Abby rose and dabbed at the wetness with one of the towels. Zara stepped forward, her eyes flashing. “No more, understand? No more.”
The smaller girl began to cry, and the larger one took her in her arms and rocked her. Though she comforted Geeta, Pari kept a watchful eye on Abby.
“No,” Abby said, “they’re still unsure. They have no idea who we are. You said yourself that they’ve only recently been sold. A few weeks ago, maybe a few days even, they were in their own homes. However desperate that may have been, it was home. And now they’re here surrounded by strangers.”
Zara bent to retrieve the basin and passed it to Bina. “Come, ladies, let’s get them food.”
Mariyah, Bina, and Anyu left the room with Zara, leaving Abby with the girls.
“Hungry? Naan?” asked Abby, pretending she was eating. The girls bobbed their heads up and down, and Abby turned to Zara, who’d returned, a small loaf of bread and a cup filled with water in her hands. She handed both to Abby, who passed the bread to the girls.
They pounced on the bread, tearing at it with their hands and teeth.
“Oh, God, they’re starving. Is there more?” Abby said, handing the cup to Pari. The girls drained the cup.
“Mariyah and Bina are cooking. Soon,” Zara said, “lunch is soon. Khaana, lunch. Understand?”
Abby turned to the girls. “I’m going to help in the kitchen.” She held out her hand. “Will you come with me? Understand?”
Pari nodded, but she and Geeta stayed where they were.
Abby moved toward the door. “I’m going, but I’ll call you when it’s ready, yes?” The girls’ eyes grew wide, and Abby stepped into the hall, where Zara was waiting.
“Heartbreaking, isn’t it?” Abby asked.
Zara nodded. “But for me, it is something that makes me angry, that someone could hurt small girls like this.”
“There’s no information?” Abby asked.
Zara shook her head. “Very little. The police in Islamabad brought them to us late last night. A UN social worker told them about the house we have here, and though we’ve never had little girls, there was no place else for them to go. The police raided a kharabat just outside the city center. It was filled with women and girls who’d been sold and trafficked and were held there. Some were in the process of being moved to other countries. The police found money and false documents and twenty-eight girls, who were just terrified. These two hadn’t been in the house long, and the police were good men. They were determined to get them away from Islamabad, away from whoever intended to buy them.”
Zara turned into the kitchen. “At least now we know they understand English a little. It’s going to be slow progress, one small step at a time.”
The women had gathered in the kitchen, where Bina sifted through rice and Mariyah pounded slices of chicken into thin strips. “You can help here if you’d like,” Zara said. “I’m going to get some work done.” She turned and headed back down the hall.
“Can I help?” Abby asked.
“No, you guest,” Mariyah said, motioning for Abby to sit.
“You like Nepali food?” Bina asked.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever had any,” Abby replied.
“Food of Pakistan not so different from Nepal,” Mariyah said. “Maybe better.”
Bina laughed and threw a handful of rice at Mariyah. The shrieks of laughter finally caught the attention of Geeta and Pari, who suddenly appeared in the doorway. Geeta’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the food.
“Hungry?” Abby asked, knowing the two were starving.
Geeta nodded.
“Come in, then. Sit with me.” Abby patted the chair next to her, and though Pari moved warily, she hauled herself onto the seat, lifting Geeta onto her lap where they sat in silence.
Bina smiled at the girls. “Salaam,” she said softly. Pari nodded, and Geeta smiled shyly.
Mariyah and Bina worked their magic with the food, and when Anyu appeared carrying fresh warm bread and cold Coca-Cola, the meal was served. The aroma of the dishes, a spicy lamb served on a bed of curried rice, made even Abby’s mouth water, and she went in search of Zara.
“Lunch is ready,” she said when she spied Zara hunched over a computer in the long hallway. “The girls are in there. We’re just waiting for you.”
Zara stood slowly, rubbing her back. “There’s so much to do, Abby, so much.”
“I can help. Even if it’s paperwork, I’ll help, Zara. I want to be a part of what you’re doing here.”
