Exiled Heart

by Jennifer Haynie

  Ben took a bite of burrito. “Right now, I am not sure how relevant she is. Anyway, what with the timing of the Zap deaths on three occasions, tattoos, etcetera, we had enough probable cause to get warrants for wiretaps.” He shrugged. “It is a treasure trove of information.”

  Ziad, who’d dug into his own burrito, swallowed. “How so?”

  “We caught Daoud and Mike on a phone call. Seems there is going to be a huge deal going down in November. Thanksgiving night. Something like it will change the landscape in the Southeast. They seem pretty confident.”

  “You’re not going to question them?”

  Ben shook his head. “We question them, we scare them off and blow the whole thing. We want to net as many dealers as possible. We will listen in, see if we can collect more names of potential dealers beyond Daoud and maybe Prissy. We will see what happens.”

  Ziad noticed a small motion.

  A woman stood nearby. She fidgeted with her phone, glanced their way, and stared at her purse. For sure, she’d been watching them. Finally, she edged closer. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your conversation.”

  Ben smiled politely at her and in English said, “No worries, ma’am. How can we help you?”

  “Are you Ziad al-Kazim?” she asked Ziad.

  He froze and braced for an outburst about his kind going back to their homeland. Or another call that would bring the police for a suspected terrorist planning session in public.

  He nodded. “I am.”

  “Thank you for what you did last night. I know you’ll say you were just doing your job, but you’re a hero to me.” Tears filled her eyes. “If someone had stepped up out of the crowd and tried to stop my daughter from throwing herself off the roof of her dorm building last year, maybe she’d be alive today.”

  Stunned, Ziad couldn’t say a word.

  “I’m sure Thomas’s mother and father are so grateful. And I am too. Thank you.” With that, she turned and scurried away without another word.

  Ziad stared after her, then turned back to Ben.

  His friend rested his chin on his hand and smiled. “You’re a hero, my friend. And it’s okay to acknowledge that even if you’re modest.”

  Slowly, Ziad nodded.

  “So, you got home at what time?”

  “A little after three.”

  “And you left the scene shortly after midnight?” Ben cocked an eyebrow. “My, my. Shall I ask what you two did?”

  “Ben!” Ziad laughed to cover over the way his neck heated. “We exchanged presents.”

  And did a little more than that. He smiled as he thought about the way they’d romanced until he declared he absolutely had to get home, lest he damage her honor.

  “Huh.”

  “I love her,” Ziad softly admitted. “She is a good woman. Compassionate. Beautiful. Smart.”

  “I’ll not argue there. She’s Em’s sister, after all.”

  Ziad leaned forward. “May I ask you something?”

  “What’s up?”

  “When did you…” He couldn’t believe he was asking this. “When did you know Emma was the right one for you?”

  Ben fell silent for a moment. Slowly, he replied, “It honestly didn’t take me long to figure it out. Maybe just a month or so of seeing her almost every day. Of course, it took her a lot longer. She had a lot more to work through since she’d already suffered one broken engagement.” He straightened. “Wait. You’re not thinking of proposing, are you?”

  “Not right away, but perhaps soon.”

  Ben’s brow knit. He shoved his cup around and stared at the metal table as if struggling internally with something.

  “Ben, what is it?”

  His friend finally shook his head. “I guess I’m a bit concerned.”

  Ben’s hesitance a few weeks before came rushing back. “About what?”

  “Faith differences.”

  Ziad shrugged. “It is of no worry. She is a woman of the book. That is acceptable to me.”

  “It’s not that.” Ben heaved a sigh. “May I be frank with you?”

  “Of course.” Sweat broke out on Ziad’s hands. “We are friends after all, yes?”

  “We are.” Ben leaned back and pressed his hands against the table as he stretched his neck. “I’m concerned because you two are not equally yoked.”

  Huh? “I do not know what that means.”

  “Think about oxen. They—”

  “We are not draft animals.”

