ELEVEN

Hâroon was given a one-week grace period before he had to show up at his first day of work. During that week, he spent all of his waking hours with the twins and hardly glimpsed his wife. She stayed holed up in her bedroom doing who knew what, keeping the door locked. When she did venture out, she made herself some food and then quickly disappeared again. She barely spoke to him, ignored the children, and cut him down with sharp words if he tried to make her spend time with them as a family. By the end of that week, he acknowledged the ugly truth. Lila hadn’t changed at all; she had just made him believe it.

Moses and Serenity Williams were a true blessing. They showed up frequently offering their help with no expectation of return. Serenity took over watching the children so Hâroon could have a reprieve, and Moses engaged him in discussions about their different beliefs that were surprisingly pleasant. Hâroon had witnessed how intense and heated debates could become, and was relieved Moses Williams didn’t seem to be the sort to turn an exchange of differing opinions into an argument.

Serenity, more often than not, made lunch, dinner, ot both for him and the kids before she left, and sometimes the couple brought over a dish from their own house. They didn’t even blink when he told them he and his children couldn’t eat pork products because their religion prohibited its consumption. Instead, they made the effort to accommodate their dietary needs.

He learned the couple had a sixteen-year-old daughter by the name of Charity who was in high school. So far he hadn’t seen a glimpse of her. Though he didn’t ask, he often found himself on the listening end of Moses’ problems with his teenage daughter, most of which centered on boy trouble—or the trouble that came from one specific boy.

“She’s too attached him,” Moses said. “She’s known him since she was five, so she can’t see what I do. I see the way he looks at her and no man has any business looking at a teenage girl like that.”

“How old is he?” Hâroon couldn’t help asking.

“About your age,” Moses replied. “I’ve been uncomfortable about this friendship from the start. He’s been throwing his wealth and status around from a very young age. Men like that don’t look at girls like my daughter with marriage in mind. He’s been acting different since she was fifteen and I’m scared for her, but she won’t listen to anything I say against him.”

“You’re her father and she’s still a minor,” Hâroon pointed out. “Can’t you just put your foot down?”

“If only,” Moses replied. “You have no idea the kind of power this young man holds. No one that young should have that kind of power. He can make me lose my job and then where would we be? He’s been keeping me under his thumb with threats and there’s nothing I can do. The police can’t help me either. There’s no proof, and if there was, he could probably pay his way out of it. My daughter is in danger and she doesn’t even realize it.”

Chills crept over Hâroon’s skin at the story Moses told. It almost seemed too fanciful to be real, like something from a thriller novel, but the very real fear in his friend’s eyes made him acknowledge it as true. However, there was little Hâroon could offer except for a promise to pray for his daughter’s protection.

When the new week rolled in, and his first Monday on the job arrived, Hâroon had to leave the twins in Lila’s care so he could go to work. He hoped she would prove his sense of foreboding wrong. That morning, he knocked on her door to remind her that he wouldn’t be around to watch the twins.

“I’m going to work,” he said when she finally opened the door, staring at him with frustration. “The kids will be up soon.”

“Fine,” she grumbled. “I’m up. You can go.”

Before he could reply, she shut the door in his face.

He checked on the twins one last time before leaving. Thankfully, they were both asleep.

His day at work was just as challenging as he feared—not the work itself but those he had to see and interact with. Brandon Eckhart had been present to greet him, show him around, and brief him, but after that he was on his own. Most of his co-workers stared at him; some of them whispered and made snide comments; and many ignored him, even when he needed to speak with them about something.

As if the workplace wasn’t uncomfortable enough, he had to see and work with women, who were of course clad in short skirts that was supposedly appropriate business attire. Hâroon had never had to directly work with women, and being around so many of them, none of which was modest in either her attire or behavior, made him fear for his future. The women, and even the men, casually joked and flirted throughout the workday, making him more and more uncomfortable.

When the day came to an end, he found himself reconsidering what he’d done in making a choice merely to please a wife who no longer seemed grateful. Now he was contracted to work in a job he despised as he lived in a place he abhorred while Lila ignored him and the twins and threw cutting remarks in his direction if he so much as dared to hint she should spend more time with him the children or take care of the house more.

It was a disaster.

