by Holly Rayner
From then on, Fairuz was at least less chilly towards her, though they still didn't chat much. Kathy was beginning to understand that she just wasn't much of a talker, regardless of how much she liked someone or not.
Kathy didn't report on the success of her attempts to Shadaf. A better relationship with Tehar's family was its own reward. But she had a feeling he had noticed. She saw him bent over his journal even more than usual in the following days, working with a kind of intensity she hadn't seen in him before.
To her surprise, Tehar noticed as well. They’d snuck away to the gardens together one warm afternoon and laid among the flowers, Kathy sprawled between his knees with her head on his chest.
He ran fingers through her hair, loosed from its scarf, while she wove flowers into a chain the way Khalila had recently taught her. With the help of Khalila, Fairuz, and Ihab, she’d been making an effort to learn more about Abu Sadah and its culture, learning a new respect for their customs and traditions.
In particular, Fairuz had been teaching her traditional Abu Sadahi weaving. She was thinking about the pattern of a cloth she’d been working on, trying out different combinations of flowers, imagining which would look best when she wove it. Tehar peered over her shoulder at the flower crown curiously.
“The jasmine compliments the dahlia well,” he said. “Fairuz would approve.”
“Do you think so?” Kathy asked, smiling as she set the crown in his dark hair.
“These days I feel like you know her better than I do,” Tehar confessed. “With the difference in age, we have never been close.”
“You should talk to her more,” Kathy suggested, admiring the way the petals scattered on his curls. “She’s smart. Quiet. Reserved, like you are. Ihab is wonderful too. Sweet, and a hopeless romantic. She wants to see the world.”
“I’m glad you’ve made friends with them,” Tehar said, catching a fallen blossom from the crown and weaving it into her hair instead. “They’ve seemed much happier since you’ve been here. I was worried that their banishment here had ended all possibility of happiness for them.”
“Because they aren’t married?” Kathy asked. “I would think you knew me well enough to know not every woman’s goal in life is to get married.”
“You are hardly a typical woman,” he pointed out. She frowned at him until he capitulated, holding his hands up.
“Does that mean you never want to get married?” he asked a moment later, seeming troubled.
“Probably not,” she admitted, paying more attention to the flowers she was fussing with. “I’ve never put a lot of thought into it. It’s not a priority for me, you know?”
“But you aren’t against it?” Tehar pushed. “It’s still a possibility?”
“I guess so,” Kathy said with a sigh. “Why? Are you worried I’m going to marry someone else?”
She rolled over to look at him and saw the strained look on his face. She touched his cheek, concerned and confused.
“I know you don’t want to get married,” she said when he didn’t explain. His frown only deepened, his eyes avoiding hers. “Is this still not enough?”
“I don’t know, Kathy,” he said gently, meeting her eyes at last and running his hand through her hair. “I don’t think any amount of you could ever be enough.”
He kissed her again, and Kathy let the conversation fall away, despite her concerns. Was their warm little fantasy beginning to collapse already? It seemed that they’d have less time to linger in the safety of indecision than she’d predicted.
Chapter Fourteen
August arrived, just as hot but cooled by surprisingly strong winds which whipped sand into everyone's eyes and threatened to flip the women's abayas over their heads and send them spinning away like umbrellas in a storm.
Kathy's stomach had become a significant burden, her back hurt, sleeping was difficult, and she had constant heartburn. Pregnancy was far from the miracle everyone had said it would be.
"We're doing what?"
"Horseback riding!" Shadaf said brightly, rolling his chair past her towards the front door. "It's just the thing to cheer you up! You have been terribly tense lately."
"I wonder why," Kathy said sarcastically, waddling after him.
They wouldn't be leaving the grounds, but rather riding across them. Sheikha Nouha's palace had acres of open land, kept green and grassy by the blood, sweat, and tears of a hundred gardeners and a billion-dollar sprinkler system.
Somewhere on those grounds, Kathy was told, though she'd never seen it in six months, was a stable in which the Sheikha kept several expensive Akhal-Teke horses. They were beautiful animals, long limbed and slender, like greyhounds, with coats and manes that seemed to be made of spun gold.
