do the same.”

Howie could feel the tension flow out of Suheera as she took a deep breath. “Truly? I can remain a Muslim and still marry Howie?”

“Yes, although you cannot be married in the mosque. I believe you can marry within Howard’s church, but it frowns on interfaith marriage between Catholic and Muslim.” Howie nodded in agreement. “Many of our couples are married in a civil ceremony and then have a small religious gathering to celebrate the marriage.”

Suheera turned to Howie. “Would that be acceptable to you and your family? I know your religion is important to them. Would they be upset if I don’t convert?”

“They will understand, Suheera. Our happiness is more important to them than where the actual ceremony takes place and who officiates,” he said softly. “But you have never said you would marry me…” He got down on one knee and asked her again to join him in marriage.

“Oh my, yes!” she cried, tears running down her cheeks.

Howie looked to the imam. “I’m not sure of the Islamic custom on engagement rings. Is it permissible for me to give her one?” he asked.

“Normally, no, Muslims do not wear wedding rings. But seeing as this is going to be a mixed marriage, I see no harm in it unless you are trying to use the ring to convince her to marry you or to tie you to her in some way.”

“No, of course not. It is a Christian custom – the rings we use in the wedding ceremony would be blessed by the priest and represent eternity.”

“I think it would be fine, as long as Suheera wishes to wear it.” He turned to her and she nodded. “As you are not yet married, it would not be appropriate for you to give it to her directly. I’ll give it to her for you,” he said softly, a smile on his face.

Howie handed him the small velvet box, which opened to reveal a gleaming diamond ring. The imam took the ring and handed it to her. She slid it onto her left ring finger, it fit perfectly. Suheera was overjoyed, trembling in excitement. She could barely see the ring through her tears. It wasn’t a huge diamond but certainly larger than anything she had ever seen before.

“It’s perfect, I love it – and I love you!” she whispered, the first time she had told him she loved him.

“Seems like we’re all set then,” the imam said, laughing. “I think it would be important for you both to come to counseling, there are many issues you do not yet comprehend. It will not be easy living with two religions in one household, and we will need to talk about any future children and how they will be raised.”

“Certainly, imam, we will be here – you just tell us when,” Suheera said. “But before you give us your final blessing, I do have some issues I need to discuss with you.”

“Of course. Do you wish Howard to remain, or to speak in private?”

Suheera turned to Howie. “Do you mind if I spend a few minutes alone with the imam?”

“I’ll be right outside the door. Take your time, we aren’t in any hurry.” He squeezed her hand in silent support and then left. He knew what she wished to talk about, and he knew it wouldn’t be easy for her.

After the door shut, she took a deep breath and the story poured out of her. The imam wasn’t shocked, he’d heard of so many atrocities happening to girls in Iraq that there wasn’t much he hadn’t heard. And for a woman as striking in appearance as Suheera, he was surprised that she’d survived with so little psychological and physical damage. Some men in Iraq treated women as little more than possessions.

“Please do not let Zaffar’s words upset you, Suheera. Allah sees what is in your heart and knows that you are a good person and are trying your best to follow his teachings. You’ve had many obstacles to overcome in your short life. That you’ve done so with grace and still following Islam shows you are a woman of great strength and faith,” the imam assured her.

“Will I be accepted here? I gain strength from prayer and from the comfort of the mosque surrounding me,” she said.

“We are like the island of misfit toys,” he said, then laughed at her puzzled expression. He forgot that she wasn’t American. “We have become known as a refuge for Muslims with troubled pasts, people of faith who are not acceptable by mainstream Islam, for whatever reason. We welcome these people, and the curious who just wish to learn about our culture but do not want to become Muslim. You will find the people here quite friendly and accepting. They don’t ask questions or judge others lest they be judged in return.”

“That is good to know.” Suheera breathed a sigh of relief, she felt like she would be happy here. “One other thing before I go. Fahada threatened me with an honor killing; she said I had dishonored her family and mine.”

“It is unfortunate that this practice is still acceptable to many families,” he said with a sigh. “I cannot protect you outside of the mosque, Suheera, but on these sacred grounds no Muslim of good faith would dare touch you. Does that comfort you any?”

She nodded. “Thank you for everything. Howie and I will return for our counseling sessions.”

“I take it you got good news,” Randall said as they left the building. Even with the veil, he could tell she was grinning from ear to ear. He could see why Howie had fallen for her; she was an amazing woman and reminded him of his wife in her youth.

“Yes, we can marry very soon!” she said, showing him the ring Howie had just given her.

“Congratulations you two!” Randall could tell they were very much in love.

“I have to go downtown for a while, but I’ll be home for dinner,” Howie said to Suheera. They did not kiss or embrace, seeing as they were in public and still on the grounds of the mosque. Randall escorted her to the car while Howie jumped in his and headed out of the parking lot.

“Still want to go shopping?” Randall asked as he helped her into the SUV and closed the passenger door.

“To the grocery store, I want to make a special dinner for Howie tonight.”

As he drove, he looked over at his charge. She was smiling to herself, glancing down now and then at the sparkling ring on her finger.

“You know you remind me of my wife,” he said softly.

“I would like to meet her some day,” Suheera said.

“She died two years ago,” Randall said, feeling his heart drop. Sadness still ate at him like the cancer which claimed her life.

“I’m so sorry.” She reached out and touched his arm to comfort him; a gesture an Iraqi woman would never do but something very much American. “How long were you married?”

“Thirty years.” His eyes scanned the road, constantly on the lookout for any threats. “Our cars collided in Baghdad traffic. The drivers got out and were arguing. I could see Shiza in the back seat, blood running from a cut on her forehead. I helped her out of the car, stopped the bleeding.”

“She allowed that?” Suheera was astonished; no Iraqi woman should let a stranger touch her for any reason.

He smiled. “Like I said, she was much like you – not afraid to throw convention to the wind.” He paused for a moment, clearly recalling the encounter like it was yesterday. “Her hijab came loose in the accident, I could see her face clearly – she was amazingly beautiful. For six months I tried to forget her, but I still dreamed of her night and day. I made an unauthorized trip into Baghdad and tracked her down. She was from a good family, not yet married although she was nearly 21.”

“Thirty years ago it was unheard of to be that old and not married,” Suheera said.

Randall agreed. “Her father was a picky man and he would not let just anyone have his only daughter. Plus he was a frugal man and didn’t want to pay the high bride price asked by the parents of men of his own status.” Suheera laughed, Shiza’s father sounded a lot like her own father. “I followed her to the market and pretended to be a shopkeeper so I could get close to her. She remembered me, her eyes lighting up when she realized who I was. I proposed right then, promising to convert to Islam if she would marry me.”

“But you knew nothing of each other.”

“Didn’t need to. Do you believe in love at first sight?” Randall asked. Suheera nodded, she felt tears come to her eyes.

“I remember when I first saw Howie. Sabir had thrown him face down in the cell - tied, blindfolded and gagged. They made me go in to him; they thought he might be dying.” Her eyes softened as she thought back to that moment. “He was still very groggy from the sedatives, but I managed to get him sitting up. I removed the gag and placed a glass of water to his lips. He gulped it down so fast I thought he would choke. He belched loudly, blushed, and then apologized! I’ve never heard a man apologize for that before.”

“Some men have no manners,” Randall chuckled.

“Out of curiosity, I pulled off his blindfold. He looked up at me with these eyes full of pain and confusion – and gratitude. He thanked me for my kindness. I was startled; no one had ever thanked me for anything in my life. Before I could respond, he fell back asleep.” She looked out the car window, watching the landscape slide by. “Over the weeks, he surprised me many times with his kindness and honesty. He treated me like his equal. I fell in love, and I was determined that I would save him. Somehow, someway I would get him out of that prison, even if it meant giving up my own life.”

“You are more like Shiza than I thought,” Randall said, laughing. “It was her idea to run away together, right then and there! She didn’t want to go home and get any of her things, she wanted to leave that instant. Somehow I managed to spirit her out of the country that same day. Before she would marry me, I had to convert – she would not renounce Islam.

“Was it a hard decision for you?” she asked, knowing that Howie was considering conversion but struggling with the idea.

“No, I was brought up Catholic, like Howie, but after I left home I left religion behind. I loved Shiza and wanted to be with her so I converted. Soon we were married and she was living on base like any other military wife.”

“Do you have children?”

“Two, one of each,” he said. “My son is close to your age, he is not married. My daughter is a bit older than you. She has two children already, and a third one on the way. My children are independent, like you, and ready to face whatever the world has to offer.”

“I will have children one day, Allah willing,” Suheera said softly.

“And you will be a great mother,” Randall said, smiling, as they pulled into the grocery store parking lot.

“I’m stuck in traffic, there’s an accident on the freeway,” Howie said from his cell phone. “There’s no way I’m going to get there on time.”

“Do you want me to wait for you?” Suheera asked, a slight frown on her face.

“No, you go on in. It’s going to be at least 15 minutes and I don’t want the imam to wait. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Please be careful.”

“I will. Tell the imam that I am truly sorry for being late.” Suheera relayed the bad news to Randall, who sat with her in the parked SUV.

“I’ll walk with you to the door,” Randall said.

“No, I need to do this on my own. I cannot hide forever,” she said, asking him to wait for her in the car. He wasn’t happy about it but he did like the fact that she was willing to walk alone, a first since Fahada’s threat. This was their sixth visit to the imam and still Suheera felt uneasy going out, even though nothing indicated that anyone was after her. Randall was beginning to think Fahada had made an empty threat, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

As Suheera approached the building, she noticed a man sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette. That in itself wasn’t unusual as there were normally people on the grounds. However, it was the way he held the cigarette that caught her attention – cupped in his hand in the style she’d seen men in Iraq use. She reached up and pushed a button on her Bluetooth earpiece. “Two,” she said softly, she could hear beeps as the phone dialed.

“Are you ok, Suheera?” Randall said when he answered. He was instantly scanning the area for any threats.

“I am probably just being silly,” she said. “But there is a man on a bench and I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach…”

“Always trust your instincts,” Randall said. “Turn around and walk back towards the parking lot, as if you forgot something. I’m coming to meet you. And don’t hang up.” Randall grabbed the backup pistol from its hiding place under the car seat, shoved it in his waistband in the small of his back, and jumped from the car.

As Suheera turned, she saw the man flick the cigarette away. When she heard footsteps behind her, she walked faster.

“I’d like to speak with you,” he called out to her but she kept walking. A moment later he grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around. “It’s not polite to ignore people,” he said.

“And it is not polite to touch women you do not know,” she replied haughtily. Something about him seemed familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She hoped her fear didn’t show in her eyes. She tried to continue walking but he detained her again.

“Soon you’ll know me well enough, Suheera.”

“Have we met before?” she said, trying to back slowly away from him, stalling for time.

Insolently he looked her up and down, then reached out and yanked the veil from her face. “You are even more beautiful than Fareed said you were,” he said quietly. Suheera began to tremble; her eyes darted around, looking for Randall. “Too bad you must die.”

Suheera was startled at the mumbled Farsi curse in her ear. “Run!” Randall shouted. She darted away but was not fast enough to evade the man. He grabbed her arm and steered her towards the parking lot.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked. Suheera shook her head. “My brother wanted to do this himself, but couldn’t risk being seen with you so he sent me. I am Roshan.”

“But you are dead…” she stuttered.

“Keep him talking, distract him,” Randall said. “I’m trying to get into position to take him down.” Randall cursed again, wishing he had his sniper rifle. At this range the handgun was of little use, he risked hitting Suheera.

“Everyone believes me to be, but they are wrong, obviously.”

“Where have you been all these years?” she asked, trying to slow her steps, forcing him to pull her along.

“The doctors said I was going to die anyway, but Mother couldn’t bear to pull the plug on my life support. She told everyone I was dead, even held a funeral, but secretly sent me back to Iraq to a hospital there so I could die in my homeland. I laid in bed, unmoving, for two years. Then one day I just woke up, the doctors said it was a miracle.”

“Your mother will have to explain why she is having another funeral, Roshan, because I am going to kill you for touching me!” She tried to get away but his grip on her arm tightened. He pulled her even closer, his face just inches from hers, and laughed softly.

“Many men have tried and failed,” he said. “You are just a woman.”

“Do not underestimate me,” she warned him, but he dismissed her threat with a laugh.

“After I woke, the first person I called was Fareed. When I was well, I ran his prostitution business there for a few years. I was on my way to Farhan to pick you up when that damn singer stole you from my idiot cousin Miskeen,” he sneered. They neared a small white van; he unlocked the doors with the click of a button. “Come, we have business of the sexual kind to see to before I kill you. Fareed had the pleasure of raping you, and so will I.”

Randall could hear the conversation as the man was close to the Bluetooth earpiece Suheera wore. “I’m coming, stay calm,” he whispered. “Don’t get into the van without a fight.”

“You will be condemned to hell for this,” Suheera said. “You are on sacred ground.”

“I will be in hell anyway for a very long time before Allah forgives me,” Roshan said. “This is just one of many sins I have committed.”

His words did not comfort her, so Suheera tried once more to break away but his grip was like iron. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement, she prayed it was Randall.

“I know all about your bodyguard, Suheera. Tell him to not do anything stupid.” He pulled a gun out from underneath his jacket. Suheera felt the cold metal as he jammed it into her back.

Suheera took a chance that Randall spoke French - and that Roshan did not. “Dites-moi quelle manière de vous déplacer ainsi peut en avoir à un projectile propre après lui.” (Tell me which way to move so you can shoot him.) She was happy to see that Roshan didn’t seem to understand her message.

“Je ne peux pas le tirer quand il a le pistolet dans votre dos,” Randall replied. “C'est trop dangereux. (I cannot shoot him when he has the gun in your back. It is too dangerous.)

“Il va me tuer de toute façon. Améliorez maintenant qu'après qu'il me viole,” Suheera said, resignation in her voice. (He is going to kill me anyway. Better now than after he rapes me.)

Randall swore again in Farsi. “I’m coming out from behind the car, don’t do anything rash,” he said loudly in English so that Roshan could hear him. Randall slowly eased from behind a parked car, his hands in the air.

“Put your gun on the ground, and then turn around,” Roshan said. “I just want the girl, I won’t hurt you.”

Randall didn’t believe that for a second, he’d seen that look before in the eyes of men who wanted to kill him. But he didn’t have a choice as Roshan’s gun was pointed at Suheera’s head. Slowly he laid his weapon on the ground at his feet and turned his back. He felt the sweat begin to run between his shoulder blades, despite the chill of the day. Any second he expected to feel the impact as the man shot him.

“Take three steps forward,” Roshan said and Randall did as he was told.

“Could I please ask you a favor?” Suheera said to her captor. “Before we go, I would like just one last kiss from my lover before I die…”

“He is your lover?” Roshan asked, incredulous. “He is twice your age!”

