SIXTEEN

Present day

A shrill, bloodcurdling screech, accompanied by the spoon he was holding being ripped out of his hand and clattering to the floor, tore Hâroon from his memories and back to the present. His gaze immediately shot to Ibrâhîm, who screeched again.

Hâroon looked between the two children, Ibrâhîm now banging on the table and Yusrâ still eating her cereal. I may regret my choice of a wife, but I can never regret them.

“Ibrâhîm threw his spoon, Daddy,” Yusrâ reported between careful bites of her cereal.

“I know.” Pushing all thoughts of Lila away, his searching eyes located the spoon a few feet away from Ibrâhîm’s chair.

Moving Ibrâhîm’s bowl of cereal out of reach so he couldn’t throw it or play with his food, Hâroon got up and picked up the spoon. As soon as he stood, Ibrâhîm slid out of his chair, but he left him to it while he rinsed the spoon at the sink.

“Ibby got up,” Yusrâ said, her eyes on her brother.

“I know,” he replied to her over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it and finish your breakfast.”

Yusrâ fell silent as she continued eating.

Hâroon returned to the table, catching Ibrâhîm who was pacing around along the way. He seated him, placed the bowl back in front of him, and continued feeding him.

After both children were finished eating, Hâroon helped them wash at the kitchen sink and then washed up the dishes that had been used since they would be away for a few days. He didn’t want to return home to the smell of rotting food because he’d left dishes in the sink. He also took out the trash. Then he went through the house, except for Lila’s room, turning off everything, leaving only the refrigerator and freezer running.

By the time he escorted the children out to the car, carrying their packed bag as well as his own, Lila joined them. She was fully dressed and covered, dragging a miniature rolling suitcase behind her.

“Did you turn off everything in your room?” he asked.

She nodded, rolling her eyes. “Of course. What do you take me for—a child?”

No, more like a teenager with an attitude problem, he answered mentally. Children I can reason with.

He didn’t bother replying to her sardonic words and sarcastic tone. Instead, he busied himself buckling the twins into the car seat, gave each one a toy that would hopefully keep them occupied for a while, and then loaded the bags into the trunk with the exception of the diaper bag, which he placed on the floor of the backseat.

By the time he was done, Lila had already gotten into the car. Of course she neither helped secure the children in their car seats or load the bags. He locked up the house, reversed the car out of the garage, and then locked up the garage, too.

As he moved the car from the driveway to the road, his eyes fell on the Williams house across the street. It was as dark and quiet as it had been since Moses and Serenity left so many months ago. He hadn’t heard from them since that one letter and had neither a phone number or address to contact them. The police had long ago closed the case and their daughter had never showed up at the house. He hadn’t seen her to give her the letter her parents sent to him for her since she’d eloped with the man her father had staunchly disapproved of and doubted he ever would. If Moses hadn’t advised him against it, he would have long ago mailed it instead.

He turned his attention away from the house and thoughts of the Williams family. He fixed his eyes in front of him as he drove, hoping the ride would be peaceful for at the least the first couple of hours.

Unfortunately, that was not to be. Ibrâhîm was screeching and shrieking within the first hour, banging his toy against the back of Hâroon’s seat.

“Can’t you make him stop?” Lila groaned.

“No,” he replied. At least he wasn’t crying and screaming.

“You mean I’m going to have to endure hours of this?” she hissed.

“Probably.” It was either that or crying and he preferred the former.

“Why did I decide to come?” she grumbled. “I could have gone with a friend instead.”

That’s what I’m wondering. He knew Lila’s interest in going had more to do with traveling away from home for a day or two than what it meant for Ibrâhîm’s future. He was already regretting allowing her to come along. She’d be more of a hurdle than help when it came to the children.

“You can’t travel without a mahram,” he reminded her instead of voicing the thoughts passing through his mind.

“You can’t control me,” she snapped back.

He sighed. “I’m not controlling you; it’s inappropriate for a woman to travel without a male guardian and it isn’t safe.”

“I know how to take care of myself,” she retorted, purposely ignoring the remark about propriety. “I don’t need a man.”

Hâroon gave up. He didn’t want to start a fight in front of the children. He turned his focus on the road and fell silent.

Except for Ibrâhîm’s screeching and Yusrâ’s quiet murmuring to the doll Hâroon had given her, the car was silent. Neither Hâroon nor Lila spoke.