But he had no one to truly blame except himself. His brother had warned him and his parents had advised him, but he’d been determined to listen to the woman who had already once proven herself to be dishonest and deceitful. Once again, she had shown him what he wanted to see, what he’d so desperately wanted to be true, and he’d fallen for it again.

Before heading home to face his sharp-tongued wife and settle in for a long evening of caring for the children, he decided to canvas the area for a masjid. In the one week since they’d arrived, he had seen no signs of one and was uncertain of who to ask since he didn’t know any Muslims in the area.

After about thirty minutes of driving around the area, he finally found what he was looking for. It was a small building compared to the one in his hometown, but at least he’d found one to attend and would no longer have to perform his prayers at home. Making sure to take a good stock of the markings around and near the masjid, he drove home.

As he pulled up in front of the house, he glimpsed a flash of color from the corner of his eye that made him turn his head. He watched as a flashy convertible pulled up in front of the Williams’ home. Moments later, a blond and blue-eyed girl who had to be their daughter alighted. She was followed by a dark-haired young man.

There was nothing particularly remarkable about the girl. She was passably pretty but not attractive enough to turn heads. In appearance, she was rather average, certainly not a girl that a full-grown man would be unreasonably pursuing.

The man was everything Moses had claimed. One glance screamed wealth and prestige from his perfectly-coiffed hair to the expensive brand-name attire he wore. It was just as Moses Williams had said. Men like that didn’t hang around girls like his daughter with marriage in mind. And it wasn’t love that Hâroon saw in the man’s expression when he looked at young Charity Williams; it was something dark and sinister that made his blood run cold.

The pair stood on the porch speaking for several minutes. Finally, the girl went inside. As the man turned to head back to the car, his gaze clashed with Hâroon’s, and a look of absolute disdain and disgust crossed his face.

Hâroon had experienced it far too much to care. Undeterred, he watched as the nameless individual climbed back into his car and drove away. As Moses had described, he looked about Hâroon’s age, and those cold eyes he’d glimpsed for just a moment reminded him too much of Lila.

So that’s him, Hâroon acknowledged, finding the remote for the garage door to open it. Even without what Moses had told him, there was something about the man which disturbed him. He’d sensed something behind that smooth, polished visage of wealth and prestige that made him very uncomfortable. He hoped Moses could make his daughter see sense and soon.

He entered the house to the sound of Ibrâhîm’s screeches and shrieks. He followed them to the den, where Lila lay stretched out on a couch reading a magazine, while Ibrâhîm raced around the room throwing things and making sounds. Yusrâ was in a corner quietly playing with building blocks, her face downcast and tear-stained.

“Good. You’re home.” Lila closed the magazine and stood. “I’m tired.” She passed by him. “By the way, I enrolled them in a play group.”

“Play group?” he repeated in surprise. She hadn’t even discussed it with him. “They’re kind of young, and we’re not both working, so why enroll them now?”

“I need a few hours with them out of my hair,” Lila replied with a shrug. “It’ll be good for them to be around other kids.”

She had a point, so he dropped the subject. “I’ll be going out at Maghrib so you’ll need to watch them for a little while until I get back.”

She turned with wide eyes. “Out where?”

“To the masjid to pray.”

She looked as if she might protest, but she must have thought better of it and changed her mind. “Fine,” she said and left.

Hâroon turned his attention to the children. Ibrâhîm, though slightly destructive, was fine, so he went toward the downcast Yusrâ. “Hey, hon. What’s wrong?”

Yusrâ looked up with teary eyes. “Mommy shout.”

Hâroon patted her back. “Mommy was having a bad day.” Which is happening more and more often since we moved. He couldn’t think of a reason Lila had to shout at Yusrâ, who was well-behaved for her age, but he hadn’t been present, so there was no way of knowing. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah!”

Hâroon caught Ibrâhîm and then led both of them to the kitchen. Maybe play group was a good idea after all since Lila didn’t have the patience to deal with their children for very long as of late.

But when he returned home the next day, it was to a furious Lila and a nervous Yusrâ. Ibrâhîm was oblivious to the emotional upheaval and tension as he happily played in a corner with the building blocks.

“They kicked him out of play group!” Lila raged at him as soon as he entered the room.

He didn’t have to ask who she meant. “Why?”

“Because he’s uncontrollable, like I keep telling you!”

What she expected him to do about it, he didn’t know. He couldn’t fix Ibrâhîm any more than she could. All they could do was be patient, wait it out, and hope he would calm down as he grew older.