“Age does not matter when you are amazing in bed,” she said, a seductive smile on her face. “He has taught me so many things…” She let the sentence hang in the air, hoping it would stir his imagination – and lust. She knew men often didn’t think straight when sex clouded their thoughts.

Suheera saw lust ignite in his eyes and knew she’d guessed right that sex was a motivating factor in the man’s psyche. “Alright, but don’t try anything – I’ll have the gun aimed at you the whole time.”

As she sauntered up to Randall, she heard his whisper in her ear as their phones were still connected. “Diable vous pensez-vous faites-vous?” (What the hell do you think you are doing?)

“L'avez-vous mis derrière votre dos ? (Did you put it behind your back?)

“Oui, mais ne faites rien stupide. Je peux manipuler ceci.” (Yes, but do not do anything stupid. I can handle this.)

With her back to Roshan, Suheera gyrated her body up and down Randall’s backside, hopefully distracting Roshan as she eased the gun out and stuck it into her own waistband, then pulled her short tunic down to conceal it.

“Turn around,” she ordered. When he complied, she pulled his head down and kissed him.

“Keep your hands where I can see them,” Roshan ordered Randall.

“My pleasure,” Randall said, who then ran his hands down her back and grabbed her butt. Suheera suppressed a squeal; she needed to stay in character. Just as she tried to transfer the gun to Randall’s waistband in front, Roshan interrupted them.

“That’s enough, you’re making me ill,” he said with a growl. “Get back here, now!”

Suheera did as she was told, but not before one last kiss. “Trust me,” she whispered against his mouth.

Roshan had the gun trained on Randall as Suheera climbed into the front seat of the van on the passenger side. Randall could only watch helplessly as Roshan opened the driver’s side door and slid into the seat. He laid the gun in his lap as he started the engine.

“Give me your phone,” he ordered. Careful to keep the gun concealed, Suheera pulled the cell phone from her pocket and removed the earpiece. Roshan threw them out the window.

Randall suddenly realized Roshan wasn’t as smart as he thought he was – he had to back out of the parking space and then drive past him to exit the parking lot, putting him on the vulnerable side of the vehicle. As Roshan pulled forward, Randall saw he had both hands on the wheel – which meant he didn’t have the gun pointed at Suheera any longer. He dove for his gun and came up shooting, managing to hit the door with several rounds before the vehicle got away.

When the van didn’t stop, Randall realized he hadn’t hit Roshan. As he dialed 911 to alert the police to the kidnapping, he ran after the van to see which way it turned. Suddenly he heard the loud retort of a gun. With his heart in his throat, he dashed towards the street, getting there just in time to see the van careening wildly out of control. A moment later the van jumped the curb and crashed into a parked car.

Randall ran down the street, approaching the van with his gun drawn. He circled around to the driver’s side; the shattered window was covered in blood. He ran around to the passenger door and wrenched it open. Suheera was conscious, bleeding from a cut on her face. He looked to Roshan; the back of his head was gone. He slid the Colt back into the holster.

“Thank Allah for airbags,” Suheera said, a little dazed but grinning like a fool. She slid the ammunition clip from the gun and handed them both to him. With a grim look on his face, he laid them on the ground next to the vehicle. Randall muttered something under his breath as he checked her over for injuries. “That was not a very nice thing to say.”

“Don’t tell me you speak Farsi too?”

“And Pushtu,” she added. “My father sent me to school in Baghdad but the only subject he would allow me to study was languages. He thought it might come in handy for him one day. I am fluent in French, Italian, Spanish, and of course English and Arabic.”

He was happy to see she appeared to be unharmed. “Where did you learn to handle a gun?” He was as impressed with the easy way she’d handled the Berretta 9mm as he was with her command of languages. Suheera unloaded his gun as if she’d done it a million times before.

“I grew up working the opium fields. When I was old enough to be out there alone, I was given a gun to protect myself from wild animals - and the human animals,” she said, anger in her eyes. “It was not uncommon for young children to be kidnapped from the fields and sold into slavery. I learned to use a handgun to protect myself and the other children. Roshan is not the first man I’ve killed,” she said softly.

Before he could respond, several police cars screeched to a halt in the street. The officers jumped out, crouched behind the doors, and pointed their weapons at him. Randall put his hands in the air to reassure them he meant them no harm.

“It is ok, he is my bodyguard,” Suheera shouted, climbing from the vehicle. “The bad guy is in the van.” She began to shake as the reality of what she’d done finally sank in. Her knees gave out and she slumped to the ground, leaning against the side of the van.

An officer ran over, his gun still pointed at Randall. “There’s a gun in the holster under my left arm and a knife on my right calf.” The officer carefully disarmed him, patted him down, and then let him put his hands down. “The weapon used in the shooting is by the front passenger side door.”

“Let me see your ID,” he demanded.

“There’s definitely a dead guy in the van,” the other officer said, coming around to assist.

“I’m the one who called,” Randall said. “I’m Miss Karimi’s bodyguard. The dead man is Roshan Shakir, the brother of the man who assaulted Miss Karimi a couple weeks ago.”

“And who shot Mr. Shakir?”

“I did,” Suheera said. It was only then that she realized she was covered in tiny droplets of blood.

“I might have,” Randall added. “I shot at the van as it drove away – there should be several rounds in the door from my Colt.”

“Are you ok?” the officer asked Suheera as he helped her to her feet. She was a little unsteady so Randall came over and put his arm around her.

“I think I need to go sit down for a while,” she admitted. “I am feeling a little nauseated.”

Randall picked her up and carried her to the side of the road, where she promptly threw up. He held her hair and talked soothingly until her stomach finally stopped heaving.

“Are you ok?” Suheera nodded. “That was an incredibly stupid thing that you did!” he growled.

“I am sorry…” She hung her head, ashamed.

“And incredibly brave as well,” he added softly. “You did good.”

An ambulance pulled up and the paramedics examined her, reassuring Randall she was unharmed. After they left, she started shaking again so he put his arm around her and held her tightly. A few moments later he felt her relax and fall asleep; exhaustion was a common reaction to extreme stress.

The imam came running up. “I saw all the police cars – what’s happened?” he asked, out of breath.

“Miss Karimi was kidnapped just steps from your front door,” Randall said. “So much for your assurances she’d be safe at the mosque.”

“Is she hurt?” He looked down at the woman, alarmed to see her covered in blood.

“No, but I think she needs to be somewhere quiet for a bit. Is there anywhere inside…?”

“Yes, yes of course.”

Randall asked a nearby officer if he could take her into the building. “That’s fine; just don’t leave because we could have more questions for the both of you.”

The bodyguard was concerned about the crowd that was gathering. He knew Suheera would have an even harder time assimilating into the mosque if they knew she was involved in a shooting. He took her hijab and draped it over her face.

“Bring her this way.” The imam hurried away towards the building.

Randall had just picked her up when he heard someone calling his name. He turned to see Howie running towards him.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked. He paled when he saw that Randall held Suheera in his arms.

“We’ll talk inside, everything is fine. Let’s not make a scene out here, ok?” He hustled them all into the mosque where the imam showed him a worn leather couch in a small room off his office. He laid her down, removing the hijab so Howie could see her face. “She’s just asleep, she’s going to be fine,” he assured Howie.

“Did they try to get her?” Howie felt the lump in his throat would choke him.

Randall nodded. “Let’s go in here to talk, but leave the door open so we can hear if she wakes up.” He led Howie into the imam’s outer office. Before he could tell his story, one of the police officers entered.

“Mr. Meyers, I have a couple more questions…” Randall nodded. The officer opened his notepad, pulling a pen from his pocket. “You didn’t exchange shots with the victim before he got into the vehicle?”

“Mr. Shakir is not the victim here, just to make things clear,” Randall said. “He kidnapped my client and told me he planned on raping her before he killed her.” He glanced at Howie, all the color had drained from his face.

“I understand that, Mr. Meyers…”

“No, I didn’t shoot the bastard before he got into the van because he had his gun pointed at Miss Karimi. I saw an opportunity as he pulled away and fired four rounds in the general direction of the vehicle. I saw three holes in the door but when the van didn’t stop I figured I hadn’t hit him.”

“Actually, you did. The medical examiner just removed the body from the van, and Mr. Shakir had two bullet wounds in his left side, one of which entered his upper chest,” the officer said.

“So that might have killed him.”

“It’s possible, but the autopsy will tell for sure. Miss Karimi’s shot just made sure he was dead,” the officer added.

“She shot him?” Howie said, his voice cracking. “She was carrying a gun?”

“Blew off the back of his head,” the officer said. Howie felt his knees go weak and he sat down quickly.

“I’ll fill you in later,” Randall said. He turned back to the police officer. “Miss Karimi was not carrying a gun when Roshan attacked her. After I confronted him in the parking lot, she managed to get my spare gun before he forced her into the van.”

“How did he not see her get the gun from you?”

Randall colored slightly. “It was in tucked into the small of my back and she removed it when she umm, when she kissed me good-bye – and then hid it beneath her tunic.” He glanced over at his boss. “I’m sorry, Mr. Dorough, it was just a diversion, I swear.”

“I understand, Randall.” Howie was having a hard time taking this all in. He heard Suheera moan softly and went into the next room to check on her. Randall finished up his interview and went in to join them. “Is this normal? I don’t see how she could sleep at a time like this.”

“Everyone deals with trauma differently. I’ve seen trained military personnel just lay down and sleep for hours after a traumatic event. She might sleep for a long time, or maybe just for a few minutes.” He checked her vital signs. “She’s breathing normally, her pulse is fine so we’ll just let her rest for a bit and then try to rouse her.”

“So you knew the man who attacked her?” Howie asked.

“It was Fareed’s brother who was supposedly dead,” Randall said, remembering what he’d heard through Suheera’s earpiece. “He’s been hiding out in Baghdad, running a prostitution ring for Fareed.”

“Apparently Fareed and Roshan are cousins to my friend Saleena, and her evil brothers,” Suheera added, startling them both.

“How do you feel, sweetheart?” Howie asked, taking her hand.

She struggled to sit up, Randall assisted her. “I am ok, just a little dizzy.”

“Let me get you some water,” Randall said, giving the couple a moment alone.

“I am so sorry, Howie, to worry you. I should have let Randall walk with me into the mosque but I wanted to be brave…”

He hugged her close, thankful she was unharmed. “You are the bravest woman I’ve ever met,” he said softly. He wanted to kiss her but knew it was not acceptable in the mosque as they were not married. He drew back from her when he heard footsteps in the outer office.

“She is well now?” the imam called before entering.

“Please come in,” Suheera called.

“Praise be to Allah for keeping you safe,” he said. “We can reschedule your session for another day.”

“No, I want to do it now, if you do not mind,” she said, looking to Howie for assurance. He nodded his head. “If we reschedule, we won’t be able to have our wedding as planned.”

“As you wish.” The imam shooed Randall out to the hallway and closed the door.

“I have some bad news,” Howie said as he entered the kitchen one evening. He gave Suheera a kiss and a hug. “Sierra called, she’s been in an accident and has a broken leg.”

“Oh no! Is she ok?” Suheera liked their wedding planner; she was very energetic and creative.

“Her leg is in a cast, she’s supposed to rest – so she’s having to ask someone else to take over our account.” He stole a taste of dinner as it cooked; Suheera playfully swatted his hand away. “We have an appointment with the new planner Friday afternoon at 2pm.”

“I should be done with prayers by then,” Suheera said. “I can have Randall drive me and just meet you there.”

Howie arrived at the wedding planner’s office before Suheera did. The front door was locked so he knocked. A young woman greeted him. She was short and round, wearing brightly colored glasses, her dark hair bleached blonde. “My name is Lupe, please won’t you sit down?” she said, showing him into her office, a small space separated from the waiting area by a wall of glass.

“My fiancé is running a bit late, you know how traffic is on Fridays,” he said apologetically.

“No problem, I’m sure she’ll be here shortly and then we can get started.” Lupe was a bit star struck; the Backstreet Boys had been her favorite back in her teenage years. She remembered having posters of AJ hung on her bedroom walls.

When Suheera and Randall arrived and tried the front door, they found it locked. She knocked but no one answered. “That is odd,” she said to her bodyguard. “Are you sure we have the right address?”

“Yes, her name is on the door – and you can see Howie in her office.” Randall rang the buzzer; the woman looked over but didn’t move. Howie sat with his back to the front door.

Lupe picked up her phone and sent a quick text to her assistant. “Nita, take care of the door.” As she laid her cell phone back down, she apologized to Howie for the interruption.

“I know she sees us,” Suheera said. They’d come straight from prayers, Suheera wearing a black abaya and matching hijab embroidered in gold and Randall a light colored salwar kameez.

Finally a woman came to the door. “We aren’t taking any more clients,” the woman said rudely and then shut the door. Randall knocked insistently again, and the woman returned. “We don’t do Arab weddings, so go away.”

“What’s going on?” Lupe called to her assistant, hearing the racket coming from the front door.

“Some crazy middle eastern couple. They keep pounding on the door, they won’t take no for an answer,” the woman said. “I told them we don’t do sand people weddings and to go away.”

Just then Howie’s phone rang. “Where are you?” he asked when he answered.

“At the front door, they won’t let us in,” Randall said. “I’ve never been treated so rudely in my life.”

Howie turned to Lupe. “My fiancé and her bodyguard are at your front door. Your assistant won’t let them in.” He watched the woman turn a deep shade of red.

“My apologies!” she said, glancing out at the front door. “I had no idea your fiancé is Indian.” She sent her assistant scurrying to open the front door.

“My fiancé is from Iraq,” he corrected her. “And if her being ‘sand people’ is a problem, we can take our business elsewhere,” he said coldly, starting to rise from his chair.

“Oh no, of course not, Mr. Dorough! I’m so sorry for my assistant’s attitude, it won’t happen again,” the woman groveled as Suheera and Randall entered the room.

As Howie introduced them to the wedding planner, Suheera caught a quick glance of pure contempt on the woman’s face. Throughout the meeting, Lupe fawned over Howie but barely spoke to Suheera, practically ignoring her while hanging on Howie’s every word.

“That woman is going to be trouble,” Randall observed as they drove home after the meeting.

“I do not like her,” Suheera agreed. “But we do not have a choice really, she is who Sierra recommended and it is so close to the wedding that we would not be able to find anyone else willing to take us on as clients.”

Over the next two weeks, Suheera found Randall’s words to be the truth. Lupe ignored her calls, only returning a call when Howie initiated it. He told Suheera that she was just imagining things and that he found her great to work with.

Suheera stopped at Lupe’s office to drop off drawings she and Howie had made of the altar designs they wanted. Nita left her sitting in the waiting area for fifteen minutes, despite the fact that Lupe wasn’t with a client or on the phone. Suheera could hear Lupe and Nita talking inside her office.