Despite their delicate appearance, they were in peak condition and were incredibly hardy, powerful animals bred for endurance riding. This was according to their trainer, who talked about them extensively as they were saddled for the ride. Kathy listened with some interest as he described the long history of the breed, stroking the nose of an exquisite golden mare. It was, she was fairly certain, as close as she'd be getting to riding today.
"But Tehar, we can't just ride without our guest!" Shadaf complained as the trainer strapped him into his saddle, which was specially made to help support him.
"Then you should have talked to me about it first," Tehar replied, tightening the straps on his own saddle. "The doctor said it isn't safe. The woman is six months pregnant."
"I'm with the doctor on this one," Kathy chimed in. "I appreciate the effort, but even if it wasn't dangerous it would be uncomfortable as hell. I'll just watch."
"I'm sorry, Kathy," Shadaf said, looking genuinely wounded. "When you told me how much you loved horses, I thought this would be a treat for you."
"It's a treat just getting to see these horses," Kathy assured him. "Go have a good time. You could use the exercise!"
Looking as though he still felt rather guilty, he turned his horse away to go and join Khalila, who was just climbing onto her horse.
Tehar left his horse for a moment to go stand with Kathy. To her surprise, Basira, Fairuz, and Ihab had all decided to join them riding. Apparently, all of them except Ihab had been riding most of their lives, and went out to enjoy the horses whenever the weather permitted. Together, she and Tehar watched Basira and Fairuz help Ihab into her saddle.
"I'm sorry you can't ride," he said quietly. "I didn't know you liked horses."
"My grandparents kept them," she said. "I used to ride them every summer. I still try to go riding whenever I can."
"After the baby is born," Tehar said, "perhaps we could go riding again? I would love to see you on horseback."
Kathy smiled, flattered.
"Would you like me to stay here with you?" he offered. "I don't mind."
"No, please, go have a good time," she insisted. "I want to see how well you ride."
"Then I will have to impress you," he said with a chuckle, leaving her to swing elegantly onto his horse.
"Don't do anything stupid," Kathy warned.
"No promises," Tehar said with a wink, then spurred his horse forward to catch up with Shadaf and Khalila's.
They'd brought supplies for a picnic and Kathy spread the blanket out before sitting down, watching as the family chased each other over the green, their beautiful golden horses shining in the sunlight as they ran and leaped over the lush and verdant lawn.
It was a glorious sight to see, the kind of thing that made Kathy wish she were a painter. She would have loved to capture the image forever. Tehar looked like a prince in a fairytale, easy and graceful in the saddle, laughing as he raced his cousin and sisters. His horse leaped so high it seemed he would leave the ground entirely and gallop away into the sharp sapphire sky, hooves striking clouds and sending off sparks of stars and rain.
Kathy dozed a little, leaning against the tree, feeling the baby stir within her. She’d had more than one ultrasound by then, and could have learned t
he baby’s sex, but had decided against it. She wanted the surprise. But she had to admit, she’d been imagining a boy. She imagined what he would like riding beside his father, the two of them racing across the desert.
After a while, the riders wore themselves out and slowly began to lead their horses back to where Kathy was sitting. She put aside the book she'd been reading and stood, dusting herself off.
"Who else is ready for lunch?" Shadaf asked cheerfully. "I'm starving!"
"I'll eat it all before you get out of your saddle," Tehar teased, swinging off into the grass.
"As if!" Shadaf laughed, struggling to unbuckle himself.
"Be careful!" Khalila giggled. "Hold still, I'll help you."
Before she could get down, Kathy saw something move in the grass, coils glittering in the light and a hiss like sand through fingers. She started to say something, a warning, but it was already too late. Ihab's horse spotted the snake and reared up with a terrible scream, pitching inexperienced Ihab directly off its back and into the path of its flying hooves.