  “It’s an analogy, my friend. When they work together in a yoke, they are side by side. Not that I’m an expert farmer or anything, but I imagine you wouldn’t put two unequal animals together. It would make it much more difficult.”

  Ziad bit his tongue.

  “A good marriage is hard work. You know that.”

  “I do.”

  “Having a marriage of two different faiths adds a whole extra layer of difficulty.”

  “So you do not approve of—”

  “I didn’t say that.” Ben rested his elbows on the table and raised a finger. “I’m not here to approve or disapprove.”

  “Then why are you saying it?”

  “Because I love you both. You, my friend, are like my brother in so many ways. And Claire’s my sister-in-law. Regardless of what happens, that won’t change, okay?”

  Ziad shrugged. “To me, it is not a big problem. And it is not like I plan to propose tomorrow.”

  The smallest of sighs escaped Ben. “Understood.” He straightened. “So. Let’s get you to the press conference before your PIO goes nuts.”

  Ziad followed him to the Forester. Claire’s face floated across his mind. He smiled. Then it dimmed as he thought about the stories. Hopefully, the good prince hadn’t seen the bit of news that had shot across the world in record time.

  32

  “How much further?”

  “Almost there.”

  “You said that the last time.”

  “Did I?” Ziad led Claire down a trail he’d discovered outside of Asheville months before. Now, the week after Labor Day, they had the place to themselves.

  Hopefully.

  Claire sighed. “We’ve been hiking for four hours. I’m hot, sweaty, and hungry.”

  “Not to worry, m’Lady.” He paused as the trail made one final turn. “Close your eyes.”

  She stopped. “What? Ziad—”

  “I will guide you.”

  She heaved a sigh and drawled, “Okay.”

  He laughed and took her hand. “A root here. Rock there. I will not let you fall.”

  She didn’t even stumble.

  The trail widened to reveal a large pool. A waterfall, nearly twenty meters high, cascaded into another, smaller pool. No roar of sheer power here, only the delightful sound of tinkling.

  Ziad took her hand. “Open your eyes.”

  “Wow!” She gasped as she gazed at the water. “This is beautiful. When did you find it?”

  “When I came here between trainings last spring, one of the locals recommended it as a good solo hike.”

  “I can see why.”

  He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. “I am glad we decided to split up for the day so Emma could drag Ben to go shopping. That meant I could be alone with you.” He pulled back. “Shall we have lunch?”

  “Seeing that we have a long hike back, yes.” Claire settled on a bare patch of rock and unzipped her pack.

  Ziad gazed at the pool. Serene. Like it had been months before. Except the last time when he’d gazed at it, he’d wondered if he’d ever make it in his new homeland. Now he knew. He would.

  “Hey, look over there.” Claire nodded to the other side of the pool. “I think some other folks had the same idea.”

  “I knew it would be popular.” Ziad munched on his peanut butter sandwich and watched as two adults and three children emerged from the thick green foliage. One of the children jumped into the water, and he squealed.

  Claire chuckled. “It may be hot, but any mountain
water is freezing.”

  As he drank his Gatorade, a memory flew into his head, that of a waterfall. And of Sabirah. “It looks like the one in my dreams.”

  She faced him. “What dreams?”

  He set his sandwich on his knee. How much should he reveal? Everything. Her support when he’d confessed his stint in prison had assured him she wouldn’t judge, criticize, or try to fix things. “They started when I was in jail, then have popped up here and there.”

  “What’s in them?”

  “Sabirah in a white caftan. A garden with a waterfall much like this. Scales with the letter Z in English.”

  “Huh?”

  “Like the… those scales of justice I see here in this country. They have two trays. Hasana’at, Reward for Good Deeds, and Sayia’at, Reward for Bad Deeds.” He shuddered as he thought about what came next. “Each time, she or one of the boys has these stones with them. They place them on the trays.”

  She eased over so their shoulders touched. “What do you think they mean?”

  He shivered. “My life. The stones are the works of my life. She sees how they stack up.”

