American Heart

by Laura Moriarty

  He stared at her with astonishment, then turned his bulgy eyes to Ray, who held up his hands as if to say he hadn’t been there to see it happen. I studied Ray for a moment, taking in his narrow face and the red scarf that looked home-knit tucked into the collar of his coat. He was the second Muslim I’d ever met. That I knew of, at least. I wouldn’t have known Ray was Muslim if I’d passed him on the street.

  Tess’s uncle shook his head at Sister Janice. He was still freaked out. “You know someone with their own boring machine?”

  “Ah. We’re in touch with many people who want to help.” Sister Eva smiled. “Some have resources, and some only have time. The latter is how we got all the dirt out. Some of our own neighbors carried it off, sack by sack, in the backs of their trucks. We had three college students out here last summer, staying with us to help care for the older sisters. They did just that during the day, but they were out here every night, carrying out dirt.” She shrugged. “In the end, we had to turn away offers to help.”

  “People are so angry about what’s happened,” Sister Janice added, looking at Sadaf. “They’re desperate to do what they can.”

  We all waited. It was the first time anyone had mentioned the reason Sadaf had to leave, or why she might have a cut on her bottom lip, or why there even had to be a tunnel in the first place.

  “It’s very kind,” Sadaf said.

  I frowned. Of course that was what she would say, being as nice as she was, and I supposed that was true. The tunnel must have taken a lot of work, not to mention risk. I’d put in work and risk myself these last few days. But it wasn’t like any of us was going to leave tonight with warm, fuzzy feelings inside. All we’d done was make a way for her to leave. For sure, Canada with her husband and son was better than Nevada without them. But she’d wanted to live here in America, and stay an American, and everyone would have been better off if that’s what she could have done. Even with her being born someplace else, she was as American as I was, maybe even more, because she’d had to work so hard to get here, and she had Thomas Jefferson quotes memorized in her head. I knew part of her was Iranian, and would always be. But she had an American heart.

  And now she had to take it somewhere else.

  “You’ll like Canada,” Sister Janice said. “We hear good reports from the people who’ve gone over, and from our friends there. It’s so welcoming. Everyone says it’s the new America.”

  It hurt me, hearing that. Ray, and Tess, and her uncle all seemed pained as well. Sister Eva gave Sister Janice a hard stare like maybe you should stop talking. But if that’s what Sister Janice thought, she had the right to say it. It was just hard to hear that someplace else was the new America. If that was true, then where did we live? What was it? Where America used to be.

  All seven of us stared down into the hole, and for a while, no one had anything to say. I was thinking about The Sound of Music and how Captain von Trapp was super patriotic about Austria and didn’t like it when somebody tried to change the flag over his house. And then near the end, he’s up on stage with all the kids and Maria, and he’s so broken up about having to leave he can’t even finish the “Edelweiss” song, and Maria has to jump in and start singing with him, and then they get the whole audience, everybody but the bad guy who liked to say “Heil Hitler” to sing along too, and the singing gets loud and powerful. That was a nice moment, like they were all using that pretty song to stick together and tell the Heil Hitler guy where he could go.

  Still, the von Trapps were the ones who left, and I don’t think they ever went back.

  “Here she is,” Sister Janice said, nodding down at the hole. A beam of light swept along the bottom of the hole, and then shone up at us so bright my eyes shut tight against it. Even when I opened them, I was bright-blinded, with purple worms obscuring my vision. By the time I could see clearly, Ray and Tess were helping the guide up out of the hole, the back of her backpack scraping along the other edge. She was a small person, at least a head shorter than I was. She had on a bicycle helmet with a penlight attached to each side. After she reached up to switch off the lights, I could see her face, which was round, with a deep dimple in her right cheek. She had large, dark eyes, and she looked enough like Sadaf that I thought she might be Iranian too. She didn’t look much older than I was.

  “Sorry I took so long. The snow slowed the drive for us.” She didn’t sound like Sadaf. I couldn’t hear any accent at all. She unfastened the chin strap of her helmet, and when she lifted it, I saw she wore a white headscarf, the ends double-wrapped around her neck.