“Maybe try a different one,” he suggested. “There might be one that can handle kids like him.”

But there wasn’t. The whole next week, while Yusrâ continued to attend the first play group the twins had been enrolled in, Lila visited several more in the area, and even managed to enroll him in a few before they witnessed his behavior and kicked him out. By the end of the week, she had seen every nearby center and not a single one would accept Ibrâhîm.

“He’s just not manageable!” she said to Hâroon. “What am I supposed to do with him?”

“We’ll have to keep him home until he’s older,” he said reasonably. “Hopefully he’ll settle down in a year or two so we can send him with Yusrâ.”

As the weeks flew by, Ibrâhîm remained as uncontrollable as ever, and he and Lila grew further and further apart, until that marriage he’d once prayed and hoped for was just a childish dream. By the time the month passed by, he and his wife were living like practical strangers, only interacting to switch childcare duties.

I made the wrong decision, he often thought when he stared out at the street at night, dreaming of his childhood home and the farm that had been his future.

But it was too late to change it, so he accepted the disaster he’d made of his life and tried to make the best of it for his children. It was all he could do.

🌾

Two months into their new life in Oak Village, Hâroon was miserable. Living and working in the city was very different from being in the country. He felt constricted and confined. Most of his job required sitting behind a desk and doing paperwork. He missed the wide, open spaces of the farm and being out in the fresh air. He longed for the cries of the animals and the physical work.

His home life and marriage was worse. He and Lila lived like strangers. When they had first moved to Oak Village, he had been under the impression that his marriage was changing for the better. He had been wrong. The only times he saw Lila was when they exchanged childcare duties. If she did speak, it was to complain about Ibrâhîm, whose behavior seemed to worsen as he got older instead of improve.

He longed for the comfort of Elm Creek and everything he loved back on the farm. He missed the unwavering support from his parents and family and Ya’qoob’s concern for him. They stayed in touch by phone, but it wasn’t the same, and he couldn’t confide the truth in them—that he’d been wrong, he’d made a stupid decision just like Ya’qoob had warned, and he wanted to come back home. Even if he had the gumption to tell Lila he was through with the city and wanted to move back to Pear Orchards, he’d signed a contract and had to stay.

Never will I let her sway my decisions again, he told himself as he stepped out into the frigid mid-December weather after five and walked to his car. The only thing she’s good at is complaining, being ungrateful, and manipulating me.

The heavy snowfall of mid-December as he drove home from work reminded him of his mother and Elm Creek. Snowy evenings had always meant ’Alîyâ would have cups of hot chocolate—mint-flavored for him—waiting when they came inside from the cold. There would be no such thing waiting for him at home. Even if he asked Lila, she certainly wouldn’t make it.

As he arrived on his street, he opened the garage door with his remote, parked the car, and went inside. Like many days before, he found Ibrâhîm in the midst of a temper tantrum while Lila ignored him. Ibrâhîm was stretched out on the floor screaming as his mother read a magazine. Little Yusrâ was doing her best to be comforting by sitting by his head and stroking his hair while making comforting murmuring sounds she must have learned from him.

A major part of him wanted to strongly light into Lila for so completely ignoring Ibrâhîm’s upset, but it wouldn’t help the children any to lose his temper with their mother, so he turned his attention on Ibrâhîm instead. He picked him up, rubbing his back and murmuring soothingly. Eventually, he seemed to calm.

Hâroon had no idea what had set him off. Ibrâhîm’s moods could be rather unpredictable at times. Often he would start crying and screaming for reasons Hâroon didn’t know and couldn’t figure out. At least he was calm now and that was the important thing.

Before he could say a word to Lila about her lack of empathy toward their son, she stood up and left the room with the magazine she’d been reading tucked in her arm.

He stared after her in disbelief. Is this her new way of handling his behavior? Ignoring him? He hoped not. He was certain it wasn’t the right choice and wouldn’t help.

“Daddy, I’m hungry,” Yusrâ said, pulling his attention away from Lila and reminding him of her presence.

He looked down at her. “I’ll make something for you and Ibrâhîm in just a minute. You go back and play, okay?”

Nodding, Yusrâ picked up the doll lying on the ground, sat in a corner, and began talking to it.

