It’s six a.m. by the time I slip into the hotel room. Hassan is still asleep, his body rising and falling steadily, soft snores erupting from his nose and mouth each time he exhales.

I’m quiet as I strip down out of my street clothes and into my boxers, and slip between the covers of the empty queen-sized bed.

I feel so elated and filled with happiness, yet I’m tired to the bone at the same time. I wasn’t able to sleep deeply at Teresa’s house. She felt so fragile in my arms, and all that I wanted to do was hold her as she slept. The long night is catching up with me, and my eyelids close heavily.

Hassan’s voice wakes me.

“Time to wake up, Brother,” he says loudly. I arch my arms over my head and give a stiff stretch. He’s yanking on the cord that raises the blinds, and for the first time in days, sunlight meets my eye. I should have known, because of the star-studded sky the night before, that the storm clouds had finally passed over Pennsylvania.

The sunlight is almost blinding, and I crook one elbow to shade my eyes.

“We’ve got to pack, Jabir!” Hassan says. He’s carrying a white ceramic mug, and he places it down on the nightstand by my head. Groggily, I sit up and scratch my bare chest before reaching for the coffee.

“I’ve already gone down to the lobby and cleared up our bill with Dawn. I called Father’s assistant, and she’s booking our flight for this evening. A red-eye. Is that okay with you?”

“Thanks,” I say, my voice cracking with sleepiness.

“Seems like you’re just fine with staying up late at night, so it shouldn’t inconvenience you. What time were you out until, anyway?”

I sip my coffee, stalling before I answer him. It’s black and strong, and immediately I feel more awake. “I was at Teresa’s house until early this morning,” I admit.

Suddenly, I’m thinking of the way it felt to kiss her, before I left her cabin just before dawn. I remember the way she wrapped her arms around my neck, and how hard it was to leave. She’s working today, and I’ve promised that we’ll see each other one more time before I leave for Dalai.

I set my mug down, suddenly concerned that Hassan’s going to rush us out onto the road before Teresa’s shift starts.

“How long is the drive to the airport?” I ask.

I glance at the bedside clock, and relief hits me as I see that it’s already a quarter after ten. Teresa mentioned that her shift starts at nine thirty, which means she’s already downstairs.

I spring up out of bed before my brother can answer my question.

Halfway to the shower, I hear him call out, “It’s a four-hour drive.”

The hot water feels good on my skin, and once out, I feel refreshed and awake. Hassan and I pack quickly. I’m eager to go downstairs, and don’t allow myself to dwell on the fact that seeing her means that we’ve arrived at my final goodbye—and that tonight, I’ll be soaring across the Atlantic, and will land fourteen hours later, thousands of miles away from her.

I only think about her smile. Her laugh. Her kiss. The way she felt when I wrapped my arms around her.

We’re walking down the stairs. Hassan’s dragging his suitcase, and I’ve got my own. I have Neville’s hat clutched in my hand, so that I don’t forget to give it back to him.

My eyes search the lobby.

The desk is empty, but as we thump and clunk our way down the carpeted staircase, Teresa emerges from a back hallway. She takes her position behind the desk, and I see mixed emotions sweep across her face. Joy—the same joy that I feel when I see her—comes first, and then sadness, just as I can feel growing somewhere deep within my chest.

She looks beautiful—even prettier than usual, if that’s possible. Her blond hair frames her heart-shaped face. Her stormy eyes look larger and more alluring than ever.

As usual, her cherry-red lips stand out as her best feature. I can’t help but stare as she delivers one of her winning smiles, and steps out from behind the desk to greet us.

She’s dressed in a cream-colored cardigan, and it looks soft and fuzzy to the touch. As if to celebrate the return of the sun, she’s wearing a baby blue skirt that falls just below her knees.

I want to walk straight up to her and kiss her like I did a few hours earlier. But now that Hassan is with us, and she’s on shift, I hold back.

I wasn’t expecting it to be so difficult.

I stop a few feet from her, and she does the same. There’s so much passing between us as we look at each other. I feel that she wishes we were alone, too.

“Hi,” is all I can think to say out loud.

“Hi.” She slides one foot behind the other, as if she’s nervous. I don’t want her to be.

She speaks timidly. “Have you already checked out? I could do your paperwork now, if you—”

“Hassan handled it already, but thank you. I—”

“Oh, that’s good, I didn’t know if—”

“We’re all settled up. Now it’s time to hit the road, I guess…”

As if Hassan can’t handle the awkwardness of the conversation that’s passing between Teresa and I, he clamps a hand down on my shoulder. “I’ll be out in the car,” he says to me. And then, to Teresa he adds, “It was wonderful to meet you.”

I’m not sure that Hassan even knows Teresa’s name, and I’m amazed at how he could have missed out on experiencing the best thing that New Hampstead had to offer. The instant he’s gone, Teresa and I embrace. It’s quick, and as she pulls away I note that she looks quickly around. I wonder if she’s nervous about her bosses walking in on us.

I feel the familiar need to make her smile.

“You look beautiful,” I say. “And I wanted to tell you… I had a wonderful time with you, last night.”

Though my intention was to ease her mind, I see that I’ve only made her more nervous. Her cheeks turn a pale version of cherry red, matching her lips perfectly.

“Thank you… I mean, yes. I did, too. I wasn’t expecting—”

I’ll never know what she wasn’t expecting, though I can guess that it has to do with the way we ended up in her bed together. At that moment, there’s the sound of movement beyond the inn’s front entrance. The door bursts open with a startling crash of bells.

