by Dina Silver
“Mom.” I gently shake her shoulder. “Mom.”
She opens her eyes.
“Do you think you can come downstairs with me?”
She gets a frightened look on her face.
“Everything is fine,” I assure her. “I just want your help with something.”
She sits up, and Snoopy jumps to the floor, ready for action. I help her with her robe and lead her into the living room, where I have the boys’ stockings laid out on the coffee table along with three jumbo bags of jelly beans.
“We’re going to make jelly-bean trails for them,” I say, smiling and bouncing on my toes. Mom is staring at the table when I look over at her. “Oh, Mom, please don’t cry.” I run to her side, and we embrace.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Chapter Thirty-Five
CATHERINE
Beirut, 1973
“You’ve been granted visitation,” Charley Stillwater said to me. It had been four months since I’d arrived back in Beirut. “As you know, we filed papers seeking divorce on the grounds of mental cruelty and asked for full custody of the child. The case is still pending here, even though he signed papers in Connecticut, but the courts are taking that into consideration, and we’ve been granted a temporary win. We’ve spoken with Gabriel’s attorney, and he’s being served with papers today. Gabriel is now legally bound to comply with our demands, and he must let you know Ann Marie’s whereabouts within twenty-four hours. You have been granted visitation,” he repeated.
I stood holding the phone in one hand and squeezing Yasmine’s arm with the other, as both our ears rested on the handset. It wasn’t exactly what I’d hoped for, but it was a small victory. She pulled away and clapped.
“What does that mean, exactly?” I ask him.
“That you’ll be allowed to see her and spend time with her.”
“How often?”
“We’re still trying to determine that, but at least we’ll know where she is and have some answers on her condition.”
“That’s great news, thank you. How will I get ahold of Gabriel?”
“I have a number here for you to call. Do you have something to write with?”
Yasmine pulled open the desk drawer and got a pen and paper.
“Yes, go ahead,” I said.
“If you have any trouble, let me know. He’s changed his phone number many times over the past few months, but his lawyer assured us this is current.”
When I hung up the phone, I ran my hands through my hair. I was wearing a white cotton sundress with an eyelet pattern on the bodice and sandals that day.
“I’m going to call Gabriel now,” I said.
Yasmine nodded. “You should. It’s been a long-enough wait.”
She and I both pressed our ears to the phone again and nearly fell off the couch when he answered. Yasmine pulled away and let me have my moment.
“It’s me,” I said. “I know you know I’m here, and I’m calling to see Ann Marie.” My legs began to shake. I could’ve sworn I heard him laugh.
“You and your stupid attorneys,” he said.
“Just tell me where I can find her.”
“You will never find her,” he said and hung up.
“Gabriel?” I shouted. “Gabriel?”
Yasmine grabbed the phone. “Hello? Gabriel?” she said, but he was gone.
I grabbed the phone back from her and redialed over and over again, but there was never another answer. The conversation happened so fast and then vanished like a dream.
She knelt in front of me. “Don’t lose yourself.” Yasmine placed her hands on my cheeks. “I will not let you collapse. He has a court order, and he will have to comply.”
I looked into her eyes. “Please hand me the phone. I’m calling Charley back.”
After telling him what occurred, he offered to get Ann Marie’s location from the attorney but said it might take a day to reach him, given the time difference.
When I woke up the next morning, one of the maids handed me a note from Danny.
She’s in the mountains. That’s all we know.
I could barely get myself out of bed. With the note in my lap and my hands in my hair, I couldn’t take another setback. I thought I was strong, but he was stronger. We may have had the law on our side, but what good did it do? I couldn’t go storming into a police station and complain about my husband. I’d be laughed out onto the street and likely arrested. Gabriel had fought me every step of the way when I asked to visit his home in the mountains. He’d always refused to take me there. It was the perfect hiding place. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered aloud, wishing my baby could hear me. Curled up, clutching the piece of paper, I repeated the sentiment in my head until I had an idea and a prayer.
I jolted upright, pulled open the drawer of my nightstand, and grabbed an old journal. Written on the inside flap was the number I was looking for. Once downstairs, I picked up the phone and dialed an old friend.
Chapter Thirty-Six
CATHERINE
Beirut, 1973
Yasmine and I stood outside in front of her house the next morning, waiting for him. He was twenty minutes late. When I’d called him the day before, there was something so gentle and familiar about his tone. Once again, I felt like there might be some hope. I couldn’t help but think how differently his reception had been from Brigitte’s, and I had no other choice but to trust him, if he would let me.
“Stop pacing,” Yasmine said.
“I’m not pacing; I just want to get on the road already.” Just then a car pulled up, a Volkswagen Beetle, and out came Walid. I rejoiced at the sight of him. He ran over and gave me a hug. “Miss Catherine! It is very good to be seeing you again.”
“You have no idea how nice it is to see a friendly face. I’ve missed you.”
He blushed. “I have missed you, too.”
I took a deep breath. “This is Yasmine Khalid.”
Walid bent forward. “A pleasure.”