About thirty minutes into the drive, Lila spoke up again, raising her voice over Ibrâhîm’s occasional shrieks. “A roadtrip needs music.”

Hâroon restrained a groan. That was yet another issue he should have looked into when he was pursuing marriage to Lila, but of course he’d allowed his attraction to her to distract him from what was important. “No music,” he said firmly. “There’s nasheed in the glove box if you want.”

“That will do,” she mumbled. She opened the glove box, looking through the cassettes of Qur‘ân and nasheed—which he’d bought mostly for the children— before selecting a tape and pushing it into the car’s cassette player.

Moments later, a calming nasheed started to play. Yusrâ started to sing along. Even Ibrâhîm stopped his shrieking and screeching to listen.

“Thank God,” Lila said fervently, just loud enough for Hâroon to hear her. “Some peace.”

He didn’t bother to reply and kept his attention solely focused on the road, determined to make as much distance as possible before he needed to stop for bathroom breaks or diaper changes.

Not even a full hour after they left home, Yusrâ spoke up. “Daddy, I gotta pee.”

Lila audibly groaned beside him. “Oh, great. It hasn’t even been an hour. How many times are we going to have to stop?”

Hâroon ignored her. She wasn’t even the one driving. “Hold on for a little bit, Yusrâ. Let me find a bathroom.”

Several minutes later, he pulled into a gas station that had a bathroom. Lila refused to take her, forcing him to take her to the men’s bathroom instead. At least it was empty so he didn’t attract any attention.

Then he escorted Yusrâ back to the car, got in, and they left to continue their drive to Tennessee.

“I hope that’s our only stop for the next hour,” Lila grumbled.

It was not to be. Another thirty minutes later, Ibrâhîm started crying. When he didn’t settle down, Hâroon found a place to pull over and check on him. He found a dirty diaper that needed changing, so he removed him from the car seat.

He made a temporary changing station in the trunk of the car. Then he had to drive around looking for an appropriate place to dispose of the diaper, which took several minutes. Finally, they were back on the road again.

Twenty minutes later, Yusrâ spoke again, “Daddy, I’m thirsty.”

Hâroon had packed drinks for both her and Ibrâhîm, but they were in the diaper bag at her feet, quite out of reach. Without comment, he pulled over at the first convenient spot and took out her thermos of water, placing it next to her.

“Can I have my coloring book and colors, too?” she asked.

“Of course.” He attached the feeding tray of the car seat so she’d have a surface to color on and then placed the coloring book and box of crayons in front of her. “There you go.”

He also gave Ibrâhîm his sippy-cup of water and a new toy from the diaper bag, a clear stick with moving colors that often kept him occupied for more than an hour, if not longer. Ibrâhîm immediately latched onto it and began to turn it in different directions to watch the colors move.

Satisfied both children would be occupied for a while, he closed the doors, got back into the front, buckled himself in, and got back on the road.

“Finally,” Lila said.

He cast her an annoyed glance. “Taking kids on a long drive anywhere takes patience and flexibility. You should have thought of that before asking to come. Stop acting like a spoiled teenager.”

She pointedly turned to look out of the window.

He held back a sigh. Six years of marriage and she hasn’t matured at all.

🌾🌾🌾

At past two—several bathroom stops and diaper changes later—Hâroon finally pulled into the parking lot of Terrence Hotel, where he’d booked their stay for the next few days. It was a relief to arrive. Ibrâhîm had long ago tired of being confined to a chair and was crying and screaming to be let out. Yusrâ, after being made to sit for more than six hours straight and enduring her brother’s loud protests for more than an hour, was both whiney and fidgety.

Hâroon parked the car and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Stay with the kids,” he said as he opened his door. Before Lila could protest, which he knew she would, he shut the door and walked away from the car.

He entered through the automatic glass doors of the medium-priced hotel, which served more of the average working middle-class family instead of those who moved in wealthy circles and could afford high rates. A red carpet led the way from the doors into the reception area, where groups of white leather chairs were placed around small mahogany tables and a large reception desk stood, two uniformed women and a man behind it.

As he took in the simple well-maintained design of the hotel, Hâroon headed toward the front desk to claim his reservation. After giving his name and being given the key for his room, he returned to the car, where Lila was impatiently waiting as Ibrâhîm screamed and Yusrâ covered her ears.

“Finally,” Lila said as soon as she saw him. She wasted no time in getting out of the car and away from the children.

