Dirty Little Secrets

by Lizzie Shane

  Aiden followed her gaze to the girls and his expression immediately softened. His smile was almost convincing as he said, a little too brightly, “Everything’s great. You know what I was just thinking? I haven’t gotten to go swimming with you girls in forever. Do you think we should all go swimming today?”

  The girls glanced at one another, unusually subdued, and didn’t immediately respond.

  “We could even go to McDonalds afterwards,” Aiden tried again in his attempt to distract them with a treat. “Don’t you want to go swimming?”

  Another long look passed between the girls and Samira had the distinct impression that they were communicating without words. She’d seen them do this before. It normally seemed like Maddie was issuing silent commands and Stella was her obedient soldier, but now Maddie was looking to Stella, almost as if for reassurance.

  “You love to swim,” Samira reminded them. “You can show your dad the strokes you’ve been working on at your lessons.” Both girls flailed more than had actual strokes, but they loved the lessons.

  At her encouragement, Stella gave a small nod and Maddie looked up at her dad. “Okay,” Maddie, the designated spokesperson, said, with a remarkable lack of enthusiasm for a pool day and happy meals.

  “Why don’t you go check if your swimsuits are dry from yesterday?” Samira suggested when she saw the girls’ cereal bowls were empty. They nodded and slipped off their chairs, Stella taking Maddie’s hand and leading the way up the stairs.

  Samira watched them go and collected the breakfast bowls. “They know something’s wrong,” she said without looking at him.

  “Why do you think I suggested the pool? I’m trying to fix it. Cheer them up.”

  “You’re ignoring it,” she said as she dropped the bowls into the sink. “They’re worried. You need to talk to them. Explain… something.”

  “I can’t right now.” His voice was sharp enough to turn her head. When she caught sight of him raking a hand through his hair, she could see he was still angry.

  “They aren’t entirely wrong, you know,” she said softly. “Your parents.” They’d probably only said all the things she’d already been thinking.

  “I don’t want to discuss it.”

  “They’re only trying to protect you.”

  “They didn’t even see you,” he snapped.

  “I know.”

  “To them you’re just a Muslim.”

  It was almost funny. She wasn’t particularly devout. She’d certainly never defined herself by the religion she’d been raised in, but none of that mattered. And that wasn’t funny at all. People didn’t care how devout she was. They painted her entire religion with the same brush—and she shouldn’t have to be a non-Muslim Muslim to be treated like a human being.

  “What’s a Muslim?” a soft voice asked.

  She and Aiden turned as one to see Maddie and Stella perched on the stairs.

  *

  The Raines family didn’t discuss religion. Ironically, for a political family, they rarely discussed politics either. Aiden had been raised with a vague understanding of what his family’s positions were on matters of church and state, but he felt completely out of his depth at that one simple question from his younger daughter.

  It was Stella who had spoken. Stella who seemed to have taken the lead role today—an unusual occurrence with the twins in itself.

  Weren’t they too young for this conversation? At what age was it appropriate to talk about God? He’d always thought he’d have a while to think about how to answer these questions. Like the birds and the bees and dating.

  Aiden opened his mouth, but Samira must have sensed him floundering, because she spoke, her voice calm and certain, like she was answering why there were clouds in the sky when it rained. “A Muslim is a person who believes in a religion called Islam, like Christians believe in Christianity and Jewish people believe in Judaism.” She finished rinsing the breakfast dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher as she spoke. “Miss Jackie and I are Muslim.”

  Aiden braced himself, ready for the girls to ask him why their nana hated Muslims or some other grenade of a question, but Stella surprised him. She simply nodded and asked, “What are we?”

  The discomfort that had begun to ease as Samira talked so calmly crashed back on him. Samira glanced at him, her gaze expectant.

  “You were baptized,” he blurted. He remembered the ceremony—not for any theological reason, but because Charlotte had been ecstatic to be godmother. He wouldn’t say he was technically agnostic—he believed in God, he respected faith when it was real—but he’d been raised with religion as more of a campaign promise than an actual belief. “Baptized Christian when you were babies,” he stammered.

  Maddie frowned. “What’s bat-eyezed?”

  “It’s…” Jesus, what was it? “They put holy water on your forehead and um…”

  “Why?” Stella asked.

  Because your nana wanted them to. But somehow that didn’t seem like the right answer. Aiden looked at his daughters, at a loss. He was the wrong person to teach them about this. He didn’t know why they were Christian, didn’t really know what it meant.

  Samira saved him, stepping forward and kneeling in front of the girls. “Lots of religions have rituals—things they do that are special for people in their community. A lot of what religion most people are is about family and community and what is familiar to people who share their background. Faith can be something we pass down or it can be something we convert—or decide to do later in life—”

  “When you’re older you can learn about religions and decide which one you believe in.” There. Finally he had a good answer to contribute to the conversation.

  “Can we be Muslim?” Stella asked.

  Aiden thanked God—both the Muslim and the Christian version—that his mother hadn’t heard that question, and that Samira saved him before he had to figure out how to say yes, but don’t tell your grandmother.