  For a moment, she didn’t say anything as she opened a baggie of M&Ms and tossed a handful in her mouth.

  “Claire?”

  “Sorry. I’m thinking.” She added another handful. “Your culture places high value on dreams, right?”

  He nodded. “Very high value.”

  “I’m wondering if God is trying to speak to you.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “I’m no soothsayer. Honestly, I’m not. Maybe he’s trying to tell you something.”

  “But why Sabirah?” He emptied a baggie of chips and stuffed it into his backpack.

  “Dreams can be funky.”

  He sighed. “Funky?”

  “Strange. They cobble together so many different parts of our lives.”

  “That sounds somewhat scientific.”

  She took his hand. “I know. But I also believe they can be divinely inspired.”

  He kissed her temple. “You sound more Saudi than you realize.”

  She rested her head against his shoulder. The silky wisps of her ponytail brushed his arm.

  Ziad closed his eyes. Across the way, the children called to each other as they splashed around in the pool. Someone jumped into the water. They all giggled, the very sound of contentment. Oh, to stay this way forever. Could it happen? He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and caressed skin left bare by her tank top. He imagined what it would be like to be married to her, to share the deepest parts of himself with her, to be skin to skin in more than just the physical sense. “What do you think about us?”

  Why did I say that? Am I crazy?

  A smile crossed Claire’s face. “I think we’re good together.”

  “Do you think we could make it?”

  “As a couple?”

  “As in marriage?” he blurted. He clamped his jaw shut. Ziad, Ziad, Ziad, can you not stop while you’re ahead?

  Claire stilled. She pulled back a little and stared at him, her eyes wide, her gaze searching his face. “We’ve barely begun dating.”

  “I know.” How did he get himself out of this corner he’d backed himself into? “I was… curious.”

  She smiled, but the hand gripping her knee had tightened. “Honestly, I hadn’t thought that much about it. We—I need to pray about it.”

  “I know. And I understand the need to wait.” He turned her head and kissed her.

  They stayed at their lunch spot for a few more minutes, but something had changed in her, something so subtle the average friend would have missed it. Worry? No. Concern? No. He couldn’t define what he felt emanating from her.

  Finally, he glanced at his watch. “Much as I hate to say it, we must leave if we are to make it back in time for supper.”

  She sighed and gathered her lunch baggies. “You’re right. Back to reality, huh?”

  “Something like that.” He helped her to her feet, and they began the long trek back to the trailhead. For sure, something had shifted in her. For better or worse, he didn’t know. All he could do was wait.

  33

  On a muggy Monday evening nearly two weeks later, Claire’s stomach roiled as she stared at her mostly uneaten plate of leftover chicken and vegetables. The clock on the microwave said it all.

  Ziad would arrive in five minutes. She placed her elbows on the granite. Her whispered words came out so low she barely heard them. “Lord, I don’t want to do this. But this is what you want. I’m so scared. I don’t know what to say, even now.”

  As she’d prayed these past two weeks, God’s direction had become clear to her.

  She hated it.

  You need to come out from him. To stand on your own. You are my child. I have greater plans for you. Plans to prosper you and plans to give you hope and a future. And I have plans for Ziad as well. But for me to work in his life, I need him to be alone.

  The 4Runner pulled into the driveway and parked in the empty stall under the house.

  No time to prepare now.

  She dumped her uneaten meal into the trash and stashed her dishes in the dishwasher.

  “Claire.” Ziad smiled at her from the doorway.

  She slipped around the island and met him halfway. “Hey.”

  He kissed her slowly, lingeringly, something that would have left her weak in the knees even three weeks ago.

  Not now.

  Dread knotted her stomach even further.

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You seem tired.”

  “I am.” Claire disengaged and drifted toward the island. “I haven’t been sleeping well since we got back.”

  “How so?”

  “I’ve been dreaming.” She closed her Bible and placed her study guide on top.

  He came up behind her and put his hands under her elbows. “In what ways?”

