Veil of Silence

by K'Anne Meinel

  “They are going to thoroughly interrogate her when she gets home. I would have thought they would do that here in Germany.”

  “They would have if she had come in on a military flight, but they want to keep her hidden. She’s hidden in plain sight this way.”

  Pete agreed. They were here not only to guard her, but also to escort her and her children. It wasn’t any of their business what she had gone through or what the army decided to do with her. She didn’t realize it, but she outranked both of the men.

  The glances that Marsha and the children got now weren’t as hostile. The vivid colors of the children’s native clothing drew smiles. The elegance and obvious expensive look of Marsha’s silk burqa, her eyes downcast, and her demure attitude, made people treat her with respect. Perhaps it was the two men accompanying them, but they weren’t as noticeable as the children.

  “Passports and tickets please,” a rich German accent met them at the gate. Marsha glanced at Pete who handed a small packet to the ticket taker. Her eyes opened wide as she took in the two children, the covered woman, and the two men. She stepped back for a moment, and after a heated discussion with her coworker, then a phone call, she handed back the packet. “I will seat you first,” she said respectfully to Pete. “Please sit until we announce the flight.” She indicated the seats throughout the terminal.

  He nodded and shepherded Marsha and her children to seats where he sat on one side of them and Johann on the other. Amir bobbed back up almost as soon as he sat down. He was fed, he was clean, and he had an exuberance of energy to burn off. Marsha let him for now, making sure he didn’t disturb any of the other passengers. Her eyes looked about, scanning, watching for anyone she might recognize. Leaning over to Pete, she asked in a low voice, “What was in that packet?”

  “Government documents identifying us as American soldiers. It basically gives us VIP treatment since you and the children do not have official passports and Johann and I are undercover. I listened to her conversation.”

  “You speak German?”

  He nodded before continuing, “So does Johann. She was asking for directions and reading the documents to what I assume was her supervisor. The supervisor had been alerted to watch for us and let us board first. At least, that’s what I gleaned from her conversation.” He smiled, showing even and white teeth.

  “What makes me so important?” she wondered, not realizing she said it aloud.

  “It’s what you know or might know that’s important,” he pointed out.

  She nodded. She knew she was just a cog in the wheel. She had been unable to give them much back in Kabul. She knew they wouldn’t give her much leeway. She just desperately wanted to get home, to feel safe. She wanted to get far away from Zabi and his people…not all of them, just most of them.

  Marsha watched as the children ran around in the small area they had taken, away from others. They were near enough to catch their flight and enclosed enough by the adult’s presence that the children could run off some of their exuberance. They chased each other and Marsha shushed them when their noise got too loud.

  Finally, they called their flight. When he saw the microphone being picked up, Pete had been on his feet urging Marsha and the children to follow along. Scooping up Amir who was being a real wiggle-worm, he behaved like a typical father.

  “Moray?”

  Marsha looked down into the bright brown eyes of her daughter. “Yes, my daughter?” she answered softly, demurely, as a good woman would. It had been beaten into her to express these types of manners. A good woman was modest, quiet, and subservient. She hadn’t been able to throw off that cloak of behavior in any form, at least not yet. She wondered if she ever would. She glanced at her clothing and wondered if, perhaps, when she put the burqa aside, it would help her become the army lieutenant, now captain she mentally corrected herself, she had been.

  “Are we going on another…” she thought hard, trying to remember the word since she wasn’t familiar with it. She ended up just pointing instead at the planes outside the terminal that were lined up on the tarmac.

  “Yes, my daughter. That is a plane. We are going on another one,” she explained. She knew the children were tired of being cooped up in the little metal tubes, but there was no other way to get where she was going. Their world had been turned upside down since the festival when she snatched them up. She was sorry for that. The terror was one they would have for a long time. She herself felt the fear that at any moment Zabi and his men would snatch her back. It would not go well for her if he found her. She remembered the many beatings, rapes, and humiliation she had experienced at his hands. He had seemed to enjoy it—dominating her, breaking this ‘American.’ She felt the fear of what he had caused within her and it began to turn to anger. It had been many years since she allowed that anger. He had thought he had beaten it out of her, but he was wrong. She had, instead, buried it deep and it was now coming through the cracks; she could feel it bubbling up. She used it to keep her from the fear, from worrying about those men finding her.

