Allure of Deceit (13 page)

Leila had somehow tricked his brother. He was sure, but to say as much would anger Thara, so he kept quiet. He had to pose careful questions rather than accusations. He asked when Thara learned of Leila's predicament.

“Only a few nights before Ali's death,” she explained. “Leila was terrified. Can you imagine how alone she felt? Our mother had warned us that it was our duty to avoid tempting others, and Leila worried my parents would never speak to her again. But my mother kept her secret and arranged her marriage quickly.”

She paused. “You know the village would have killed them both. Leila was furious that all Ali cared about was going to school. She could not understand why he wouldn't help when she was so desperate.”

Saddiq could not understand such angry hatred for Ali. Village girls knew more than the boys did about such matters. Many mothers told their daughters about marriage well in advance rather than leaving it to the new husband or his mother. Fathers in Laashekoh told boys about their duties a few nights before the wedding contract was signed.

“Maybe he didn't believe her,” Thara admitted, retying her headscarf as if to protect herself. “Our mother was so eager about Leila staying in Laashekoh. She often talked about how wonderful it would be if Leila married Ali and stayed.”

Saddiq could not imagine his brother convincing his parents about such a marriage. He also could not imagine his brother keeping such a secret and told Thara as much.

“Perhaps she lied,” Thara mused. “We will never know. What would your brother have done had he known?”

Saddiq couldn't answer and didn't know which was sadder—his brother keeping a secret before his death or dying without knowing about the child. Regardless, the child's mother despised his family.

“There was little they could do,” Thara noted, adding that her sister and mother had reached the same conclusion. “Karimah blames my parents because they waited too long to plan Leila's marriage, so she wants no delay in marriages for me and my sisters. They want to get rid of us soon, and that is probably for the best.”

Dipping her head, she stared into his eyes. “If anyone saw us talking now, they would blame me.”

And the adults would be angry because she knew so many details about others in Laashekoh. Adults did not like thinking about what they did not know. He plucked a tall strand of grass apart and split it into thin threads. He did not want to leave for school. He did not blame Thara or her sisters for his brother's death. He was grateful for Thara's honesty and wanted to protect her. He wondered why he was so different than his parents.

“Perhaps it is better we do not know,” he said.

“Perhaps.” They were quiet for a few moments, and she sat next to him again. “Or people of Laashekoh don't know because they don't want to know. Why didn't your parents pursue murder charges against Leila?”

Saddiq couldn't answer. There was too much to think about, but he was in no hurry. He offered to help with the vines and pointed toward the sky. “I'll climb the tree?”

Thara laughed and told him getting outside was the best part of her day. “Collecting material for the baskets is an escape from cleaning the kitchen and Karimah's sharp tongue.” She leaned close and thanked him. “It's a joy being treated as a friend again.”

“You have talked with no one else?”

“Everyone is afraid, as if my family is tainted with evil.” Her laugh was sad. “And maybe it is.”

“You could never be evil. We were good friends, and that's all I want.”

Tears came to her eyes again. “I am working for a good marriage. I only hope they don't send me to someone awful because of what Leila did.”

Saddiq suggested that he try talking with his father. “My family should be more forgiving.”

Thara panicked. “You must not! He would punish both of us!”

He soothed her by explaining that he would talk about Komal. “My mother loves her, and that may make her realize that others are being cruel to you.” He asked if she would be collecting grass from the slope soon.

“It is dangerous to plan meetings.” Thara was adamant. “We should not take the risk.”

Saddiq vowed to do everything in his power to help Thara and made her promise to meet again.

That night, Saddiq returned home and watched his mother in the kitchen. She smiled without breaking her rhythm while mashing pumpkin, onion, and chickpeas together, shaping them into small balls and then flattening them for frying. The oil sizzled in the pan.

Saddiq offered to help, and she told him to play with the younger children. Saddiq approached Komal, who played quietly in the corner, and she looked up with a joyful smile, forgetting her arrangement of old sticks and carved blocks that had belonged to him and his brothers. Crouching down to her level, he saw that she had built a tiny shelter for her rag doll, the only possession the child had been allowed to keep. Komal clung to the doll day and night—and sobbed if anyone tried to move it from her sight.

He stretched out along the floor, adding another circle of blocks to protect the doll's shelter. His mother paused in her work and smiled.

“Komal—surely you will read to her someday?” Saddiq questioned.

Worry instantly replaced happiness on his mother's face. Pausing before placing a flattened cake into the pan, she studied her son's face. “Only if the others have forgotten about her sister and mother by then,” she said. “But that is not likely. We must get along with others in this village, and you will understand someday.”

CHAPTER 8

Over the years, Parsaa had gradually allowed more months to pass in between each visit to the compound, and Zahira was amazed to see him again so quickly. Once inside the small clinic, he bowed his head, closed his eyes, and took in the fresh scent of orange blossoms and mint that followed her.

She leaned close, and his embrace was polite, stiff. Annoyed, Zahira stepped back and waited for him to speak.

“I need a favor.” He was earnest.

Zahira turned her back to him and wondered why the words seemed like an insult. Parsaa didn't notice and talked about a girl rescued from traffickers. He asked if Zahira might have use for a young servant.

Surely the villagers could have found some use for an orphan girl. The girl was an excuse for another visit. “Is she disagreeable?”

Parsaa thought and shook his head. “Just odd.”