“I cannot believe Howie is marrying that sand nigger. You’d think he could do better than her,” she said in Spanish. “I read that she was a prostitute!”

“Shh! She’s sitting right outside, she’s going to hear you,” Nita replied, also in Spanish.

“The whore won’t understand. I’m surprised she speaks English as well as she does. You know how stupid those people are.”

“I heard she made him swear to marry her if she got him out of Iraq,” Nita said. “She wears a veil over her face so no one can see how ugly she is!”

Lupe laughed. “She probably has the body of a whale, you couldn’t tell under those tents she wears.”

“I feel sorry for Howie. Maybe he can divorce her soon…”

Suheera could take no more; she fled from the building in tears. Climbing into the SUV, she angrily wiped the tears from her face.

“What’s wrong?” Randall asked, concerned when he saw his client crying.

“They were so hateful,” she replied. “They were talking about me, right in front of me! They called me a fat and ugly whore.”

“In English?”

“No, in Spanish. They said I was too stupid to know the language,” she said, trying to hold back the tears.

“I’m going to give them a piece of my mind,” Randall said, reaching for the door handle.

“No, please do not.” She pulled out her cell phone and placed a call. After a brief conversation, she instructed Randall to drive her to an address close by. “I will not be long. I just need to check in on a friend, ok?”

Suheera knocked on the apartment door and let herself in. “Sierra? It is Suheera…” she called as she entered.

“I’m so glad to see you,” the woman called back, coming down the hallway on crutches. They embraced and then settled on the couch. “I’m so bored, just sitting here all day, watching TV.”

“I imagine so,” Suheera said. “You are used to running full speed all the time.”

“So, how are things going with Lupe? She’s done some great weddings, I hear.”

“That is what I came to talk to you about. She is not working out at all, I am afraid.” Suheera fidgeted with the fringe on the end of her hijab scarf. “She hates me.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t, Suheera. How could anyone hate you?” She reached out and touched Suheera’s hand. “You are the sweetest woman I have ever met.”

“Thank you, Sierra. But I know she does, she called me a whore.” Suheera felt the blush climb up her face.

“What? You must have misunderstood her, she’d never say that to a client,” Sierra assured her.

“She and Nita were speaking in Spanish. ‘Puta’ means whore no matter which dialect you use. They do not know that I speak that language fluently.” She shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “They called me a ‘sand nigger.’ I do not understand that phrase but I am sure it was not a compliment.”

Sierra gasped. “Many generations back, African people were stolen from their homeland and forced to work as slaves in this country. They were called niggers, an insulting term. Even today, ignorant people think they aren’t as intelligent as white people,” she explained. “Today it is a rude word used to describe black people of low class. Adding the word ‘sand’ to the phrase indicates you’re a low class, unintelligent human being from the Middle East.”

“I understand now, thank you,” Suheera said, heat coming to her face. “That explains why she would not take my phone calls. She has not even started organizing my part of the ceremony.”

Sierra reached for her phone. “Hey, Lupe, it’s Sierra. I was just calling to see how things were going with the clients I referred to you, the Karimi-Dorough wedding?”

“Going great,” Lupe replied. “No problems at all. They are a dream to work with.”

“Oh, good to hear that. I thought maybe you might be having some problems with the Muslim part of the ceremony. I’m sure you’ve met with the imam and the halal caterer…”

There was a long hesitation. “Not yet, but…”

“I’m sure you must just love Suheera! We got along so great. Did you know that she speaks seven different languages?” There was silence on the other end. “I think the next time you want to call one of your brides a fat whore, Lupe, you shouldn’t do it front of them, assuming that they don’t speak Spanish.”

“I was just joking around,” she said lamely.

“I’ll be by your office later on; I’m taking back that wedding. And I won’t be referring any more clients to you, ever.” Sierra had to fight to keep her voice calm. “You had a celebrity client with an unlimited budget, someone who could really make your name in this business, and you blew it by insulting the bride! How stupid can you get?” She hung up the phone, still fuming.

“You did not need to do that,” Suheera murmured, appalled at the scene she’d caused.

“Oh yes I did. I’m so sorry that you had to go through that. I’d heard only good things about Lupe, and she was available to do a short time frame wedding. If I didn’t think she could handle it, I’d never have referred you to her. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course, Sierra! But what are we going to do now?”

“I’m bored silly sitting here; I’ll take over your wedding.”

“But how? You are on crutches, you cannot be running around – you are supposed to be resting,” Suheera insisted.

“There are many things I can do over the phone. My assistant is on vacation, but she’ll come back if I call…” Sierra was already planning things out in her head.

“But that is not fair to her…”

“She’s just chilling on the beach, I talked to her yesterday. I’ll give her more time off later, she won’t mind.”

“Are you certain? I am sure we could find someone else…”

“I’ve got everything under control, Suheera, don’t you worry! I’ll call you tomorrow, we can get together for lunch and go over everything and see what still needs to be done.” Sierra pushed her towards the front door. “I’m fine, I want to do this. Please?”

“Ok. I will see you tomorrow. I have a feeling that the next few weeks are going to be very busy ones.”

“You got that right. Hope you’re ready…”

“Everything ok? You look a little dazed,” Randall said when Suheera climbed back into the SUV.

She nodded. “I told Sierra what was happening with Lupe and she called and fired her. Sierra is going to finish up our wedding.”

“That’s great, Suheera. Sierra was much better than Lupe, I know she’ll get the job done and I won’t have to worry so much about security.”

The weeks flew by for Howie and Suheera. Howie was often gone, off putting the finishing touches to their album and planning the tour. Suheera’s days were filled with all the details involved in planning a wedding on short notice.

When they first spoke of marriage, neither one could see a way it would ever happen. One or the other of them would need to convert, and neither was keen to the idea. They started counseling at both the Catholic Church and the mosque in order to learn all they could of the other’s religion. They wanted to make an educated decision, not one based on emotions.

“This isn’t going to be easy,” Howie said as they left the deacon’s office one morning. Deacon Wright had scheduled an appointment with the bishop for them, explaining that they needed to ask for dispensation to marry in the church.

“Perhaps it would be easier if I did convert after all,” Suheera said.

“No, I don’t want you to convert unless that is what your heart truly desires,” Howie said. “And I know your faith is very important to you.”

“As it is to you as well,” Suheera replied. “Randall warned me this was not going to be an easy task.”

“Perhaps we should just have a civil ceremony and forget all this,” Howie said as they climbed into the SUV. “The important thing is just to be married.”

“But I want to be married in the eyes of Allah,” Suheera said softly. “And it is important to your family that you be married in the eyes of your God.”

“We will just have to wait and see what the bishop says next week,” Howie replied. “If he will not give me a dispensation, there won’t be a Catholic wedding anyway.”

Howie could feel Suheera trembling as they entered the bishop’s office. “It’s going to be ok,” he whispered to her. “Please don’t be scared.”

“But he is a holy man, he speaks the word of God,” she whispered back.

“He is kind of like your imam; he translates the words of God for the people. He is a kind man, he will listen to us and do what he can to help,” Howie assured her.

They went into the office together and spoke with Bishop Kirk for thirty minutes before he asked Howie to give him a few moments alone with Suheera. She was terrified but put on a brave face as he squeezed her hand before leaving. When she rejoined Howie a short time later, she was still trembling but smiling.

“What did he say?” he asked as they left the church building.

“He said he would pray for guidance about our request for dispensation and let us know soon,” she said. “But he asked me if I would consider raising our children in the Catholic faith.”

“And what did you say?” This had been a major sticking point for them over the last few weeks.

“He did not come right out and say it, but I believe our dispensation depends on whether I agree or not,” she said softly. “I have thought long about this and I told him so. He said that was good that I had been thinking about what it means to our relationship. I told him that I thought it would be better for our children to be raised Catholic, seeing as the Muslim faith is often viewed with suspicion in this country.” She remembered the ugly incident with the wedding planner.

Howie let his breath out slowly; he didn’t realize he’d been holding it. “That makes me very happy, sweetheart,” he said, leaning over to kiss her.

“He said he understood that it is difficult to change one’s faith, and that it should not be undertaken without serious study. He said that he would not require me to convert, he said he could see that I was committed to my faith and commended me for it.” She looked out the window as they drove towards home. “He said if he grants the dispensation we can be married by the deacon but it must be within a church, it cannot take place outdoors as we had first discussed.”

“I was afraid that would be his answer,” Howie said. They’d already planned to have the ceremony on the cliff top but they would now have to scramble to find a chapel close to their venue. “We’ll need to call Sierra and let her know.”

“She is going to be upset, she has worked really hard to fit the ceremony to the venue,” Suheera said. She knew Sierra wouldn’t be happy but there was nothing they could do about it, the decision was out of their hands. “We will work something out, do not worry about it.”

Before they knew it, the time for the wedding arrived. The festivities would take place at a private estate in Malibu overlooking the ocean. The place was theirs for four days, starting Thursday, during which different traditional celebrations would take place. Sierra had done an amazing job, considering they had given her only three months advanced notice. Although Howie was involved in some of the planning, he was not privy to everything. That didn’t worry him, he knew that Suheera had it all under control – he’d given her carte blanche to spend whatever she liked. He wasn’t worried, though, he knew she would spend it wisely.

Tuesday evening Howie and Suheera picked up her best friend Saleena from the airport. It was a tearful reunion, but they were happy tears. She would be spending ten days with them, seeing as the newlyweds would not be going off on their honeymoon right away, due to scheduling conflicts. The two women spent the entire day Wednesday together, shopping and gossiping as only best friends can. Howie was glad to see Suheera so happy.

Thursday morning the girls ran off to the estate to oversee the decorations and set up for some secret event that he was supposed to attend that evening. When he arrived, Sierra met him at the gate and let him in, then escorted him to the living room. He was surprised to find the house full of women.

Suheera greeted him warmly when he entered and led him to a large sofa covered with brightly colored throws. His female relatives and friends that were already in town, and Suheera’s friends from the mosque, overflowed the other seating. Some sat on large floor pillows in the same bright colors. The room was lit with multiple silver candelabra and lively Persian music played in the background. The room was open to the kitchen, where trays of food and carafes of various drinks filled the black granite topped island.

“What is going on?” he asked, seeing the smiling faces. He spied Randall and Diya hiding out in the kitchen, stuffing their faces with food.

“This was my idea,” Saleena said. “Since Suheera has no relatives here to throw parties for her, I am filling in. I want to give her the biggest and best of everything, she deserves it,” she said with a huge smile.

“It is a tradition for the bride and groom to hold a mehndi party prior to the wedding. It is usually an extravagant affair with many people invited, but I thought a small, intimate gathering would be more appropriate,” Suheera said, glancing at Saleena, who just shrugged.

“Good idea,” Howie said. He’d attended the wedding of his Muslim friend Diya a few years before; several women there had henna designs. The wedding had been a huge affair, spread out over several days. He hoped their wedding would not be as extravagant as that had been.

“You look beautiful,” he said softly to her as she urged him to sit beside her on the sofa. She was dressed in a brilliant red salwar kameez (long tunic worn over tapered leg trousers) and matching hijab, heavily embroidered in gold thread. She was covered with gold costume jewelry, including a sparkling tikka (head jewelry hung from the center part of the hair, resting on the forehead).

“Thank you,” she whispered back. “We have a very talented henna artist who will decorate our hands and feet.”

The woman came forward and placed Suheera’s feet on a pillow and began painting on the elaborate designs with a small, fine tipped bottle. She started several inches above the ankle and painted down the top of the foot and onto the toes. The guests watched with interest, most of them had never seen this done before. Before long, the feet were done and the artist moved to Suheera’s palms where an elaborate floral pattern began to emerge. Interspersed with the flowers were stylized butterflies, in Howie’s honor.

“The ceremony is designed to bring good luck to the newlyweds,” the woman explained to Howie as she worked. “The practice is very ancient. Its purpose is to drive away the demons by disguising the bride and groom with the henna.”

“It is your turn now,” Suheera said with a smile when the woman finished her designs.

“Do not worry,” the woman said after seeing the panic on his face. “We are only going to do your feet.” He glanced up at his mother who grinned back at him.

“If I have to do it, they do too,” Howie said, pointing to the male members of his Muslim wedding party.

“You may be my boss, but you can’t make me do it,” Randall said, laughing.

“Are you scared?” Saleena taunted him. “Big bad bodyguard afraid of a little paint, huh?”

“I’m not afraid of anything, especially not a spoiled little girl,” he responded in Arabic. Several people laughed, and then translated for the non-Arabic speaking.

“Prove it,” she challenged him, lifting her chin.

“You are just like my daughter,” he growled, removing his shoes and socks and planting himself next to Howie on the couch. “Come on, Diya, you’ve got to do it too.” Diya’s wife laughed at the face he made, but he gamely joined Randall on the sofa.

Saleena kept them entertained as they were decorated, dancing to the music and bringing them treats to eat, feeding them herself as everyone laughed. A few of Suheera’s friends joined Saleena in dancing, not intimidated by the crowd of strangers watching them.

After the henna paste dried on their skin, the woman sprayed it with a lemon sugar mixture and again let it dry. She then covered all the designs with medical tape.

“You must leave that on for at least four hours,” the woman said. “It is best to leave it on overnight for the darkest color. And do not get water on it for 48 hours if you can.”

“How do I eat…or do other things?” Suheera giggled.

“Carefully,” the woman replied, joining everyone else in laughter. “Would anyone else like some henna?” she asked.

“Saleena has to if I had to,” Randall said in a sulky voice.

“I was planning on it,” she replied. “I have already picked out my pattern even.” She had her hands and feet done as well, seeing as she was Suheera’s maid of honor. Howie’s sisters opted for small floral designs which wound around their wrists and connected to a band around their middle fingers, resembling a punja bracelet.

The next morning, Saleena removed the tape from their henna designs and cleaned their skin with oil and then rubbed in a balm the artist had given them. The design was bright orange, but she explained to Howie that it would darken during the next 24 hours as it oxidized.

“So what do you have planned for this morning?” he asked over breakfast.

“Just some girl things,” Suheera replied vaguely, sneaking a furtive glance at her friend.

“You just go and do whatever,” Saleena said. Howie wondered what they actually had planned. He went off to spend the day with his family, which was a rare treat for him anymore. His busy schedule made seeing his family difficult.

Saleena herded her friend into the master bathroom, where she spent the better part of an hour waxing and plucking. She then treated her friend to a relaxing massage, cleansed her skin and hair, and anointed her with essential oils and perfumes. Suheera’s skin was radiant, smooth and very soft.

“Have you decided what to wear tonight?” Saleena asked.

