Veil of Silence (8 page)

“You won’t go along for moral support?” she asked incredulously.

“I don’t think it’s the
moral
thing that will be the issue,” she joked in return.

Marsha smiled in remembrance.  Coming out to her family had been a lot harder than coming out to the army.  The repeal of ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ and the ‘Defense Against Marriage Act’ had allowed many service personnel to declare spouses that had formerly been hidden, which allowed them benefits and had been a big breakthrough.  Marsha wanted Heather to be her wife.  She wanted her to have her benefits if anything ever happened to her.  She wanted to publically declare, “This is MY wife.”  And she did.

Her thoughts continued as she gazed at her sleeping children.  Now her thoughts went to the wedding and the reception afterwards.

“You’re a great dancer,” Marsha said.

“Shhh, don’t tell anyone!  I’m counting.”  They shared a laugh because it was obvious she could dance.  To keep the brevity going, she started, “One, two, three…one, two, three.”  They shared another laugh because it was so far off from the song they were dancing to.

Marsha had been surprised by who had come to their wedding and who had stayed away.  The disapprovers had been among the minority and she figured they were no loss.  Those that really cared had come and celebrated the two women’s marriage.

Marsha checked on Amir as he turned in the seat, trying to get more comfortable.  The seatbelt kept him locked in place.  She pulled the blanket up and, using it like padding, made more of a spot for him to snuggle in.  She herself was feeling the fatigue of the past few days, hell, the past week
and
her flight from captivity.

Zabi had insisted on new clothes for his whole family: his two children and his two wives.  Since the American was thought to be useless as anything but a breeder, Malekah and her women friends sewed the outfits.  Marsha thought it ironic that Malekah meant queen.  This was not the word she would use to describe the bitter, old woman, but she didn’t blame her, not really.  Zabi was a real ‘catch’ by their tribal standards.  An up-and-coming warrior, he had married the older woman and then regretted it when she couldn’t breed.  He had claimed the American woman because she proved to be a fighter and he enjoyed dominating her.  The first few times he had required help as she fought him, but once cowed, Marsha had proved to be an unceasing attraction to the man.  Once she was pregnant, he proclaimed his prowess to any and all who would listen.  Malekah had been jealous beyond measure.  Marsha had shared the children with her to a degree, hoping to ease her lot in life, but when the senior wife had attempted to take over, have them call her moray, the brunette had put a stop to her friendly gestures.  The woman had resented her from then on, even kicking her backside when she lay recovering from her miscarriage.  Since Zabi had taken full responsibility for the beating that had resulted in the miscarriage, the additional bruises on Marsha’s back hadn’t been noted.  Malekah had won in the end.  The children had thought she was their mother and Marsha was just the second wife, also called moray.  Even on the harrowing drive from the camp in the jeep, when they called for moray, Marsha hadn’t been sure they weren’t calling for Malekah.  They clung to her because she was someone familiar, at least that’s what Marsha had been thinking.

The new clothes were for a festival that Zabi’s tribe and another were participating in.  They tried to do this several times a year with various tribes in order to allow their young people to meet and marry.  Girls as young as eleven were betrothed, sometimes forced to go live with their intended’s family since it might be several years before the two tribes came together again.  The practice worried Marsha as she looked at her daughter, her stomach protected by her hand.  She knew there were already inquiries about matching Bahir because of Zabi’s standing in the community.  Marsha would have no say and neither would the child.

Seeing a jeep parked just outside of their tent village, Marsha’s heart pounded at the opportunity.  No one was watching it, no one would dare.  She pretended she wasn’t interested in it, but she saw that the keys were in it, dangling temptingly from the ignition.  Slowly, she made her way back towards where Malekah was showing off, pretending that Zabi’s son Amir was her own.  She was sitting on a large blanket she had spread out for her and
her
son, her friends sitting on the edge admiring the sturdy toddler.  He was already fussing as it was past his time for a nap.  Marsha bowed respectfully to the chieftain’s first wife.

“I’ll take him for his nap,” she offered generously, but inside she was seething for having to be deferential to this woman over her own son.