Zara took Abby’s hand and smiled. “There is a lot to be done. I’m worried that the men who spent a lot of rupees for these girls will come looking for them. It must be our secret, understand?”
Abby nodded.
“Even the local police,” Zara said, her brows furrowed, “are not always so honest. They are not paid very well, and for the right amount of money, well, anything can happen. The girls could be snatched away.”
Abby gasped. “I hadn’t even thought of that. Should there be a guard?”
“There is, the big man who lets you in, but if the authorities come, there’d be nothing he could do.”
“Is that what happens? The authorities take girls too?” And, Abby thought, wasn’t that precisely what Nick had said?
“I don’t know anything for certain. I just want to be ready.”
Abby exhaled slowly. “I won’t say a word. Not a word.”
“Our new friend. Shukria.”
They headed into the kitchen and sat to eat. Abby watched as Pari and Geeta shoveled the food into their mouths with their fingers and washed it down with Coca-Cola. “Good?” Abby asked. Pari grunted through a mouthful of rice.
Bina laughed. “Yes, good.” She heaped Abby’s plate high.
“It is good,” Abby said. “But that’s enough for me.” She reached for an empty plate and filled it with food. “For Mohammed.” She turned for the door. “He’s outside. I want to be sure he gets lunch too.”
Mohammed was sitting under a tree when Abby spied him. He stood quickly when he saw Abby.
“No, Mohammed, please sit. I have lunch for you.” She handed him the plate.
“Shukria,” he said, then began to eat.
“Mohammed, can we go to the bazaar on the way home? I want to buy some shoes and clothes for little girls. Do you know a shop that will have those things?”
Mohammed smiled. “Yes, miss, very good shop. I bring you.”
Abby went back inside and took her seat by the girls. “Mohammed says shukria.” The girls had just finished eating, and Abby watched as Geeta patted her own belly in satisfaction.
“I’m going to head out,” Abby said, rising. “Thank you all for lunch and for a wonderful day. Mariyah, I’ll see you tomorrow at the clinic.”
Mariyah grinned, her scar almost receding behind her look of happiness.
“Zara, do you need a ride?”
“No, Abby, I’m not ready yet. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“You will, I’ll stop by.” Abby turned back to the others. “I’ll try to see you tomorrow or the day after.”
“Khoda khafez,” the women said in unison.
Pari and Geeta looked up for an instant before looking away, and Abby bent down to them. “I will see you soon. Acha?”
“Acha,” Geeta whispered, and Abby felt her heart leap in her chest. She’d do anything she could to protect these girls.
• • •
Once on the road, Mohammed guided the car to a small children’s shop in the thick of the central bazaar. This was Abby’s first visit to the bazaar, a place Najeela thought beneath her. Their shopping trips had been to overpriced boutiques and fancy specialty shops, and though the bazaar was as unlike the mall at home as was possible, Abby felt comfortable here among the narrow, crowded alleys that blocked out all hint of daylight. Chickens squawked, children shouted, merchants bartered—it was as exciting as a shopping center could be.
Mohammed directed Abby along the narro
w lane to a small shop set back from the street. Bolts of colorful cloth lined the entryway, and Mohammed ushered Abby inside, where he spoke with the merchant. With gestures and smiles, Abby communicated with the shopkeeper and found sandals and dresses for the girls. “Veils?” she asked, pointing to the colorful head scarves on display.
“Yes, miss,” Mohammed said. “Good for girls.”
Abby chose two colorfully embroidered head scarves and watched as her packages were wrapped with brown paper and tied with string. Perfect, she thought. No one at the staff house would know what was inside.
She wanted to linger here in the bazaar, but Mohammed tapped his feet as she glanced into another shop, and she turned to him. “Do you have to be somewhere?”
Mohammed seemed to be caught off guard. “No, miss,” he said a little too deferentially. “You are the boss.”
“Not me, Mohammed, but let’s go.”
“Whatever you say, miss.”
Something in his suddenly fawning voice bothered Abby. Nick is definitely rubbing off on me, she thought, unsure if that was good or bad.
Chapter 19
The next morning dawned hotter than usual, and Abby woke with her nightgown clinging to her damp skin. She exhaled and pushed her sweaty hair back from her face.