  Following behind Pete, keeping her head down, trying to appear less noticeable, she didn’t realize that just by her stance, her bearing, she was noticeable…almost regal. The beautiful burqa lent an air of mystery to her and no one could tell she was pregnant. The chador further enhanced the aura of mystery and her amazing, milk chocolate brown eyes, when seen, drew people to her. She was absolutely unaware by her humble demeanor that she drew more attention that way than if she were wearing plain clothing.

  They were seated with three on a side by the window, three in the middle, and another three on the other side of the aisle. Marsha periodically looked up at the passengers filing in, but kept her head down so they didn’t see her perusing them. The two aisles kept her bobbing up and down and she didn’t realize that Amir was bouncing on his seat until he fell out of it. His screams of outrage and pain could be heard all over the plane. Marsha immediately became the concerned parent and picked him up, determining that he had a simple bump, but due to being overtired, despite sleeping so much, he was just cranky. It took the entire boarding time to calm him down until he was hiccupping and falling into an exhausted sleep in her arms. Pete looked on sympathetically. The stewardess had tried to help, but Marsha waved her away. The toddler was just overtired and upset.

  “Moray?” Bahir whispered worriedly. All these changes were very upsetting to the little girl. Her brother’s pain and crankiness was affecting her. She was getting quieter since she couldn’t understand. All she knew was that her second mother had taken her from everything she had ever known and put her in these different and often scary places.

  Marsha saw the worried look on her daughter’s face and nearly broke into tears herself. She was tired and she wanted the trip to be over. She couldn’t sleep soundly, worried that she would wake up and find the children gone even though she knew Pete and Johann wouldn’t let that happen. Marsha felt responsible for her children. The baby inside of her was kicking hard against her rib cage. It must sense her upset. Reaching out, she first rubbed her stomach to ease the distress she could feel with the baby’s heel under her skin against her rib, almost as though it were stuck there. Then she reached over and rubbed Bahir’s shoulder, pulling her a little closer as she rubbed Amir’s back. He was almost asleep when the stewardess returned. She was obviously annoyed with the crabby toddler.

  “You will have to strap him in a seat,” she said snottily. She was thinking to herself that these people didn’t even know enough to travel with children’s car seats.

  Marsha looked up and noticed out of the corner of her eye as Pete stiffened up. He stood up immediately, the visage of an outraged husband.

  “You will speak to my wife with respect,” he said angrily. “Our child fell and was in need of comfort.”

  Marsha was amazed that the heavily-accented voice, which normally spoke such normal American English, sounded just like it was from the Middle East.

  “You, sir, will sit do
wn or must I get the air marshal?” she blustered.

  “Of course, I sit. You will not talk to my wife in such a manner,” he told her as he pretended to concede to her wishes. He sat back down and made a great show of fastening his seatbelt.

  By the time this little incident had completed, Marsha had risen slightly and put Amir in the seat next to her, pushing Bahir to the seat against the window.

  “Moray,” the youngster protested, but Marsha put a finger against the girl’s lips with a slight smile. She then buckled Amir in and leaned him against the blanket she had readied in anticipation of him sleeping. He didn’t really want to sleep. He was still crabby and ready to fight her on it, so instead she began to rub his back as she sat back down in her own seat.

  “You’ll have to buckle up,” the snotty stewardess said to her back.

  Marsha nodded, but concentrated on her toddler. He was nearly asleep.

  “Miss,” the stewardess tried to get her attention again.