“The lavender one, I think.” Saleena had brought with her a variety of outfits she’d purchased in Baghdad, remembering Suheera’s lack of fashion sense. They were the same size and could easily exchange clothes.

“Good choice.” Saleena helped her dress, then piled on the gold bangles and dangling earrings. Carefully she pinned the hijab in place, securing it with jeweled pins. “No veil over your face?” she teased her best friend as she helped her slip on the Swarovski crystal encrusted Louboutin sandals with their distinctive red leather soles.

“Not tonight, not with these people – they are family,” Suheera replied with a smile. “I am going to fall and break my ankle in these things!” she whined, although she had spent weeks practicing wearing them around the house.

By the time the two women finished dressing, Howie was waiting to drive them to the rehearsal.

“You look very nice,” Saleena mentioned to Howie as they climbed into the SUV. She could tell he had spent time dressing as well. “You have good taste in clothes.”

“My stylist likes Armani,” he said with a smile. The dark grey dress shirt and trousers were tailored to fit his body, the tie striped in grey and black.

“Stop, you will give him a big head,” Suheera teased. “He has more clothes than I do.”

“I doubt that now, after seeing what Saleena brought you.”

Their first stop was only a few miles from home, where they met up with the bridal party to walk through the ceremony. Afterwards they all drove to the estate. Howie’s band mates, whom he considered family, joined the small group in the gazebo overlooking the Pacific Ocean below.

Howie asked for everyone’s attention, taking Suheera’s hand in his. “You all know the circumstances of how we met and the trials we’ve gone through since then. We both believe that we were meant to be together, that a higher power has a purpose for us.”

“You are fortunate indeed,” Randall said, raising a glass of sparkling juice. The others agreed.

“But we face a huge hurdle as two people with vastly different religions and backgrounds. We’ve attended counseling through both churches and sought the advice of bishop and imam as we’ve struggled to decide what to do.”

“I know it hasn’t been easy for you,” Paula said, her eyes soft as she looked at her son and saw how much he loved Suheera. She’d had many conversations with them both over the past several months as they’d tried to figure out how to make this work.

“No, not easy at all as we both wish to marry with our own clergy.” He paused for a moment, considering how to continue. “I know my family wishes us to be married within the Catholic Church. The bishop has given me dispensation and the marriage will be valid in the eyes of the church. However, a union with a non-baptized woman will not be sanctified before God, no nuptial Mass can be said or communion held.”

Suheera began speaking softly. “A Muslim man may marry a Christian woman, either Catholic or Jewish, but a Muslim woman cannot marry outside of her religion. If she did, she would most likely be ostracized from her community.” Howie put his arm around Suheera as she talked. “However, I belong to a mosque where they are more tolerant of interfaith marriages and I have permission from the imam so the marriage will be recognized as true.”

Howie continued “The education we received during counseling has been interesting and enlightening, we both have enjoyed learning about each other’s faith. We feel making a hasty decision regarding conversion would be an injustice to each other and put too much pressure on our relationship, so we have decided that at this time neither of us will convert.”

“The deacon and the imam said we had to choose which of them would be signing the legal documents, they could not both sign,” she said softly. “We did not want one religion to take precedence over the other, so we decided to have a civil ceremony to cover the legalities of marriage. We have invited Judge Michael Deely here tonight for that purpose.” The wedding planner brought out a man in a suit who had just arrived.

The guests gasped, they hadn’t had a clue that the actual marriage would be taking place that night. So as the sun set behind them, Howie and Suheera were joined in marriage, with his father as the official witness. The ceremony was simple, with no elaborate vows, flowers or rings – that would come the next day. With a flourish, they both signed the paperwork that made them officially man and wife and then invited their guests inside for dinner.

His mother came up and hugged them both. “You two are full of surprises!” she said, beaming.

“You have not seen anything yet,” Suheera promised her new mother in law. “Wait until tomorrow…”

Saturday dawned bright and clear, with the expected temperature to be in the mid 70s with low humidity and only a light breeze coming off the ocean. The wedding would be a low key affair, attended only by Howie’s extended family, his band mates, and close friends – a guest list of around 50 people.

“Are you ready to do this, Mrs. Dorough?” Howie asked Suheera over breakfast.

She blushed. Although they were already officially married, they had not consummated the marriage, not until after the day’s events. “Of course, Mr. Dorough. I have been dreaming of this day since the first day I saw you.”

He came around the kitchen counter and took her in his arms. “What could you have possibly seen in me then? I was bound, gagged, barely conscious – a half dead foreigner.”

“Right after you arrived, Sabir shoved me into your room to check on you. He was not sure you were still alive as the trip to the village had been very rough. I took off your blindfold and gag, gave you water, and tried to wash some of the dirt from your face.”

“I do faintly remember that, although I thought it was a hallucination at the time.”

Suheera smiled. “I was shocked when you thanked me for the water, your voice little more than a whisper. It was your eyes that did me in, they were so full of gratitude and kindness. You looked directly at me, acknowledged me as a person, not as a slave. No one, man or woman, had ever done that before.”

“Your eyes captivated me as well, but it was your spirit that stole my heart. You were so brave, no matter what anyone did to you, you faced it with courage.”

“We need to face today with courage,” Suheera joked, trying to lighten the mood. “This is going to be the hardest thing I have ever done!” Howie agreed, laughing as he hugged her.

Saleena and Suheera left the house several hours before Howie did. Waiting for them were Howie’s mother and sisters. A makeup artist and hair stylist soon arrived at the venue to begin their work. Makeup for the ceremony was going to be subtle, giving the women a fresh, natural look. Suheera’s hair was coaxed into an elaborate 4 strand braid which fell to the middle of her back, thanks to a few extensions.

“She’s so beautiful,” Angie whispered to her mother.

“Your brother is a lucky man, Suheera loves him with all her heart,” Paula replied.

“She must love him to still be here despite everything.” Angie watched as Suheera talked with her best friend, laughing together over a private joke.

Paula agreed wholeheartedly, content to see her son marry the woman of his dreams, a woman who lived up to her expectations completely. The more she got to know her new daughter in law, the more she admired and loved her.

The wedding guests gathered in the lobby of the Casa Del Mar hotel in Santa Monica. Howie had booked all of his family and friends into the hotel situated right on the beach. A large luxury sightseeing bus pulled up outside. Randall herded everyone onto the bus, checking off names as they boarded.

A few minutes later the bus pulled away, leaving the guests wondering where they were going. No one knew for certain, the invitations had been left intentionally vague. Randall got on the PA system on the bus.

“Thank you all for being prompt, we don’t want our bride and groom waiting for us, do we?” There were some giggles. “So let’s go over the ground rules – I know Howie already emailed these to you. First of all, there will be no cell phones or cameras allowed. If you brought one, you’ll need to leave it with me – and I will search all bags just to make sure.”

“You’re no fun, Randall,” Nick complained.

“Second, it appears that everyone has abided by the dress code, thank you very much for that.” Randall had eyed every outfit as they boarded and no one needed additional coverings. “Third, there will be no alcohol served tonight in deference to our Muslim guests.” He expected groans but thankfully no one complained.

“Where are we headed?” one of Howie’s friends asked.

“Up the Pacific Coast Highway, that’s pretty much all I can say - but we aren’t going far,” Randall said. “I can tell you that the bus will take us to the second venue as well so during the first stop you may leave any belongings on the bus, it will be guarded. Tonight we will have several cars with drivers to return you to the hotel when you’re ready to leave.” He put down the microphone and sat down in the front seat, he needed to compose himself. Randall was feeling a little overwhelmed, the day’s proceedings reminded him of his wedding to Shiza, and he was missing her dearly.

“Are we there yet?” Nick asked a moment later, bouncing up and down in his seat.

“Grow up, Nick,” Randall said with a smile. He’d become well acquainted with the band members over the last few months and knew what to expect from Nick.

Randall picked up the microphone again. “I’m sure that all of you know Howie and Suheera met in Iraq when he was a captive there. Some higher power brought a man to a land torn by war, a place he’d normally avoid, where his mental and physical strength were pushed to the limit. That same power threw a woman into an unthinkable and dangerous situation, her courage and faith tested daily.” He paused for a moment. “They say there is no such thing as love at first sight. I believe - I fell deeply in love with my wife the instant I set eyes on her. What do you think?”

“We believe,” Brian said, holding Leighanne’s hand tightly. Hoke turned to Paula, they agreed as well.

“It certainly has not been an easy road for Howie and Suheera. They are as different as two people can be but love has helped them overcome those differences.” He paused for a moment, looking out over the ocean as they drove north. “Marcus hired me to lead the private search team after the kidnapping, and I assisted them again when Howie went back to Iraq to search for Suheera. And here I am now with Howie, working as Suheera’s bodyguard. I believe fate brought them into my life when I needed reassurance that faith will see you through difficult times and love is real. Whether you believe in Allah or God, surely His hand has brought them together. He has something big in store for them, I’m sure.”

There was a round of applause on the bus. “I’ve spent many years in the Middle East; I understand the culture and the languages. I converted to Islam when I married my wife, who is Iraqi like Suheera.” He paused for a moment, remembering his beautiful wife. “I don’t think Suheera will mind if I tell you a bit about her, for those not fortunate enough to know her well. She was born in a small village in northeastern Iraq to a family of high standing in their community. Her mother died giving birth to her, her father remarried quickly. When she was just a week old, her new stepmother gave her away to peasant farmers that took in orphans to work the opium fields…”

“What about her father?” Kevin interrupted. “She wasn’t an orphan if her father still lived.”

“Her father wanted only sons, she was worthless to him. And her stepmother didn’t want a newborn not her own to care for,” Randall said. “In childhood, Suheera had none of the things you and I took for granted – enough food to eat, a nice home, an education, and the love and support of your family.” He paused to let that sink in for a moment. “Although born to a well respected family, because of the actions of an uncaring father, Suheera became an outcast to society. Her future was grim - she could not marry or return to her home.

“Suheera met a man forbidden to her and found herself falling in love. She had a choice – an uncertain future in Iraq or an unknown land thousands of miles away. Imagine the strength it takes to leave behind everything you know, to live in a world you know nothing about. Imagine trying to assimilate to a culture that is totally opposite of your own, dealing with people who look on you with suspicion and sometimes hatred just because you follow the covenants of your faith.”

Randall realized they were getting close to the church and wrapped up his speech. “The fact that this marriage is even happening speaks volumes to the character of these two amazing people. They studied each other’s religions and decided that at this time neither wished to convert. To avoid the impression that one religion takes precedence over the other, Howie and Suheera were married in a civil union by a judge last night. Today the couple will hold two ceremonies to celebrate the sacredness and the pageantry of each religion. If you do not feel comfortable attending one of the ceremonies, for whatever reason, let me know and I can make other accommodations for you. ”

The bus pulled into the parking lot of a small building, Our Lady of Malibu Catholic Church. Randall checked purses and pockets as the guests disembarked. They entered the small sanctuary through gardens filled with blooming plants. It was a small room, with wooden beams overhead, but beautifully decorated with wrought iron candelabra and flickering candles. Orchids and white tulle graced the ends of the pews, while small candles placed at the base of the benches lit the white rose petal covered aisle.

The altar was a simple wooden table covered with a cloth. A Bible lay on top, open. The wedding guests were escorted to their seats, forgoing the typical bride and groom sides.

The cantor came in and introduced himself and welcomed everyone to the wedding ceremony. “In your programs, for those of you not familiar with the Rite of Marriage, is an explanation of the ceremony and what to expect. We will sing, we will recite, and we will listen to the word of God and pray in His name. I’d like to welcome our Muslim guests, we are glad you are here to join us in the blessing of this marriage. No offense will be taken if at times you do not feel comfortable participating in the rituals. You are honored guests and we welcome you.

“Today will be a little different in that we will not be conducting a full wedding mass nor will we receive communion, seeing as the bride is Muslim. The couple received dispensation from Bishop Kirk in order to be married in the church.” He moved to the other side of the altar and continued speaking. “Instead today we will be celebrating the sacrament of marriage so the consent of the couple to marry can be witnessed by the church, thus making it a valid Catholic union.”

As the cantor spoke, the wedding party gathered in the foyer of the chapel. Suheera was brought out at the last second. Howie’s eyes grew large when he saw her, his heart in this throat.

“You look…wow, I have no words for how beautiful you are,” he whispered as she came to stand beside him.

“Shh!” Sierra scolded him, but then smiled. She thought the bride looked pretty spectacular as well. Finding a dress had been difficult. Suheera wanted something that an American bride would wear, but it had to cover everything and not reveal too much of her figure. They had little time so special ordering a dress was out of the question. They finally found the perfect dress online and a skillful seamstress added sleeves and raised the neckline. Suheera created the effect of a hijab with a lace veil, adding the required modesty but not making the hijab stand out.

The cantor stepped to one side as music began to swell softly. The guests stood as the hymn began and the wedding party entered. First came the deacon in his robes. Howie and Suheera then entered side by side, followed by Howie’s parents, his brother John, and Saleena.

Howie was dressed in a smartly tailored black Armani three piece suit with a burgundy tie and white orchid boutonniere. But everyone’s eyes were drawn to Suheera, resplendent in her white gown with a chapel length train. Her bouquet was a simple spray of white cymbidium orchids with burgundy centers.