  “Let me take your helmet, Amina dear.” Sister Janice towered over her. “Would you like some water? Would you like to sit for a few minutes?”

  “I’m okay.” Amina, I guess her name was, took all of us in with a friendly smile. “So who’s coming back with me? Just one, right?”

  Sadaf raised her hand. The girl nodded and said, “As-salam alaykum.” Sadaf smiled and said what sounded like the same thing in reverse. And here’s the truth—while they stood there grinning at each other and saying their special Muslim words, looking so much alike that they could be mother and daughter, my heart hurt. I know. It’s embarrassing to admit. You’d think I’d just be happy for Sadaf going to where she’d be safe, and with at least some of her family. And this Amina girl she’d probably have a lot more in common with.

  Amina tugged off her backpack, unzipped it, and pulled out another bicycle helmet, rigged up with two penlights like the one she’d been wearing. “Do you want to try this on?” she asked. “It’s adjustable, so you can probably fit it over your hat.” She lowered her voice. “And if you want to take your hat off when we get down in there, you can take the helmet off for a second.”

  Sadaf smiled as her new best friend helped fix the helmet over her blue hat, adjusting the strap under her chin so it wouldn’t pinch. Of course they were going to go as soon as possible. No point in waiting around. Sadaf probably couldn’t wait to get away from here. But I could feel the pressure behind my eyes, and my lower lip started to tremble. My hands felt hot, and I pulled off my mittens.

  Sister Eva carried the shoebox over from the Ping-Pong table. “Sister Mirasol baked oatmeal cookies,” she said. “She wanted to come out herself, but she’s on duty tonight.” She took the lid off and held out the box. “If you’re not hungry now, you could take some with you. She put just a few in each bag, so please take as many bags as you like.”

  Sadaf and Amina both thanked her, and they each took a bag of cookies out of the box. In all the time Sadaf and I’d traveled together, I’d never seen her eat a cookie or anything with sugar in it. I guessed she was either being polite, or taking them as a treat for her son, Jahan.

  “Well”—Amina gestured toward the hole—“are you ready? I should go in first.”

  Sadaf looked down at the hole, blinking.

  “I go back and forth all the time,” Amina said softly. “Don’t be afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid.” Sadaf looked up as if she’d been startled. “I need to say something.” Her gaze moved from the men to the nuns and then to me and Tess. “I don’t know that I can say thank you enough.” She put her palm against the zipper of her coat. “I can say that I am glad this is the last I will see of America.” She shook her head, realizing how it sounded, or how it might sound, like she was just glad to be leaving. But I got what she meant—if she had to go, she was glad that nice people would be the ones seeing her off.

  “We’re just sorry it’s this way,” Tess’s uncle said, and he sounded like he really was sorry, almost like he was going to cry, which surprised me, because he’d just met Sadaf, and also because he was a big, bald man who looked like he could be scary. But he was like Captain von Trapp maybe, and just as mad about his country, only he was deciding to stay.

  I had my own lips rolled in and my teeth clenched tight, because I didn’t want to start crying and having Sadaf feeling bad for me when she must be so excited to see her husband and her little bo
y. I raised my eyes to the rafters, working to keep them dry. I was fine. I was good, actually. I’d done what I’d set out to do. I’d done exactly what I’d promised Caleb.

  “I could have a few minutes with Sarah-Mary?” Sadaf’s voice wavered when she said my name, and that was all it took to make my vision go blurry. I heard Amina say, “Of course,” and then Sister Janice saying that they could all sit for a while, and Sister Eva said the bales made good enough chairs and maybe they could all have some of Sister Mirasol’s cookies. Someone, maybe one of the nuns, or maybe Tess, or one of the men, patted my shoulder, and then Sadaf took my arm and steered me across the barn to where the rider mower sat.

  When I could see again, my tears wiped from my eyes, I gestured to the mower’s seat. “You can sit if you want.” I meant it as a joke, but I started crying again, so the joke didn’t really work. Sadaf shook her head and stayed standing. We were only thirty or so feet away from everyone. I knew they could hear me blubbering. There wasn’t anything I could do.