  “I heard you,” Marsha said over her shoulder in perfect English, startling the obviously prejudiced woman. She had thought she would intimidate the Middle Eastern-clad woman, assuming she spoke no English. “We have a couple of minutes and he’s almost asleep. Or do you want him to scream his lungs off to the discomfort of the other passengers?” her tone matched the woman’s.

  The stewardess was startled, but knew she had the upper hand. She decided to continue on with her seatbelt check, but when she returned, if the woman wasn’t in her seatbelt….

  “Is he okay?” Pete whispered from across the aisle, still with the phony accent in case anyone was listening.

  Marsha smiled at the query. Amir was nearly out, just fighting the last vestiges of sleep out of sheer orneriness. She’d like to think this was because Zabi was his father, but she knew it was probably her own genes that made this endearing little boy so ornery. He finally closed his eyes as he saw her smile down on him, his own mouth curled into a smile of its own before relaxing into a cherub’s kiss. Marsha pulled her hand away slowly, cautiously, and saw that he was out. She looked up at Bahir and smiled at the good little girl who had put on her own buckle, fascinated with the contraption, and who returned the smile and then looked out the window at the activity around the plane. It was getting dark so the lights were captivating.

  Marsha sat back in her chair and fastened her seatbelt as she turned to answer Pete’s question. “He’s just tired. Aren’t we all?”

  He nodded with a slight smile, leaning forward to check on Bahir. He sat back in time for the stewardess to come forward, checking again for those she’d had to speak to including Marsha and her party. Her lips pursed in disapproval as she saw that the woman and her children were all buckled in. She thought to say something about having a baby seat for the toddler, but thought better of pushing it. They’d already proven confrontational. She didn’t need that headache on what would be a long flight.

  Once they were airborne and the seatbelt light was off, Marsha reclined her chair slightly and encouraged Bahir, her silent little girl, to come and sit with her in her arms. They snuggled together, enjoying their time together and before either knew it, they had fallen asleep. It was only as breakfast was being served that Marsha awoke with a jerk. She was certain someone had bumped into her. When she looked up and saw the cart and the stewardess, she was positive. She glared her annoyance at the woman, the chador hiding the rest of her face, but her eyes quite expressive. Her arm was asleep from where Bahir had lain on it, but using her good arm, she carefully lifted the young girl to place her back in her own seat. She never woke as Marsha buckled her in.

  “Would you like anything?” the stewardess asked now that she saw the woman was awake.

  “Maybe later,” Marsha said quietly, staring the woman down. She was feeling very uneasy, the baby making her nauseous. She rethought and said, “Um, I’ve changed my mind. May I have a little 7up please?”

  The woman, who had begun to move on sighed loudly and obliged. She made sure plenty of ice was in the little cup before pouring 7up into it, which meant the passenger got very little of the beverage. She handed it to the passenger, considering ‘accidentally’ spilling it on the woman and her expensive outfit, and then reconsidered. Why antagonize her further?

  “Thank you,” Marsha said politely as she pulled down the chador to take a drink. She knew if she were wearing the black chador or her black burqa, she might be expected to drink through the material. To her that had been ridiculous and one of the many painful lessons she had learned from Zabi and Malekah. “Could I have the whole can?” she asked to annoy the woman. She could see that the request, while reasonable, annoyed the woman, but she complied, unwillingly, and then moved on. Once she finished drinking the entire can, pouring it cautiously, time and time again onto the melting ice, Marsha wiped her mouth carefully and replaced the chador. She could already feel the bubbles in her queasy stomach and she allowed herself to burp, breathing through each and every one of them so that they wouldn’t be audible to her companions.

  The rest of the flight proved uneventful. They served lunch and both children were awake for that. Pete or Johann had arranged for a children’s meal for each of the young passengers. Marsha, seeing the cute little meals specially prepared for the children, was pleased. Then she wondered what had happened to the children’s meal for breakfast. She was certain the stewardess would never have mentioned it if Johann hadn’t inquired as they came around for lunch orders.