Suheera was not prepared for the emotion that began to build in her. She had to fight back the tears that threatened to roll down her face. The first part of the ceremony went by in a flash; afterwards she barely remembered any of it. Before she knew it, it was time for the vows.
“Howard and Suheera, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage? Will you love and honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?” Deacon Wright asked.
“We do,” they said in unison.
“Will you accept children lovingly from God, and bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?”
Howie looked to Suheera and saw her smile. “We do,” they said.
“Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church.”
Howie took Suheera’s hand into his. "I, Howard, take you Suheera, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times, in sickness and in health. I will love and honor you all the days of my life," Howie said.
"I, Suheera, take you Howard, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times, in sickness and in health. I will love and honor you all the days of my life," Suheera repeated.
“You have declared your consent before the Church. May the Lord in his goodness strengthen your consent and fill you both with his blessings. What God has joined, men must not divide,” the deacon said. “May the Lord bless these rings which you give to each other as the sign of your love and fidelity. Lord, bless Howard and Suheera in their love for each other. May these rings be a symbol of true faith in each other, and always remind them of their love. Through Christ our Lord...”
“Amen,” the gathering replied.
Howie placed the ring on Suheera’s left hand ring finger. “Suheera, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy spirit.”
Suheera placed the ring on Howie’s left hand ring finger. “Howie, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity.”
Deacon Wright addressed the couple and the gathering of friends and family. “I have heard it said it is not love that sustains your marriage, but marriage that sustains your love. This is something that almost all married people will attest to. It means that you'll always have more love to look forward to in your life with each other, which you are beginning in an entirely new way today.
“There's a secret to a happy marriage that's in the readings that you chose for your wedding. The theme of unity comes through clearly, especially in the gospel reading, but does it make sense to talk about the unity of husband and wife if we're not given instructions on how to be one with each other? The instruction is part of the scriptures. The Lord tells us, through his prayer to the Father, to expect that the love of God be with us and part of our lives. Put another way, husband and wife learn to be for one another the way that God is for us.
“In marriage, it's good to pause occasionally and say, "Remember, I'm on your side; I'm for you." This is a lesson that we take from our faith, which speaks of the marriage in heaven between Christ and his bride. We, as the Church, understand that he is for us, his bride, in all ways and at all times. Perhaps above everything else, being on one another's side means to learn to be forbearing and forgiving with each other. The love sustained by marriage forbears, forgives, and learns always to say, "I will never leave you." It's the secret to the lasting marriage.
“So as you go forth this afternoon as husband and wife, I offer you my blessing as the Church's minister. However, when you first found each other you likely found the blessing that means the most to the two of you. It's with joy that we celebrate that blessing, as well as the Church's blessing, today.” He asked the couple to turn and face the congregation. “May I present Mr. and Mrs. Howard Dorough…” The couple looked out at beaming faces, mirroring their own happiness.
The cantor began a hymn while the wedding party exited the chapel. After he finished, he addressed the gathering once again. “The bus that brought you to the chapel is waiting outside to take you to the second venue. The bride and groom will be meeting you there shortly, after they take a few photos.”
Randall once again supervised the loading of the bus, making sure everyone was accounted for. As they drove the few miles to the new venue, he explained the proceedings.
“So today we are celebrating marriage traditions for both the bride and groom. We just witnessed Howie’s Catholic ceremony; we will now have Suheera’s Muslim ceremony. As is tradition, the men and women observe the ceremony separately. Ladies, you will be directed to one room and men to another, where there will be refreshments served while we’re waiting for the couple to prepare. It hopefully won’t be too long of a wait, but some of us know just how long it takes Howie to get dressed,” Randall said. Many people in the bus laughed. “If any of you do not feel comfortable attending this ceremony, please let me know and we’ll find a comfortable place for you to wait.”
The bus pulled up in front of a large estate perched on the edge of a cliff in Malibu, just a few miles from the chapel. As guests entered the house, Randall directed the female guests down a hallway into the family room, and the men were shown into the living room.
“Muslim women cover their hair and body, as dictated by the Quran,” Sierra explained. “We ask that you follow convention by covering your hair during the ceremony. Suheera picked out some beautiful scarves for you, which you may keep as a reminder of this day.” A rainbow array of lightweight silk head scarves were arranged artfully on a large table. Sierra and her assistant helped each woman drape the scarf over their hair and around the neck.

In the master bedroom, Saleena helped Suheera change into her second wedding outfit. The makeup artist was waiting as well. She added dark Arabian eyeliner and false eyelashes to create a smoky, exotic look to the women’s faces.

Thirty minutes after arrival, the guests were shown into the side yard, where white seats were set up in two sections in front of a low wood platform. Women were seated to the right of the aisle, men to the left. Behind the platform stood a white backdrop wall in the shape of two minarets on either side of a dome. Four fluted pillars flanked the platform, draped in white tulle and accented with burgundy bows and orchids.

More orchids overflowed from white ceramic vases on each side of the raised dais. The platform was covered with a large Persian rug. In the middle of the rug were two silver candelabra, a silver cup and a copy of the Quran. After all the guests had been seated, the imam came out and addressed the gathering.

“In your program, you will find a short description of the Muslim religion and information about the wedding ceremony itself. I’d like to extend a warm welcome to our Christian guests, we are glad you are here with us today.”

Soft music began to play through speakers hidden in the trees. Howie walked up the center aisle, accompanied by Randall and Diya. Paula thought he looked very handsome in a dark burgundy embroidered salwar kameez. She was surprised to see he was barefoot, but realized it was because of the mehndi, which had darkened considerably since the night before.

“Is that really our baby brother?” Angie whispered to her sister.

“Shh!” their mother scolded them, but smiled at their comment.

Howie knelt on the left side of the rug, with his witnesses seated to his left side. “We begin the Muslim ceremony with the nikah, the signing of the marriage contract,” they imam said.

Suheera came up the aisle next, accompanied by Saleena. She was dressed in a highly embroidered mauve salwar kameez and was barefoot too. A matching solid color hijab covered her hair and chest, while a cream colored lace veil concealed her face. Her only jewelry was a tiny tikka dangling on her forehead. She sat on the rug with her head bowed. Saleena knelt to her right.

The imam came to stand before them. “The tradition of Islam calls for the groom to offer his bride two mehers, or bride gifts. The prompt meher is usually given during the ceremony and the other is a gift to be used in the future, something that cannot be taken back as it is the bride’s assurance that she will be taken care of in case of divorce or her husband’s death.” He signaled Randall to begin, so he stood and faced the gathering.

“Suheera, Howard proposes marriage to you in front of these witnesses. His future meher to you is an education at any institution, to whatever level you desire. In addition, he offers you $250,000, which you may use however you wish. Is that acceptable to you?”

Saleena sucked in her breath, it was an amazing offer. She had received only a tiny fraction of that amount, forcing her to live with her brother after the death of her husband. She watched closely for Suheera’s response, a slight shake of head. She gasped, what was Suheera thinking to refuse such an offer?

“That is not acceptable,” Saleena said softly. Randall’s eyes grew big; he looked to Howie, who had paled. “Please, excuse me for a moment,” she said to the imam and then leaned in close to Suheera.

“Certainly,” he replied. He too was shocked at Suheera’s response; the meher was more than generous.

“What is wrong, Suheera? Have you changed your mind?” she whispered.

Suheera shook her head. “It is too much. Howie already gave Naseem that watch; it had to have been worth tens of thousands of dollars! I am not worthy of him…” Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

“Yes, you are!” Saleena said vehemently. She looked to the groom, he was pale and shaking. “He thinks he hasn’t offered enough.”

“I am not a virgin, I am not worth that much money,” she whispered wretchedly.

“He doesn’t care,” Saleena assured her. “Let me speak to Randall.” Saleena rose gracefully and motioned to Randall to join her.

“What is the problem? Has she changed her mind?” he asked, suddenly worried.

“No, that’s not it. She thinks the meher is too much, that she’s not worth it.”

Randall groaned, he should have expected this response from Suheera. He had warned Howie not to make the meher so much. “He cannot take it back without shaming her – and himself.”

“And he cannot increase it, it would make Suheera look greedy.” Saleena sighed, she had no idea what to do to resolve this issue, she’d never seen this happen before.

“I know,” Randall said as inspiration suddenly struck. “I’ll have Howie donate the future meher to some charity. Do you think that would work?”

Saleena’s eyes lit up. “Yes! She said she wanted to build a school for girls in Iraq, girls who’ve been shunned by their families and have nowhere to go…”

“Let me run that by Howie, but I’m sure it will be ok.” Randall returned to Howie’s side, knelt, and after a whispered conversation, Howie nodded.

Saleena knelt and whispered in Suheera’s ear as well, she too nodded.

Randall turned and faced the seated guests once again. “Suheera, Howard proposes marriage to you in front of these witnesses. His future meher to you is an education to whatever level you desire. In addition, he offers to create for you a charitable foundation whose goal is to assist and educate girls in Iraq. He will make the first donation to your new foundation in the amount of $250,000. Is that acceptable?”

Suheera nodded, Saleena then answered for her. “Yes, that is acceptable,” she replied, watching the color flood back into Howie’s face as relief filled him.

“For Howie’s prompt meher, he gives you this ring.” Randall handed the delicately carved gold ring to the imam.

“Do you, Suheera, agree to this marriage?” the imam asked.

“Qubal,” she replied, the Arabic word for ‘I accept.’ He asked her twice more, receiving the same answer.

The imam turned to Howie. “Do you, Howard, agree to this marriage?”

“Qubal,” he replied. He asked twice more, receiving the same answer.

Randall and Saleena stood and held a white dupatta, or large scarf, over the couple. Diya sprinkled white sugar over their heads, which fell into the scarf, a gesture meant to sweeten the marriage. Two attendants brought in a large mirror framed in gold and placed it upright before the couple. Suheera lifted her veil, revealing her face for the first time. When she looked up, she met Howie’s gaze in the mirror. Love was shining brightly in his eyes. Howie melted at the adoration that shone in her face.