She couldn't help giving him a hard smile. “And so you thought of me.” The story wasn't unusual. An orphan girl with an unknown background would not be trusted, and of course, the women in the small, close community of Laashekoh banished her quickly. Zahira leaned against the counter as he talked on about the girl and the village. Despite her fury, all she cared about was the sound of his voice. He needed her for something, and she liked the idea that she could say no to him and send him on his way.

When he paused, she asked questions about the efforts that went into locating the girl's parents. She could not agree to his request too quickly and let Parsaa take her for granted. If she said no, he might not return for months.

“We tried,” Parsaa said. “We found the other children's parents quickly. But not hers.”

She waved her hand. “You are wasting your time searching for parents who don't want to be found.” She then asked why he didn't send the girl to an orphanage in the city.

He was stubborn. Leila and her parents had made promises and helped remove children from their homes. “The village is responsible for providing a home until her family can be found.”

“But I'm not of Laashekoh,” she said pointedly.

Zahira understood Laashekoh better than the villagers themselves, he suggested. “And you are a suitable guardian. Better than most women in Laashekoh.”

His assessment flattered her, but she did not respond. Instead, she went to her desk, and did not invite him to sit. Parsaa rarely stayed long unless a computer search caught his attention. He continued, almost as if he spoke to himself. “We give you privacy. A stable village is in your interest.”

“Tell me the truth about the girl.” Zahira was blunt. “Is she disruptive?”

“She is not happy.” He chose his words carefully, and Zahira wondered if the challenge was the girl or a village that disliked willful women. “She does not do well with many people, and I thought this could be a good home.”

The compound could be lonely, Zahira warned. She rifled through a drawer, pretending to search for a notepad and pen. She was torn about taking in a stranger, though the compound could use more help. She asked if the girl was intelligent, but he did not know. “Do you think she will like it here?”

Parsaa nodded. “You are a good influence.”

More flattery. The offer was tempting. The girl could do chores and help with Arhaan and his birds, giving Aza and Zahira more time with the child.

If the girl did not work well, she could return to Laashekoh, though that could be a problem. Zahira did not want the girl gossiping about the compound with the villagers. But Zahira could hide her secrets, and Aza and Mohan would do the same. Her husband, engrossed with his mynas, would pay no attention.

The villagers already resented the girl and would not listen to the ramblings of an orphan.

Parsaa pressed her. “So what do you think?”

“You are in a rush to leave this girl. Be truthful, Parsaa. How big of a problem is she?”

He did not avoid her stare. “She is rough and strange. She keeps secrets. But she is not dangerous.”

He was in a hurry, and Zahira shrugged. “We all have secrets. Bring her by and I will decide.”

Heading for the door, he replied that the girl was ready to work that night.

“So presumptuous!” Zahira protested. She asked what he would have done had she said no. “We are busy here, and need time to prepare!”

He was embarrassed, and Zahira checked her anger, silently tapping her finger on a counter. The girl could work out, especially if she was not close with other villagers. There were so many tasks associated with the infant, more than Zahira had anticipated. She wondered if the girl would think it odd that Parsaa had not mentioned the child. Zahira could lie and state that she was caring for a friend's daughter.

Better to give no details at all. The girl was a servant. Zahira did not have to explain. She followed Parsaa to the door. “So you trust me with a child?”

“Of course,” Parsaa replied. “Najwa is not so young. The older ones can be difficult to train.”

She asked if he would trust leaving one of his own children at the compound. He nodded quickly enough.

“If I take this orphan, you must return in two weeks. If the arrangement does not work, you must take her away.”

He protested that two weeks was not long. “It's the best I can offer,” Zahira said coolly. “I do not understand why she is a problem there, but helpful here?”

He reminded her that the village was still caring for Leila's sisters. “Their father made no plans for them, and people are uncomfortable about so many girls in the village.”

She wondered how much he knew about the girl in prison. “Have you heard news of Leila?”

“The two foreign women know of her.” He bitterly described Leila waiting out her time in the Kandahar prison with support from foreign charities. He opened the door to the dark night sky full of stars, and Zahira stood with him in the cool air.

“The authorities may trust a woman,” he mused. “You could tell them she does not deserve support.”

She denied that the foreigners would listen and advised that he not worry. “The charities do what they want. Let Leila get a taste of their foreign ways. Once she wrongs them, the foreign charities will snatch it away. If we antagonize her, she will return for vengeance.”

He asked if Zahira thought some illness caused Leila and her parents to act as they did.

“Greed is not an illness.” Dwelling on Leila's character made her uncomfortable. “It is taught by parents.”

“If that is her only flaw,” Parsaa said. Parents could suggest their children were better than others and deserved more from life. Parents could complain and blame others, sowing discontent that lasted a lifetime.

Zahira asked if Parsaa had ever suspected that Leila had criminal tendencies. He leaned against the door and shook his head.

“Could her sisters repeat her ways?” she pressed.

He did not know.

“Think hard,” Zahira urged.

The sisters were close, he explained. Leila was good to her parents and sisters. “I have tried to remember every conversation, every glance. We missed something. She was her father's treasure.”

“So that shaped her character?” Zahira questioned.

Parsaa thought. “Perhaps. That and how much others admired her beauty. But how does it matter? What could we have done differently?” He admitted to having never imagined that Leila could hurt his oldest son.