She hadn’t abandoned hope, not completely. She didn’t have proof her parents were dead, but the silence told her. She would have heard from them if they were alive. Her father or mother would have contacted her no matter where they had fled. But Mohammed did not know where she was, did not even know that she was still alive, and would have had no way of reaching her if he somehow, some way, had gotten out.
Despite the fears of government surveillance, she had searched for Mohammed and the others on the Darbis’ old computer, late at night when the rest of the house slept, but that had been over a year ago. She had been discrete. Maybe she’d stopped out of caution. She didn’t want to expose the Darbis, who had been so generous with her. But maybe she had stopped because she had been afraid to know Mohammed’s fate. While her parents’ death seemed certain, his didn’t have to be if she never confirmed it.
Learning his fate didn’t seem as daunting anymore, though. In fact, she wanted to know. She might not have been able to be that girl again, but she could be herself again, whoever that may be. The library had computers. It was probably closed for Thanksgiving today, but she could wait. She had experience with waiting.
She folded the last shirt and moved to tidy the loose Lego bricks that surrounded a multicolored reproduction of the ruins at Palmyra, which the boys had built for their plastic dinosaurs to attack. Poor Syria wasn’t even safe from extinct animals.
“Amina? Are the boys’ clothes ready?” Sounds of cabinet doors closing and silverware hitting the counter came from the kitchen.
Amina closed the drawer. It was time for two little boys to go meet their new brother.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The robust smell of Danny’s freshly ground coffee filled a room that would soon smell of turkey and pies and, if it stayed chilly, charred oak.
Jessica had grudgingly crawled out of her warm bed along with Danny early that morning. She would have loved to sleep in on Thanksgiving just once, but a turkey had to get in the oven, potatoes had to get peeled, and so on. She’d resigned herself to another thankless Thanksgiving, not quite forgiving Danny for forcing the event on her again but willing to set aside her frustrations in the interest of harmony. She was being selfish, but Danny just didn’t seem to get that he was pushing things a little too far.
Pouring herself a cup of coffee and greedily inhaling the aroma, Jessica peered out the window. Trees blocked the sunrise, but an otherworldly red, ripped by thin clouds, infused the morning sky. It just might be a beautiful day.
The back door opened, and Gracie ran into the kitchen to alert Jessica that she and Danny were back from their run and say “Hey, where is my breakfast?”
“Good run?” Jessica asked.
Danny’s face was flushed, even through his perpetual sailor’s tan. “Yes. Great weather for a run.” He filled a tall glass with water from the fridge. “Did you see the sky?”
“Gorgeous. What time is everyone getting here? I sent out the emails, but no one got back to me. Yet again. I don’t know what time anyone is coming or if anyone is bringing anything.” She didn’t hide her judginess of the ungrateful guests.
Danny set the empty glass on the counter. “Calm down, now.” His tone was a little too condescending. “They’ll be here the same time they get here every year. And you always assume they’ll bring nothing, so you should be all set. Oh, and Sean texted me that he’ll be bringing the kids and his girlfriend—”
“Wait, what?!” Jessica set down her coffee too hard, and brown liquid spilled onto the counter. “Why didn’t you tell me? Every year, it’s either extra people or no-shows. It would help not to find out the day of. Just what I need. Both of them.” The sister-in-law and the girlfriend were almost more than she could handle.
He held his hands out, palms forward, as if he were being stopped by the police. “Whoa. I got the text after you fell asleep last night. It’ll be fine. It’s just a few more people, and...” He scanned the counters and kitchen table. Jessica had already laid out all of the casserole dishes and serving dishes she would be using. Potatoes, bread rolls, and various cans lined the counters, ready to be prepped. “We have plenty of food. You always figure out how to manage things. The more the merrier, right?”
Jessica pursed her lips and slowly shook her head.
Danny came over and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling his sweaty face up against hers, seemingly oblivious to her stiffened body. “Thanks for putting up with my family for these things. I know they can be a pain in the ass. But they’re family.”