"I, Suheera, offer you myself in marriage in accordance with the instructions of the Holy Quran and the Holy Prophet, peace and blessing be upon him. I pledge, in honesty and with sincerity, to be for you an obedient and faithful wife." Howie took the ring from the imam and placed it on the ring finger of Suheera’s right hand.
Howie replied, "I pledge, in honesty and sincerity, to be for you a faithful and helpful husband." Suheera took an identical carved silver ring from Saleena and placed it on the ring finger of Howie’s right hand.
The marriage contract, a type of pre-nuptial agreement drawn up prior to the wedding, was brought out and the pair signed it in front of their two Muslim witnesses. The imam took the silver cup and offered it to the couple. They dipped their right hand pinky fingers into the honey in the cup and fed each other, a gesture to bring sweetness and harmony to their marriage.
The imam faced the gathering of friends and family. “In the name of Allah, you are now husband and wife. I ask Allah, peace and blessing be upon him, to bless this union.”
The imam opened his Quran and read the first chapter. Afterwards, Howie and Suheera rose and silently left the platform, walking slowly between the rows of chairs, smiling but not touching. The imam followed closely behind them.
Randall turned to the wedding guests. “And that concludes our wedding traditions – except for the walima, the traditional wedding feast. If you’ll remain seated for just a few minutes, Howie and Suheera are taking a few photographs. When they are finished, we’ll proceed to the back of the house where we’ll spend the rest of the evening partying.”
A few minutes later, the guests were invited to the backyard. A large open air tent was erected in the grassy area for dining and dancing. Bistro tables were set up on the stone patio and within the large gazebo which overlooked the ocean below.
“That was beautiful,” Paula said to her husband as they followed the crowd to the patio. “They both looked amazing in their wedding clothes, so different than what we’re used to seeing.”
“Interesting ceremony,” Alex remarked to Brian. “I’ve never been to a Muslim wedding before, have you?”
Brian shook his head. “Suheera looked gorgeous,” Leighanne added. “The fabric in her outfit was totally amazing!”
Howie thought so too, and told her so as they walked back to the house after the photographer had staged photos in the gazebo and rose garden.
“Thank you,” Suheera said, blushing. “If you will excuse me, I need to change for the walima.” He pulled her into his arms, finally getting to kiss her without any watching eyes.
“I love you so much,” he whispered. “Now, go change – and hurry, I want to join the party!”
Saleena and Suheera disappeared into the master bedroom. “What are you wearing tonight?” Saleena asked, she hadn’t been involved in choosing the last outfit of the evening.
“You are going to be shocked,” Suheera said with a wicked smile. She pulled a sleek black dress from the closet and held it up. “I want for just one night, to forget who I am and where I am from. Do you think I will go to hell for wearing this?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.
“Probably,” Saleena said as she helped slip the dress over her friend’s head. “But who cares? It’s just one night, just one dress – and then back to the old ways.”
Suheera smoothed the strapless dress over her hips – it was form fitting to the hips and then fell gently to the floor in a swirl of fabric. “Now I need help with the jewelry.” She retrieved a box from the bed and carefully lifted out the headpiece.
“Oh Suheera! That is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen!” Saleena exclaimed. “No wonder you wanted your hair braided.”
“Do not even ask me how much it cost! I am sure Howie will not be happy, but I could not resist…”
“Howie will not care one bit once he sees you in it!” Saleena assured her. “You are going to look absolutely stunning.”
The silver plated headpiece was covered with Swarovski crystals which glittered wildly in the light. Saleena laid the headpiece on Suheera’s head and carefully secured it in place with bobby pins. The hair plait attached to the back of the headpiece and to the braid, which she eased over her friend’s bare shoulder.
Suheera picked up the chandelier earrings and inserted them in her ears, carefully attaching the backs of the heavy earrings. Saleena placed the necklace around her throat and latched it securely. On one hand she slipped on a crystal encrusted bangle, on the other a delicate panja bracelet.
“No hijab tonight?” Saleena asked. She’d never known her best friend to appear in public without it.
“No, not tonight,” she said, now unsure of her decision.
“Suheera, you followed every rule today in both ceremonies, I think you can be allowed one indiscretion.” She picked up the blush and added a little more color to Suheera’s cheeks. “You were very brave to have part of your ceremony in Howie’s church. I don’t know that I could’ve done it.”
“It was important to his family,” she said. “Howie was brave to take part in our ceremony. He was not sure how his family would react.”
“I don’t think there was a problem, his mother looked very pleased,” Saleena observed. “Although I thought Howie was going to have a heart attack when you refused the meher.”
Suheera colored a little. “I know I should not have caused a scene about that, but I did not want anyone to think I was greedy and insisted on him giving me that huge meher.”
“Anyone that knows you knows that you are not like that,” Saleena reassured her. “Come on, I’m sure that Howie is waiting.”
Suheera sprayed on a light mist of perfume and headed for the door after slipping on the high heeled Louboutin sandals. Saleena paused to touch up her makeup.
Howie was indeed waiting in the hallway. He’d changed back into his Armani suit, sans the jacket and tie, leaving the top couple of buttons undone. He turned at the sound of the door opening, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of his bride.
“Oh my god,” he whispered.
“What? Is it too much? I can go change…” Panic filled Suheera at Howie’s expression.
“No, don’t change – it’s perfect,” he said. “I just…never imagined seeing you in something like this. You look stunning.”
Relief filled Suheera’s face. “I was not sure if you would approve.”
“I approve 110%, sweetheart.” He took her hands. “I can’t wait for tonight,” he whispered.
“Me too,” she whispered back, and then sighed as he kissed her.
“Enough of that,” Saleena said, coming up behind the couple. “Let’s go see how the walima is going.”
All conversation in the tent ceased when Howie and Suheera entered. All eyes turned to the radiant bride, taking in her glittering, exotic beauty.
“You’ve left them speechless, sweetheart,” Howie whispered.
“Is that a good thing?” she asked.
“Definitely,” he assured her. “Let’s go greet everyone, ok?” They were soon surrounded by well wishers, enveloped with hugs and kisses.
“Have you ever seen a more beautiful bride?” Leighanne asked wistfully.
“Yes, you,” Brian replied. Leighanne’s eyes glowed with the love she had for her husband. “But you’re right, she is very striking. They look like they were made for each other.”
Before long, all the guests were eating and drinking. Suheera made a plate for herself but just picked at the food.
“Is there something wrong with the food?” he asked. “Sierra said this is the finest halal caterer in the city.”
“The food is fine. It is just not as good as mine,” she observed.
After taking another bite, Howie agreed. “You’re right, your food tastes better,” he replied. “So why don’t you start your own company?”
“I couldn’t do that,” Suheera said.
“Why not? You have the recipes, you have the talent – you just need someone to back you and I know just that person…” he said with a smile.
“Who would want to give me money to start a business? I have no idea what to do or how to run a catering company,” Suheera insisted.
“That’s why you go to school, sweetheart. So you can learn what to do – and when you’re ready to open your business, I’ll be your silent partner.”
“You would do that for me?” Her eyes were big with wonder.
“Of course! Whatever you want to do, I want you to do too – and to succeed at it.” He reached out and stroked her cheek. “I love you so much, Suheera, I would do anything to make you happy.”
“You make me happy just by looking at me,” she said shyly.
A live band played in the corner of the tent. It switched between Persian music and pop songs, and sometimes mixed the two to the amusement of the crowd. Suheera pulled Howie to his feet and out onto the dance floor. Others soon joined them; the tent was filled with laughter.
After two hours of dancing, Suheera slipped away from the festivities, needing a moment to herself – and to slip off the shoes that were killing her feet. The gazebo beckoned, only a few candles lit the darkness within.
“Ah, that’s better,” she sighed as she removed the sandals. She wasn’t used to wearing them all day. A slight breeze off the ocean cooled her.
“I see the infidel has already turned you from Islam,” a voice in the darkness said. “No hijab and your body on display for all to see. It’s disgusting.”
Suheera began to tremble, hearing the voice she never wished to hear again. “I have a restraining order, they will put you back in jail…”
“That is nothing but a piece of paper and I don’t plan on staying in this country much longer.” Fareed moved out of the shadows. “There’s no one around. I’ll kill you right now if you scream,” he said, seeing Suheera glance frantically around.
“What do you want?” she asked, hating that her voice cracked in fear.
“Revenge,” he stated. “For myself and for Roshan. I’m going to kill your bodyguard for what he did to Roshan. And then I’m going to take you back to Iraq and give you to Miskeen and let him whore you out in every little village he can drag you to.”
Suheera shuddered, she had little doubt that Fareed would make good on his threat, given the chance. But she didn’t intend on giving him that chance. “Please, Allah, let Randall come soon…” she prayed silently.
“We’re going out to the parking lot,” he said, shoving her towards the stairs.
“Can I put my shoes back on first?” she asked, Fareed nodded. Suheera sat down and buckled the high heeled sandals back on. She really didn’t want to, she couldn’t run in them, but it got her close to the small knife strapped to her calf. She’d worn the weapon every day since she was old enough to protect herself.
Fareed looked away for a second, scanning the area. Suheera used that opportunity to ease the knife from the sheath. She had no pockets so she hid it in her palm the best she could, keeping her arm pressed to her side.
“Come on,” he whispered, taking her arm. But as they descended the stairs a small group of people headed their way and forced Fareed to change directions. “Down there,” he said, indicating a path which led to a small garden. Suheera’s heart fell; there was no real exit to the area, only the path they were on. They’d taken a few photographs there earlier in the day so she knew there was a straight drop down to the ocean below.
Randall stood at the edge of the tent, watching the festivities. Everyone was having a good time and was well behaved, seeing as there was no alcohol being served. The drivers had already taken a few couples back to the hotel, but there were still nearly forty people either in the tent or house or wandering the grounds.
As he looked around, an uneasy feeling began to grow in the pit of his stomach. He’d learned during his three tours in combat to always trust his gut. He saw Howie talking with his family but Suheera was not at his side. He pushed his way through the dancers.
“Where’s Suheera?” he asked.
“She said she needed a few moments alone,” Howie replied. “Is something wrong?”
Randall shook his head. “I’m sure she’s just up at the house. Don’t worry; I’ll go check on her.” He sprinted up the lawn to the house and made a quick pass through, checking every room. She wasn’t there.
“Who are you looking for?” Sierra asked, seeing the concerned look on Randall’s face.
“Suheera. I can’t find her anywhere.”
“I saw her go down to the gazebo a few minutes ago – and then she and Howie walked down to the garden area.”
Randall knew it wasn’t Howie that had gone to the garden, he’d just seen him in the tent. The feeling of unease turned to alarm. “Thanks,” he said, heading to his vehicle at a run.
When he returned, his sniper rifle hung over his shoulder. At the edge of the property was a wooded area cloaked in darkness. He crept through the trees, keeping to the deepest shadows as he approached, thankful for the dark clothes he wore. He was uphill from the small garden area, hidden in a grove of mature trees. When he heard voices, he knelt, evaluating the situation. Slowly he crawled forward, not wanting to get too close. He was in perfect range with his sniper rifle, if he could get a good angle.
“It was not Randall who killed Roshan,” Suheera said.
“Who else could have?” Fareed replied with a sneer. “There were two bullets in his body, both from your bodyguard’s weapon.”
“But those bullets did not kill him, the police said. Why do you think the driver’s side window was covered in blood from the inside?” she asked. “How did a bullet enter his brain from the right side?”
“Could have been a ricochet,” he said. “And besides, you don’t have the balls to do something like that.”
“The bullet was too fragmented for the police to determine which gun fired the fatal round to his brain,” she said, staring him in the eyes. “But I know. I pointed that Beretta right at his head and pulled the trigger – he never saw it coming.”
“I think you lie, whore.”
“I think you have always underestimated me, Fareed. I told you about my childhood, but you obviously were not listening. I know how to get rid of scum like you and your brother.” Fareed lunged at her but Suheera nimbly jumped back.
When she did, Randall was able to get a good look at the man’s face through his night vision scope. “May Allah damn you to the depths of hell forever, Fareed,” he snarled. Cupping his hands to his mouth, Randall hooted like an owl three times.
Suheera recognized Randall’s signal. She wanted to feel relieved, knowing he was near, but she knew she was still in a very precarious situation.
Fareed pulled the revolver from the holster and pointed it at her. “Maybe I will just kill you now. Miskeen wouldn’t be able to handle you anyway. The man is an idiot.”
Suheera tried to make an educated guess as to where Randall was hiding. She thought the hoots had come from the trees; she needed to position herself to give him a clear line of sight on Fareed. She hoped he would shoot the bastard rather than try to confront him. She knew he was an expert shot; they went to the gun range together frequently after he learned she knew how to shoot.
“Your mother tried to persuade me to marry you after you’d been arrested, did you know that?” Suheera moved another foot to her right. “She didn’t care how she got more grandchildren, as long as she got them.”
“Mother has no idea about my other line of work,” Fareed laughed. “I’ll never remarry; I’m having too much fun.” The hand holding the weapon was steady.
“She knows more than you think,” Suheera said, remembering the look on Fahada’s face when Howie told her about Fareed. “She will not be concerned when you leave the country, unable to return?” she asked, stealthily moving another couple feet to her right. She heard the call of the owl again and knew she was in the clear now.
“I’ll be able to come and go as I wish, I have a whole new identity right here,” he said, opening his jacket with his free hand to show her the papers inside. They were wrapped in plastic and shoved into an interior pocket.
It was the opportunity Suheera was waiting for. With the blade between her fingers, she sent the knife hurtling towards her attacker. It embedded all the way to the hilt in Fareed’s chest. The knife was too little to do much damage, but it caused his arm to drop so that the pistol was no longer pointed directly at Suheera.
“You’re mine now,” Randall thought, holding his breath to steady his aim. He squeezed the trigger, there was a muffled ‘pop,’ and then another ‘pop’ and all was quiet.
Suheera was just as surprised to see the spreading blooms of red on Fareed’s chest as he was. She had expected more noise, a retort from the rifle and a scream from the target. But all Fareed did was gurgle as he clawed at his chest. The handgun dropped harmlessly to the ground. He staggered backwards, standing on the lip of the cliff.
“Join your brother in hell,” Suheera said, pulling her knife from his chest. He reached for her, begging her with his eyes to help him. “I told you both that you underestimated me.” She shoved him backward as hard as she could.
“Are you ok?” Randall asked when he quietly joined her seconds later. He looked over the cliff edge, happy to see that the body had gone into the water instead of landing on the rocks.
“Yes,” she replied, surprised at how steady her voice was. Randall took the knife and wiped the blade clean on the grass and then handed it back to her. She slipped it back into the sheath.
“You just keep surprising me, girl,” he said, hugging her. Slipping off his jacket, he used the sleeve to pick up the gun. He threw it out into the water, as far as he could.
“Thank you for having my back,” she said, making him laugh. “Do we have to call the police? I do not want to worry Howie…and no one is going to miss that scum.”
Randall searched her face, trying to decipher her thoughts. “We can’t involve Howie in this, even though it was self defense,” he said, thinking out loud. “There is nothing to tie the body to us, the bullets went straight through, there’s no evidence he was here.” He pulled up the few blades of bloody grass and held them over the edge of the cliff, letting them float away on the breeze.

“You need to change before going back, I can’t see if you have any blood on you or not,” Randall said quietly, leading his client back up to the house. They waited in the shadows and then slipped inside without being seen. “Do you have something else to put on?”

“Yes, I will put my salwar kameez back on, and my hijab. Everyone will think that I just felt uncomfortable in the western dress.”

“That’s a good idea, but a shame - you sure look fantastic in it,” Randall said with a smile. “Don’t take too long, Howie will start to worry.”

Randall stood guard outside the master bedroom. Suheera used a wash cloth to wipe her face and arms, just in case, and then touched up her makeup quickly. With a sigh, she removed all the jewelry except the head piece and ran cold water over them, rinsing any traces of blood from them. She slipped back into the wedding clothes and draped just the lace hijab over her head, flipping the ends over her shoulder to hold it in place.

Less than ten minutes later, Randall led her back to the party. Howie didn’t seem disturbed that she’d been gone so long, knowing that her bodyguard had been with her.

“You changed your outfit,” Howie said, a pretend pout on his face.

“Baby steps,” she said with a smile. “I liked the dress but felt a little…exposed.” She didn’t like to lie to her husband, but she was sure that the circumstances warranted it this time.

“I understand, you wear whatever makes you the most comfortable,” he said with a smile, kissing her cheek. “Brian was just telling us about Baylee’s baseball team and what a great little player his son is.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about baseball,” Suheera said, smiling apologetically. “Soccer, yes, I know all about that.”

“Well, he plays that too,” Brian said, launching into another story. Thankfully Saleena came by a few minutes later and rescued her.

“I’m going to steal the bride away to get her ready for tonight,” she said with a smile.

“Don’t take too long,” Howie said, grinning.

“Give me thirty minutes, ok?” She took Suheera by the arm and led her up to the house and into the master bedroom. “Take a shower, but do not get your face or hair wet,” Saleena commanded. Suheera carefully removed the head piece and rinsed it off before placing it on a towel to dry.

When Suheera emerged from the shower, she discovered that her best friend had prepared the room. The bed was turned back; flowers gave the room a nice scent. Candles were lit on the bedside tables and on the dresser; the room glowed softly. Saleena handed her a night gown of the sheerest material, a shimmering gown of white and lace.

“Let me help you,” Saleena said, slipping the garment over her head. She picked up a vial from the dresser and dabbed some liquid in a few strategic places. She then picked up a brush, removed the rubber band from the braid and shook Suheera’s hair free. It immediately curled, making Saleena sigh. “You have the most beautiful hair.” She brushed until the silky locks shone in the soft light.

“I’m nervous, Saleena,” Suheera admitted as her friend finished working on her hair. “What if I disappoint him? I don’t know what to do.”

“Your body will know what to do, and there’s no way you could ever disappoint that man, he loves you so much,” Saleena reassured her. “Wait here, I will bring your husband to you.”

Suheera sat on the edge of the bed, waiting. She still couldn’t believe she was Howie’s wife; they had gone through so much to be together. She looked up at the sound of the door opening. He smiled gently at her as he entered, closing and locking the door behind him.

“Everyone wanted to come and wish us a good wedding night, but I thought that might be too much for you,” he said, sitting down next to her. Saleena had warned him ahead of time that their friends would want to enter the bedroom and sprinkle the bed with flower petals as the couple climbed in.

She blushed slightly, taking his hand. “Thank you, I would have been quite embarrassed.”

“No one will bother us. Randall is standing guard at the end of the hallway, and Saleena is making sure our guests are well taken care of and returned to their hotel at the end of the evening.” He took her face in his hands, cupping it gently. “I’m glad Saleena intervened. I wanted to get away from the crowd to be alone with you.”

“You have waited long enough,” she whispered, seeing the lust fire in his eyes. He leaned over and captured her lips, slowly deepening the kiss until he could slip his tongue into her mouth.

Suheera sighed, amazed at the erotic feelings this roused in her. She felt warmth begin in the pit of her stomach and start to move through her. Too soon he broke off the kiss. “I need to take a quick shower, do you mind?”

“Of course not. I’ll be right here when you get out,” she said, slowly drawing back the comforter and sheets on the bed and slipping in. Suheera waited nervously, her heart pounding as she listened to Howie taking a shower, imagining the water running down his naked body. She shivered, knowing that soon his body would be next to her in bed. She began to have doubts about her ability to be the woman she knew he wanted her to be. Tears crept unbidden to her eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Howie asked, slipping into bed beside her. She could feel the cool silk of his shorts against her thigh.

“I…I don’t want you to be disappointed…” she whispered, unable to look in his eyes. “You’ve waited so patiently and now…”

“Look, sweetheart, if you aren’t ready for this you just say the word. There’s nothing that says we have to make love tonight.” He stroked her cheek with gentle fingertips.

“But you’ve already waited so long,” she cried.

“I would wait forever,” he whispered into her ear, then pressed a light kiss to her neck.

Suheera shuddered, the touch of his lips on her skin made her gasp. She didn’t know why she was hesitating. Wasn’t this what she wanted from the very beginning? “You are too kind to me,” she whispered back. She reached out a hesitant hand to touch his face, running her fingers along his jawline. He’d shaved, his cheeks smooth and soft now.

“I can never repay you for what you did for me, you saved my life – and the lives of my brothers,” he added. “You are the most beautiful and courageous woman I’ve ever met, and I’d wait a lifetime for you to be mine.” He pulled her close, snuggling her body to his as he pulled the sheet over their bodies.

Suheera laid her head on his chest, the slow drum of his heartbeat reassuring. She felt herself finally relax as he stroked her back, all the tensions of the day draining away. The wedding had gone off without a hitch – except for Fareed. She sat up suddently, the sheet falling away. “Howie, I need to tell you something…”

“What is it, darling? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

“It’s about Fareed,” her voice trailed off as she saw the look that came across Howie’s face.

“He will never hurt you again, I swear,” he said, pulling her back into his arms. “The district attorney assured me Fareed will have plenty of jail time. And Randall will always have your back, you don’t have to worry.”

