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“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.