  “Your son’s lucky,” I said. “Don’t ever think you’re a bad mom.”

  I don’t even know why that was what came out of my mouth, out of all the things I could’ve said to her then. But she acted like I’d hurt her, like I’d hauled off and slapped her across the face. She made a little whimpering sound and reached out and grabbed my hands, her leather gloves cool against my fingers.

  “Your brother is lucky to have you, Sarah-Mary. But I’ll worry about you.” She glanced over to where everyone else sat on bales of hay. “I am glad you have your friend.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. I pulled one of my hands away and wiped my cheeks. Let my pity party commence. I guess I was the one who’d invited her to it. “I’m fine,” I said again.

  “All right.” She didn’t let go of my other hand. “I only mean to say I care about you very much. And I wish you had someone to look after you more. I wish I could have met you under different circumstances. I would have liked you to be one of my students.”

  I had to laugh at that. Me in an engineering class, doing math and looking at wires, or whatever it was they did.

  “Don’t laugh. You are smart. I hope you will do something with your mind. And more than that, with your good heart.” Now her green eyes brimmed. “Because it is a very good heart you have. Do you hear me? Sarah-Mary, you are one of my favorite Americans. And if that sounds like low praise under the circumstance, I can tell you, it isn’t.” She pulled her hand away and reached into her pocket. “You see this rock?” She held up the rock she’d picked up outside, which actually just looked like a piece of gravel, gray and smaller than her thumb. “I took it so I could take some of America with me, a souvenir, because there is so much I will miss about this country. I wish I could take something of you.”

  I tried to think. I’d left my backpack in the van, and what was in there anyway? At this point, nothing but dirty clothes. I had my flag pin, but she had one herself. I reached up and felt for my earrings, but I’d left them, along with my toothbrush, back at the hunting lodge. My mittens were probably covered with snot.

  Once it came to me, I was sure. I didn’t have to ask Tess. She’d given it to me. It was mine to give.

  “No.” Sadaf shook her head. “Please. This is not what I meant.”

  But I’d already undone the buckle and slid it off over my hand. “It’s perfect,” I said. “Don’t you see? I’ll know for sure that you made it, as soon as you’re out of the tunnel. I’ll be able to see on Tess’s phone. And if I pay for the subscription, I’ll know if you stay in Canada, and what city. And you know, maybe someday . . .”

  She let me place the watch in her palm, but she was still shaking her head.

  “It’s got good music on it,” I said. “You should try it out. Seriously. I want you to at least listen to a few songs. Listen to Sketchy first.”

  “All right. Yes. Sketchy. But you take mine. You should have a watch.”

  She slid her own watch off her wrist. It was heavier than Tess’s, and sort of old-person looking, with tiny Roman numerals on the face and what may or may not have been a real diamond in the center. The band was pretty, thin and silver. After I fixed the latch, it felt snug against my wrist.

  “Thank you.” She showed me Tess’s watch, now buckled around her wrist. “I’ll wear it every day, so you will be able to see me. Or the light that is me.” She waited until I looked up at her. “Thank you, Sarah-Mary. Thank you for helping me.”

  “They’re the ones actually helping you.” I sniffed and nodded over to everyone else. “They’ve got a plan that’ll work. They know what they’re doing. I’m the one who about got you caught.”

  She touched my arm. “You did help me, as much as you could. And I am saying thank you.”

  I wiped my cheeks again. I didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t the kind of thank you that you could just say “oh sure no problem” to. You had to take it in and hold it. I could tell by the way she was looking at me she wanted me to. So I did. But then I said, “My pleasure,” and we both laughed, because obviously not all of it had been a pleasure, especially the parts where we almost died. I meant it, though, in the larger sense. She knew I did.

  “Okay, then,” I said, meaning I was ready if she was. She couldn’t just keep hanging around to make me feel better, as she’d only be safe after she got through the tunnel. And the sooner she said good-bye to me, the sooner she’d get through the tunnel, and then make her way to Toronto. Still, she held out her arms to me, and I stepped in close, my chin resting on the shoulder of her white coat. I put my arms around her and squeezed, breathing in the smell of her minty soap. Her hat was soft on my cheek, and the flag pin pressed against my ear.

