The Esther Paradigm

by Sarah Monzon

  The smack of wood against flesh echoed in the courtyard, but no blows hit me.

  “Cease!” The command held no small amount of threat. “How dare you administer justice within my walls without my consent.”

  “My pardons, Daher.”

  With my face in the ground, I couldn’t see the conversation that took place right beside me. But I could hear. Samlil no more sought forgiveness for his actions than I sought to travel the globe on a camel’s back.

  “What are your charges against this woman, Samlil?”

  “She has sought to spread her evil poison of Christianity and Western thinking among the people. I heard her myself just yester eve.”

  “Are you the only witness, or are there others?”

  I couldn’t move even though I wanted to. My body refused to summon up the strength to even lift my head.

  “I alone heard her in her mother’s tent last night.”

  “Then it is your word against hers.”

  “My word as a devout Muslim and brother against this”—his spit landed in the dirt by my nose—“American? I think it enough.”

  “As this woman is the wife of your sheikh, it is not enough. He will judge this matter.”

  “But he is not here.”

  “Then it waits!” Anger threaded with warning in Daher’s shout that shook the ground beneath me.

  “As you wish.” Samlil’s response sounded like it had traveled past clenched teeth. “In the meantime, maybe you would like to investigate just who it was that listened to the whore’s heresy. I’m sure the authorities would be interested in the outcome.”

  I swallowed hard, the sand in my mouth scratching my throat on the way down. Samlil had been satisfied with my demise. Now thwarted, he sought to destroy Radina, Qitarah, and Bahia as well.

  The slimy, oily son of a serpent!

  Fingers snapped before Daher boomed, “Radina.”

  In a flash, my friend was by my side, cooing and clucking over me like a mother hen.

  “As leader, I will proceed with my people as I see fit.”

  “Of course. As long as your leadership adheres to the law, right, Daher?”

  “Do not threaten me, Samlil.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Footsteps crunched away from me, followed by those at a longer distance. Samlil had left, and the crowd dispersed.

  Radina placed a hand on my shoulder. I winced.

  “I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “Are you okay?”

  I was alive, and that was a better outcome than I’d predicted. “Help me up.” I managed to raise an arm, which she hooked over her own and then lifted. Another arm wrapped around my waist from the other side. I turned and tried to smile at Qitarah, who’d joined us.

  “You both are in danger because of me. I’m so sorry.”

  “Shh,” Radina hushed. “It’s not safe to talk out here. Besides, you have nothing to apologize for.”

  “But—”

  “Not another word.” With slow steps we trekked down the main street. “You’ll be safe with us until your husband returns.”

  What would Karim do? He’d warned me against sharing my faith, had made me promise not to try and convert him. How would he react when he found out about the women’s Bible study?

  Samlil would not be satisfied until blood was spilled—mine, my parents’. If Karim didn’t gratify Samlil’s expectations and give in to his threats and demands, what measures would he take in his quest to “uphold Islam,” as he called it?

  A rock on one side, a hard place on the other, and there we sat wedged right in the middle. Pressed anymore, and we’d all be crushed by the pressure.

  Chapter 28

  Karim

  The knot under my breastbone grew in diameter with each kilometer the old Toyota trekked. Its threadbare tires bounced over the stones in the unpacked road, the lack of shocks causing me to bounce like a cork upon the waves. Jostled from without, expanding from within. Even so, I kept my focus razor sharp directly in front of me, as if my vision could tunnel across the distance and see what lay ahead of me.

  What would I find? Mother had only said her dream meant Hannah was in trouble. Would I be too late? Or maybe—I held on to the thin hope—her dream was simply brought on by medication the doctor had given her and I’d drive up and everything would be as I’d left it. Hannah would greet me hardy and whole, and we’d all have a good laugh at my mad dash back based on the sleep patterns of a medicated woman.

  Except that knot that warned otherwise. As well as the pit in the bottom of my stomach that continued to open and devour that hope.

  The mountain that towered over Daher’s village grew in height as I sped toward it. Trees dotted the beige landscape, the buildings of the village itself coming into view. I pressed my foot against the accelerator, coaxing even more speed from the decades-old automobile. More details were added to the landscape ahead of me the closer I got, and soon I could make out people walking about their business. My foot shifted to the brake, and my momentum slowed to a halt, a brown dust billowing about and then swallowing the vehicle. I jumped out and ran past the dust cloud, gaze darting in search of Hannah, feet moving just as swiftly.

  People stopped and stared, but I didn’t slow enough to process their expressions. If Mother’s dream was correct, I hadn’t a moment to lose, or I’d lose it all. Everything—or rather, everyone—that mattered most to me.

  No matter where I turned, Hannah’s unique features didn’t stare back at me. I longed for a glimpse of her peach complexion and sapphire-blue eyes. Like a hunter, I searched for my precious treasure, but kept coming up empty.

  A woman stepped in my path, and I made to move around her, anxious not to stop. No delays.

  “Excuse my forwardness,” she said, her voice a whisper.

  I stalled enough to glance down at her, but all I could see was the top of her head covering. If she broke social convention enough to speak to a strange man in public, maybe what she had to say was worth my attention. “Speak.”

