Hamid appeared early that morning, and they set off through the irrigation fields. Elsa, hoping she’d see Mike, carried the burqa, which she’d wrapped securely in paper. Along the way, they shared stories from the wedding celebration.
“Sidiq and Amina make a fine couple, yes?” Hamid smiled proudly. As the one who’d brokered the marriage, he felt invested in their future—almost like a brother to Sidiq.
They arrived at the clinic and there, idling just outside, was Mike’s jeep. Dave sat in the passenger seat, his blond hair glistening in the sun. His pistol was strapped securely to his belt, and another handgun, fastened to his ankle, peeked out from under his pant leg. The sight of the weapons reminded her once again that their mission here—the details of which they never shared—was far more dangerous than she’d ever imagined.
Dave smiled as she approached the jeep. “Hey there,” he drawled. “Late night, huh? You look beat.”
“Thanks, that’s what every girl wants to hear,” she replied. “It was a late night but it was fun. I’m so glad I had the chance to see a wedding here, aren’t you?”
Dave smiled wanly. “It reminded me of how much I miss Lisa and the kids. It’s been almost a year since I’ve seen them.”
He shook his head and pulled out their pictures, always in the pocket nearest his heart and long faded from handling.
She reached out and touched his sleeve. “Soon,” she said. “You have only, what, two months left?”
Dave grinned broadly and replied, “You got it, doll, just two months and I am Bagram bound.”
She smiled and asked if Mike was with him.
“Mike’s always with me. Jeez, I spend more time with him than I ever spent with Lisa.”
“Lucky you,” Elsa said. “I wish I had more time with him.”
“You’re pretty much alone in that house right now. I’m sure you two can work something out. I know for a fact that Mike is hoping for some time with you,” Dave said with a wink.
Glancing around to make certain no one was near, Elsa told Dave about her idea.
“Could work,” he said. “Could work.”
At that moment, Mike strode toward them and from their expressions, he knew they were up to something.
“What’s up?” he inquired. “You two look like you’re scheming.”
He listened as Elsa told him about the burqa.
“Lord knows I done crazier things than that,” he said, and chuckled. “You got this burqa with you?”
Elsa handed him the small package. “I’ll see you tonight then?” she asked.
“Most definitely. I’ll be there at seven sharp. Make sure that you’re at the gate so I don’t have to talk. There’s not a woman anywhere who ever sounded like me—at least I hope not!”
At that, he leaped into the jeep and drove off in another cloud of dust.
Elsa rushed through her day, sending Sidiq home early to be with his new wife.
“Burro, burro,” she commanded the smiling groom. “Enjoy some time with Amina.” Then she rushed home as well, stopping only long enough to let Parween know she wouldn’t be coming for dinner.
Parween smiled and nodded her understanding.
“I wish you a happy evening,” she said with a knowing smile.
Elsa arrived home before four o’clock and threw herself onto her sleeping pad to take a nap before Mike arrived. She woke after an hour and stepped into her washroom to prepare for the evening, bathing and then rubbing her skin with the cream she’d loaned Amina for her wedding.
Elsa stood in front of her mirror and combed her hair, letting it hang loose at her shoulders. Daydreaming about the evening ahead, she took out her lipstick and lazily drew the soft pink color across her lips. Pulling on a bright green dress that she’d had made in the bazaar, she next donned the oversize pants that were now a part of every outfit she wore.
Draping her veil across her shoulders, she headed to the kitchen.
Rashid had sent over some of the leftover wedding food, so she gathered it up and set the floor for dinner. She had two forks and knives so at least they could eat with utensils. She wished she were serving steak and wine, but tonight they would settle for goat with rice and beans. She hoped that Mike’s mind—like hers—wasn’t on food.
She checked her watch. It was almost seven. She went to the main gate and opened it slightly. Within minutes, she heard the now familiar sound of an army jeep as it approached and then quickly sped away. She poked her head out and saw a tall figure, hunched over, clad in the indigo burqa, coming her way.
