Leila gazed at her reflection in the mirror, eyes dark and solemn in her waxy pale face. She saw her mother’s hands, graceful and white as lily petals as they plucked and tweaked at the veils that covered her long black hair, veils that soon would be arranged to cover her face as well, until the final moments of the nikah ceremony later that morning when her husband would lift them to gaze at last upon the face of his wife.
At least, she thought, there would not be many people present to witness that moment. Only her parents and her sisters, Nadia and Sammi, of course, and Salma, and perhaps a few of the other servants who had known her since she was a baby. She was glad she would not have to face Elena, and especially Hassan. Salma had told her that they had left last evening for their honeymoon trip, right after returning from their tour of the oil refineries with Cade. Most of the guests who had attended Hassan and Elena’s wedding had left yesterday, as well, and probably would not even know yet of Leila’s humiliation.
Sadly, she thought of the wedding she had always imagined for herself, the most wonderful, beautiful occasion…even more glorious than Hassan’s. Instead, it must be only a brief and private, almost secretive affair, with only her closest family attending. Papa would preside over the ceremony, of course. She would not even have a Walima, since she and Cade would have to leave for his home in Texas immediately after the nikah ceremony, and so how could there be a joyous celebration of its consummation?
Her stomach lurched and she swallowed hard. I wish I had some makeup, she thought. Lipstick, at least. What will Cade think, when he sees me looking so pale?
Does he think I am pretty at all?
Will he want to kiss me again, the way he did that night?
Her stomach gave another of those dreadful lurches. Oh, she thought, I do hope I’m not going to throw up.
Another time…another place…
She took a deep breath, and then another. After tonight I will be his wife. Will he want me then?
“Are you all right?” her mother asked, holding her hands away from the veils and looking concerned. “Do you need to sit down for a moment?”
“I am fine, mother,” Leila said, trying a light laugh. “I was just thinking about Sammi and Nadia. Are they very angry with me?” Not Nadia, of course—she was the one who had convinced Leila to go through with this. But Leila had not told her mother that.
Her mother gave a rather unladylike snort. “Of course they are not angry with you.” She paused to consider the effect she had just created with the drape of the veils, then threw Leila a quick, bright glance by way of the mirror. “They have been no more happy than you have, you know, with some of our more…restrictive ways. To have one such restriction done away with they see as a victory for themselves as well as for you.”
Leila could only stare back at her, openmouthed with surprise. She had never heard her mother speak so freely. It occurred to her then, perhaps for the first time, that her mother was a person in her own right, a woman of intelligence, with her own thoughts, opinions, hopes and dreams. And she suddenly wished with all her heart, now that it was too late, that she could have talked with her about those things.
This time, the lurch was not in her stomach, but in her heart. She made an impulsive movement, a jerky half turn. “Mother—” she began, then paused, because Alima’s eyes had darkened with worry…and something else. Embarrassment?
Her mother took a small step back and clasped her hands together in front of her ample chest. “Leila…my dear, you are the first of my daughters to marry. I am sorry—I do not know…exactly how…” She closed her eyes for a moment and bent her head over her clasped hands, as if in prayer, then drew a resolute breath. “What is it you would like to know? There must be questions you wish to ask. Please do not be afraid. I will try—”
A strange little bubble rose into Leila’s throat—part nervousness, part excitement, a little guilt—but she bit it back before it could erupt in laughter. A wave of unheralded tenderness swept over her; she suddenly felt quite amazingly mature and wise. “Mother,” she said gently, “I know about sex. Really. You do not have to worry.”
“Oh dear.” Alima closed her eyes and let out an exasperated breath. “I was afraid of that.”
“From school.” Leila was softly laughing. “It is all right. Really.” She did not think it necessary to mention to her mother that most of her “education” on the subject of sex had not come from classrooms and textbooks, but from the lurid novels and how-to books smuggled in from time to time by Leila’s classmates and examined late at night, by flashlight, under the covers, to the accompaniment of giggles, gasps of amazement and sometimes, outright horror.
Her mother sighed, reached for her and drew her close, in a way she had not done since Leila was a little girl. “Then…you are truly all right? You are not afraid?”
As she fought back tears, Leila briefly considered lying. Then, trembling, she whispered, “Mummy, I am terrified.”
“Oh, my dear one—”
“He is a stranger to me! Who is he? What is he like, this…Cade Gallagher? Mummy, I do not know him at all!”
“Then you will learn,” said her mother in an unexpectedly firm voice, putting Leila away from her and making little brushing adjustments to her veils. “And he will learn about you. And, God willing, you will continue doing so all the days of your lives. As your father and I have.”
“Mother?” Leila brushed a tear. “Did you know Father well before you married? Did you…love him?”
Alima considered that for a moment, and there was a faraway look in her dark eyes. Then she smiled. “I knew that he was a good man….” Then she added more firmly, “And I believe Cade Gallagher to be a good man, as well.”
She paused as Leila turned from her in frustration. Catching hold of her arm, she gave it a tug and said with exasperation, “Leila, you went to his room. Have you forgotten? There must have been a reason. Perhaps you should try to remember what it was about Mr. Gallagher that made you do such an incredibly foolish thing! What made you decide, of all the men in the world, to pursue him?”
In the silence that followed, Leila heard her mother’s words like an echo inside her head. What was it about Mr. Gallagher? What was it…what was it?
Once again she faced her own reflection in the mirror, but now her eyes saw another scene…a sunlit garden, bright with flowers and people and noisy with chatter and the shush of fountains…and a tall man in a pale gray suit and a western cowboy hat with his face lifted to follow the flight of a bird, smiling…eyes alight with wonder, like a child’s. And she drew a long, unsteady breath.
Yes. That was it. The moment when I knew. Everything else came after….
For a long moment her own dark eyes gazed back at her. Then, carefully, she lifted the veils and pulled them forward so that they completely covered her face. They would not be lifted again until her husband drew them aside to look for the first time upon the face of his wife.
She turned to her mother and said in a voice without tremors, “I am ready.”
It