  “Your wife—”

  “You know where she is? Where? Is she safe?”

  Her head lowered even further, and I had to strain to pick up the words she dropped. “She is safe under the sheikh’s protection and resides at his home.”

  Daher. Of course. I should have looked there first. The man would not allow harm to come to Hannah, not after promising to bring her into his household in my absence.

  My chest deflated, the knot there unraveling. My breaths came deep for the first time in over an hour. I nearly laughed in relief—and in embarrassment. Daher would surely tease my mad dash based on the slumbering whims of my mother.

  Still, I ached to hold Hannah again in my arms. She should be in the date groves doing her duty and helping in the harvest, but I couldn’t muster any desire for correction. In honesty, I was pleased she was within Daher’s walls. It allowed for a private greeting.

  My lips spread wide in a grin.

  One I couldn’t wait another moment to experience.

  “Your name?” I asked of the brave woman. For I did appreciate her actions and thought her brave, though others would say foolish and disrespectful.

  “Qitarah.”

  “Shukraan, Qitarah.”

  She whispered a “you’re welcome” as she continued down the dusty street with her eyes downcast. I turned and, with long strides, walked to Daher’s home. Stopping in front of his wooden door, I lifted my fist and knocked.

  Feet shuffled on the other side before the door swung open with a creak. Daher stood on the other side, his face pinched and eyes sunken in their sockets.

  “Karim.” He looked and sounded relieved to see me, his weight sagging a bit against the door. “It is good you are back, my friend.” He waved a hand behind him. “Your wife is in the back room.”

  I didn’t wait. Couldn’t. Even though I knew he wasn’t done speaking. But I needed to see Hannah. Touch her. I needed my treasure back with me. Where she b
elonged. Forever and always. So I stepped around Daher and into his house, dashed to the room at the back, and halted at the doorframe.

  She faced away from me, but I knew it was her. Her height that fit every contour of my body just right, her smell—a light fragrance of jasmine—the colors of her clothing—a soft pastel blue that matched her uniqueness better than the bright red Daher’s wife was known to wear.

  “Wife,” I said, and hoped she could hear the love in the title.

  She spun, her blue eyes wide. “Karim.”

  The distance grew too much. I had to slay it for simply keeping us apart. One moment my shoulder rested on the doorframe, the next I wrapped Hannah in my arms and pressed her to my chest with my hands at her back. How I’d dreamed of this moment, couldn’t wait to tell her how much I loved—

  “Ah!”

  Her cry of pain ripped through my thought with a serrated edge. I gentled my hold on her, leaned back to peer into her face. Tears coated her lashes, making them appear thick and long. “What is it? Did I hurt you?”

  Of course I hurt her or she wouldn’t have cried out. But how? The physical labor of harvesting the dates should not have taxed her muscles so greatly.

  She looked up at me, the muscles in her face relaxing until her mouth bowed in a small smile. “I’m fine.”

  Her reassurances did not erase the echo of her cry. Still it ricocheted around my heart, pricking at its walls. My brows furrowed as I stared down at her.

  “Please.” She rested her hands on my shoulders and leaned her head against my chest. “Hold me again, but”—she paused—“be gentle.”

  Instead of placing my palms against her back again, I rested them on her hips. Her hands moved from my shoulders and wrapped around my waist. Pressed tighter to me. Whatever rationale I’d used to convince myself Mother’s dream had been an illusion vanished.

  I was too late. In some way, Hannah had been hurt, the proof in my arms. Her tears dampening the front of my cloak, her shoulders rising and falling with silent sobs.

  Falak himself, the legendary powerful serpent that lived under the Realm of Fire, might as well have been slithering through my insides, igniting the flames within. Just as he sought to swallow all creation, my wrath took on the quest to devour the person responsible for whatever had happened to cause my wife this pain.

  With gentle movements so as not to snag her hair, I pushed back her head covering and combed my fingers through her silky strands. My fingers grazed her hairline then followed the waterfall down her back. The shaking of her shoulders slowed, and I continued playing with her hair until they ceased all together.

  I pressed my cheek against the top of her head and closed my eyes. Twice I’d failed in my vow to protect, but Allah had been gracious and saved her when I did not. For that alone I renewed my dedication to Him and would prostrate myself even more fully before Him tonight during prayers.

  I kissed her crown and then stepped away, though I left my hands on her shoulders. I didn’t know if she’d meet my eyes willingly or if I’d needed to tilt her chin in encouragement. I shouldn’t have worried. She looked up, so much hidden beneath those blue depths that I wished I could wipe away the memories as easily as I had her tears. Her throat worked as she swallowed, and I stilled the serpent Falak inside lest she see my anger and turn away in fear.

  “Let me see.” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat of emotion.

  Her eyes clouded.

  “When I hugged you, I caused you pain. I would see your injuries and hear an account of all that transpired when I left.”

  Her chin fell, as did her hands. Then her fingers began to crawl the material of her dress up her legs, exposing the round flesh of her calf, then the bend in her knees.

  I took another step back, though I didn’t know why. The adrenaline that had pumped into my system as I’d sped across the deserted land to get here in time returned with the rage of a monsoon, stealing my breath and heating my blood.