Hâroon left the room with Ibrâhîm. After checking his diaper and realizing he needed to be changed—which could have been the reason for his upset—he cleaned him up and then took him to the kitchen since he needed to keep an eye on him while he cooked. He settled him in the highchair, gave him a toy to play with, and then went to the refrigerator.

Later that evening, while Yusrâ played with blocks in the corner and Ibrâhîm was pulling books off the bookshelf, the phone rang. Keeping an eye on Ibrâhîm, he reached for it and put the receiver to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Assalâmu ’alaykum,” his mother’s warm voice came over the line.

He smiled. The sound of home was in his mother’s voice. “Wa’alaykumus salâm, Mom. How are you?”

“Good, alhamdulillâh,” she answered. “How are you, Lila, and the kids?”

“We’re doing fine, alhamdulillâh.” As fine as could be expected in the circumstances. “How are Maryam and Ya’qoob?”

“They’re all doing well.” His mother paused for a moment before changing the subject. “Listen, I was wondering if you could drive down for a visit soon. We haven’t seen you or the kids in a while. And it’s not like I can talk to Ibrâhîm over the phone. What do you think? Could you manage it?”

Suddenly, things looked a whole lot brighter. He could take the weekend to visit. It wouldn’t be the same as living and working there, but it would help.

“I’ll come down this weekend,” he told his mother. “It’s about time I made a visit.”

“Wonderful,” she said, joy in her tone. “We’ll get Ya’qoob’s old room ready for the kids if that’s alright. We haven’t outfitted the cabin with new furniture since you left.”

“That’s fine,” he said. If Lila didn’t like the idea of staying with his parents, that was too bad. He’d done everything she wanted and she’d yet to show gratitude. It was time he did something for himself instead.

After a few more pleasantries, during which Hâroon asked about other family members, his mother said her goodbyes and hung up. Then he returned the receiver to its cradle and turned his attention back to the children, deciding Ibrâhîm needed a new activity that didn’t include emptying the bookshelf.

After the children were asleep that night, Hâroon began to make his plans. It would be a long drive that would exhaust him and the children, but he hadn’t been working long enough to be eligible for leave, nor did he want to take Ibrâhîm on the flight that was guaranteed to earn the ire of anyone who shared the flight with them once Ibrâhîm started acting up. Even just a day at Elm Creek would be worth the drive to and back from Pear Orchards, so he was determined to make the trip, regardless of the difficulty.

He didn’t cross paths with Lila again until the next morning when he woke her up before leaving for work, so he told her about his plans then. “We’re going to Elm Creek this weekend.”

For someone who hadn’t seen her parents and brother in months, she didn’t look enthusiastic or happy. She looked more horrified. “What? We’re going to the farm? Are you serious?”

“Of course I am,” he replied. “I want to see my family, and my parents want to see the kids. Don’t you want to see your parents?”

“It hasn’t been that long and I can call them,” she said dismissively.

“Calls aren’t enough,” he replied.

Lila shrugged. “Go if you want, but I’m not coming. I don’t want to be on the farm.”

A part of Hâroon had already expected that answer, and being stuck in a car with Lila for over eleven hours held no appeal, but he was still slightly surprised. “You’d rather stay here alone than come back to Ohio with me for a visit?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “I won’t be alone. I have friends here.”

Friends he didn’t really approve of, but he didn’t argue. If she wasn’t going to come back with him, he wasn’t going to force her. A drive with just kids, as tiring as it was bound to be, would be more peaceful without her sharp tongue anyway.

“Fine,” he said with a shrug, hoping he wouldn’t regret the decision. “Stay here if you want.” He wasn’t exactly sure how he’d explain her absence to his family, but he cared more about enjoying his visit to Elm Creek than keeping up appearances.

🌾

By the end of the week, Hâroon and the children were packed and ready to go. After he arrived home from work on Friday, he changed, loaded the car with the overnight bags he’d packed, and secured the twins into their car seats. Unsurprisingly, Lila didn’t even say goodbye.

Driving with two children—one toilet-trained and the other still in diapers—required many stops along the way, not including the stops he had to make to feed them. For the most part, Yusrâ was good and quiet. Ibrâhîm, on the other hand, got tired of being strapped to his car seat and cried for a good portion of the trip. Hâroon drove through the night, knowing stops to rest would mean less time with his family, and finally drove through Elm Creek’s open gates at six o’clock in the morning the next day, exhausted but happy to be back on the farm.