Suheera started to protest but then decided against it. Perhaps it would be better if Howie didn’t know just what had happened this evening. “You’re right, I don’t have anything to worry about.” She tilted her face up to him. “Will you kiss me?” she asked softly.

“My pleasure, wife,” he said with a smile, capturing her luscious lips. When he finally released her she was breathless, the blood pounding in her veins. The hesitation from earlier was gone, replaced with a good healthy dose of lust.

“What are you waiting for, husband? Make love to me, ravish me…”

Howie was happy to oblige and soon Suheera’s sheer nightgown lay on the floor with his shorts. She lay naked before him, the moonlight streaming in the window illuminating his wife’s generous curves. “I can’t tell you how many nights I lay in bed, dreaming of this moment,” he said.

“Me too,” she admitted. “After our night in Baghdad, I knew just one night was never going to be enough.”

“A million nights won’t be enough,” he growled, capturing her lips, his hand trailing down her stomach to the dark triangle of hair. Suheera sucked in her breath as his fingers invaded her, stroking until she spread her legs for him.

She reached down for him, shyly seeking his manhood hiding beneath the sheet. When she brushed against it, Howie shuddered. With a wicked smile, she grasped him gently and a low moan escaped from his lips.

“Sweet Jesus,” he exclaimed as she ran her hand up and down. After several minutes he could take no more and rolled himself on top of her. “I can’t wait any longer,” he whispered.

Suheera could feel him pressing against her, she arched her hips to allow him to slide inside. The feeling was so exquisite she sighed, then tightened around him.

Howie buried his face in her hair, breathing in the exotic scent of it as he struggled for control. He didn’t want this to be over in mere seconds, he wanted this to be special for Suheera as well. “Be still for a second, sweetheart, ok?”

“I’m sorry, am I doing something wrong?” she queried, suddenly afraid.

“No, of course not, but if you keep squeezing me like that I’ll be apologizing to you for the world’s shortest wedding night.” He laughed when Suheera finally understood the meaning of his words. She instantly relaxed her muscles and Howie began to breathe again. A few moments later he regained control and began to slowly move in and out, building the tension between them.

“You like?” he asked, kissing her eyelids.

“Very much,” she replied, moving in time with his thrusts. Her breath started to come in pants as he increased the tempo, arching up against him. “Whatever you do, do not stop for any reason.”

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to, and I certainly don’t want to stop,” he replied, almost overcome with the sensation of her warm flesh enveloping him.

“Oh my!” she cried out. “I love you so much, Howie,” she whispered in his ear as the waves of passion crashed over her. Feeling her shudder beneath him pushed Howie over the edge as well. He collapsed on top of her, his breath ragged. When he started to move away from her, she stopped him.

“I must be squishing you,” he protested, not wanting to lay his entire weight on top of her.

“I don’t want this moment to end,” she whispered, looking up into his eyes.

“Neither do I, but I can’t lay on top of you for the rest of the night,” he teased. “But you can lay on top of me.” With a quick twist, Suheera found herself nestled on top of her husband, his arms tight around her.

“Hmm, I like this too,” she said with a smile. “And I can tell you do too,” she added a few moments later when she felt his member begin to stiffen again.

“You bring out the best in me,” Howie said with a chuckle. Before long, they were making love again, Howie showing Suheera the advantages of being on top. She didn’t mind at all, bringing them both to climax again.

Exhausted, they lay in each other’s arms. “This has been the best day of my life,” Suheera murmured sleepily.

“The best day of my life is the day I met you,” Howie said, kissing her forehead as he fell asleep.

Sunday morning, as Suheera and Howie lay in bed asleep, Randall scouted the property for any evidence that Fareed had been there. He’d found the man’s car the night before, parked a quarter mile down the street. He called a friend who repossessed cars for a living and asked him to tow the vehicle away. He had him leave it parked illegally so it would be towed by the police, giving them some record of when and where the car was found, many miles away from the estate.

Randall took all of Suheera’s wedding clothes to the dry cleaners Monday morning, paying extra for express service. He thoroughly cleaned her knife, sheath, shoes and jewelry to remove any possible traces of blood so that there was no chance of her being tied to Fareed’s death. Monday afternoon he took Suheera to the gun range for some target practice, which would give them both gunpowder residue on their hands. She had accompanied him before, and he went often on his own, so being there would not look suspicious.

The clean-up crew at the estate trampled any foot prints, and a good heavy rain Monday night washed away any evidence he might have missed at the estate. Randall was feeling good about his efforts to hide the death. It wasn’t that he wanted to, but felt like the Doroughs had been through enough already.

Howie and Randall were eating breakfast in the kitchen Wednesday morning, the television tuned to the news. Saleena had just come back inside, carrying a tray of dishes, as she and Suheera had dined out in the garden that morning.

“We have breaking news this morning. A body discovered washed up on a Malibu beach late last night has been identified as Malibu resident Fareed Shakir. Authorities have not released the cause of death, but anonymous sources say there were bullet wounds in the chest. For more information, we join Holly Roberts.”

“Mr. Shakir is a well known local architect, who was featured several years ago in Southern California Architecture magazine. He is a prominent and well respected member of the Muslim community, as are his family, who emigrated from Iraq forty years ago. However, in recent months there has been speculation that there is a darker side to the Shakir family.” The reporter was shown standing in front of the closed gates to the Shakir family compound. “Fareed Shakir spent two years in prison after a plea bargain agreement to involuntary vehicular manslaughter, even though witnesses said Fareed deliberately drove into the other car, killing his pregnant wife and older brother. Since his release three years ago, Mr. Shakir’s name has been linked to drugs and prostitution, but he has not been arrested in connection with illegal activity.”

“But the story takes an odd twist, doesn’t it Holly?” the anchor interrupted.

“It sure does, Megan. We’ve learned that Mr. Shakir was arrested for rape four months ago and is out on bond. The victim’s name was not released but sources report it was Suheera Karimi. You may remember her as the Iraqi woman who helped rescue The Backstreet Boys after they were kidnapped on tour last year. She was granted political asylum and entered the US a few months after the rescue. A month after Fareed’s arrest, Miss Karimi’s bodyguard killed a man attempting to kidnap her as she entered a mosque. Police identified the dead man as Fareed’s brother Roshan, who supposedly died in the car accident. The family would not comment on why Roshan’s death was faked and where he had been the last five years.”

“Do we know any details about Fareed Shakir’s death?” Megan asked.

“Not much has been released yet, but sources say the police think Mr. Shakir was about to leave the country using falsified documents, but would not elaborate on the details. Celebrity gossip site TMZ is reporting Miss Karimi married Howie Dorough of the Backstreet Boys in a secret Malibu wedding on Saturday. Could the two be related? We will continue to follow this story as it develops.”

Randall flipped off the TV with a scowl and looked to Howie, all the blood had drained from his face. Saleena set the tray down with a clatter, shaking at the news.

“Do you know anything about this?” Howie asked.

Randall shook his head. “Are you ok?” he asked Saleena, she looked dazed. Howie’s cell phone rang; he walked into the other room to answer it. Randall knew he needed to tell Suheera, and hoped that she had the good sense to act surprised. He didn’t need to worry; she too paled at the news.

“Will you give us a few minutes?” Saleena asked him, leading Suheera further back into the garden for privacy. “There is a lot you haven’t told me, Suheera! Fareed raped you? And his brother tried to kidnap you? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just wanted to forget it happened. I was ashamed,” she said softly. “I was going to tell you while you were here because it involves you as well.”

“How?” she asked. “I don’t know who those men are, I’ve never met them.”

“Your brothers Tamir and Miskeen are running a prostitution ring in Baghdad. Naseem is also involved,” she said.

“That doesn’t surprise me. My brothers are idiots,” Saleena said.

“The men who run the ring are your cousins. They live here in Los Angeles.”

“I never heard of any cousins living in America,” Saleena said. “My brothers never mentioned them, neither did my father.”

“I did not tell you that Naseem had arranged to sell me to Miskeen and Tamir,” she said softly. Saleena gasped. “One of the cousins had been living in Baghdad. He was on his way to pick me up when Howie arrived. Your cousin’s name is Roshan Shakir.”

“Fareed’s brother? Fareed and Roshan are my cousins?”

Suheera nodded. “Roshan told me the story, just before he died. He was going to kill me.”

It took a moment for this all to sink in for Saleena. “Do you know anything about Fareed’s death?” she asked.

“No. But the world is a better place without him, he was scum,” she said. “I am just worried about the police coming in and asking questions. I dated the man and killed his brother; you are my best friend and cousin to the dead man…”

“And he died the same weekend you got married,” Saleena finished for her.

“The media are going to try to tie the two together,” Suheera said. “We are supposed to leave for our honeymoon the day after tomorrow – and going out of the country. They may not let us leave.”

“It’s going to be alright,” Saleena reassured her, although she wasn’t so sure. “Let’s go back inside, maybe Howie knows something, his phone rang just before we came out here.”

A few minutes later, Howie walked into the room and sat down. “Do you know anything at all about this?” he asked her. Suheera shook her head, hoping Allah would forgive her the lie. “The detectives are coming this afternoon to talk to everyone.”

When the detectives arrived at the house, they asked to question everyone separately. Suheera was nervous but was able to pass it off as shock at Fareed’s death. She told them the last time she had seen him was the night he raped her. They then questioned Randall, taking him away from the others.

“Now Mr. Meyers, you’ve already had one run in with the Shakir brothers already,” Detective Carter prompted.

“Yes, when Roshan Shakir attempted to kidnap Mrs. Dorough,” Randall said. “I was able to fire a couple rounds into the vehicle as it drove off, one of which killed him, unfortunately. It wasn’t my intention to kill him, just to disable him enough to get my client back safely.”

“And you have extensive training in firearms?” he asked.

Randall nodded. “I’m retired US Army intelligence. I have extensive training in combat and weapons of all sorts. I spent most of my time in Iraq and Afghanistan, sir; I know the culture and the languages well.”

“Did you have any dealings with the Shakirs before all this?” he asked.

“No, sir. I was hired to protect Mrs. Dorough after the rape. They were afraid of the Shakir family as Fareed’s mother threatened an honor killing.” He had to explain that to the detective, who was not familiar with Islamic customs.

“Do you mind if we inspect your weapons?” Detective Carter asked.

“I brought them in from my vehicle, I expected you to ask to see them.”

A few moments later, the detective finished his inspection. “These have all been fired and cleaned recently. Why?”

“I went to the range on Monday, my day off. I try to go at least once a month in order to maintain my skill level,” he explained. “The range owner was there and we spoke, he can vouch for me. There were several other people there as well.”

“Thank you, Mr. Meyers; we will contact you if we have any further questions.”

“Will my clients still be able to leave on their honeymoon as planned on Friday? They are going to Puerto Rico for two weeks.”

“I don’t see why not, unless something comes up in the next day or so. They are not under suspicion, it just seems to be a coincidence that this all happened on the same weekend,” he confided in Randall. “I’d like to have their itinerary and contact information. Will you be going with them?”

“Yes, I’ll be with them as head of their security detail. I’ll make sure to get you that information.”

“Thanks,” the detective said as Randall walked him to the front door. “Mrs. Dorough wasn’t planning on leaving the country with Mr. Shakir, was she?” he asked.

“Oh hell no,” Randall said. “She was afraid of him. There is no way she would have anything to do with the man. Why?”

“On the body, we found two sets of fake ID’s and passports – one set had Mrs. Dorough’s photograph on them.”

“Perhaps he was planning on kidnapping her,” Randall suggested. “We had extra security at the wedding, but nothing happened – everything was quiet the entire evening.”

“Ok, thanks for your cooperation. We’ll let you know if we have any more questions.” Randall breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind the detective.

Later that day, Suheera pulled Randall aside. “Is everything ok?” she whispered.

“Yes, I think so. They are not suspicious of anyone here they said.”

Suheera breathed a sigh of relief. “I do not regret what happened, he deserved what he got.”

“And now he rots in hell with his brother,” Randall added. “May Allah damn them both forever for their sins.”

Saleena returned home, but with plans to come back. After seeing America, she wished to move, there wasn’t much waiting for her in her homeland. Suheera was ecstatic, she wanted her best friend by her side more than anything.

Before they knew it, Howie and Suheera were on their way to their honeymoon in beautiful Puerto Rico. Howie had rented a house on the beach, Randall accompanied them as security. They spent their days playing in the sun, the evenings partying, and the nights making love. When they returned home, there were no more questions from the police and the murder remained unresolved.

Suheera looked up as the doorbell chimes tinkled softly. A woman and two small boys entered the shop. “Welcome, come in,” she said, smiling. After graduating from cooking school, Howie helped her set up a small catering company which specialized in westernized versions of tradition Persian foods. So far the business had been a huge success; she already had a waiting list.

The woman entered hesitantly, looking around to see if anyone else was in the shop. Satisfied they were alone, she approached the counter. “I do not know if you remember me…”

“Of course, Soraya, I have seen you at mosque many times. What can I do for you?” Although Suheera no longer attended the same mosque as Fareed’s family, she still was active in the Muslim community and knew many people, some of which were also her customers. Suheera came around the counter and guided her to a table. She thought the woman looked frightened to death. The boys sat at a nearby table, fidgeting with electronic toys.

“I never got to tell you how much I admired you for standing up to Fahada,” she said softly.

“About time someone did,” she snorted. “The woman surely needed it.”

“You are right about that! She is a nosy, interfering old hag,” she said vehemently, then seemed ashamed of her statement. “I have no right to ask you this…”

Suheera waited for her to continue but Soraya seemed too shy to finish her request. “It is ok, you can ask me anything.”

“I…I need a job – so that I can get away from that house,” she admitted, looking around again.

Caught off guard, Suheera didn’t know what to say. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“I cannot stand living a lie any longer. It is making me sick to my stomach. I have to leave, but Fahada will not let me go.”

“I will be right back,” she said softly. Suheera got up and flipped the open sign to read ‘closed’ and then locked the door. She went into the back room and came back with a large plate of food, which she placed in front of the boys. They dug in with relish, for once putting down their electronic toys while they ate. “That will keep them busy for a while. Tell me what is going on,” she urged softly.

“I want to marry someone else, but Fahada will not arrange it. She said she would never let Fareed’s children out of her house.”

“Fareed’s children? I thought they were Roshan’s…”

Soraya glanced at the boys but they were too busy eating to pay the adults any attention. “Roshan was incapable of fathering children, every child he started ended in miscarriage.” Soraya shuddered at the memory.

“That is not what Fareed told me…” Suheera stuttered.

“I am sure Fareed told you many lies. You got away from him in Baghdad; he was not going to let you get away again. I overheard him on the phone one day, they were talking about you.”