  I tempered the thing that had killed Falak in me, and now the serpent threatened to consume me with its power. If I didn’t control it, it would control me. I knew its name, familiar with it, as all men were. The thing we call desire. Though not evil, it did have a time and place to be allowed to be unleashed.

  And in the midst of examining my wife’s injuries was not the time, my friend’s house not the place.

  But control, a dear companion, sought to betray me, and I fought to keep it by my side, confused by my struggle. Hannah and I had not been married long, it was true, but we had connected our souls, and I had drunk from her well. Why did I feel like a weary traveler who had lost his way, on the brink of death if he didn’t soon taste sweet water on his tongue?

  Maleka and I had been married far longer, had taken every opportunity to make an heir, and never had my body or spirit longed for her or responded to her presence the way I did for Hannah.

  Hannah still faced me as she slipped her clothing up over her head, and I marveled at her form, the handiwork of a creator god.

  An explosion went off in my gut, desire circling and squeezing, my breaths coming in labored gasps now.

  Hannah raised her eyes to meet mine. I could stand it no longer. Everything in me cried for everything in her. I ate the distance between us in a single step, cupped the back of my hand behind her head, and drew her face up the same time mine came crashing down, our lips feverishly meeting in the middle. I couldn’t get enough of her, and the way she tunneled her fingers through my hair and gripped the edges said she couldn’t get enough of me either.

  Control sauntered out the door with a little wave and a smirk, but I didn’t care. I could think of nothing but this. My love pouring out of me and into the woman.

  I groaned and wrapped my arms around Hannah, lifting and planning to carry her to the bed in the corner.

  Her mouth wrenched from mine the same time that her back arched. “Ah!”

  Then everything that control had taken when I’d let it leave came barreling back, bringing with it self-loathing, shame, and disgrace.

  I let Hannah’s feet slide to the ground. She looked up at me with a wobbly smile, but I could see the grimace she tried to hide.

  I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  But I did. So much. “I lost control and hurt you.” Again.

  “Karim.”

  But I couldn’t listen. Didn’t deserve her absolution. “Turn around. Let me see.”

  She stood and stared at me for a few seconds, then let out a huff of a breath and pulled her hair over her shoulder. She turned around until her back faced me.

  My stomach clenched, and Falak roared to life. Dark bruises contrasted against Hannah’s white skin like ink on a fresh sheet of paper. They traveled the length of her back from shoulder to hip, their ugliness a mirror of the one who’d inflicted them.

  I reached out and ran the pad of a finger over one of the offenders, my touch as gentle as if handling the wings of a butterfly.

  “Karim?”

  “Who?” I tried to keep the anger inside, but it colored my vision red. Its bite was not for Hannah to feel. I swallowed hard and tried again to remain in control. “Who did this to you?”

  “Why did you leave me here? Why didn’t you take me with you?”

  The rawness in her voice cut through me as if she’d unsheathed the dagger at my belt and sliced my skin.

  I needed to know. The drive to obtain a name consumed me. But Hannah’s emotional pain took precedence.

  “I wanted to be there for you. Didn’t…” Her shoulders sagged, and I thought she would stop. Would keep the rest of what she wanted to say to herself.

  My mind went to the cave. Our cave. The place where we’d go to talk and make sure no secrets lay between us.

  Her chin rose. “Didn’t you need me there?” Strength infused her voice, stopping the quake of before. She turned and studied my face before resting her gaze in min
e. “Have I disappointed you? Are you sorry you married me?”

  Chapter 29

  Hannah

  Why had I said it? Now that the words were out there, they couldn’t be taken back. Karim would see me for the insecure little wife that I was, when I should have been exuding the strength he needed from someone by his side.

  More importantly, I should have immediately told him of Samlil and his poisoning the sheep. Instead I’d derailed the conversation from a life-or-death matter to one of no consequence. All because I couldn’t bear to find myself lacking when compared to others.

  I stood, and Karim’s hand fell from my shoulder. He’d seen the bruises, the evidence of Samlil’s staff. But I hadn’t died, and so far Samlil hadn’t identified Radina, Bahia, and Qitarah as the other women in the tent with me that night. Hopefully, he’d never discover who’d been there.

  I should’ve been thinking of them, not myself. The sooner Karim knew of his friend’s betrayal and sabotage, the sooner he could deal with the problem. The focus would shift from the women and land directly where it belonged—on the man who’d sought to ruin them all.

  I turned and pulled my clothing back over my head. Let the hem fall to the ground and skim my ankles.

  Karim’s eyes softened and his jaw slacked, the hardness of both dying like the embers of a fire left all night to cool. No! I needed him to feel the burn of anger. To wish to engulf and consume those who sought to harm him. If I poked and prodded, could those embers reignite back to life?

  A knock on the door preceded its opening, and Daher’s large frame filled the opening. “I take it you’ve learned all that transpired?”

  Karim turned toward his friend. “We were discussing an equally important matter.”

  Daher’s mouth thinned. “I’m afraid this cannot wait. Come. We will discuss it together.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked to the front room, expecting us to follow.