  “You don’t have to decide that for a long time,” Samira said. “All you have to remember is that people aren’t automatically good or bad because of the religion they practice. All the religions I know, they all want us to be better people. That’s the beautiful thing about them. They all want to teach us how to be good and kind. That’s the best thing in any religion, being good and loving one another. That’s pretty cool, isn’t it?” Stella and Maddie nodded. “Now. Very important question—were your swimming suits dry?”

  The girls let themselves be distracted, declaring that the suits were dry and Samira herded them upstairs to help them into their swimming stuff—leaving behind their dolt of a father.

  Aiden stood in the kitchen, lost—and annoyed by his own discomfort. Bothered by his ignorance. If he ran for office he would be representing all perspectives—Muslim, Christian, Hindi, Buddhist, and dozens of others. Faith was a huge part of so many people’s lives and he was at sea.

  Thank God for Samira or he wouldn’t have been able to even have a conversation with his own daughters about religion. Here his parents were worried about Samira indoctrinating the girls, but she was simply teaching them. Yes, she taught them how to see the world, but the way she saw it was beautiful. She helped him see it in a new light, opened him up to a new perspective he needed.

  He needed her.

  The girls clambered down the stairs, with Samira in their wake. He realized he was running behind and jogged upstairs to change into his swim trunks. When he came back down, he realized Samira hadn’t changed. “Where’s your suit?”

  Samira gave him a look like he’d lost his mind, but her tone was mild. “I thought you three could have a father-daughter day.”

  The girls immediately protested and Aiden added his voice to theirs. “Don’t be silly. Come with us.”

  She met his eyes, her expression stern. “Aiden.”

  “Come with us,” he repeated. “I won’t have you hiding here all day.”

  “Who says it’s your choice what I do all day?�
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  She stared him down, almost daring him to play the employer card, but he wasn’t going to step on that landmine. “Please,” he said instead. “It won’t be the same without you.”

  He wasn’t going to let his parents scare her off. She was part of his family, whether they wanted to admit it or not. He would dig in his heels and make sure she was treated like a member of the family if he had to.

  She started to argue—he could see the intent in her eyes—but the girls piped up again, adding their pleas to his, and she relented, though he had the distinct feeling she was only going along with them because she didn’t want to have the argument they needed to have in front of the girls. One of the joys of parenting—strategically planning adult arguments. But since it worked in his favor this time, he certainly wasn’t going to complain.

  Even if she shot him a glare before she headed upstairs to collect her suit.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  He was using her.

  Samira resisted the urge to glare at Aiden as he cavorted with the girls in the pool. The only thing that saved it from being even more annoying was the fact that she was certain he had no idea he was doing it.

  She didn’t like being used to make a point. She’d never been comfortable with confrontation, never been one to seek out conflict—but that was exactly what he was doing by insisting she come to the pool with them. Throwing her in his parents’ faces. Using her presence to prove that he couldn’t be intimidated.

  She wanted to hate him for it, but she mostly just hated herself for giving in. And then even that emotion sputtered and died when he hauled himself, dripping, from the pool. Striding toward her like some kind of unfairly gorgeous sea god. Rivulets of water found paths along his muscles and she couldn’t even stay decently angry at the man. He was magnificent. Magical. Like a figment of her imagination. A character from a book she’d read—too perfect to be real.

  But he wasn’t perfect. He was Aiden—and right now she wanted to smack him.

  Stella and Maddie continued to shriek in the shallow end as Aiden tossed himself onto the lounger beside her, his long body stretched out like a freaking buffet. “I need to thank you.”

  She cast him a look out of the side of her eye. “What for?” For dragging her out to the pool as some kind of statement? For using her as a freaking prop? Her ex had done that—but she knew the comparison was unfair. Aiden could be so clueless sometimes.

  “For helping me out when I was drowning earlier. I don’t know what it is. I can argue in court for days on end for someone’s right to worship as they please, but as soon as my daughters ask me about religion, my tongue ties into a knot and I panic.”

  “I’m sure you would have done fine without me.”

  “I’m not. Ask me why I’m Christian and all I can hear are platitudes that don’t mean anything. I don’t know what it means. I like Christmas. For Santa Claus. I like Easter. For the candy. My family was never religious. It’s one of the things that makes me most nervous about running for office. I don’t want to have to play at being more religious than I am to get elected. I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “So don’t. Just be yourself.” She turned her head toward him, finding him already staring at her. His gaze was intent, almost determined.

  “Thank you for what you said to them.” He inclined his head toward the girls without taking his eyes off Samira.

  The way he was looking at her…

  It made her uncomfortable. Something uneasy crawling beneath her skin. “I can only speak to my situation. To my beliefs. I’m not the voice of my people. I’m not a mouthpiece for all Muslims—”

  “I’m obviously not a mouthpiece for all Christians.”

  “Aiden…” she started to argue, but Maddie scrambled out of the pool then, rushing into the middle of the conversation and demanding attention be paid to her deflating water wing.

  When that was taken care of Stella somehow skinned her ankle on a rough patch of tile in the pool and the moment was lost. The girls pulled Aiden back into the pool and begged Samira to come along. She demurred until Aiden made as if he would grab her and toss her into the water—his playful feint toward her somehow unspeakably intimate and she dove into the water on her own to avoid letting him touch her in full view of the west side of the house.