  “You and Sabirah are together, and it’s like I’m in the room but I’m not really.” She closed her eyes. “You and I are talking, but you’re speaking in Arabic and me in English, and neither of us understands the other.” She shook her head as she recalled what came next. “It got to the point where I fasted last week because I didn’t understand those dreams. I still don’t.”

  Sort of.

  “Why does that have you concerned?”

  Here went nothing. She swallowed against the bile in her throat. “Ziad, I… we, well… I can’t see you anymore.”

  There. She’d said it.

  Her statement hung in the room like a putrid mist.

  His warmth, so comforting, left her. “What did you say?”

  “I can’t see you anymore,” she croaked to the granite. She faced him.

  His brow knitted as he stared at her. “I—I do not understand. Why?”

  Trembling started deep within her. “Ever since we talked a couple of weeks ago, I’ve prayed about this. About marriage. And I—I can’t do it.”

  He flinched as if she’d punched him good and hard. “You cannot marry me? Claire, I… why?”

  At the hurt flashing across his face, her carefully planned speech disintegrated like a burning piece of paper. “I… I prayed.”

  His dark gaze, so open and warm, flashed to opaque. “I know you prayed. Oh, I get it. Because I am Muslim, yes? And you are Christian?”

  I’m going to throw up. She put her fingers over her mouth and hung her head.

  “Why now? Why not earlier?”

  “I thought we could make it work. Honestly, I did. I ignored those little, concerning signs. I thought taking it slow… when marriage came up, I…” She raised her gaze, and his image shimmered through her veil of tears. “I love you, Ziad. I love you so much! But I love my King more.”

  “What?” He paced and rubbed his chin as if trying to figure out a complicated problem. He stopped and whirled on her as he roared, “You used me!”

  At the anger building in his eyes, she took a step back, stumbled against one o
f the bar chairs, and sat down hard. “Ziad—”

  “Do not tell me you did not.” He muttered something in Arabic, surely a cuss word, under his breath. “I see now.” He took a step toward her. “Poor Ziad. Fresh off the boat, eh? You are his only friend. He is nice. Handsome.” Another step. “He does not know anybody. Or much about anything.” And another. “You take advantage of him. Lead him on. Make him feel like he is loved and worth something, all the while to fulfill your own purposes.” He stopped not a foot away. “And then discard him like so much rubbish. You are so selfish!”

  Her hand shot to the diamond pendant she’d worn almost every day. “I never used you.”

  “I do not believe that.” He grabbed her chin. “You think I am that foolish? You want to break up? Fine!”

  He thumped toward the front door.

  “Ziad!” Claire jumped off the bar chair and ran after him. She grabbed his arm.

  He shook loose. “Leave me alone!” Tears shimmered in his eyes. “Now.”

  That came out as a hiss.

  He slammed the front door so hard the house shook.

  The replacement mirror she’d hung above the foyer table fell from its hook. It shattered.

  Pain raged in her heart, almost as badly as it had when Jackson died. “Oh, God!”

  Somehow, she stumbled to the kitchen and leaned against the counter. “I’m sorry, Ziad. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

  She slid to the floor so she rested against the wood. His face floated before her eyes. New agony opened in a line along her soul. She laid her head on her knees and wept.

  #####

  Five days later, Ziad sat in a corner of Mocha Joe’s. With narrowed eyes, he stared out the plate glass windows and barely noticed the rain from a tropical storm offshore pattering on the asphalt parking lot.

  Claire had called him, asked him to meet her here. Saturday evening. Six o’clock. A grim smile curled his lips upward. He knew what she wanted. She wanted to get back together because she’d realized the foolishness of her remarks. Her remorse when he’d gotten her message the night before at the Quick Fill had been all too clear.

  He almost snorted as he turned his attention to the newspaper in front of him. Five more teens and two adults had died from Zap, bringing the total to a very scary twenty-three people in the Charleston metro area since March. His frustrations at being sidelined on the case mounted.