“Choose what you’ll be taking,” Hâroon said, determined not to be the only one taking things when he had a screaming Ibrâhîm to deal with. “Either the bags or Ibrâhîm.”

Lila was about to argue, but the warning in his eyes stopped her. She took one look at their son kicking and screaming and opted for the easier choice. “I’ll take the bags.”

With a nod, Hâroon turned his attention to getting the children out, while Lila got the bags from the trunk. He released Yusrâ from her chair first, who was relieved to both be free of the car and put some space between herself and her screaming brother. Then he unbuckled Ibrâhîm and picked him up, not trusting him to not dash off at the first opportunity.

After locking the car, he led the way with Ibrâhîm in his arms and Yusrâ at his side, clinging to his thawb, and Lila followed with the diaper bag, his duffel bag, and her suitcase. They passed the welcome desk, went up to the third floor by the elevator, which made Ibrâhîm’s crying seem even louder, and then finally arrived at Room 302.

Hâroon handed the key to Lila to unlock the door and then carried Ibrâhîm inside with Yusrâ trailing after them. Lila came in with the bags and closed the door.

“A suite, good,” she said. “I’m not sharing with you. I wouldn’t want you getting any ideas, and that brat will probably scream all night and I won’t get any sleep.”

Hâroon hadn’t booked the suite with Lila in mind at all. He hadn’t even known she’d be coming. The extra space was meant for the twins to have a place to play, and the laundry room and kitchenette would be convenient, especially if they ended up staying a little longer than planned. But since he didn’t want to share a room with Lila either, he didn’t argue.

After Lila took her bag with her and locked herself in the extra bedroom, he set Ibrâhîm down, made sure the main door was both latched and locked, and then turned his attention to the children.

Now that he was allowed to move around, Ibrâhîm’s screaming wasn’t as loud. Yusrâ, meanwhile, sat down on the floor and started pulling toys out of the diaper bag.

Hâroon checked Ibrâhîm’s diaper, even though it hadn’t been more than thirty minutes since the last stop to change his diaper. Thankfully, he was dry, so he released him to wander around the room.

After calming down, Ibrâhîm joined his sister in pulling toys out of the diaper bag. When he found his noisy, battery-operated car, he sat down in a corner to play alone. Yusrâ, who had opted for the pack of building blocks, unzipped the plastic bag they came in, poured them out, and started building a tower.

While the two children were occupied, Hâroon unpacked the containers of snacks he’d packed this morning. “Yusrâ, are you hungry?”

She looked at the containers and nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”

He opened a container of sliced fruit and set it beside her. “Say bismillâh,” he reminded her as she reached for an apple slice.

“Bismillâh,” she echoed promptly.

Ibrâhîm, clutching his car, came over and Hâroon held out a piece of fruit to him as well.

The twins finished the entire container of fruit slices as well as half of another. Then Hâroon took them both to the connected bathroom and helped them wash. As soon as they returned to playing, Hâroon went to Lila’s door and knocked.

She didn’t answer immediately. Whether she was ignoring him or couldn’t hear, he didn’t know, but he persisted.

Finally, the door swung open and Lila glared at him. “What do you want?”

“I need to go out for a while. Come watch the kids, please.”

“Take them with you,” she replied.

“They’ve had more than enough of sitting in the car. I won’t be gone more than an hour or so.”

“Where are you going?”

“To find Dr. Carson’s clinic and pick up some food.”

“We could just go to a restaurant.”

“With Ibrâhîm? In a new place?”

She groaned. “He makes everything difficult.”

She sounded like a jealous, resentful older sister—certainly nothing like a mother. Deciding not to comment, he turned away. “Keep an eye on them. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He would have preferred not to leave them with Lila at all, but there was no convenient babysitter and he didn’t want to force them back into their car seats. Plus, taking an irritable Ibrâhîm to a grocery store was a very bad idea.

When he returned to the room the children were playing in, he spoke to Yusrâ. “I’m going to find the doctor’s office we’ll visit with Ibrâhîm tomorrow,” he told her. “I’ll be back soon.”

She looked up from the colorful tower she was building. “Okay, Daddy.”

As he left, he locked the door behind him.

After returning to his car, he left the hotel and followed the directions he’d been given to Dr. Eric Carson’s private practice when he made the appointment. A part of him worried he’d get himself lost or wouldn’t be able to find it, but it turned out to be easier than he thought it would be. Baby Steps Pediatric Clinic was in the center of a medium-sized, peaceful residential neighborhood.