An image of Nick flashed through her mind, and she smiled. She wished he were in town, but he had probably at least a week left on his trip. He’d definitely grown on her, but it was more than that. He’d barely left and she missed him already. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and pushed herself up. She headed to the bathroom and stepped into the shower, feeling the warm spray wash away the tension that built up each night.
By the time she stepped from the shower, she was looking forward to the day ahead. She’d stop at the Protection Tent and give Zara the package for the girls, then she’d spend the day at the Immunization Clinic. She wanted to check the numbers. Maybe the clinic should be open more than twice a week, she thought. She’d have to go over their visit statistics and speak with Simi and Najeela.
She pulled on a long, blue skirt and topped that with a white blouse. She drew a line of black kohl around her eyes and swiped clear gloss over her lips, smiling at her reflection. She was feeling pretty good about herself and her life these days, and it showed. She had some color in her cheeks again, and an unmistakable sparkle in her brown eyes. She pulled her hair back, braiding it before tucking in the loose ends.
She sighed. She hadn’t expected to find such purpose in a place called Peshawar. She pulled open her bedroom door and stepped into the hallway. The house was quiet, but a low hum came from the kitchen, where she found Hana tending to a pan that sizzled with butter and eggs.
“Good morning, Hana.” Abby steeled herself for the usual curt reply. Instead, Hana turned and smiled. Abby almost fainted with surprise.
“Go, have a seat,” Hana said, the smile disappearing as quickly as it had sprouted. “I’ll be right in.”
“Thanks, Hana.” Abby stepped into the kitchen. “Can I help?”
“You can take the coffee with you.”
Abby lifted the pot and went into the dining room. She poured herself a cup and, bringing it to her lips, wondered if she could bring herself to ask Hana about her son. But when Hana bustled in and deposited the food, Abby paused for a moment too long, and Hana hurried out. Abby sat and ate in silence and wondered where Nick was at that moment. She was lost in thought when the front door slammed, and when it was followed by heavy footsteps, she rose, a smile on her face. Maybe he was back.
She looked up expectantly, and suddenly Uncle Imtiaz appeared in the doorway. Abby gasped. Nick’s words rang in her ears: Imtiaz is at the center of things.
“Good morning, dear Abby,” he said, a hint of scorn in his voice. Or was she only reading that into an innocent hello?
She felt the color rise to her cheeks, and she paused before she spoke. “Good morning,” she said, her voice intentionally icy. “Najeela’s not here.” Oh, God, let him just leave, she prayed.
But he didn’t. Instead, he moved into the room and sat across from Abby. “Oh my dear, it’s you I’ve come to see.”
Abby looked away. “I’m busy today, Imtiaz. I just don’t have time for visitors. Sorry.” She rose from the table.
Imtiaz leaned back in his chair. “Where is your friend, the writer?”
Abby felt her heart seize. Why was he asking about Nick? Her mind raced with worry. Jesus, did Najeela tell him about the rescue house? Was he trying to get information? Did he know about the girls? Abby held her breath. She couldn’t give anything away.
“I don’t know,” she finally answered, an unintended tremor in her voice. “He’s not my friend.”
Imtiaz brushed his beard with his fingers and looked around the room. “Ah, interesting. But he’s away?”
Abby shrugged, hoping she appeared truly ignorant of Nick’s whereabouts.
“Well, it’s good news for me. You are alone, yes?”
He leaned toward Abby, and she took a step toward the door, her eyes on Imtiaz, but he was on his feet in an instant, and he reached out and grabbed her arm. A wave of revulsion shot through her veins.
“Don’t go. Don’t leave me all alone,” he pleaded, leaning in to her.
Abby inhaled the sharp scent of his beard and skin, and the taste of bile filled the back of her throat. The room was closing in on her, and Abby was afraid she was about to faint. With her free hand, she held on to the back of a chair and tried to steady herself, but Imtiaz leaned in closer, and the sour smell of his breath on her face threatened to make her sick.