A high-strung breed, the first horse's panic infected the others within seconds. They jumped away in fear, leaving their riders fighting to control them. Fairuz's shot off right across the field. But in the instant, since Ihab had hit the ground, Kathy had only been focused on one thing, her childhood riding experience coming back to her.
Her grandfather had trained his own horses, and even though he didn't really ride them for sport or keep them for anything more than fun, he practiced with them regularly as part of taking care of them. He said it was as important to keep their minds engaged and learning as it was to keep their bodies in shape. And one of the first things he'd taught Kathy was what to do when a horse panicked, though he'd never approve of how she was about to go about it.
She threw herself between Ihab and the horse's panicked, flailing hooves. She felt one of its forelimbs clip her raised arms, but she ignored the flare of pain in favor of grabbing the loose, flying reins. She caught them in a firm grip and dragged them hard, down and to the side, forcing the horse to turn its head, to focus on Kathy rather than what was frightening it.
She'd been paying attention to the trainer earlier and knew enough Arabic to remember the commands he'd used. She ordered the horse to back up, using the same gestures she'd seen the trainer use. If she could keep the horse focused on her and on something familiar like the command, it would forget about the snake, which she could see Khalila throwing the picnic blanket over in her peripheral vision.
Tehar scooped the snake up safely in the blanket as Kathy guided the horse to continue backing up. Its eyes were still wild, its ears flicking, its nose huffing and blustering with distress, but she spoke gently to it, stroking its nose as it gradually calmed down. After a few more minutes, it stopped pulling against the bit and seemed to settle.
Kathy's tense shoulders dropped in relief, and she began to really notice the throbbing pain in her arm.
At the same moment, Tehar all but collided with her, throwing his arms around her and dragging her away from the horse. Khalila was behind him to take the reins.
"What in God's name were you doing?" he shouted, taking her by the shoulders to shake her before pulling her so tightly against him it almost knocked the breath from her lungs. "If you ever do something so stupid again I'll—"
"What, ground me?" Kathy asked, laughing.
"Maybe!" Tehar threatened, not at all amused.
He was distracted from his scolding by Basira shoving him aside. Kathy was worried for a moment that the woman was about to hit her, but instead, she hugged Kathy even tighter than her son had.
"Thank you," Basira sobbed. "You saved her! You saved my daughter's life!"
Ihab was behind her, looking battered but grateful, and soon joined the group hug.
"I was so scared," she said. "How did you know what to do?"
"I grew up with horses," Kathy said dismissively. "I'm just glad you're okay. Thank you for the quick thinking with the snake, Khalila."
"I didn't know what else to do," Khalila said with a shrug, still looking a bit shell-shocked. "I would never have thrown myself at the horse like that. How did you manage not to get hit?"
"Well, I didn't completely." Kathy laughed a little breathlessly, beginning to look pale. Her arm really hurt. "Do you think we could call the doctor?"
Ihab had been hit by a couple of glancing blows from the horse's hooves, but escaped with only some bruises and a twisted ankle from falling. Kathy had fractured her arm and spent the next six weeks in a cast.
Shadaf apologized till he was blue in the face, blaming himself since horseback riding had been his idea, but Kathy was almost grateful for the dangerous encounter. It had finally won Basira over to her. She was still as stiff and remote as ever (it was no mystery where Tehar had gotten his tendency for being overly formal from), but the hostility was gone, and they even talked on occasion like civil adults. Kathy didn't think Basira would ever fully approve of her, but she at least wasn't actively against Kathy being there anymore.
As August became September and the air began to cool, Kathy sat in the garden, listening to Shadaf recite a poem he was working on. She felt like a whale, swollen up to a comical size. Just moving around had become an absurd effort, so she was reclining in a chair near Shadaf's lounge, resting.
It was a cool evening, insects humming in the air. Khalila was sitting near Shadaf, enraptured by the poem. Basira, Fairuz, and Ihab were nearby. The two older women were working on weaving. Ihab was immersed in a book. They'd all three started visiting the garden more often now that they weren't shunning Kathy. Tehar was leaning against the door frame, pretending not to be involved, or maybe just enjoying watching the scene.