His mother must have been watching for him. Before before he could get out of the car, she had come outside and was at his door. The crinkles at the corner of her eyes told him she was smiling behind her niqâb.

He switched off the car and opened the door. “Assalâmu ’alaykum,” he said as he got out and joined her on the snowy ground in front of the house.

“Wa’alaykumus salâm.” Folding his much broader frame into a warm hug, she squeezed. “It’s good to have you home.”

“It’s good to see you.” Hâroon’s eyes passed over the land of his childhood dreams, now covered in snow from the winter weather. And good to be back here.

“Where’s Lila?” ’Alîyâ asked, peering into the car.

Hâroon tried not to stiffen at the reminder of his wife. “She wanted to stay back in Arkansas,” he answered honestly, hoping she wouldn’t ask any further questions.

To his relief, ’Alîyâ accepted the answer and didn’t mention Lila again. Instead, she opened the door to the backseat and helped him get the twins out of their car seats and carry them inside.

By the time he and his mother entered the house, the children were already waking up. They laid them in the beds in Ya’qoob’s room, but by the time they brought in the bags, Ibrâhîm and Yusrâ were fully awake and had both climbed out of the beds.

“I’ll watch them,” ’Alîyâ said to Hâroon as he watched the children help themselves to the toys in the room—obviously new since most of Ya’qoob’s childhood toys hadn’t survived his active nature. “You’ve been on the road since yesterday. You need to rest.”

He couldn’t agree more. For once, since he and Lila had made the move, there was a family member besides himself willing to care for the children, and unlike Lila, he could trust his mother to see to anything the children needed.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“You’re welcome. I’ll get them fed, changed, and anything else that’s needed.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “You go sleep. The rest of the family will come by this afternoon to see you and the kids.”

Hâroon thanked her one last time and left her to it. Then he made his way to his old bedroom. Nothing much had changed since he’d moved out of his parents’ home at eighteen. The same desk and bookshelf remained in the room and none of his books had been moved. The only noticeable change was the bed, which had been replaced by a queen-sized one, possibly in expectation that Lila would be coming with him. He was more relieved than ever that she hadn’t. The idea of sharing a bed with her after sleeping apart for almost three years only filled him with dread.

Hâroon closed the door for privacy, removed his thawb and hung it over the chair at his desk, and then got in bed. Exhausted, he fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.

He was woken up by the sound of his mother’s voice sometime later. “Hâroon, get up. It’s almost time for Dhuhr.”

He pushed back his reluctance to get up just yet and opened his eyes. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“About six hours,” she answered from where she stood by his bedside.

Nodding, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I’m up.”

His mother left the room, and he got out of bed and went to the hallway bathroom to freshen up and do wûdhû. When he finished, he found his father waiting in the den, where Yusrâ and Ibrâhîm were being entertained by ’Alîyâ.

“Assalâmu ’alaykum,” he said.

“Wa’alaykumus salâm,” both his parents replied.

Though not as expressive as his mother, the joy in his father’s eyes showed clearly how happy he was to have him home.

“It’s good to have you back, Hâroon,” Yahyâ said with a smile as he stood. “Ready to go?”

Hâroon nodded.

Yahyâ exited the room, patting Hâroon’s shoulder as he passed him, and Hâroon followed him to the door.

They stepped out into the frosty air and walked to the nearby masjid. Hâroon was glad to see his childhood masjid again, to have it within walking distance, even if it wasn’t permanent.

When they returned home, the secondhand car Yahyâ had gotten Ya’qoob after he’d gotten his driver’s license was in front of the house, parked between Hâroon’s and Yahyâ’s vehicles. When they entered the house, both Yahyâ and Maryam were present, along with Maryam’s three children, the youngest of them, ’Abdullâh, a year older than Hâroon’s twins.

While Ya’qoob and Maryam were seated on the couch, Yusrâ and ’Abdullâh were sharing blocks and ’Alîyâ was keeping an eye on Ibrâhîm, who was sitting by himself in a corner, humming and rocking. Hâroon noticed neither Sâlih nor Noorah appeared to be present.

“Roonie!” Ya’qoob exclaimed. Before Hâroon could prepare himself, he had been grabbed in a tight bear hug with the potential to crush his bones. For someone who avoided farm work, his younger brother was alarmingly strong.