  Both children were doing very well despite the long hours. After the meal, one by one, Marsha took them to the bathroom. The tight fit, the newness of the experience of using a toilet again, all made it difficult to keep them clean and still, but Marsha managed. Both children looked very presentable. It was just before they were to land that Amir began to act up again, but who could expect a toddler not to run off his exuberance. The change in cabin pressure seemed to upset his little ears, but a change in seat with Bahir meant he could kneel and look out the window, which distracted him until he had to sit down, buckle in, and prepare to land. He didn’t like that, but Marsha was firm.

  As the plane landed at Chicago’s O’Hare airport, Marsha breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t know where they were going from here, but she was on American soil and for this she was eternally grateful. She sent up a prayer of thanks to whomever was listening.

  CHAPTER NINE

  They took her quickly through customs. The paperwork that the two men were carrying ensured that they did not need passports and Marsha idly wondered about that. The one bag that she carried was all their worldly goods. Both children were cranky and fretful and she’d had to quiet Amir several times—his temper could be quite fierce.

  The children, she knew, were worried that they would be getting on one of those metal tubes again, but she assured them they were not going to. Since she wasn’t sure where she was going, she couldn’t tell them they were going home. She followed her guards, knowing that finally she didn’t need them. She felt happier as they made their way through the long hallways of O’Hare towards whatever destiny awaited her.

  Amir squirmed to be let down and walk by himself, but she held firmly to his hand. His exuberance had him hopping and Bahir imitated him by skipping. Marsha felt like her arms were being pulled up and down by the children. Exhausted, but knowing they needed to work off their energy and not willing to let them go, she hung on and put up with the skipping and hopping.

  * * * * *

  They were standing with the major who had accompanied them from the van that had driven them to the base. Heather was wearing a nice slacks suit and had dressed Hayley in a dress she saved for special events. She looked cute with the blue ribbon across her waist and she was swinging the skirt back and forth because it ballooned out when she did that.

  “Hayley,” Heather warned her for the umpteenth time and she stopped for a few minutes, before she would forget and begin again.

  Heather was nervous too. The major had been mo
st courteous, but he hadn’t known much more than she had been told. He had arranged for them to go past security to meet Marsha. Normally they would have to wait outside, but he had gotten an exemption to this rule.

  They waited patiently as they watched various people come and go, and still no Marsha. The plastic vinyl of the chairs was harsh and felt a bit sticky so they went from sitting to standing as they waited. There seemed to be a lot of activity, many people coming and going from the walkway just in front of where they were standing.

  * * * * *

  Watching the people file out of the walkway, Heather was anxious. Would she recognize Marsha? Of course she would! She would recognize that woman anywhere! Had she changed? After five years of who knew what, of course she would change. She was anxious. Her heart beating double time as she examined each and every woman who came down the walkway.

  Finally, she noticed a woman with her head bowed. She was holding the hands of two children, one a toddler who was skipping, the other a little girl who was hopping. As they came through the doors, the two children stopped their hijinks and looked up and around in awe at this new destination. One of them asked the woman something and the woman leaned down to answer, slowing those behind her who now had to go around her. Heather glanced beyond her to see if she could see Marsha coming down the hallway, but the woman, having stopped, was creating a holdup as people had to maneuver around her and her children. Heather looked anxiously beyond the little group. As the woman stood up again, Heather gasped, recognizing those eyes. It was then she began to assess the woman, dressed in a gray…what was it called? A wrap? It covered her from head to toe and had lovely little black scrolls and things throughout the design. A scarf, or something that matched the outfit, was across her face.

  When the woman saw Heather, she let go of the little girl’s hand to reach up and release the chador from across her face. It was then that Heather saw Marsha fully. She gasped again. She looked so much…older. Only her face was visible. Her eyes were full of almost an agony that Heather could not really fathom. Marsha pushed back the covering on her head and her black hair was visible.