Hâroon decided to confirm he’d found the right place before leaving for his shopping trip. He turned into a full parking lot, squeezed his car between a forest-green 4WD and black SUV, and then got out. When he stepped inside, passing through automatic glass doors and walking through a corridor that led him into a waiting room with a welcome counter a blond nurse sat behind, the waiting area was filled with both parents and children. He also noticed a play area set up with toys, books, and coloring activities for the waiting children.

He went up to the welcome counter to speak with the nurse seated behind it. “Is this Dr. Carson’s clinic?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied. She didn’t even react to his appearance or attire. Whether it was her training or because he wasn’t the first Islâmically-attired individual to pay a visit, he didn’t know. “Do you have an appointment, Mr...?”

“Scott,” Hâroon provided. “My appointment is tomorrow. I just wanted to be sure I had the right place since I’m from out of state.”

“Understandable,” she said. “You have the right place. We’ll be expecting you tomorrow, Mr. Scott.”

“Thank you.” With a nod, he turned and left.

After leaving the clinic behind, Hâroon stopped at the first grocery store he found. Unlike his welcome at Baby Steps Pediatric Clinic, he received plenty of odd looks and stares as well as frowns and glares. He ignored them all as he moved down aisles with his shopping cart, searching for what he needed for the next few days.

He bought a pot and frying pan, silverware, four plates, cups, and bowls. Then he got milk, cheese, eggs, turkey slices, bread, cereal, salt, and fruits.

That should be enough for a few days, he decided.

After he paid, he loaded the car, and drove back to the hotel. When he unlocked the door and carried his bags of purchases inside, he found Ibrâhîm throwing blocks everywhere, while Yusrâ colored and Lila observed passively from behind a magazine she’d apparently brought with her. It wasn’t exactly what he’d hoped for, but it could have been worse, so he didn’t complain.

Yusrâ jumped up and hurried over. “What did you buy, Daddy?”

“Just a few things for us to eat while we’re here,” he answered. He carried the bags to the small kitchen to put away in the refrigerator and cabinets.

Yusrâ followed and helped him by putting things she could lift in the fridge for him.

After they were done, Hâroon led the way back to the main room. “Let’s find something else Ibrâhîm can do without causing damages,” he said, watching Ibrâhîm’s tossing game.

Yusrâ giggled.

Lila glanced up from her magazine. “Done? Good.” Without waiting for a reply, she left and went back in her room.

Shrugging off her behavior—it wasn’t any different than usual—he caught Ibrâhîm and made him sit down with him. At first, he struggled and cried, but he eventually gave in once Hâroon started encouraging him to build a tower instead of throwing the blocks everywhere. Yusrâ, after collecting the pieces that had been thrown, joined them.

🌾🌾🌾

That evening, Hâroon made turkey and cheese sandwiches for dinner. Predictably, Lila complained about the simple fare, but he ignored her. He couldn’t leave to pray in a masjid since he didn’t know where one was and wasn’t acquainted with anyone in Tennessee, so he ended up praying in the same room as Yusrâ and Ibrâhîm, trying not to be distracted by Ibrâhîm’s shrieks. When he put them to bed, it was a long time before they fell asleep, even Yusrâ.

The next morning, Hâroon woke up the children at seven. The appointment was at nine, and he wanted to be in the waiting room by eight-thirty. By the time he fed them their breakfast—cereal—and bathed and dressed them, it was almost eight. It took another several minutes to bathe and dress himself.

Lila had yet to appear by the time he and the children were ready. Though tempted to leave without her, he knocked on her door. “Lila, are you ready? We need to go.”

Moments later, the door opened and Lila stepped out. In shock, he looked from her covered head to the figure-hugging jeans. It took him a few moments to recover, but when he did, he was furious.

Tamping down the anger so the children didn’t hear him raise his voice, he somehow held himself together as he spoke one word with a calm he didn’t feel. “No.”

“No, what?” she asked.

“You are not going out like that,” he replied. “Certainly not with me.”

“What’s wrong with it?” she demanded.

“If you need to ask, you still haven’t learned what hijâb really means,” he said. “You don’t just cover skin; you cover body shape, too. Something that shows the shape of your legs is not appropriate attire and you should know that.”

