Redeeming Honor

by E. A. West

  “Hey,” Ryan said quietly and stepped closer to the bed. “How are you doing?”

  “Better, but still not good.” Basir sighed and rolled onto his back. “How was church?”

  “The part I was in the sanctuary for was good. Then, I was in a classroom with about fifteen kids who were determined to see how crazy they could make us during their lesson and craft.”

  “You sound like you enjoyed it anyway.” Basir reached for his glasses—trying to focus on a blurry world threatened to make his migraine worse again.

  “I did. Those kids may be a handful, but I love working with them.” Ryan sat down on the foot of the bed and studied him. “How did it go with Meghan bringing you home?”

  “Your sister is very kind. She told me to think of her as a nurse when she helped me come up here.” He looked at Ryan, hoping his friend wouldn’t be angry that she had touched him again. “The headache made me dizzy, and she was afraid I would fall without her supporting me.”

  “She’s great about helping people when they need it.” Ryan stayed quiet just long enough for Basir to worry about his next words. “She said you told her she’s compassionate.”

  “Yes, I did.” He still couldn’t believe he’d mentioned his wife to her. That had been a slip he regretted instantly and hoped wouldn’t come back to haunt him. When he said it, however, it had come straight from his heart. He shoved the thought aside, unable to consider the implications at the moment. “Your sister is a very compassionate woman.”

  “More compassionate than Kashmala?”

  Hearing her name from the man who had offered consolation when Basir learned of her murder sent a jolt to his heart. He closed his eyes as memories flashed of his temperamental wife and the message he had received two days after her death. Guilt flooded him anew at the reminder he hadn’t been able to protect her from the Taliban—from the men who had killed her in retaliation for him assisting the Americans.

  “I’m sorry,” Ryan said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Basir drew in a steadying breath and opened his eyes again. “No, you are right to question my choice of words to your sister. Meghan...she is...forgive me.”

  Admitting the truth was more difficult than he’d expected. Unfortunately, he had to carry through with it or risk losing the respect of a man he admired. “Your sister is more compassionate than my wife ever was. Kashmala was a beautiful woman, but I don’t think she liked me very much. Our families arranged our marriage, thinking we would be a good match. We were not, but we did the best we could under the circumstances.”

  “Did you love her?”

  He should have known Ryan would ask the same question he had wondered many times since his wedding. “I loved her as much as I could, but not as much as I wanted to. She was a difficult woman and never understood my choice to become an interpreter. I did care about her and would have given my life to save hers, but I failed her.”

  “There was nothing you could have done, Basir. Even if you had been home with her, they would have killed her anyway and killed you as well.”

  Ryan had told him the same thing when Basir confided in him about her death. At the time, the words hadn’t done anything to lessen the pain of knowing he had failed in his job as a husband to protect his wife. Now that he had seen and lived through so much more violence, the truth in them helped ease the lingering guilt.

  Basir nodded and released a cleansing breath. “What did you tell Meghan about Kashmala?”

  “Just that she was your wife and had been killed. Anything else should come from you.”

  “Will I need to tell her more?” He hadn’t considered that one mention of Kashmala could force him to divulge more information than he was comfortable sharing with a woman he still wasn’t sure he should be alone with.

  “That’s up to you.” Ryan smiled sympathetically. “If you decide to tell her anything, you’ll see more of her compassionate nature. And I can guarantee she won’t hold anything you say against you. She’s the most understanding and forgiving person I’ve ever met.”

  Much like her brother. Ryan had done more to help him adapt to the American culture than anyone else, and he had forgiven every faux pas Basir committed. Since picking him up and bringing him to the farm, Ryan had continued to prove his understanding and forgiving nature was still alive and well.

  With that thought in mind, Basir realized he had nothing to fear when it came to his attraction to Meghan. If Ryan approved, there would be no problem. If he didn’t, he would undoubtedly forgive Basir’s interest. The situation was a delicate one, however, and called for caution.

  “Your sister would make a good friend.”

  “She’d like it if you became her friend. As it stands now, she’s not sure if you like her or trust her since you rarely talk to her and are obviously uncomfortable being alone with her.”

  “I only wish to give her the respect she deserves as your sister and a woman.” Hope rose in Basir. Perhaps the attraction wasn’t one-sided.

  “I know, but you have to keep in mind that respect here and respect where you’re from don’t always look the same. If you want to be her friend, talk to her. Get to know her. As long as you don’t mistreat her, I’m sure your respect for her will still show through.”

  Basir kept his breathing even as his heart thundered with excitement. It sounded as though Ryan approved of him for Meghan. There was just one more thing he needed to know. “Forgive me if you are offended, but why is your sister not married? In my culture, she would have been married years ago.”

  “She hasn’t met the right man yet. Remember Julia, the woman at the craft store? She keeps trying to help Meghan find someone to marry by setting her up with any eligible man she comes across. Meghan usually goes on one date with each guy as a courtesy, but she has yet to meet the man God has chosen for her.”

  Dating was something Basir still wasn’t sure he understood. He’d heard about it from the Americans while he was still in Afghanistan. Since coming to the United States, he had heard about the various dating lives of nurses and physical therapists. While the process sounded interesting if frustrating, he had never been on a date in his life. It wasn’t permitted where he came from.