Jessica could still taste the salt from his sweaty kiss after he walked away. She wiped it off with the back of her hand. The pile of russets forced her to admit that she did have plenty of potatoes, but that was beside the point.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Amina. Sama had her baby. You said to let you know.
Jessica thumbed her response. Good news! Are you at the hospital?
No. Fayiz is taking the boys today.
R u going, too?
No. Just the family.
Jessica stood with her thumbs resting on the edge of the phone. Before she knew it, her thumbs were moving, and they hit Send.
Will u join us for Thanksgiving dinner?
It couldn’t be unsent. Jessica watched the screen intently, wondering what the hell she had just done and what Amina was thinking at the other end. Yes, the relationship had thawed since that first, uncomfortable meeting, and she and Amina had even had some casual conversations interspersed among their serious talks about the asylum application. At that last meeting, they had really connected, though. But it would have been a lie to say that was why Jessica had invited her. Danny’s holier-than-thou attitude about this whole day may have tempted the devil on her shoulder. It might feel good to see him feel uncomfortable for once. What am I getting myself into? Is this even ethical?
The screen remained static. Amina must have also thought she was off base. Jessica relaxed a bit.
Just as her phone went black, it lit up again.
Yes. Thank you.
JESSICA stepped back from the dining room table and stood next to Cricket to survey the results of their efforts.
An estate sale find, the cherry barn-style table had been one of Jessica’s early refinishing successes. Today, it anchored the room and held its own against the heirlooms arranged on top of it.
The silver had been Danny’s grandmother’s and was one of the only things they had of his family’s. Jessica didn’t even mind polishing the striking and intricately carved pieces, and she always put them out for the holidays. But this year, she had to decide on plates due to Oma’s boxes, which had offered up not one but two full sets of dinnerware. Going back and forth between Oma’s floral china and Oma Bee’s clunky plates, between memories of Oma’s roast Christmas duck and her great-grandmother Oma Bee’s lazy summer afternoon rhubarb pie, she made the natural decision, alternating place settings around the table.
“What do you think, Crick?”
“It’s a little crowded. Who are all of the extra plates for?”
“Uncle Sean’s kids.” She tried not to sneer. “And girlfriend.”
“I didn’t know they were coming. We haven’t seen Colton and Elana much since the divorce. They’re always with their mom anymore.”
Jessica bit her tongue so she wouldn’t say something she would regret.
“But that’s only thirteen,” Cricket said. “Who’s the other one for?”
Danny had just walked into the room, drying his hands on a fifty-year-old tea towel embroidered “Thursday.” She would have to tell him at some point, and it wasn’t a big deal anyway. After all, Danny’s brother was bringing last-minute guests. Sure, they were family, but it was Jessica’s home, and she had every right to invite a guest. A flash of dread shot through her gut nonetheless. She suppressed it. Danny was always cool. This would be fine.
“I invited my asylum client.”
“Nice.” Cricket pulled her phone from her pocket
as she walked into the hallway.
Danny looked dubious. “When did that happen? You didn’t mention that this morning.” He put the towel in his back pocket.
Jessica pretended to arrange the plates on the table. “Oh, right. You were in the shower, and then things got busy with all of the prep.” She opened her mouth to mention the baby and the hospital and try to explain this client about whom he knew nothing, but Mikey interrupted, poking his head through the doorway.
“Hey, Mom, why is the turkey in the oven if the oven is turned off?”
MIKEY two-finger typed on the laptop, researching furiously.
Jessica reassured him. “It’ll be fine, Mikey. We’re not going to get salmonella.” They would have to nuke the bird later to get it completely cooked, but it still had a bit of time to bake the old-fashioned way. She shoved the half-baked bird back in the now-heated oven and posted a sticky note warning everyone—especially the unknown culprit—against touching any of the oven’s control buttons.