Lila stared at him with a rebellious expression, eyes flashing. She looked ready to start an argument, but this time he wasn’t giving in.

“I mean it, Lila,” he said before she could say anything to justify what she was wearing. “You are not coming with us like that. Either change into something decent or stay here.”

With a loud huff, Lila turned and stomped back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

He left her and returned to the children to wait. When she joined them less than five minutes later, she was dressed in an ’abâyah. Though satisfied with the change, he couldn’t help wondering how often she wore an ’abâyah over inappropriate clothing that she could easily remove when he wasn’t in sight and how committed she was to being covered when he wasn’t there to see her.

“Will this do?” she asked, taking no pains to hide her resentment.

Yusrâ, seeming to catch on to Lila’s mood, huddled closer to Hâroon.

“Yes,” he said simply. Then he picked up the diaper bag, took Ibrâhîm by the hand, and led the way out with Yusrâ gripping the side of his thawb.

After locking their room, they took the elevator down to the lobby and Hâroon led them to where he parked the car. As Lila settled herself in the front passenger seat, Hâroon opened the backseat for the children, setting the diaper bag on the floor. Yusrâ climbed in and sat in her carseat without being told, while he put Ibrâhîm in his and buckled him in. When he reached Yusrâ, she was trying to fasten the buckles herself in an attempt to be helpful.

“I can’t do it,” she said woefully when he opened the door on her side of the car.

Hâroon smiled. “It’s okay. You’ll learn eventually.”

Once both children were buckled in, he got in the front, buckled himself in, and pulled out of the car’s parking place. He left the hotel parking lot and drove the short distance to Baby Steps Pediatric Clinic. Through the whole drive, Lila mumbled about chauvinistic men who liked to control what women wore just loud enough for him to hear. He didn’t bother reminding her that it was Allâh who had chosen the Islâmic dress code and not men. She wouldn’t listen anyway.

Now that he knew where the clinic was, they arrived in less than five minutes. A glance at the clock on the car’s dashboard assured him it was just a few minutes past eight-thirty. They were still early, just as he’d hoped.

The parking lot was already almost full, despite the early hour, which was to be expected. Dr. Carson had made a name for himself that was growing. Hâroon probably wasn’t the only one who had traveled across the country to see him.

After some searching, Hâroon finally found a parking space to squeeze into and then switched off the car. Then he unbuckled both children, starting with Yusrâ, retrieved the diaper bag packed with snacks, drinks, and clean diapers he might need before they left. He tried to lead Ibrâhîm across the parking lot by his hand, but he tried to jerk away and go in a different direction, so Hâroon was forced to carry him instead as Yusrâ and Lila followed.

When they entered, the waiting area was full of both adults and children. As older children took advantage of the set up activity area, parents tried to keep their younger children and infants entertained. Of course when he and his family entered, they earned more than a few stares. Though Ibrâhîm and Yusrâ didn’t look any different than the average American child, he and his wife stood out.

“They would have stared less if I’d worn the jeans,” Lila mumbled.

“Enough about the jeans,” he replied. “Even if they stare at us, it doesn’t mean we can dress inappropriately to fit in.”

“Daddy, there’s toys here,” Yusrâ said in a loud whisper, eyes on the children playing and coloring.

Hâroon smiled. “You can go play.”

Lighting up, Yusrâ ran off and joined the other children. She soon found a spot with a dark-haired girl and blond boy close to her in age who were using building blocks.

Lila sat down in one of the chairs. Spotting a magazine on the nearby table, she picked it up to read.

Hâroon, after pausing at the counter to confirm Ibrâhîm’s presence for his appointment, sat beside his wife, putting both the bag and Ibrâhîm down. He watched as Ibrâhîm wandered away, hoping he wouldn’t disrupt the playing children, but Ibrâhîm showed no interest in them. Instead, he paced around, emitting the strange humming and shrieking sounds he often made.

Hâroon leaned back against the uncomfortable, hard chair he sat on—the typical seating found in most hospital waiting rooms—as he kept a careful eye on Ibrâhîm, just in case he needed to intervene at any point.

Ibrâhîm paced back and forth between the sitting area and the play centers as he hummed to himself, and once in a while, he would bring the attention of the entire waiting room on him with a loud, ear-piercing shriek and occasionally flapped his hands. The presence of the toys and games didn’t seem to catch his attention at all.