  It’s a weird thing, hugging. Like I don’t know who made it up, or if they do it in every country. When I was little my mom would complain that I hugged back too tight. I probably did. I remember in my mind I was trying to have her pressed into me, like if I hugged her hard enough and long enough, some part of her would stay with me, and I’d have her even when she was away. It sounds like something a little kid would imagine, but really, that might be what people in general are going for when they hug. They want the other person to leave an impression on them, not one you can see, but something like it. They want to leave their impression, too.

  I must have walked with Sadaf back over to where the others waited by the opening, but I don’t remember doing it. I have a flash of standing beside Tess and watching as first Amina, and then Sadaf, climbed down the ladder into the hole. Sadaf’s messenger bag was on her back, and the penlights were bright on her helmet. When she got to the bottom, she said, “Oh, yes. It opens up,” and then, I guess talking to us, “Good-bye, friends! Thank you!”

  I remember being surprised at how fast their lights disappeared.

  Tess nudged my arm. “You okay?”

  When I looked up, everybody seemed like they were waiting on something. It took me a second to realize it was for me to move. I guess I’d been looking down the hole for a while.

  “Sorry,” I said, stepping aside. Sister Janice pulled the tarp back over the hole. I took my mittens out of my pockets, thinking I would help move the hay back. But I couldn’t make my hands go in. One mitten fell to the floor.

  “Hey,” Tess’s uncle said, his big voice gone soft. “Tess, why don’t you and your friend go sit down over there and let us do this?”

  “I’m okay,” I said, or tried to say. It came out all warbly.

  But Tess already had her arm around me. She steered me back across the barn, whispering that I was going to be okay. When we got by the rider mower, she pointed at it and told me to take a seat. Maybe she was just joking, too, but all at once I felt so tired, my legs aching beneath me. So I climbed up to the seat of the mower.

  “Well, look at you in the driver’s seat. That’s a sign of what’s coming, is what that is.” Tess gave me a long look. “Sarah-Mary. You know you’re missing some hair?”

  I reache
d up and felt for where my hair had come out. The wounds stung at my touch. When I brought down my hands, some of my fingertips had blood on them.

  “It’ll grow back,” she said. “If not, we’ll call you Patches.” She stopped smiling. “What happened?”

  I rested my head on the steering wheel. I felt like I could still taste blood in my mouth. I’d maybe swallowed a tiny piece of Dale’s jawline. I’d wait to tell her that. I was still so hungry, but I didn’t want a cookie. I wanted dinner, a regular meal, and then a good night’s sleep, though the sun would be up soon.

  “Well,” Tess said, “whatever it was, I can tell you now I’m impressed.” She shook her head, her big eyes steady on mine. “I knew from the start you had something in you. But I had no idea. Let me tell you something. I know that when we get back, you’re going to be in the doghouse for a while. That’s fine. We’ll wait it out. Because eventually, you and I are going on some serious adventures.”

  That got me to smile. She was right that when I got back, I’d be in trouble, and not with just Aunt Jenny, but with Mrs. Harrison and Pastor Rasmussen. They wouldn’t ever know about Sadaf, but they’d know I’d lied to all of them. There’d be consequences for that, on top of all the regular miseries that had been there before I left. But whatever they did wouldn’t kill me. I’d seen someone killed for real. I could handle a little persecution, and even getting spanked with that damn paddle.

  In fact, I was almost excited to light out for home. I couldn’t wait to see Caleb and let him know I was just fine, and that I really had done as much as I could, and that Sadaf was free with her family. I’d show him the GPS light on Tess’s phone. I’d make sure he understood that as scared as he must have been these last few days, he should feel proud of himself, because he was the one who made me promise to do the right thing, even when I thought I shouldn’t. It felt good to know he’d be proud of me too, for keeping that promise, and in the future, for whatever I might try next.