“Catherine has told me such wonderful things about you,” she said. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“No, Miss.”
“Does Gabriel know you’re here?”
I’d asked Walid about Gabriel when we’d spoken on the phone. He said he hadn’t worked for him in many months, that Gabriel had moved and cut ties with many people after I’d left, and even more so once my family started looking for him. However, he did say that if Gabriel reached out to him and asked, that he would not be able to lie. Another risk I was going to have to take.
“No, Miss. He does not.” He glanced at me. “But if he is there, at his home, I will have to respect his wishes, whatever they may be.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Can we get going? I know it’s a long ride.”
The three of us drove just over two hours up winding roads, through lush hillside trees and overgrown landscapes. Once in the town of Beit Chabab, we passed monasteries and churches and cement stairwells veering off the roads leading to private residences. There were not many tall structures, and almost all the homes required taking a secluded road that led through more and more trees at every stretch and turn. The streets were paved but bumpy and strewn with loose rocks that crunched under his tires as we sped through. The air was warm, and Walid’s car had no air-conditioning, so we all had to tolerate each other’s body odor for most of the day. Walid stopped for a woman on her bike to pass in front of us, and then he pulled onto a narrow brick drive with an open gate at the end. Once through, he stopped the car and turned around, his arm hanging on the headrest behind him.
“We’re here,” he said, and I immediately felt nauseated.
“She’s in there,” I whispered to Yasmine. “I know it.”
The square-shaped house was made of white brick and covered almost entirely in ivy. The windows had light-blue shutters and were very symmetrical with the first level, having the same number as the second floor. The color of the front door matched the shutters, and there were three chimneys ato
p a slanted gray roof.
There was no containing me in that car. I flew to the front door of the home and knocked with my fist. After a moment and no immediate answer, I kept knocking until my knuckles bled. Neither Yasmine nor Walid dared to stop me. I was just about to switch hands when a small hinged window on the door opened.
“Can I help you?” a woman asked in French.
“I’m here for Ann Marie, my daughter.”
The woman peered through the thin iron bars that covered the square opening and looked past me to where Yasmine was standing over my shoulder.
“There is a court order. Now please open the door,” Yasmine added from behind.
“I don’t know anything about that, but I do know this is private property, and I will have to call the police if you don’t leave immediately.”
“This is the girl’s mother,” Yasmine said.
The woman met my eyes and then looked me over.
“Please,” I begged. It was hard for me to see the woman’s face clearly, but she looked to be in her early fifties. She must’ve been somebody’s mother, I thought to myself, and if not, she surely had a mother of her own. I’d come across very few people who did not at least try to understand my pain and suffering. I took a step back so she had a better view of my face and placed my hands on my chest. “My baby is in there. Please.”
“She is asleep. You will have to come back another time.” And with that, the window closed.
I threw my body at the door and pounded with every limb. Walid and Yasmine pulled me away. “Miss Catherine, you don’t want to get the police involved,” he said over my pleas. “I cannot stress how tight this community is. They will never turn on one another. If the police turn up, you may never see your daughter again. We will come back tomorrow.”
And so we did. And the next day, and the next day, and the next after that. Each time with the same result.
Walid drove me to the mountains every day for two weeks, and every time we were told that the baby was sleeping and we’d have to try again. The police were never called, and Walid never allowed me to push those people, insisting that I had to be strong for Ann Marie. Her second birthday came and went during those weeks, and I left a stuffed penguin that Reema had given me and a set of alphabet blocks in front of the door that would never open.
We assumed Ann Marie was there, in Gabriel’s mountain home, but Yasmine suggested we take her picture, which was at least a year old, to the local monasteries, some of which had orphanages and schools. Trying to imagine her asking for her mother, or a glass of milk or a hug, were thoughts I struggled to suppress on an hourly basis. Each day after we were turned away at Gabriel’s home, we’d visit the monastery schools. Walid would speak for me, holding a picture of this missing little girl with big brown eyes and sweeping curls, and I would just watch as people shook their heads.
I’d lost more weight and more faith, but I never gave up. It was difficult for me to eat, not knowing if my child was hungry or not. At night, Yasmine would sit with me, and we’d listen to Frank Sinatra records while she helped me continue to learn French and Arabic. I had daily phone calls with Charley Stillwater and his team of attorneys, who worked tirelessly on my case.
And then one morning, six months into my stay in Beirut, I got word that my uncle Fitz had announced he’d be running for president as the Democratic nominee. A week later, Charley called the Khalids’ house at 7:00 a.m. to tell me that we’d won our custody battle in Lebanon.
“Gabriel has been ordered to deliver the baby to the police station by noon today.”
I could barely organize my thoughts. “Oh my God.” I was sitting at a desk in the Khalids’ library, rubbing my eyes.
“I spoke to Danny yesterday and let him know there was a very strong possibility of this happening, so he will be able to advise you on what to do.”
“Gabriel has been ordered to comply before and failed,” I reminded him.
“It’s different this time.”
“How?” I asked.