"A fragrant rose that white petaled grows through gold wire bars, untouched and unknown, binds its bars in briar and thorn and devours its cage to blossom before the world, or else withers, its beauty wasted. Know me, and see my power. Was I not planted by God with a purpose and a will of my own, beyond your petty desires? The cage bends and groans but the rose must grow and he must open his door or strangle them both."
"Beautiful," Khalila said with a sigh.
"Too pretentious," Basira countered. "Speak more plainly. If your words can only be understood by scholars, then what is the point of it?"
"I could understand it fine," Kathy said, her voice heavy with drowsiness, picking at her cast.
"And this is not even her first language," Shadaf said defensively. "Maybe you just need to try harder, Basira."
Basira huffed and began to lecture Shadaf on respecting his elders. Kathy couldn't help a chuckle, glancing at Tehar where he still lingered in the door. He smiled at her, and Kathy felt a warm glow in her chest. Was this what it felt like to be part of a family? This serene and easy peace? She’d never felt it before. Her mother hadn’t been a terrible parent, but it had just been the two of them most of Kathy’s life, and her mother had stayed busy working just to keep them afloat. She’d never had much time to spend with Kathy.
Later, as the evening cooled and fireflies began to move among the green garden stems, Kathy went to help Basira with her weaving. Ihab and Fairuz had gone in to make dinner, and Khalila had taken Shadaf upstairs to rest. Even Tehar had vanished off on some secret errand.
She sat beside the older woman in front of the traditional loom arranged on the floor and helped her sorting and separating and twining strand after endless strand. It was simple, meditative work that made it easy for the mind to wander.
“So,” Basira said after they’d worked for a while. It was only the second time she’d spoken directly to Kathy since she’d arrived, the first being after the incident with the horses. “Do you love my son?”
Kathy dropped a thread in surprise and had to scramble to find it again.
“Why do you ask?”
“It should not be a difficult question,” Basira said mildly. “If you do not know the answer, then it is probably no.”
Ka
thy thought about it for a long moment, considering her strange, fluctuating relationship with Tehar.
“I do,” she said at last, regretfully. “Just not enough.”
“Not enough for what?”
“Not enough to give up my life for him,” she answered. “Not enough to give up my home and my career and my life and move here with him. And he doesn’t love me enough to leave his home or family here to come back with me. We’re stuck, just trying to enjoy ourselves before it ends.”
“What grim resignation,” Basira muttered with a snort. “I think you are looking at this wrong.”
“Oh?” Kathy frowned.
“I have been married most of my life,” Basira said. “Since I was fifteen. I’ve known girls married younger. Ihab was only sixteen when her husband went off to war and died, and she begged me not to let her marry again, so afraid of the uncertainty of it. Fairuz was ten when she told me she would never marry. Ten years old, but I looked in her eyes and I knew she was telling the truth.
“I don’t know the ways of the West. I have never worked a man’s job or held a thing in my hands that belonged only to me. But every woman who’s ever lived has a limit, a line she would not cross, a thing she would never give up for any man, not even God himself. For me, it is my children. I would rather leave my husband to other younger women and live here than see him sell them off to lives of misery. Fairuz has her line and though I don’t understand it, I would never ask her to cross it. Ihab’s line may shift as she grows, but I know she will never marry again unless it’s for love. You have your line as well, your work and your life, and no one who loved you would ask you to cross that line. The problem is not that you don’t love him enough. Love is not a thing so easily quantified. You need to stop asking yourself what you can’t give up for the sake of being with him and start asking what you can. What’s worth giving up to be with him? What’s most important to you, Kathy Burgess? What do you want?”
Kathy had no answer. She frowned down at the weaving and worked in silence as she thought, searching for an answer. What was most important to her? Her job. Tessa. The baby. Tehar. As long as she had her work and the people who mattered to her, she’d be happy anywhere. But she needed both in her life. Tehar and Tessa. The baby and her career. So, what was she willing to give up to have them? Well, just about anything.