She’d been right about Danny. He didn’t seem to mind that there would be an extra body. The extra body’s identity might be more of a challenge, but if Danny was anything, he was unflappable. She didn’t even know where he’d gone, but probably to his office to respond to emails.
“Close that thing and help me get the appetizers ready. Cricket, can you get off your phone and go make sure the bathroom is tidied up?” She turned to her oldest, so helpfully lounging on the couch and clicking through the football pregame shows. “Conor, I think we should move the couch so we can bring in some more chairs by the fire. Can you take care of that?” He could still watch his shows while helping. She was meeting him halfway, though his grunted response didn’t seem to acknowledge her accommodations. Under ordinary circumstances, she would be all over the sulky teenager to get in line for guests, but today she just couldn’t find the reserves for that. As long as he didn’t do anything to offend Amina, she would be happy.
The dog started barking before the doorbell rang. That would be Amina. Jessica had asked her to come a little earlier than the rest of the crew, thinking it would be less crazy than walking into, well, all the crazy. “Mikey, can you put Gracie in the mudroom? I don’t want her jumping all over our guest.” Jessica rushed to the front door as her youngest grabbed Gracie’s collar and started leading her to the back.
Cricket jumped in behind Jessica as she opened the door. “Hi, Amina,” Jessica said. “Happy Thanksgiving! We are so happy you’re joining us. This is Cricket. Come on in.”
Amina’s eyes, tentative but curious, scanned the space, darting up the stairway and down the hallway then stopping on the remaining pile of boxes in the parlor.
Jessica gestured at the boxes. “Remember how I told you my grandmother died last summer? I’m almost done working my way through all of her old things. It’s been a bit of an adventure.” She reflexively rubbed her upper arm. The bandage was gone, but the memory of that day lingered.
Danny walked in from the dining room directly behind Amina, his face hardening upon seeing their guest. Jessica’s stomach dropped the way it had the time her dad walked in on her and a friend smoking cigarettes in junior high. She might have miscalculated Danny’s likelihood of being chill about this after all.
“Amina, this is my husband, Danny.”
Danny welcomed her, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Crick, can you take Amina back to the kitchen and get her something to drink?” Jessica gave Cricket a look that she hoped her bright daughter would understand meant, “Don’t ask the nice stranger any questions.”
Amina’s eyes darted from Jessica to Danny and back again before she turned to follow Cricket.
Danny watched his daughter and the scarved stranger walk past the stairs and into the kitchen before he dropped his already weak smile.
“I thought you were representing some kid from Latin America.”
“I never said I was.” Although that was the truth, Jessica knew she sounded a little defensive.
“Okay. But that was the original plan, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, but IAP assigned me to Amina.” Jessica shrugged. “Is that a problem?” Her tone was too sharp for someone who hadn’t been totally forthcoming in the past couple of months.
“And where exactly is she from? Clearly not Guatemala.” The bite in his words, so unfamiliar coming from Danny, didn’t feel good, and she regretted the accusatory tone she herself had taken.
“Syria.”
“Right. And you invited her here today right after all that shit in Paris? And you know my brother was in the navy, Jessica. Jesus Christ.” He squinted his eyes. “Did you invite her just to spite him for the last-minute change?”
Jessica’s eyes shot wide open. “No! Oh my God, Danny, of course I didn’t invite her to irritate Sean. I’m sure he can handle a young woman from Syria.” Truth be told, she hadn’t considered that. She wasn’t worried about Sean’s feelings, but she didn’t want to introduce another trigger for Amina.
Danny squinted at her as if he were trying to place someone he might not even know. “I don’t think you thought this through.” He didn’t say anything else, not verbally.
Their silent conversation ended abruptly when the front door flew open and Danny’s brother barreled through with his kids, just beating the youngest of the three Donnelly brothers and his own family to the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY
AMINA
Amina had never been in an American’s home. She had seen magazines, and this home looked a lot like some of the pictures she had seen, just with a remarkable amount of dark woodwork.