  She knew he wasn’t thinking of the eyes watching them—she hoped he wasn’t thinking of the eyes watching them. Because she couldn’t be his token Muslim. She didn’t want him to stay with her because he was making a political point about the right to love whomever you wanted.

  She’d never questioned his motivations before, but she was starting to see layers to their relationship she’d never considered. She didn’t want to be a political device any more than she wanted to be a handicap.

  And she was finally, after years of going through the motions and hiding in her attic room, starting to think about what she did want.

  Love. Affection. Family.

  All the things she’d written off as impossible when she’d stopped trusting herself after Trevor. Aiden had let her believe in them again—but he couldn’t give her those things. Not without messy strings attached.

  By the time they joined the rest of Aiden’s family on the side lawn for the wedding rehearsal later that afternoon, the girls were running on fumes and Maddie’s voice had taken on that patented whine that could cut through glass.

  Samira didn’t argue with Aiden’s request that she come along to help wrangle the girls and whisk them back to the cottage as soon as they’d learned their part of the elaborate production that his mother had orchestrated—but as soon as she caught the death glare Regina Montgomery-Raines leveled on her, part of her wished she’d told him he was on his own.

  Thankfully, the mother of the bride was too well bred to make a scene. She dismissed Samira with a glance and bustled around the group, corralling the wedding party to her liking.

  Moments later, she glided over and beamed at Maddie and Stella. “There are my girls! Are you ready to be the most adorable flower girls ever?” The question was evidently rhetorical, because she was already straightening to give her son an airy hug, her smile rigid. “What’s she doing here?” she asked under her breath, not even looking in Samira’s direction.

  Aiden’s expression darkened, but Samira missed his response as Maddie suddenly tried to lengthen her left arm by dropping her entire body weight on the end of it and swinging. “Maddie,” she scolded, looking down and rubbing her shoulder socket.

  “I’m hungry,” Maddie whined.

  “You just had a snack.” She’d made sure the girls were fed, rested and had both been to the bathroom before the rehearsal, but now they were wriggling restlessly around her legs.

  “I’m hungry too,” Stella announced and Samira clung to her patience.

  “We’ll eat dinner when we get back to the cottage.” It would be early for dinner, but from the circles under the girls’ eyes, the brief nap in the car on the way back from McDonalds hadn’t been enough and they could both use an early bedtime.

  “I want to eat now.” The pitch of Maddie’s voice grew even more grating. “I want a strawberry yogurt bar.”

  Samira usually kept protein bars and fruit gummies in her purse for emergency snacks, but she hadn’t brought her purse with her to the rehearsal. The trellis had been set up on the east lawn. They were only a five minute walk from the cottage. She hadn’t thought she would need emergency snacks.

  “I don’t have any yogurt bars, but I think I saw frozen yogurt bars in the freezer. If you’re good now and have a good dinner, we can have those for dessert.” The promise of dessert was almost always a reliable bribe—almost as good as Santa Claus when it came to bargaining for good behavior.

  Of course, there was always that one time out of a hundred when even dessert failed.

  “But I don’t want frozen yogurt! I want a strawberry yogurt bar! Now!” Maddie’s face flushed, screwing up into the expression that was inevit
ably followed by screeching hyena tears.

  Aiden was still in conversation with his mother and Samira shot him a look as she dropped to her knees in front of Maddie, bracing the girl’s tiny shoulders. “Maddie, honey, I know you want that, but we have to do the rehearsal so you can be princesses tomorrow. Now, how do we calm ourselves down? Do we focus on our breathing? Can you breathe with me?”

  Maddie hiccupped and gasped—thankfully not going into air-raid-siren mode, though tears had started to leak out of her eyes—as Aiden said, “They’ve had a long day. Can we do the part with them first so they can go back to the cottage and rest up for tomorrow?”

  Stella tugged on Samira’s arm—of course she did, Maddie was getting all the attention. One would think with her entire family around, she would have someone else to tug on, but the other adults were all locked into wedding mode and didn’t seem to notice the melt-down in progress.

  “I gotta pee,” Stella announced.

  Samira almost groaned, but kept her smile in place by force of will. “Can you hold it for a little while?” Maddie was calmer now, her face still red, but her gaze fixed on her sister, distracted by the drama of an impending bathroom disaster.

  Stella thought about that for a moment and shook her head somberly. “Now.”

  So of course their grandmother chose that moment to sweep in, waving beribboned baskets in front of the girls. “All set, darlings? Look at the baskets we have for you! Tomorrow there will be flower petals in them, but today we’re going to pretend—”

  Samira stood. “Mrs. Montgomery-Raines—” she began, intending to warn the woman of the four-year-old’s bladder situation, but the woman shot her a look that could have killed her on the spot and said with acid sweetness, “I have them, dear. We’ll let you know if we have need of your services.”

  Samira fell back a step, muttering too soft to be heard, “Don’t blame me if she pees on you.” It would serve the woman right. What had she ever done to earn that glare? Regina Montgomery-Raines had looked at her like she’d been caught murdering puppies, not kissing her son.