- Text Size +
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.