“Can’t breathe,” he managed to wheeze out.

“Let go of your brother before you suffocate him,” ’Alîyâ scolded.

To his relief, Ya’qoob released him.

Maryam came up to him and Ya’qoob and embraced him as well, but a lot more loosely and gently than their brother. “It’s good to see you, Roon.”

After the greetings were over, ’Alîyâ spoke up, “Lunch is ready. Shall we go eat?”

Everyone agreed and they headed toward the dining room, taking the children along. Lunch was a messy, noisy affair with the five young children. Yusrâ, Ibrâhîm, and ’Abdullâh were put in booster seats, while seven-year-old ’‘ishah and five-year-old Huda sat in the regular chairs. Ibrâhîm screamed, screeched, and threw food, while Huda, ’Abdullâh, and Yusrâ chattered in loud voices and made a messes on the table, floor, and themselves. ’‘ishah was the neatest of them, trying to eat carefully and following her mother’s every movement.

Regardless of the noise and distraction, Hâroon had never been happier. His mother sat by Ibrâhîm’s side to help him eat, giving him the freedom to converse with his siblings and father without worrying about him. No one commented or complained about Ibrâhîm’s behavior.

After lunch was over, ’Alîyâ insisted on cleaning up the twins herself and pushed him to spend time with his brother, sister, and father instead. While his mother herded the pair in the direction of the hallway bathroom, including Maryam’s three, Hâroon followed Yahyâ, Ya’qoob, and Maryam into the den. His father dropped into his favorite armchair. Hâroon took the couch, and Ya’qoob and Maryam sat on either side of him.

For several minutes, they discussed light topics—Ya’qoob’s plans for the future and recent amusing anecdotes about Maryam’s children. ’Alîyâ returned with the children, and ’‘ishah and Hudâ looked at picture books from the large bookshelf his mother had in the den, while Yusrâ and ’Abdullâh returned to their blocks. ’Alîyâ sat on the loveseat with Ibrâhîm and engaged him in looking at a picture book.

Maryam’s voice brought Hâroon’s attention back to her. “Roon.”

Hâroon looked at her. Though she was smiling, her sapphire-blue eyes were serious. He immediately knew she had something to tell him—something that may not be good news.

“I have something to tell you,” she said after several moments of silence, confirming his thoughts. She delivered the statement with a calm smile, assuring him it wasn’t something to fear.

“Let me guess,” he drawled, a teasing tone in his voice. “You’re pregnant.” He eyed her waistline, which was no longer the trim figure it had been before three children, as if trying to determine how far along she could be.

On his other side, Ya’qoob snickered but didn’t join in the teasing.

Maryam laughed, shaking her head. “We’re trying to avoid another baby for now. Between the three we’ve got, the house is chaotic as is.”

Hâroon shrugged. “Accidents happen.” He knew that better than most—Lila had certainly been taking every precaution known to man to avoid a pregnancy when she had conceived the twins. “So if you haven’t made me an uncle for the fourth time, what is it you have to tell me?”

Maryam studied him silently, as if trying to discover what his reaction would be to whatever she had to say. It unnerved him, but he waited patiently. Pushing his sister was never the way to go. Finally, she smiled. “Sâlih gave me a sister wife.”

Hâroon went still and stared at her in shock. He wasn’t quite sure how to react. Of all the men he knew, his brother-in-law was one he considered to be the least likely to be tempted to take on a second wife. Sâlih Harrison had liked his sister since they were children—even though his ways of showing it had never appealed to Maryam—and had relentlessly pursued her for marriage as soon as she’d graduated high school, refusing to take no for an answer.

But even more shocking than the unexpected marriage was his sister’s presentation of it—her wording and her expression. In her words, her husband had given her a sister, not betrayed her trust by taking in another woman. Her expression matched her words. She smiled as if she truly believed the words she’d spoken, that the new woman was her sister and not competition to her husband’s affection or an intruder on her territory.

He had expected Maryam to be repelled by the thought of a plural marriage. When he and Ya’qoob had been ten and eight and Maryam sixteen, Yahyâ had taken a second wife. Though his intentions had been been borne out of kindness and compassion, it had not turned out well for his parents or the family.