  Thinking about the implied consent of Ryan, Basir wasn’t sure yet what to do about developing a relationship with Meghan. There were still so many reasons he wasn’t a good option for her, not the least of which being that he had brought shame upon himself and his family by working with the Americans and not protecting his wife. But he was drawn to Meghan and wanted to follow Ryan’s advice by getting to know her.

  The dilemma renewed the pounding in his head. He sighed and closed his eyes. The bed shifted, and Basir opened his eyes to find Ryan standing.

  “I should get out of here and let you rest.” He moved the door and then looked back. “Do you need anything before I go?”

  “An instant cure for migraines?”

  Ryan chuckled and shook his head. “Wish I could give you one, but I don’t think such a thing exists.”

  “It doesn’t. I don’t need anything except for this headache to go away.”

  “Well, I’ll pray it will leave you soon. If you need anything before then, Meghan and I will both be around.”

  “Thank you.” Basir closed his eyes as he listened to Ryan step into the hallway. The migraines and the light sensitivity in his eyes were two more reasons he wasn’t a good match for Meghan. At least the sunglasses a marine had insisted he try on just before the blast had prevented total blindness. Still, what woman as independent as Meghan would want a man who had such serious physical weaknesses? Yet Basir couldn’t shake the sense that she wouldn’t care if he wore dark glasses for the rest of his life and had daily headaches severe enough to make him wish his head would explode—just to get it over with.

  Was it his own longing for companionship that attracted him to Meghan despite all the reasons it wasn’t a good idea, or was it God leading him to her?

  ~*~r />
  Meghan stirred the pot on the stove one more time and took a deep breath of the rich, chicken-scented steam. Although she hadn’t originally planned to make chicken vegetable soup for lunch, she’d changed the menu in deference to Basir’s misery. She had no idea if he would want to eat anything, but soup seemed like the best option in case he did.

  Ryan walked into the kitchen as she turned the burner down to a simmer. “How’s lunch?”

  “Ready whenever we are.” She turned around, her thoughts drifting to the man upstairs. “Should I let Basir know there’s soup if he wants it?”

  Her brother scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “You might wait a little while. Talking to me seemed to wear him out, and he looked like he was about to take a nap when I left.”

  “OK.”

  Meghan moved to the cabinet to retrieve two bowls. She still wondered about that conversation. Ryan had come downstairs and gone straight outside without a word. When he returned fifteen minutes later, he claimed he had just gone out to check the alpacas, but she had a feeling it was more than that. He’d had the same distant look she had seen way too many times since he moved in—the look that meant he was remembering something he would rather forget.

  She ladled the soup into the bowls, and Ryan carried them to the table. Once they were eating, she decided the best approach was straightforward. “How did the conversation with Basir go?”

  “Fine, I guess.” Ryan ate a bite of his lunch and then set his spoon in the bowl with a sigh. “He’s had a rough life, Megs. I know you think I had a lot of problems when I moved in, but I think he’s got more.”

  Worry stabbed her heart. “Does he need to see a therapist?”

  “I don’t know, but that’s not why I’m bringing it up.” Ryan drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. “He seems interested in becoming your friend, but he’s not sure how to do it.”

  “That’s easy. All he has to do is talk to me and quit looking like he wishes the ground would swallow him when he’s in the same room with me and you’re not.”

  “It’s not that simple for him. He’s trying to adjust to American society, and he’s done a great job of it so far. But it’s like moving here has set back his attempts to leave Afghan culture behind. It doesn’t help that the confidence and strength he had when I knew him in Afghanistan seem to have vanished in the explosion that brought him here.” He leaned forward and looked her straight in the eye. “He’s afraid he’s going to accidentally disrespect you by doing something we find perfectly normal but is completely foreign to him.”

  “Poor guy.” How she wished she could wave a magic wand and heal whatever hurts and fears rested inside him.

  “Yeah, but that’s one of the reasons I said he has problems. He’s got a lot to work through and deal with, but he does want to be your friend.”

  “What should I do to help him realize it’s OK to talk to me?” Another thought struck. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Keep being friendly. Try to talk to him more.” Ryan relaxed against the back of his chair. “I know you’ve been holding back, trying to help him feel more comfortable, but I don’t think it’s doing him any favors. Just be yourself. He’s going to be uncomfortable for a while, but I think it’ll be good for him in the long run to see what normal American interaction between men and women looks like.”

  “I’ll do what I can.” Meghan scooped up a carrot chunk. “But I’ll warn you now that if being myself is too hard on him, I’m backing off again until he’s ready for more.”

  “That’s fine. I want to see him become as American as we are, but I doubt that will ever fully happen. He’s got too much Afghan life ingrained in him.”

  “That’s what happens when you’re born in Afghanistan and live there for most of your life.” Meghan smiled and watched her brother take another bite. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure out this friendship thing, and I seriously doubt it will kill either one of us.”

  Ryan chuckled and shook his head. “It may not kill you, but life around here is probably going to be awkward for a while until he adjusts to his new country’s ways.”