She pulled the tall gate open and Mike scurried in. Neither could hold back their laughter and they fell giggling into each other’s arms.
Mike stepped back and pulled the burqa over his head, and it was then that Elsa noticed that he still had his boots on. He saw the concerned look on her face and piped up.
“I just couldn’t wear sandals. I need my boots, honey. No one’s around and I know that no one saw me.”
Smiling warily, she led him to their little feast. They sat cross-legged on the floor and picked at the food before deciding they weren’t really hungry after all. Their impatience hung in the air; they’d waited so long to be alone, and now they could only stare at each other.
Elsa sighed and gazed at Mike, who finally took a deep breath and pulled her to him.
“Oh, sorry, wait a minute,” Mike said as he pulled away, unholstered his gun, and laid it beside him on the floor. Then he reached down and unstrapped a smaller pistol from his ankle. He sat back up and smiled.
Elsa felt a surge of relief to see him remove his weapons, a soldier no more—at least not tonight.
“Now I’m ready,” he said as she led him to her room.
They fumbled with belts and buckles and buttons, and once they were both free of their clothes, they fell into a deep embrace. At Mike’s touch, Elsa’s body came alive. Her skin burned, her nerves on fire. The feel of his skin, as coarse as it was, rubbing against her own smoothness was almost too much to bear.
His tongue probed her lips and mouth and then down to explore her hidden parts. She thought she would burst with pleasure. She stroked his thighs and arms and when he lifted himself on top of her, the weight of him was as welcome as a blanket in winter.
Could this be happening to me? She was almost afraid to let herself trust Mike completely and let this moment take her where it would. When she finally gave herself up to him, the thrill of their coming together dissolved all of her doubts, and she knew this was meant to be. She wished the night would go on forever.
Immersed in passion as they were, Elsa had no idea how long their lovemaking lasted, but eventually they lay back and she let the happiness play over her. Though sated, they weren’t sleepy, so they stayed up and—in between moments of renewed passion—talked about their dreams for the future.
“Now that I’ve met you, I’m not letting you go. So… what do you say? Maybe, when we get home, we spend some time together, and then, once I’m out of the army, we look into working somewhere as a team.” Mike ran his fingers along Elsa’s bare shoulder, and her skin tingled.
“Ohh, Mike, that sounds wonderful. Maybe we could go to Rwanda, or, well… anywhere they need us.”
“I’ll follow you anywhere, Elsa. Absolutely anywhere.” His voice melted to a whisper, and pulling her close, he kissed her.
They lay together and finally, as light filtered into the room and the haunting sounds of the call to prayer rippled through the morning air, they fell asleep in each other’s arms. By the time Elsa woke, Mike had slipped out and taken the burqa with him. She turned and ran her hand over the spot where he had lain. His scent still lingered in the air, and reluctantly, she rose and heated water for her coffee.
She could barely think as she absentmindedly poured the coffee and watched it spill over the brim of her cup. Smiling at her sudden ineptness, she climbed up to the roof to watch the village come to life. There, in the pale light of morning, the village seemed dif
ferent somehow. It was softer, more peaceful. But then again, maybe it was her and not the village after all.
Her doubts had faded away. She loved this man.
27
While Elsa’s life was filled with moments of pure bliss, Parween’s was filled with worry.
Her beloved uncle Abdullah was dying.
Although he’d suffered from TB for many years, Elsa’s diagnosis seemed to send his disease into overdrive. His once-hardy frame shriveled with each passing day, and his skin hung in loose folds. Four months after hearing the news, he was almost bedridden and in constant pain from the blood-spewing coughs that wracked his bony chest. He spent his days curled up on his sleeping pad.
His wife hovered over him, and his son Hussein was summoned from a nearby village. Only Parween seemed intent on fighting the disease.
“Uncle, please don’t just give up,” she’d begged. “We can try to get to Kabul as Elsa advised. Please, Uncle, please.” There were tears in her eyes. She didn’t know how she would manage without him.
Abdullah pulled himself up to a sitting position and hacked a cough that filled the room. He wiped his mouth with his scarf and sat back.