The woman had been divorced with five boys ranging from seven to twelve years old, and Yahyâ had married her with the sincere intention of helping her. However, instead of accepting his family, his new wife had set out to destroy it. She had mistreated Maryam, Ya’qoob, and Hâroon when their parents weren’t watching, but that hadn’t even been the worst of it. She had also nearly destroyed their parents’ marriage as well—a union that was decades old, his parents having married when his mother had been just fourteen and his father eighteen—through conniving lies and deception with the intent of either causing ’Alîyâ to leave her husband or Yahyâ to choose her over his first wife.

For the first time in his life, Hâroon—and even eight-year-old Ya’qoob whose mind was usually filled with games and pranks—had become aware that his parents were not getting along and were barely talking to each other. Maryam, the eldest of them, had understood better what was really going on; and it had showed in her resentment and attitude toward their stepmother. For a time, it seemed as if his father was helpless and not certain of what was going on. He couldn’t control the rebellious, angry teenager his daughter had become and his wife was avoiding him most of the time.

The inconsistencies of his second wife’s tales and accusations finally came to Yahyâ’s attention, and he had taken a stand. Hâroon had not been aware of what had happened between his father and his stepmother; he had just known that one day, she and her children were gone and they didn’t come back. It wasn’t until he’d been about fifteen that Yahyâ had spoken honestly and openly about the incident, admitting that the woman had given him an ultimatum to choose between her and ’Alîyâ, and he had of course chosen the love of his life over the selfish woman he’d mistakenly married out of misplaced sympathy. In duration, the marriage had lasted a total of six months, though the misery the marriage had brought on the household—even though his father had kept her in a separate home—had made it seem much longer. At the conclusion and end of it, Yahyâ and ’Alîyâ had taken off for a four-week trip to Scotland, and Hâroon’s maternal grandparents had stayed with him and his siblings. When their parents had returned, everything was back the way it was before his father’s second marriage had nearly destroyed the family—his parents were happy again and the rebellious, angry attitude that Maryam had been displaying toward her father had disappeared.

Though it had been more than ten years since, the experience had completely set his father against considering marrying a second wife ever again. Yahyâ’s second marriage had not only affected him. Both Hâroon and Ya’qoob, though both young at the time, clearly recalled the disaster it had had been and the two brothers were extremely cautious in their approach to plural marriage, reluctant to even consider the idea unless they found the situation dire and it was the only available option.

Maryam had understood the effect of their father’s short-lived second marriage on their mother better than he and Ya’qoob had. She had seen the way the other woman had tried to destroy their parents’ relationship and the pain she’d put their mother through. It floored him that she could announce her husband marrying a second wife so calmly and with a pleasant smile.

The lack of reaction from the rest of the family told him they already knew. It seemed he was the last to hear the news. After all, he was in another state, and this wasn’t the kind of news to be relayed over a phone call or email.

After a long moment of silence, he finally found the words to speak. “And you’re okay with it?”

“She’s nothing like her.” Even though it had been years since the incident, it was still a sore subject and none of them could even speak the woman’s name. She smiled. “It did hurt me at first, I’ll admit. I’m only human after all, and I never really thought there would be a day I’d have to share him. But he didn’t do it to hurt me; he did it to help her. It’s been much easier than I thought possible and we’re becoming good friends now. Her kids are close in age to mine and they get along well, too.”

It sounded like a completely different situation than the one his father had found himself in. “How long has it been?” he asked.

“About two months,” Maryam said. She smiled. “Never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad he married her.”

It had happened not long after he’d left then. In moving away, he’d missed a pivotal change in his sister’s life.

The sincerity in Maryam’s eyes and her smile assured him she was being truthful—that she was happy with Sâlih’s decision now.

When he looked to his father, wondering how he felt about the issue after his experience, Yahyâ had an embarassed smile. “Sâlih was more careful than I was. He didn’t let his sympathy cloud his judgement, like I did. He checked her character and made sure she understood his expectations.”

As he thought of his father’s words, Hâroon realized he’d made the same mistake with Lila. He’d allowed his feelings and attraction cloud his judgement, he hadn’t been thorough in investigating her true character, and he hadn’t firmly set down the expectations he had for their marriage. Then, when his family had tried to protect him from making the same mistake, he had been stubborn instead of listening to their advice.