“What do you think you’re doing?” an angry voice suddenly called, and Abby turned to see Hana push her way into the room. Imtiaz dropped Abby’s arm, and in that instant she backed away.
“The little miss and I are just making plans for the day,” he said in a voice filled with barely concealed irritation.
Abby stood slightly behind him and shook her head only faintly, hoping that Hana would get her message.
“Plans? Well,” Hana said with hostility, “I’m sure she’s told you about her appointment this morning with the head of the UN Immunization Program. He’s on his way here now.”
Abby’s jaw fell open in surprise at Hana’s announcement. UN? Was there an appointment or was Hana bluffing to protect her?
“I—” Imtiaz began, but Hana interrupted him, and turned to Abby.
“So, off with you. You’ll need your reports. I believe the UN will be here within the hour, correct?”
Abby nodded slightly.
Imtiaz glared at Hana and poked his finger in the air. “You,” his voice boomed, “are a servant. Kindly remember that.” He turned to Abby. “I’ll see you again soon, my dear.”
His footsteps pounded angrily down the hall, and Abby, who hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath, exhaled loudly when she heard the front door slam shut. She collapsed into a chair.
Hana sighed noisily. “What was that all about?”
“That unpleasant man was Najeela’s uncle Imtiaz, and you’ve just saved me from him. Thank you.”
Hana leaned over the table and collected the dirty dishes. “You’re welcome. What was he doing here?”
“I don’t know, but he seemed to know that Nick was away.”
“Hmm,” Hana muttered, seeming to ponder that news.
“Anyway, I don’t actually have an appointment with the UN this morning, do I?”
A trace of a smile swept over Hana’s face. “No, you don’t. I just wanted to get him out.”
“Hana, you’re my hero. You were great, and so convincing, I almost believed you.”
Hana smiled, picked up the dishes, and headed back to the kitchen.
Abby followed her. She wanted to tell her she knew about her son, about the sadness in her life. She just wanted to say she understood. “Hana.” She watched as Hana turned to face her. “I just want to thank you again, seriously, thank you. I know you
have a lot on your mind, with your son and all, so I just want to say if I can return the favor, if I can do anything for you, I will.”
Hana turned, a puzzled look on her face.
Oh, God, Abby thought, she doesn’t know that I know about her son. “Your son?” Abby said softly.
Hana seemed to gather herself, and the familiar disgruntled mask she’d always worn slid back over her face. She nodded and turned back to her dishes.
“I’m going to see if Mohammed’s here and head to the camp,” Abby said to Hana’s back. Hana shrugged in reply, and Abby wished she hadn’t said anything. She sighed and picked up her bag and package for the girls and headed to the door.
“See you later, Hana,” Abby called over her shoulder, but there was no reply. Abby shut the door softly behind her.
At the camp, she stopped first at the Protection Tent and caught Zara just as she was leaving. “Zara,” she said, handing over the small, wrapped bundle, “this is for the girls. Just some sandals and clothes.”
Zara took the package and looked it over. “Shukria, Abby. Will you come by today to see them?”
“I think I’ll catch up on my clinic work and see you all tomorrow, if that’s all right? There are all of you at the house with them, and I don’t want to wear out my welcome.”
“Ah, you will always be welcome, Abby.”
“Shukria to you. I’ve got to run, Zara. See you later.”
Abby headed to the clinic and stood outside for a minute, searching the faces of the women waiting in line. They all seemed to have desperate, haunted eyes and stick-thin, malnourished babies. These were the women Nick had talked about—invisible and ready to do just about anything to survive. Easy pickings for traffickers. Abby heaved a sigh, stepped around the line of waiting patients, and went into the clinic.
Away from the sharp glare of the sun, it took Abby a moment to see that Mariyah was sitting at the registration desk.
“Good morning.”
Mariyah looked up and nodded. “Hello, Abby,” she said, then turned back to her work. Abby stepped into the vaccine room and saw that Shoma and Nasreen were busy already with vaccines. Babies shrieked and mothers cooed, and the little room hummed the way a clinic should. Abby smiled. At least she was doing something, she thought, as she settled in to help with the vaccines.
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