“He must have been talking to Roshan; he was running the ring in Baghdad.”

Soraya shuddered. “I had no idea he was still alive! It came as a huge shock when he was killed trying to kidnap you.” She was quiet for a moment. “I am sorry you had to go through that. Something was wrong with Roshan, something evil lived in him.”

“I will not disagree with you,” Suheera said. “I think there is something wrong with the whole family. I felt uneasy around Fahada as soon as I met her. And for some reason, I never felt really comfortable around Fareed either. Maybe I sensed he was lying to me.”

“He was never interested in marrying you, Suheera. He told Fahada that he was going to marry you, so of course she researched your background thoroughly. He knew that she would rip you to shreds – and he wanted you to feel like you had no other option than to be his mistress. Fareed does not want to get married again, he only wants to party. His business gives him the money to buy the girls he needs to party with the celebrities. After he got out of prison, he was a changed man.”

“Prison?” Suheera’s voice went up an octave.

“I think I had better just start at the beginning, it is a confusing tale.”

“I wish you would. I am sure that everything Fareed told me must have been a lie,” Suheera said, her voice shaking.

“Fareed’s family and mine have been friends for many years. They came to the US from Iraq together, went to school and started a business together. The parents pledged their two eldest children to marry, but both mothers had two sons before finally one had a daughter. As an infant, I was promised to Roshan as a way to keep the families together. No one knew about the promise until it was time for us to marry. There was only one problem – Roshan was in love with someone else, my younger sister Mahveen.”

“So Mahveen was your sister?”

Soraya nodded. “My parents refused to let them marry so Mahveen foolishly slept with him. She thought that would force our parents to let them marry. Instead they sent her to boarding school back east,” Soraya said. “At the time, I was not told why Mahveen was sent away. I knew she was in love with someone, she confided that much in me, but I had no idea she had given her virginity away to the man I was to marry.”

“If you had known she and Roshan had slept together, would you have still married him?”

Soraya shook her head. “I knew Mahveen too well. Growing up, any time I had something she wanted, she took it from me.” She sighed; it was obvious her childhood with Mahveen hadn’t been pleasant. “Roshan and I were married as soon as I graduated high school, and I went to live with him. Fahada made my life miserable but I had my own family close by and they helped me emotionally.”

“With that woman as a mother in law, I would think you would need all the support you could get,” Suheera chuckled. Soraya agreed.

“My parents arranged a marriage for Mahveen and brought her home just two days prior to the ceremony. Two days was all it took for her to turn everyone’s world upside down.” Soraya sighed, shredding a paper napkin on the table as she talked. “I miscarried my first pregnancy at six weeks and was pregnant again; just praying to Allah that I did not miscarry this one, so I was not allowed out of bed to go to the wedding. Mahveen came to the house to see me; I was shocked to see just how beautiful she had become. Roshan and Fareed were both home at the time and saw her. After Mahveen left, they argued over her. Fahada reminded Roshan he was married and Fareed that she was to marry someone else the next day. Roshan was so angry he came upstairs and reminded me that we were married. He took me so roughly I miscarried right then and there.”

“Oh Soraya! I am so sorry!” She reached out and took the woman’s hand.

“Roshan did not care. He left the house and no one saw him until the next morning when my parents found him having sex with Mahveen.”

Suheera cringed at the hurt on the woman’s face. “What a bastard.”

Soraya didn’t disagree. “Just before the ceremony, the groom’s mother brought in a doctor to prove Mahveen’s virginity. It was a surprise, they had not asked for proof when the arrangements were made.”

“Not hard to figure out it was Roshan who tipped her off,” Suheera said, Soraya nodded.

“After my parents found her and Roshan together in bed, my mother insisted that the wedding take place anyway, she did not care that they were in love. They threatened Mahveen and Roshan, telling them they had to keep their little affair a secret. When my mother heard that the doctor was there, she arranged for Mahveen to bribe him. Of course Mahveen refused, instead letting the doctor examine her. Not only was she not a virgin, but it was quite obvious she had very recently had sex.”

“Nothing like throwing it in the groom’s face,” Suheera said. “What an immature thing to do, she could have just called off the wedding.”

“Oh no, not Mahveen. Of course the groom and his family were outraged and threatened to go public with the news. My family somehow found the money to pay the groom’s family so that no hint of scandal would leak out.” Soraya piled the little pieces of napkin up in the middle of the table. “If Mahveen had just told me she wanted Roshan, I would have divorced him and let her have him. I did not love him, he was cruel to me and I would have gladly walked away. But no, that was not Mahveen’s way. She had to hurt everyone around her.”

“So what happened after the wedding was cancelled? Did they send Mahveen away again?”

“No, before they could find her a different husband Mahveen discovered she was pregnant. My family knew Roshan had slept with her, thankfully no one else knew it. I offered to walk away from Roshan but my parents would not let me, they did not want the disgrace of having a daughter who was divorced.”

Suheera snorted. “Instead they had the disgrace of a daughter who was an adulterer.”

“But no one knew that, it was a secret they thought they could keep.” Suheera could tell the story was a hard one for her to tell, tears threatened to fall at any moment. “Roshan went to Fareed and convinced him that Mahveen wanted to marry him. My parents were desperate to cover up the pregnancy and agreed to the match, even though they knew it would be dangerous to have Mahveen living so close to Roshan. They thought that Fahada could keep Mahveen in line. They were married a couple days later in a very hush-hush ceremony.”

“Fareed must have thought he won the lottery,” Suheera snorted. “He did not know she was in love with his brother and carrying his child.”

“Fareed was in love with her, there was no denying that. He would have done anything to have her; Roshan just played her right into his hands.” She looked over at the boys, they were busy playing with their toys. “Not long after the wedding, Fareed announced Mahveen’s pregnancy. He was ecstatic, grinning from ear to ear. To the outside world, they were a couple very much in love and really looking forward to their first child.”

“But you knew differently?”

“Only my family knew the baby was not Fareed’s. Roshan took great pleasure in reminding me daily that his lover was having his baby – and that I was unable to carry a child.”

“That is unfair! It was because of him that you could not carry a child.”

Soraya just shrugged. “Roshan continued to sleep with my sister. They would sneak around to meet, sometimes in our own home. We pretended everything was fine, I could not bear the humiliation of everyone knowing Roshan was sleeping with Mahveen under my nose. Fareed seemed happy, so he must not have known she was cheating on him. Personally, I think Mahveen was sleeping with them both.”

“That does not surprise me; she sounds like the type of woman who would do that.”

“Mahveen miscarried at five months. The baby was horribly deformed, it was traumatic for everyone. Fahada nagged us constantly about trying to get pregnant again. Not a single day went by without her reminding us of our duty. Secretly we went to a fertility doctor. He discovered that we both were perfectly capable of carrying a child to term. He thought it was the sperm, but there was no way to confirm that without testing and there was no way Roshan would do that.”

“That would be like admitting something was wrong with him,” Suheera said. “It was easier for him, and Fahada, to blame you both.”

Soraya nodded. “Mahveen was not the least bit ashamed about sleeping with my husband. She never tried to hide it from me, nor did she ever apologize. I put up with it because I did not know what else to do. One day she came to me and confessed that she did not want to get pregnant again by Roshan. I said I did not want to either. She suggested that we both sleep with Fareed and when we got pregnant, to say it was Roshan’s.”

“Oh no, Soraya! Tell me you did not do it…”

Soraya hesitated. “No, not at first, but Mahveen did. It became a game to her, she started playing the two men against each other. You could feel the tension in the house.” Soraya looked to the boys, they weren’t paying any attention to the women but she lowered her voice anyway. “Fareed came to me one day, broken hearted because he had discovered that Mahveen was sleeping with Roshan. He said he was concerned about me because Roshan had been beating me, I was covered in bruises. One thing led to another and I ended up in bed with him. All I knew about love making was pain, but Fareed was so tender. I fell in love with him.”

“Was he was just using you to get back at Mahveen and Roshan?” Suheera shrewdly asked.

The look of softness in her eyes melted away to anger as she nodded. “Mahveen played them both, making promises and breaking them. As the months went by, Fareed changed before my eyes. He became so angry and resentful, not the kind hearted man he used to be. Day by day he was becoming more like Roshan.”

Suheera’s heart went out to the woman who so clearly had been caught in the middle of a bad situation.

“When I did not come to the big house for breakfast one morning, Fahada came looking for me. She found me beaten half to death on my bedroom floor. Fareed was home so he carried me to the car and they took me to the emergency room.” She closed her eyes; it was a difficult story to tell. “Fareed caught Roshan with Mahveen. He wanted to hurt them, so he told them he had been sleeping with me. Roshan came home in a rage, raped me and then beat me.

“While I was at the hospital, the doctors discovered that I was pregnant. And it could only be Fareed’s as I had not been with Roshan in months. I was going to tell him but then I overheard him talking to Mahveen, she had just told him they were going to have a baby together. I realized then that Fareed did not love me; he loved her despite everything she had done. I knew that I had to pretend the baby was Roshan’s in order to hide my shameful behavior from the family. It would not be hard because everyone knew what he had done to me the night before.”

“Did everyone believe you?”

“Of course, I was not the deceitful one. Everyone wondered about Mahveen’s baby but no one questioned mine.” She swallowed hard and continued. “I spent the next six months alone in my house. It was over with Fareed and me. He was too busy with his graduate school anyway. Roshan took the opportunity to spend every moment with Mahveen, fussing over her like she was some porcelain doll.

“Everything was fine until Mahveen was about seven months along. Fareed was supposed to be at school studying but he was concerned about Mahveen and came home early to check on her. He found her with Roshan and flew into a rage. Fahada urged Roshan to leave, but Mahveen refused to let him go so she ran to his car and they left together. Fareed got into his car and followed them. Roshan tried to lose him in traffic but Fareed kept catching up, he tried to run them off the road. Roshan came to a light just turning red and thought about running it but changed his mind at the last instant and stopped. Fareed didn’t stop; he rammed the back of the car, pushing it into the intersection. A pickup truck slammed into the car, it rolled several times.”

Suheera gasped. “What happened?”

“Neither one had been wearing their seat belts. Roshan was thrown from the car and severely injured; he lay in a coma for months before he supposedly died. Mahveen was trapped in the car; it took them hours to free her. By the time they got her to the hospital, she had lost so much blood that they had to deliver the baby by c-section. She did not survive the surgery; the baby was healthy although small.” Soraya looked over at the boys. “I had my baby six weeks later, about the same time Mahveen’s baby was ready to go home. Fareed showed no interest in him so I took him.”

“So why did Fareed tell me both boys are Roshan’s?” Suheera asked.

“He did not want to admit it because it was to his advantage financially. By denying paternity of any children, he was not liable for child support. I did not want to force the matter because then he could have taken them away from me, and I certainly did not want him, or Fahada, raising my children.” Suheera shuddered; she knew just what kind of care the boys would get under that awful woman. “And he thought that his having children would scare you away. Not many women want to care for another woman’s children.”

“So Fareed went to prison?”

“An off duty policeman witnessed Fareed chasing Roshan’s car and the accident. Fareed was arrested but his parents bailed him out a couple days later. While he was waiting for his trial, he finished school and, using money his parents gave him, started his own architecture business.”

“So he was convicted?” Suheera asked.

“The case never went to trial. Everyone in the family lied to protect Fareed. They told the police that Roshan was rushing Mahveen to the hospital as she was in early labor – and that he ran into the back of the car because he was in such a panic over the birth of his child. They were on the main road, the route they would take to the hospital, so that was a feasible explanation.” She looked over to the boys, they were getting restless. Suheera went to the back and returned with dessert. When they settled down again, Soraya continued. “Fareed took a plea bargain his attorney wrangled for him, involuntary manslaughter. No one would know he was trying to kill his wife and brother over their sordid affair.”

“Wow, that story is so different than the one he told me!” Suheera took a small bite of the dessert she’d brought out for them. “What happened after he got out?”

“He spent two years in prison, and when he got out he was a different man. He used to be sensitive and caring, now he is all about pleasure and his self importance. He built a magnificent house for himself, one that he had designed in prison, to showcase his talents. Once it got into the magazine, business boomed. He was able to have the lifestyle he wanted – lots of loose women, drinking, drugs, and celebrity friends. Fahada hated it but she had little control over him. She wanted him to remarry, settle down, have more children – but he refused to end his party lifestyle, he said he was having too much fun.”

“He certainly had me fooled though.”

“He pretty much had everyone at mosque fooled, no one knew of his wild parties and prostitutes. That is what he had planned for you, you know.”

“He picked the wrong girl,” Suheera said with a laugh.

“Fareed thought you were weak and vulnerable. He saw that you did not have any relatives to support you, so he thought you would be easy to lure into his little stable of girls once Fahada had broken your spirit. Little did he know what he was getting into,” she giggled. “Which brings me back to my reason for coming here. I met a man I want to marry…” She let the sentence hang.

“Fahada will not let you marry him? He is Muslim, right?”

“Yes, although he does not attend the same mosque.” She sighed, fiddling with her fork. “I wanted to move back home after Roshan died, but Fahada would not let me. She said she would miss seeing the boys.”

“But your family just lives down the street!”

“Exactly. She wants to be able to control how the boys are raised, and she cannot do that unless they are living under the same roof as her. Suheera, I swear if I have to spend much more time with her I am going to go insane.”

“I can understand that. How can I help you get away from her?” she asked quietly.

“The man I met does not have a lot of money. Although he has a steady job, he does not make enough to support all of us. He only has a tiny apartment. I need a job so that I can help pay the bills, help pay for a larger place to live. It is not right to ask him to get a second job to support my sons.”

“Do you have legal custody of Mahveen’s child?”

She blushed. “Yes. I went to see Fareed in jail, before Fahada bailed him out, and told him that I would not lie for him unless he gave me custody of Imir. In order to save himself, he gave up his parental rights to his son. Imir is mine. Fahada fought tooth and nail to get him back, but in the end I was able to adopt him.” She looked with pride at the two boys. “They could be twins, they look so much alike, only six weeks difference in age.”

“They are half brothers, born of sisters,” she reminded Soraya. “Of course they are going to look a lot alike.”

“They are much alike in temperament as well. Thank goodness more like me than anyone else,” she said softly.

“A lot depends on how a person is raised, not necessarily on the genes,” Suheera said. “And I am sure you are a wonderful mother to them.”

“Thank you, I try very hard. And I keep them away from Fahada as much as I can.”

“I will give you a job, Soraya; it will be my pleasure to work with you.” Soraya’s face lit up with joy. “And I will give you a loan so that you can find a place to live now and get started on your new life.”

“Oh thank you! You were my only hope…”

Suheera took her hands and squeezed them gently. “Someone rescued me when I needed it, gave me a new life. It is only fitting that I do the same for another woman in need.”