The adults were not the only ones who noticed the odd behavior. Many of the children, except for his sister, stopped playing to stare him each time he screamed. Some of them started whispering between themselves and pointing at him and a few of them giggled and laughed. Hâroon tried not to mind—they were children, and maybe they hadn’t been exposed to someone who was so different than what was considered to be normal; maybe their parents hadn’t taught them how to react to such a situation. He did mind the stares and whispers of their parents though.

He would have strongly preferred if the children—and the adults—had approached and asked curious questions instead of staring and laughing. Though he himself didn’t exactly know what was wrong with Ibrâhîm, he could explain some of the problems he had; it was definitely better than them staring at him as if he was some strange, foreign creature. The amount of times his son had been stared at, pointed out, and laughed at when they were in public made him want to keep Ibrâhîm hidden for his own protection, but even with his limited knowledge, Hâroon knew that wasn’t the way to deal with the situation and wouldn’t help. His only comfort was that Ibrâhîm never noticed the negative attention—or at least not yet.

But his sister did. Even now, she’d stopped playing because of the other children’s reactions to her brother and looked upset. Moments later, she wandered up to Hâroon.

“Daddy, they’re laughing at Ibby.”

Hâroon slowly nodded. “I know.”

“That’s not very nice,” she said.

“It isn’t,” he agreed. “It’s not right, but maybe they don’t understand Ibrâhîm.”

“Then we should teach them.” Before he could reply, she marched back to the play area with a determined expression.

Hâroon watched her to ensure her defense of her brother didn’t turn into a fight. He was satisfied when some of the older children looked shame-faced to whatever Yusrâ was saying and no one tried to fight with her. When Yusrâ and her companions continued playing, Hâroon’s gaze drifted from the twins to his wife.

She was immersed in the fashion magazine she had picked up—she paid no attention to either of their children, even when Ibrâhîm brought the attention of everyone else in the room on him with one of his shrieks. While other mothers sent occasional glances in the direction of their children to make certain they stayed in sight and out of trouble, Lila seemed to have completely forgotten hers existed.

Unaware of his observation or train of thought, Lila’s eyes were fixed on a tabloid magazine she was reading—focused on the latest gossip revolving around the rich and famous and their ilk, something that always seemed to interest her to his aggravation when he could not stand gossip of any kind. Most of the pictures were of scantily clad women so flawless and perfect in appearance that it was obviously a combination of makeup and plastic surgery that had given them that look. It was beyond him why of all the types of reading material she could find to entertain herself with, it was always that she had to choose.

Averting his gaze from the sight of the heavily adorned women in their skimpy outfits, obviously not lawful for him to be looking at, he studied his wife’s current appearance instead. She was covered in a loose black ’abâyah that hid her trim figure well and a black hijâb covered her blond hair; but to his irritation, golden locks peeked out and she made no move to fix it. Under normal circumstances, he might have assumed she just hadn’t noticed, but after the incident a few hours ago, he wondered if her dedication to covering herself—the one obligatory duty he’d found to be flawless—was now slipping. He knew it would probably just be a matter of time before she decided covering herself wasn’t of great importance after all. Their argument about the blue jeans just this morning made him sure of it.

Lila, flipping through her magazine, snorted as she skimmed the story on the pregnancy of the wife of the young heir to one of the most influential oil businesses in the country. “That girl Kevin Dawson married is pregnant,” she commented with a sneer. “I’ll never know what he saw in that mouse.”

Hâroon, brought out of his thoughts by her snarky comments, glanced at her in resignation. Why exactly she cared who married whom and why was beyond him. To this day, he wasn’t sure if she’d ever made the connection between Kevin Dawson’s young wife and Moses Williams’ daughter. He hadn’t enlightened her.

“Fix your hijâb,” he said. “Your hair is showing.”

Ignoring him, she stared down at the picture of the young pregnant wife. She knew the girl to be barely nineteen years old, several years younger than herself, but she prided herself on being far more attractive—or at least she would be if she wasn’t made to wear such concealing garments that she thought to be restrictive more than anything else. She wondered what had possessed her to even convert to Islâm and let go of everything she had loved about her former life.

“She’s really not that great to look at,” she commented, eyes tracing over the girl’s plain features and lacking figure. She prided herself on possessing striking features and alluring curves—even if she was prevented from showing off those assets. She had worked hard to recover her pre-pregnancy figure and was determined to keep it. “He could have done much better. And she doesn’t even come from a first-class background to make up for it.” Without warning, she pushed the magazine into her husband’s face. “Just look at her!”