Teresa and I spring farther apart, and I turn my body to see what the commotion is.

“Derryl!” I hear Teresa say in shock.

“Are you Jabir Abdullah?” a man asks. Several more men are piling into the inn’s lobby behind him.

I puff out my chest, standing a bit taller. “I am Sheikh Jabir Abdullah, yes.” My voice is firm, and fills the room. Through the front door, which has been left wide open, I see Hassan hurrying up the steps. In an instant he’s at my side. “And this is my brother, Sheikh Hassan Abdullah.”

Though we’re by far outnumbered by the dozen-strong mob of men, I feel better with Hassan beside me. The men are facing us, glaring. The man in the lead, the one Teresa called Derryl, forms two fists at his side. I’m glad that he doesn’t raise his meaty fists as he starts to speak. “We want answers!” he says gruffly.

“I understand,” is my response. I try to breathe evenly. The way they’ve burst into the lobby, and the way their eyes glint with anger has me on edge. But I don’t want things to escalate. I feel Teresa’s eyes on me, as I continue. “Tell us what you want to know.”

“Why are you here? What is the meaning of your visit? And, most importantly, why are you leaving town without giving us answers?”

Derryl seems to be the leader of the group, and as he finishes talking, several others standing behind him chime in. “Yeah!” “We want some answers.” “What’s this all about?”

“Look,” I say. “We aren’t trying to hide anything from you.” My voice is metered and professional. I spread my hands wide, and look Derryl in the eye. He looks away. “We made this visit because there have been some issues, which stem from this transmission factory. We wanted to see for ourselves what the problem was.”

“Problem?! There’s no problem. The only problem is you coming unannounced, threatening to take away our jobs without notice.”

“Yes, there is a problem” Hassan says, stepping forward. His tone is more aggressive than mine, and I hear a hint of anger in it. “There have been many problems: late deliveries, delays all the way down the production line, because of this factory.”

An angry grumbling rises up from the men. I see Derryl pump his fists. Open, closed. Open, closed.

“That’s no reason to come here out of blue and threaten to put us out of work! We have rights. This is our livelihood!”

“No one’s threatening you,” Hassan says hotly.

“Yes, you are. How’d you feel if we came over to wherever you’re from, and said you might not have a job to go to tomorrow? You feel like that’d be a threat then, huh? Would you?”

Derryl steps forward. “We want straight answers!” he glares at Hassan, and my brother glares back.

Now it’s my turn to intervene.

“Derryl,” I say, drawing his attention away from my brother. “That’s your name, right?”

He nods in affirmation.

“Good. It’s nice to meet you. Derryl, we know that the problems that are happening at this plant are out of your control. You’re dealing with really tough conditions up here—not enough workers, and poor roads. Right now, we’re trying to figure out what we can do about that. You guys work hard. We were really impressed by what we saw on our visit. We need to take some time now to try to troubleshoot and see what can be done.”

I see the redness in his face dissipate, and I know that my words have lowered his blood pressure. He still holds his aggressive stance, his hands clenched at his side, his body leaning forward, but now there’s less energy behind it. He meets my eye and nods.

“We’ll, do what you gotta do,” he says, after a moment. “But don’t think that we’re gonna stand for this lying down. We have families. We have homes here. That factory is our livelihood, and we’re gonna fight for it.”

“I understand,” I say. I don’t flinch. I don’t avoid the pain or fear in his eyes. I just stand there, looking at him. “I would do the same, if I had a family.”

The tension in the room is lifting, easing off of us like a hot iron being lifted off of a just-pressed shirt.

I can still feel adrenaline coursing through me, but I try to say something light, to keep things moving in the right direction.

“Hassan and I are really very thankful to you—all of you—for welcoming us into your town. We know how important the Canarra plant is to New Hampstead, and I promise you, we don’t take the decision that lies before us lightly.”

There’s more grumbling and grunting. Soon, the men are shuffling out the door. One of them apologizes to Dawn—now standing by the front desk—for interrupting the morning. Derryl even steps forward and gives my hand a quick shake, and then Hassan’s.

We both say goodbye to the workers. Hassan is stiff, his face still red. I can see how upset the intrusion has made him. I have to admit that I’m ruffled, too, to say the least.

I realize that I’m still holding Neville’s hat. As the last of the workers exits and shuts the door behind him, I hold it up to Dawn. “Here’s Neville’s hat.” I set it on the desk, which she’s stepped behind. “Please tell him thank you for letting me borrow it. I can’t tell you what a difference it made.” I slide it towards her.

She slides it back. “Jabir, please keep it. It’s yours. Think of it as a little souvenir. We’ve so enjoyed having you stay here at the Mountain Laurel. Haven’t we, Teresa?”

“Thank you,” I say, and then glance at Teresa. I can’t help it. I walk over to her, and wrap her up in a hug. “Goodbye,” I whisper in her ear, before we pull apart. She says nothing, but I read her goodbye in her eyes.

“Goodbye,” I say to Dawn.

I join Hassan, who is already at the door. He exits, and I follow him.

The sunlight has transformed the town. It’s hard to believe that the thick blanket of whiteness has had so much power over us for the past few days.

Despite the bright, sparkling sunlight which is bouncing off of every surface as we cruise down Main Street, it feels as if a gray cloud is hanging over the sports car.

I’m driving, but my mind isn’t on the road.

It’s on the men’s angry faces, the pain and fear in Derryl’s eyes. It’s on the way Teresa felt when I hugged her, so fragile in my arms, and the way she stayed silent when I said goodbye.