“That would be good,” Malekah said graciously.

Marsha looked for Bahir, but didn’t see her as she made her way towards their tent. 

“Mahsa,” the harsh voice of Zabi stopped her.

Marsha quickly looked down, waiting for him to say what he needed to say.  She was taller than him, something that seemed to annoy him from the beginning.  He didn’t like the fact that he had to look up at the American woman.

“You stay covered,” he ordered, looking for something to admonish her about.

Marsha pulled the burqa she was wearing tighter, hiding the lovely garments below it completely.  She affixed the chador across her face one-handed since she was holding Amir.  This seemed to appease the leader as he looked at her with a gleam in his eye.  Marsha glanced up to see if he was finished with her, saw the gleam, and nearly groaned.  It meant he would want to bed her later despite her pregnancy.  He couldn’t seem to get enough of her.  She inwardly shuddered.  The years with him had been hell and if she could, she would have killed him.  She knew her own life would be short-lived with these people if she did that.  Her children would be raised with the same values they held; her own culture and values were of no importance here.  Marsha surreptitiously pinched Amir, which set him to squawking immediately, as she had known it would.  Zabi backed away.  Raising children was a woman’s job.  He took pride in his offspring, as though he alone were responsible for their existence, but he took no opportunity to interact with them other than to show them off. He made a gesture and Marsha continued on to the tent.  She worried, her heart pounding, as though he could read her thoughts…that he might discern her plans…. 

As she approached, she was pleased to see Bahir playing with others.  She quieted Amir by placing him against her shoulder, stopping to wait for Bahir to see her.  The child stopped playing at her second mother’s silence.  At Marsha’s head jerk, she headed for the tent, not knowing if she was in trouble or what, but learning to obey instantly from past discrepancies.  It was not from Marsha, but from what Zabi and Malekah had been teaching ‘their’ children.  Inside the tent, Marsha quickly went to Malekah’s things and took a burqa for Bahir, placing it over her nice clothes.

“Moray?” Bahir protested.  She liked her new and bright clothes to show.

“Shhh,” Marsha ordered her, taking another and placing it over Amir who was much smaller.  It enveloped him totally.  At first he protested.  He was crabby from playing, tired and ready for a nap, but the novelty of the outfit had him playing with the material as Marsha took him once more in her arms.  “Come with me,” she ordered Bahir, who obeyed without question.  For once Marsha was grateful for the absolute obedience that these people insisted on from their women and children.  Marsha peeked and slipped outside the tent.  She would be another anonymous woman in a camp full of tribesmen and women.  No one noticed her as she made her way slowly to where she had spotted the jeep, parked outside the camp and out of sight by a curve in the hill.  It was perfect.  If only she could get away.  She knew to be caught with it would mean death for her.  She froze when a group of chattering women passed by her.  She kept her eyes lowered and they looked at her curiously, but seeing her walking with children, ignored her.

Marsha looked around, her old soldier skills rising within her as she assessed the situation.  Arriving at the jeep, she swung Amir in the back, putting a belt on him before he could think to protest.  She swung a surprised Bahir over as well and tucked her into the seat next to him.  She knew questions would be forthcoming from the little girl if she didn’t hurry.  Once more, she looked around ensuring no one could see them.  She got into the driver’s seat, released the brake, put in the clutch, and the jeep began to roll down the hill backwards.  It wasn’t until it was at the bottom that she turned the wheel so it was facing the other way.  She turned the key, at the same time making sure it was in first gear, and cringed at the noise as it turned over smoothly.  She breathed a slight sigh of relief, her heart beating painfully in her chest as she popped the clutch and simultaneously gave it gas and they started to drive forward.

“Moray?” she heard from the back seat, Bahir no longer keeping silent and sounding rather alarmed.  The novelty of the machine had worn off and the fear of its strangeness was beginning to scare her.

“Mo…?” Amir’s little baby voice echoed his big sister, not nearly as coherent.  He was enjoying the newness of riding in the jeep.  Zabi and his brothers had already taken the toddler up on their horses, teaching him the ways of their people at a young age.