Hâroon got a glimpse of Charity Dawson’s blond hair and blue eyes before he roughly pushed the magazine away, annoyed and infuriated. “Keep that junk away from me!” he hissed harshly. “That girl and her marriage is none of my business, nor is it any of yours.”

Lila shrugged and returned to reading the story connected to the image. “A man like that, choosing someone so unsuitable…” she mumbled to herself. “Barely two pennies to rub together and not much to look at—probably married him for his money.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if she would have preferred that Kevin Dawson had married her instead, but he stopped himself in time. He had no idea the kind of consequences such a careless comment might produce, and he didn’t wish to be responsible for any actions carried out by his wife because of something he had said.

Lila seemed unnecessarily obsessed with Kevin Dawson and his new wife, far more than any married woman should be. It had been about six months since they’d married and she was still talking about it. It was as if she wished to be in young Mrs. Dawson’s place. There was no one better to afford her ridiculously extravagant tastes than one of the richest, most influential young men of the country.

Disgusted with her behavior, he turned away and glanced at his watch. Since it was already nine, he assumed it would be their turn soon. A mixture of anxiety and anticipation thrummed inside him, but Lila, as what he’d come to accept as her usual in anything that concerned him or their children, seemed as worried as she’d be while waiting for an appointment at her favorite hair salon.

All thoughts of his wife’s lack of interest dissipated and became the least of his concerns when the previous patient, a little girl with chestnut-brown curls that bounced around her rosy face, bright blue eyes, and the most infectious grin, who looked to be about six years old, and who—Hâroon had observed—could not walk on her own, was carried out by her dark-haired, smiling father. Her blond mother followed close behind with a blond, blue-eyed baby boy who couldn’t be more than a year old. Relief was clear in the couple’s expressions, as if the doctor had given them hope for their daughter, which raised Hâroon’s own hopes.

Natalie Mason, the young nurse who had been calling the patients’ names, appeared at the entry of the waiting room, clipboard in hand. Pale blue eyes flicked to the list as she read the next name, struggling with the foreign pronunciation and knowing she was probably saying it wrong. “Ibruhem Heron Scott.”

Hâroon braced his hands on his knees and rose at the sound of the name, as mispronounced as it was. Ibrâhîm, meanwhile, didn’t even notice the summons, which was of no surprise—he no longer seemed to recognize his name when called, even when said correctly. Hâroon pulled the tabloid magazine out of his wife’s hands to catch her attention, dropping it to the table she’d taken it from without glancing at it, and then he headed toward his wandering son.

Lila glared after him, eyes flashing.

“Is it time?” Yusrâ asked, bouncing to Hâroon’s side.

He nodded. “Yes, it’s time to go see the doctor.”

While Yusrâ followed, he tried to take Ibrâhîm by the hand and lead him toward the office, but his son wasn’t in the mood to cooperate. With a protesting shriek, Ibrâhîm wrenched away.

“I don’t think Ibby wants to come,” Yusrâ observed.

“Probably not,” Hâroon acknowledged.

Knowing from experience that Ibrâhîm could not be led where he did not wish to go, and inwardly preparing himself for another tantrum, Hâroon looped an arm around his bony frame, lifting him off his feet almost effortlessly and carrying him on his hip as if he was a much smaller and lighter child than he actually was—heavy physical labor on his father’s farm as he was growing up made lifting a young child almost effortless. He was unsurprised by the shrieks, and struggles that followed. Ibrâhîm kicked, hit, and screamed as he tried to free himself, but he kept his hold strong and firm as he made his way over to the nurse, followed by Yusrâ. He ignored the stares directed their way. He had long ago become used to it.

Lila, cringing at Ibrâhîm’s behavior, now the center of attention, wondered what had possessed her to agree to accompany Hâroon and the children to the doctor’s appointment. Her husband may have been able to endure the looks they received when they took Ibrâhîm out in public, but she couldn’t; he was an absolute embarrassment. However, since she was already present, she followed them silently.

“This way,” Natalie directed them as she led the way to the doctor’s office. She opened the door and gestured for them to enter as she announced the name of the patient to the middle-aged doctor seated behind the desk. “Ibruhem Scott.”

Hâroon uttered the basmalah under his breath as he entered with the twins, and Lila followed. Then the door swung shut behind them.