For a moment, as he thought of Sâlih’s success in selecting a good woman as a second wife, he allowed the temptation of marrying a second wife to give him all the things he’d never receive from Lila overcome him. But then his rationality returned. Lila may not want him, but she would never accept the existence of a second wife and keeping a second wife secret wouldn’t be fair to her. What his father’s second wife had done to his mother Lila would do to any woman he married to make up for her shortcomings. He couldn’t bring a woman into the toxic environment of his rocky marriage.

So he pushed the temporary thought away and turned his focus back to his sister and smiled. “As long as you’re happy, I’m glad.”

She smiled back. “I am.”

🌾

After lunch, Hâroon spent time on the farm with his father, uncles, and cousins. He was greeted with warmth and everyone seemed to sense it was best to avoid the subject of his absent wife.

That evening, Noorah and Sâlih joined the family. His brother-in-law brought Najmah Campbell, his new wife, and her two children, ’Âdil, who was a year older than ’‘ishah, and one-year-old Asmâ. She was Black American like Sâlih, and wore the niqâb, similar to Hâroon’s mother and sister. When he witnessed the interactions between Najmah and Maryam he was assured his sister had been truthful. The two women seemed comfortable in each other’s presence and spent a lot of time in conversation or watching their children together.

In contrast, when he watched Noorah and Ya’qoob together, something seemed off. The ecstatic joy Ya’qoob had spread everywhere at the time of his marriage seemed to missing. Something dark and painful seemed to hang over the couple and he worried that Ya’qoob may have made a mistake in marrying Noorah after all, even if it could not compare to his own mistake.

At the first opportunity, when he found Ya’qoob alone while Noorah was with the women, he approached the subject, even though he knew his brother would probably appreciate his interference just as much as he had when Ya’qoob kept asking about him and Lila.

“Qoob, are you and Noorah okay?”

Ya’qoob, leaning against the trunk of his car and staring into the distance as if in deep thought, turned to look at him. For a while, he was silent. “Don’t worry, Roon. I don’t regret anything.”

That didn’t comfort or assure him. “Qoob...”

“I knew I’d have a challenge on my hands when I offered for her before she was healed,” Ya’qoob continued. “She’s still healing. Sometimes she’s scared of me. It hurts, but I don’t regret anything. She needs me. Noorah and I will be okay. It will just take some time.”

At that moment, Hâroon felt his younger, impulsive brother was the mature one of the two of them. He had selected his wife carefully, understood the risks, and was fully committed to loving her through her fears and pain.

“I’ll make du’â for you,” he said quietly.

Ya’qoob smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”

The next morning after breakfast, Hâroon said his goodbyes, packed up the car, and started the drive home. Leaving the farm was hard, but he had work the following morning, which meant he needed to be home early enough for a full night of rest.

The drive back was just as difficult as the drive to Elm Creek, but this time there wouldn’t be a worthy reward at the end of it. Instead, he would return to the city he despised, the job he hated, and living with the wife he could barely tolerate. Ibrâhîm was fussy from being made to stay secured in his car seat and even Yusrâ was whiney.

It was just past Maghrib when they arrived home. After unloading the car just beyond the door, he released the children from their carseats and escorted them inside. Both appeared relieved to be free to move around again and wandered away from him.

When he looked in the kitchen, there was a dish pile-up in the sink. As he went through the house, he found no signs of his wife. He even knocked on her door but there was no answer. Where she’d gone, he had no idea.

By the time he put the children to bed, she still hadn’t returned. He was starting to feel concerned and considered calling the police. Though he didn’t have any fondness left for her, she was still his responsibility and he didn’t want anything to happen to her.

However, before he followed through in making the call, she finally returned home. She didn’t even explain her absence as she passed him.

“Where were you?” he asked.

“With friends,” she replied.

“You could have at least left a note,” he said. “I need to know where you are.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not a child you need to watch over.”

Before he could reply, she walked away and disappeared into her room. As he heard the door close behind her, Hâroon went to his own room. Once again, he thought of Sâlih Harrison and his second wife and felt the temptation rise in him again. But just as quickly as the thought of a woman who would be the wife he needed came to him, he dismissed it. As much as he was tempted by the idea, he could never pull off what Sâlih Harrison had, and he didn’t want to ruin a woman’s life by subjecting her to Lila.

Instead, he would just have to accept the mistake he’d made, both by marrying her and then giving into moving across the country for her pleasure. There was nothing he could do. For now, his focus would have to be the children—nothing else.