“The local authorities are involved now. The judge was not pleased to hear that Gabriel ignored his initial ruling, and he will be arrested if he does not show up with Ann Marie today.”
“What if he hides her again and risks arrest? I’m not putting anything past him at this point.”
“His attorneys are working with us, and they’re under major diplomatic pressure to get this done quickly and peacefully.”
Yasmine came into the room in her robe just as I hung up the phone. “Danny told me.” She was smiling. “I believe you will have your baby back today.” She placed a hand on her heart. “I can feel it.”
I pushed back from the desk and faced her. “I’m so scared.”
She pulled a chair up next to me. “Of what?”
“She’s two and a half years old now. Gabriel took her when she was eleven months.” I sighed. “She’s not going to know who I am. What if she’s frightened by me?”
Yasmine stood in a single motion and walked to the window, her back straight. Even in a robe, she exuded elegance. She crossed her arms. “A child knows her mother, just as a mother knows her child.” She turned back to face me. “She is young still, and even if her reaction is not initially what you hope for, she will know you.”
I moved through my room upstairs, turning on lights and straightening things up. I had a large four-poster bed, with red silk fabric hanging from above like a tent. The floor was made of marble, and there were two matching marble pillars at the end of the room near the window. A dresser and two red velvet chairs sat opposite the bed. We didn’t have a crib, but the Khalids had purchased a tiny toddler bed for Ann Marie soon after I had arrived. It had been sitting empty for almost a year near the window, with just a fitted sheet and nothing more. I pulled off the sheet, put a fresh on one, and made the rest of the bed with clean linens and blankets. When I was through, I dressed in a pair of bell-bottom jeans, a purple blouse, and a pair of suede pumps with a low heel. Yasmine sent one of the maids to the store to pick up some extra fruit and milk and cookies, but the truth was, I had no idea what my daughter liked to eat. I no longer knew anything about her.
“Catherine!” Danny’s voice boomed from the foyer below. “It’s time to go!”
I grabbed my purse and ran down the stairs.
“I will call your father when we return, since it’s so early in the morning there right now.”
“Thank you.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder. “We will get her back today. Don’t be nervous.”
“I’m trying. I really am.”
I didn’t say a word during the car ride to the station. Danny and Wassef were in the front seat, and Yasmine was in the back with me, holding my hand as I stared out the window on the verge of an emotional breakdown.
“She will be there,” Yasmine whispered and squeezed my hand.
Noon came and went, while the four of us sat in a waiting room at the local police station with Styrofoam coffee cups on the table in front of us. I could barely speak.
At 1:30 p.m., we got news that they were on their way. The officers assisting us that afternoon confirmed that Ann Marie was with Gabriel’s attorney and a nanny, and they would arrive in the next half hour.
In my hands were a stuffed bear she’d had when she was a baby and a photograph of the two of us. Just after 2:00 p.m., there was some commotion at the front desk. I could see through a doorway that a woman had walked into the station with a child and two other men. I placed the items I was holding on the table and sprang to my feet. Yasmine followed me. We both stopped in our tracks when we saw her.
Yasmine grabbed my arm. “Oh my God, look at her. The whole time we were looking for a little girl,” she whispered.
Ann Marie was very thin, wearing pajamas that hung off her shoulders, and her hair had been cut short like a boy. It was dark brown and thick and would’ve been wavy and lush had it not been so shorn. I made eye contact with the woman holding her hand. She was dressed in
a white uniform, like that of a nurse or housemaid, and my daughter was clinging to her side. I dropped to my knees so that she and I could be eye level. The nurse lady took a step forward, and Ann Marie hid behind her leg, but she looked at me. There were more than half a dozen people in the room, but she looked right at me.
I placed my hands on my knees. I did not want to cry in front of that scared little girl. I wanted to show her only love and happiness in that moment. “Hi,” I said and lowered my chin. You could’ve heard a pin drop.
She looked at her nanny, who said something in French.
“She only speaks French and Arabic,” the woman said.
“Salut,” I said, and she waved at me and then retreated back behind her nanny after looking around the room filled with strangers.
“This is overwhelming for her. Can we please have some privacy?” I asked. Everyone cleared out except for the nanny, Yasmine, and myself.
“Can you bring me the bear?” I said to Yasmine, and she did.
“Pour toi,” I said and held out the teddy bear. She looked at the woman she was holding on to before taking it from me.
I got to my feet. “Have you told her who I am?” I asked the woman.
“She has been told that I am her mama and you are her nanny.”
It was a blow to the gut, but I brushed it off. “Please let go of her hand,” I said, and the woman did as I asked. I knelt again and held my arms wide. “Can I have a hug?” I asked in French. The little girl before me released her grip on the nanny’s hand and stepped into my embrace. She studied my face when we were through.
“Je t’aime. I love you,” I said.
She stared at me with no trepidation whatsoever.
“I think it’s time we go,” I said to Yasmine but kept my eyes on Ann Marie. Yasmine waved at the men, and the nanny was quickly escorted away. Ann Marie began to cry as the chaos ensued.