Quickly, she stomped on the gas, all of them pulled further back into their seats by gravity as she sped away down the mountainside.  She changed gears as she could, never going into third or even fourth until she was on a straightaway.  All she could think of was to get away, to try or die trying.  Her greatest fear was that she would die and her children would be raised by those people.  Before she had become pregnant, she had tried to escape many times, but she’d been brought back and punished.  It had given her a general knowledge of the area, even if she didn’t know quite where they were.  Her worry now was that the winding road would take longer and that Zabi and his men would know a shortcut across country with their horses.  It was an odd sight to see them on the horses with their ancient lineage proudly displayed in their outfits and saddles, holding modern day AK-47s and other weapons.

“Moray?” Bahir whimpered, genuinely afraid in this machine.

“It’s okay, baby,” Marsha assured her, reaching back in between shifting to touch the little girl on the leg.  She glanced back when she had a short straightaway and saw that the little girl had put her arm around the toddler to hold him to her.  He was looking about, fascinated at the scenery as it whipped by them on both sides.  His eyes were big, all thoughts of a nap long gone at the moment.

Marsha drove like a madwoman…away, far away from these people who had kept her for who knew how long.  They weren’t all bad.  In fact, the majority of them were a kind people.  She could have, under other circumstances, enjoyed being among them.  As Zabi’s second wife, she had a certain amount of prestige.  As his slave, some of the men were disparaging of her.  Some of them had used her body when she had first come among them, and then later, only when she tried to escape as some sort of punishment or conquering technique.  Zabi had recognized the warrior in this American and claimed her for his own, but not until several of his men had gang raped her.  He kept her well away from the men after his claim.  He wanted any and all children that she would bear to be his.  Marsha was shocked, but not surprised, to find herself pregnant months later.

It hadn’t been easy to get pregnant with her first child.  Marsha had deliberately pushed thoughts of Hayley deep inside of her.  Leaving her after she was just born to return to her duties in the army had been one of the hardest things she could do.  She had eighteen weeks of paid maternity leave before she had to report back to the base and resume her duties.  She was shipped out not long after. 

“Why don’t you quit?” Heather had pleaded.  She wanted her wife home and around more often.  Marrying an army lieutenant hadn’t really been as much fun as she had thought it would.  They moved a lot.  She had thought they would travel more often, and moving that often wasn’t fun at all.

“You know I’m up to make captain.  This has set me back,” she indicated the baby and her own post-baby body.  The in vitro fertilization had taken all of their savings.  Choosing a donor had led to fights.  That was long ago though.

“But eighteen months!  You’re going to be gone EIGHTEEN months,” she protested.  Raising Hayley by herself for that length of time scared Heather.  “Do you know how much of her you will miss?”

“It can’t be helped.  You know how annoyed they were with me when they found out I was pregnant.  Some of them considered it immoral.”

“But we’re married,” she protested yet again.  They’d had this conversation before.

“Not in the eyes of some servicemen…” Marsha pointed out again.

That had been so long ago.  Marsha sighed as she made herself comfortable in the plane chair, glancing at the sleeping children.  She’d read somewhere that once you have a child, your body is more likely to be fertile and you get pregnant easier.  She’d have to agree with that assessment after Zabi had gotten her pregnant time and time again.  She had been looking forward to going home to Heather and Hayley and getting pregnant again, but that was five years ago.  She wondered what Hayley looked like now.  She’d had blonde curls at birth.  She’d teased that she needed a haircut on the way home from the hospital.  Skyping with Heather, they had resolved a lot of their differences.  They were looking forward to her coming home.  She was looking forward to being a family.  Heather had enjoyed playing mommy, but she wanted her partner, her wife, to come home to her.  She’d grown up a lot raising Hayley alone.  She’d grown up a lot while her wife was overseas.  She missed her.  Now Marsha wondered if she had waited for her.  Had they declared her dead?  She would know in a few days, she was sure.  She wondered if they had told Heather yet?