  As they continued their meal, Meghan said a silent prayer for Basir. She had a feeling he would need all the Divine assistance he could get in the coming days, but she knew her brother was right. Basir would eventually adjust to life in the United States, and the best way she could help him was to be friendly until he relaxed and realized friendship with a single woman wouldn’t hurt either of them. But would it stay just a friendship?

  Meghan wasn’t sure her brother had noticed the budding attraction between his friend and her. For the moment, she didn’t mind. Ryan had always been protective of her, and more than one potential boyfriend had wondered how long he would live if he did anything even remotely wrong. Would Ryan act the same way with Basir, a man he knew and trusted like family?

  She still hadn’t come up with an answer by the time they finished lunch and Ryan wandered off. After washing the few dishes they’d used, Meghan headed for the stairs. She had no idea if it had been long enough to safely disturb Basir, but she couldn’t refrain any longer from seeing if he wanted anything to eat. Letting anyone go hungry wasn’t in her nature, and she had that nudge in her heart that said she needed to do whatever she was considering.

  Silence reigned on the second floor, and doubts assailed her as she approached Basir’s room. The door stood ajar, and she gave a light knock as she peered into the room. Basir still lay on the bed, although he’d removed the cloth she had placed over his eyes. He opened them and looked toward the door before she could back away.

  Uncertain of how poor his eyesight was, she smiled and opened the door a little farther as she spoke. “Hey, I just thought I’d see if you wanted anything to eat. I made some chicken vegetable soup for lunch. If that doesn’t sound good, I can fix you something else.”

  “The soup is fine. Thank you.” He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and rubbed his eyes before reaching for his glasses.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better than when you helped me up here.” He settled his glasses in place and stood.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Meghan led the way downstairs, thrilled that her brother’s pep talk had apparently soaked into Basir. Although a little stilted and sparse, his attempt at conversation warmed her heart.

  She settled him at the kitchen table with a bowl of soup and then set about preparing a batch of icing for the brownies. While she didn’t mind unfrosted brownies, her brother loved the added bit of sweetness. Basir finished off a second bowl of soup while she frosted and cut the brownies.

  As he carried his bowl to the sink, she indicated the pan on the counter in front of her. “Would you like a brownie? I’m about to go tell Ryan they’re ready.”

  Basir slowly set his dish in the sink. “I will wait until you return.”

  “All right. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  She left the kitchen and followed the sounds of music and explosions to the living room. As she’d expected, Ryan had sprawled on the sofa and was playing one of the video games he’d brought with him. When she stopped just inside the doorway, he paused the game and looked up.

  “Brownies are ready, and I fed Basir lunch.”

  “Really?” Ryan laid the controller aside and stood. “I didn’t hear him come downstairs.”

  “He’s been down here long enough to eat two bowls of soup.”

  “Sounds like his migraine is gone.”

  “So, do you want a brownie?”

  “Do you really have to ask?” Ryan grinned and moved toward the hall.

  Meghan laughed and followed him to the kitchen.

  5

  Basir followed the sound of voices to Meghan’s workshop and found her and her brother huddled before a computer on the desk against the back wall. Curiosity about what held their attention propelled him into the room. Ryan looked up and grinned.

  “Hey, you want to learn how to
update a website? That way Meghan can bug you when she needs help with it.”

  All words temporarily flew from Basir’s mind, and then he realized his friend was teasing. He chuckled and shook his head. “I will leave the website updating to you. The alpacas and I get along too well for me to want to take on a different job.”

  Meghan turned toward him, her smile warming the chill that seemed to be a permanent part of his soul lately. “Why don’t you grab that stool and bring it over here? We’ll let Ryan do all the hard work, but you can help me decide which pictures to use and whether the writing sounds too dorky.”

  Although doubtful about the wisdom of sitting so close to her, Basir went to the spinning wheel and retrieved the stool she’d indicated. He set it next to her and received smiles from both her and Ryan as he settled onto it.

  “So, which photo do you like better?” Meghan indicated two images of the alpaca herd on the screen. “Ryan and I have a difference of opinion on which one is better, so you get the deciding vote.”

  The weight of responsibility settled on Basir’s shoulders, making him uncomfortable. What did he know about good photographs for websites? Until he started working for the Americans, he had never even seen a computer.

  But he couldn’t resist the hopeful glimmer in Meghan’s eyes. He looked at the two images, noticing subtle differences between them. Both were good, clear photographs showing the alpacas in a pasture. He could see either one working just fine on a website, but there had to be a reason Meghan and Ryan couldn’t agree.

  “What do you hope the photograph will do?”

  “It’s not so much that the photo will do anything,” Meghan said, leaning back in her chair. “I just want to show where the wool for the yarn comes from. Think of it as a way to add character to the site, give it a little atmosphere.”

  The small bit of information helped, but he still felt he needed more to be able to make the best decision. “May I see your website?”

  “Sure. Hang on just a second.” Two clicks later, she had pulled up a website in pastel colors with the name “Carpenter Alpacas” in a script that looked almost like handwriting curving across the top. “I want to put the photo of the herd right here.”