“Oh, my little Parween, it seems that only yesterday you were the tiny girl who arrived from Onai.” He smiled at the memory. “Come, little one.” He wrapped her in his skeletal arms. “You remember how angry you were then?” His breathing, heavy and slow, demanded great effort, and his words came out in short bursts. “You wanted adventure, not the veil, but you did as you were told, and Allah has taken care of you.”
He paused again to cough, a cough that seemed to tear out his insides. He fell back onto the cushions.
“Little one, it is up to Allah. I am in his hands now.”
Abdullah closed his eyes and Parween felt tears sting her own. She was glad of his nap, for he wouldn’t see her sadness. This great bear of a man had been reduced to a fading shadow, and for Parween—and those who loved him so—these days were filled with unrelenting sadness.
She sent word to Elsa to come to the house as soon as possible.
Elsa had seen Abdullah several times over the last few months and had witnessed his rapid decline. Though she’d known his disease was in its late stages, she’d worried over its swift progression.
When Elsa arrived at the door, Parween collapsed into tears of grief.
“Oh, Elsa, please do something. Don’t let him die, not yet. Please.”
Elsa asked where he was and, with Parween by her side, walked softly into his room. The rattle in Abdullah’s chest made such a racket it roused him from sleep.
“Oh, my dear Elsa,” he whispered with difficulty as she examined him.
“Don’t speak, Uncle,” Elsa said as she sat by his side. She took out her stethoscope and listened to his heart and lungs. When she was finished, she sighed heavily and sat back, patting Abdullah’s hand.
“The TB has progressed, and his heart seems to be affected now as well. It’s not pumping as well as it should, and that’s why he’s swollen and short of breath. I think we can give him some medicine to strengthen his heartbeat at the hospital and take out the extra fluid. With less swelling his breathing will likely be easier. It’s worth a try.”
Elsa paused and turned to Parween. “Did he understand my Dari? Will he go?”
Parween whispered to Abdullah, who took Elsa’s hand and muttered, “Balay, yes. Of course, I will go with you.”
His son hooked up a little cart to the family’s donkey and they all helped settle Abdullah there as comfortably as possible. Elsa and Parween walked next to the cart as it traveled the dusty road to the hospital. When they arrived, Elsa went to find a staff member and arrange for a bed. Abdullah refused to go in unless he could walk unaided.
“I’m not dead yet,” he said stubbornly as he walked slowly to the entrance.
Elsa found Ezat, and with Parween’s help, she explained about Abdullah, his disease, and the medicines she thought he’d need.
Ezat nodded as he listened. “I’ll have a look at him. There’s a bed in the far room; he can go there.”
While Ezat and the staff made Abdullah comfortable, Elsa went back to work. By nightfall, Abdullah’s breathing had eased considerably. With some of the extra fluid removed by the medicine, he was able to rest easily. Parween left him with his son by his side and went home to her babies.
Elsa stopped in to see him before she left for the day. He smiled broadly and sat up to greet her. “I believe that Allah sent you to us, Elsa.” He took her hand and smiled. “Inshallah, I will see you tomorrow.”
“You will see me tomorrow, Uncle.”
Elsa was staying with Parween that night and when she arrived, she passed on the news that he was better. “He’s doing so well, Ezat may release him tomorrow.”
Parween smiled bravely. “Thank you, dear friend.”
She sat to a supper of rice and beans with Parween, Rahima, and the children. Zahra curled herself up by Elsa and swiftly fell asleep. Once supper was finished, Elsa pulled out her own sleeping pad. She was tired; she just wanted to sleep.
“Wake me when the rooster crows, Parween, and we can go to check on Uncle Abdullah.”
“Shab bokhai, good night, Elsa,” Parween whispered.
The next morning, Ezat declared Abdullah well enough to leave the hospital. “The fluid will return, but for now he is well enough to go home. He can take his pills there.”
Abdullah shook Ezat’s hand and walked out of the hospital. With help, he pulled himself onto the donkey, where he sat for the trip home.