Large, framed photos of a smiling family lined the entryway—straight, centered, symmetrical, and flanked by a large letter D. In perfectly focused portraits against soft backgrounds of the waterfront, the artificially posed family wore genuinely happy smiles. A model sailboat perched in an alcove opposite the stairwell, and books lined bookshelves end to end. They were probably alphabetized.
It looked as if nothing was allowed to move.
The curly hair in front of her bounced as Cricket led her into a kitchen thick with golden aromas. Amina inhaled deeply. The layers, from yeasty to savory to peppery, meant the chef had been busy today.
A tall young man sat on a chair in the adjacent room, his feet propped up on an old trunk as he watched American football. He did not look over when they walked in. The square jaw and sharp cheekbone matched Jessica’s husband’s profile.
Cricket, her eyes sparkling even when she was turned away from the fireplace, asked, “What can I get you to drink?”
Before Amina could answer, a loud male voice boomed from the front of the house, then rushing footsteps competed to see who would reach the family room first. Children soon swarmed through the doorway, two racing for seats on the couch and the others drawn to the plates of cookies on the kitchen counter.
“No cookies yet, guys!” Jessica walked toward Amina, not breaking eye contact, even as she waved the kids away from the counter.
Five adults followed Jessica, including her husband, who was leaning in to talk with a broad-shouldered man with close-cropped hair.
Jessica stopped next to Amina and waited for everyone to settle into the room.
“Everyone, this is my friend Amina.”
Amina memorized the American names. First came broad-shouldered Sean and another brother, Patrick, who was a shorter version of Danny. Sister-in-law Claire looked about Jessica’s age and wore maroon lipstick that matched her sweater, and a girlfriend, Tina, seemed closer to Amina’s age but was blond and wore a skintight knit dress that accentuated every curve. Each nodded in turn when introduced then splintered off just as the kids had.
Jessica had told Amina that no one there would know anything about her. That included Jessica’s husband, based on the icy courtesy that couldn’t quite veil his surprise upon seeing her.
Cricket had bounded into the family room and was now hugging the other kids. Amina couldn�
�t hear their words amidst the crescendo of noise, but their animated gestures made it seem as though they hadn’t seen each other for a while.
The kids didn’t look twice at her, but the two women had already snuck glances, each time shifting their eyes to the side when Amina made eye contact. I know you’re looking at me, she wanted to say. She could brush it off, had to in a country in which she stood out. She could at least stare back at the ones who didn’t look away, smile even, and divine their thoughts, good or bad.
Jessica moved about the kitchen, arranging food on plates and taking out glasses for the guests. The men stood behind the couch, each already with a can of beer in his hand, glancing at the TV occasionally while they talked. Claire and Tina now lingered off to the side, leaning their heads together and alternating between eye rolls and sharp laughter.
Amina turned to see Jessica pull a tray of tiny toasts covered in cheese out of the oven then scan the countertops. There wasn’t a bit of open space. Amina set her bag on the floor out of the way and rearranged some of the dishes until Jessica could set the tray down. Her grateful smile came with a hint of anxiety.
The two other women acted like customers at the restaurant, happy to be away from home and unconcerned with what was going on in the kitchen. Jessica had mentioned feeling like a caterer, but she seemed more like a cook and hostess, perhaps even a server soon. Amina had some experience there.
Jessica didn’t ask Amina to help, but the two fell into a natural rhythm. Amina delivered plates of starters to the family, catching two or three of them staring at her then looking away quickly. The kids were typing on phones, even as they chattered with their cousins, hands flying up from devices occasionally to emphasize a point. Jessica’s son Conor stood out as more focused, quietly removed from the activity.
Something about the broad-shouldered brother reminded her of the large man who had led the attack that night in Baltimore, except the brother had a kind calm that didn’t set her internal alarms ringing.
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