24
TWO DAYS LATER
The Sheikh watched her clean his wound with fresh spring water, and his breath caught when he saw Sage staring up at him with those big ocher eyes. His mother’s eyes, he thought. Though he has my nose. He will be a handsome boy. Not that there was any doubt.
“He is beautiful,” the Sheikh whispered into Irene’s hair as she leaned over towards him. “We must make another.”
Irene jerked back and stared up at him. “What did you just say?”
The Sheikh blinked hard and looked away, almost embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He didn’t even remember thinking it. The words just came out, like how spring water bubbles up spontaneously where the ground can no longer hold it in.
He stayed quiet, and Irene spoke. “Why did you come to Wyoming three years ago, Bilaal?”
The Sheikh shifted uncomfortably. “To offer my . . . sympathy. It was the right thing to do.”
“When we made love,” she said softly, dabbing at his wound, “you said something about keeping a promise. Did you promise Dan you'd come see me? Did he ask you to come see me?” She looked at Sage, then back into his eyes like she knew even though she couldn't know for sure.
“Yes,” said the Sheikh, looking at Sage and then back at Irene but saying nothing more.
She stayed quiet after that, and in her eyes the Sheikh could see that they would never need to talk about this again. Promises had been made and promises had been kept. The details could remain unspoken. They would remain unspoken.
Irene smiled as if she'd made the same decision, and immediately the mood lightened. She finished cleaning his wound, glanced at Sage, and then smiled up at the Sheikh. “What was that you muttered about making another?” she said, her face going red even under her tanned cheeks.
The Sheikh felt the color rush to his own cheeks. “Nothing. I said nothing. It must have been the wind in the trees.”
“There’s no wind,” said Irene, smiling down at herself as she slapped the Sheikh’s wound playfully, making him wince and flex his tanned biceps. “In fact there’s barely even a breeze. It’s too hot to keep going right now. Let’s wait out the hottest part of the day under those trees. The sun doesn’t set till past nine, and you said we should be there by nightfall, yeah?”
The Sheikh nodded. After buying some food and water, blankets, a tarpaulin, and emergency supplies from a store along the highway, the three of them had headed back into the woods, following the path of the river, which the Sheikh knew would lead them to the cabin he’d purchased years ago, through one of his international subsidiaries based in Canada. It had been four years since he’d been there, but he’d kept it stocked with provisions that wouldn’t spoil for at least that long. The land had been selected because it was self-sustaining, even offering some flats for farming, in case anyone needed to live there for years on end, perhaps forever. The Sheikh never seriously thought he’d need it—it was more of an insurance policy, in case he ever needed to disappear for a while from even those closest to him, perhaps even the CIA. Paranoid, but given his work in the shadows, who knew. And now, lo and behold, he indeed needed to disappear.
But I am taking the people who are closest to me, he thought. And doing it for the other one person who means so much to me. Yes, he thought as he went over what he was doing again. I am doing the right thing for Mala’s safety. It kills me to put her through the grief of losing me for a year, but she is strong and she will survive and get stronger. It is the right thing, is it not, Allah? I am not just doing this because . . .
He didn’t finish the thought, because Irene had walked ahead of him and set Sage down on one of the blankets he’d been wrapped in. She sat next to him, and he curled up against her thighs as she stroked his hair and hummed a tune that sounded familiar to the Sheikh.
“What is that song?” he asked quietly as he stood above the two of them and scanned their surroundings for any dangerous flora or fauna. It seemed clear. Bears were the only real danger in these woods, but they made sure to make enough noise walking through, so as not to surprise a bear or her cubs. So far so good.
“It’s an old cowboy tune,” Irene said, smiling up at him. “My mom used to sing it to me when I was little. I don’t remember the words, but I’ll never forget the tune.”
“I like it,” said the Sheikh as he sat down. He reached out and touched her hair, bringing his head close as he listened. Then he placed his hand gently on Sage’s head and began to hum along with Irene.
For a long time the two of them hummed that lullaby, both of them gently stroking their son’s head, assuring him they were right there, that he was safe with his all-powerful parents, in the loving arms of Mother Nature. The boy was deep asleep when they realized their hands were entwined and their eyes were locked.
This is the essence of life, the Sheikh thought as he felt a lump in his throat at the sight of his sleeping son, his singing woman, the friendly shade of the trees, the delicate gurgle of the stream beside them. Yes, this is the essence of life. And life is for the living, is it not?
Yes, he thought, and without saying a word he leaned in and kissed her full on the lips, hard and heavy like he meant it. By God, he kissed her.