Within days of his homecoming, Abdullah was as short of breath as ever. Despite the medicines, the tuberculosis continued to gnaw at his lungs and swallow his life. He took again to his bed, but he remained calm, calling family members to his side for a final good-bye.
Parween cried and refused to say good-bye, so Abdullah spoke.
“Elsa is your true friend, little one. Take care of her, keep her safe. It is Allah’s wish.” Once Abdullah had dispensed with his good-byes, he lay back peacefully.
Parween stayed by his side. When his breathing slowed or rattled, she rubbed his chest and whispered, “Breathe deeply, Uncle, breathe deeply.” And when she spoke, his breathing seemed to ease, and he would rest for a bit until the fluid in his lungs swelled up and caused him to choke again and again.
It went on like that for another day until finally, Parween’s whispers and gentle touches were not enough. He slipped away quietly in the deep of a moonlit night while Parween and the family slept.
When Parween woke and went to check on him, she thought at first that the quiet meant his breathing had improved.
“Uncle,” she called, “are you feeling better?”
But there was no reply and when she reached him, she saw that his skin was gray and it was cool to her touch. He was dead—there was no mistaking it.
Parween felt her heart grow heavy. She cried softly and kissed his hands and face before she summoned the rest of the family.
His wife and son washed him and prepared him for burial. Hussein went to the family cemetery and dug out a place next to Mariam’s plot for Abdullah. The family wrapped him in his favorite gray patou, a blanket that he’d worn almost every day of his life, to carry him aloft to his resting place.
Elsa and Hamid arrived in time for the prayers and final goodbyes. Parween and Rahima held each other tight and cried.
Elsa stood next to Parween and took her hand.
“He is free of pain and suffering. Surely, he is happy now in heaven.”
Parween rested her head on Elsa’s shoulder.
Hussein announced that he would move back to Bamiyan and take his father’s place as head of the household. He sent for his wife and small son, and they traveled from the nearby village where he’d herded sheep for a wealthy landowner. Here in Bamiyan, he would manage the small sheep-tending business his father had developed, and he would manage the family’s life, as well.
Although he was a good man, he was not nearly as open-minded as Abdullah had been about the family’s women. It rankled Hussein that Parween, widowed then for more than a year, had not been claimed by Raziq’s brother. He said it was not right for a woman to stay a widow; it was unseemly and improper.
He summoned Rahima to tell her of his decision.
“We must accept that in these difficult times, Raziq’s brother may be dead, but even that does not change the fact that Parween is a young woman and must be married,” he stated flatly. “I am a reasonable man, Rahima. Still, I believe that we must follow the custom.” He paused and crossed his arms.
“And so,” he said, continuing, “I have decided that I will take Parween as my second wife. You know me, Rahima, and you may rest assured that I will care for her as if she were my only wife. It is for the best, and it keeps the family together. I am sure she will agree. Please tell her of my decision.”
Rahima stammered her reply.
“I… I don’t know that Raziq’s brother is dead. I don’t know what has been arranged.” She clasped her shaking hands together. “I will speak to Parween.”
Rahima found Parween gathering eggs from their scraggly hen.
“I must speak with you, daughter. Come.” She guided Parween to their room, where they could speak privately. She quickly told Parween of Hussein’s intent.
Parween felt as though she’d been hit in the chest; she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think. Only one thought swirled in her mind, and she was firm when she spoke it.
“I will not be his second wife, or anyone’s wife for that matter. How dare he?” Her voice dripped with anger. “We are fine. I do not need a man. Mother, you forced me once and I made a wonderful match, but I will not be forced a second time—and to be his second wife. Aagh! Tell him I would sooner marry a goat!”
“Calm yourself, Parween. Anger is not the answer,” Rahima replied. “I have thought about it. I can tell him that you have had word from Raziq’s brother and that he will be coming to claim you as his own wife, but when we do not know. You can say that you hadn’t told anyone yet because of Uncle Abdullah’s sickness. No one need know that the information is false.”
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