Years before, when the almonds were dying off, Bilal had changed the configuration of the trees so most of the water-intensive almonds were replanted behind the more drought-resistant olives to prevent Israel from seizing the land on the pretext of dying trees. The irrigation tubing he’d devised ran from the center outward, so most water went to the almonds, and now they appeared healthy again with delicate white flowers, although not yet with nuts. The cousin who had taken over Jandal’s job brought the sheep to graze regularly to ensure the soil would get enough nitrogen. Even the burned patch was showing signs of life, with weeds sprouting here and there. We had wrapped the burned trees with white cloth—a bandage to reflect the sun and hold in moisture—and I extended a hose to the area to soak the soil as much as possible from the water tank, which we were still siphoning from the settlers’ water pipe. Trees aren’t much different from people in that way. You protect the burned parts from the elements, keep hydrating and nourishing the body, and wait for life to heal itself.

“I want Bilal to find this place alive when he comes out,” I said to Jumana. “I know it must kill him to not have been here when she passed… .”

She looked away, out at the trees.

“Something’s on your mind. Just say it,” I said.

“What if they don’t let him out this time?” she finally asked.

“You can be such a downer! What if aliens invade us tomorrow?”

She laughed. “Okay, remind me again how this works, in case aliens invade and snatch you up,” she said, reaching for the pump.

I showed her the valves on the barrel. “When the pump is on, turn it this way to fill it. When you shut off the pump, turn the valve this way, so the water will drip through the tubes. And this is the neutral position where water doesn’t go in or out. Leave it here when it rains or if the soil looks too wet. The soil has to be well drained.”

“Wow, look at you,” Jumana said. “There’s a peasant in the city girl after all!”

“Stick with me. I’ll teach you a few things,” I said. “Now listen, smartass. You have to monitor carefully. It’s tricky because the almonds need a lot of water but not wet soil. And the olives can’t get too much water because their oil will have a diluted taste. Got it?”

“Yes, boss.”

International media attention grew as Bilal’s health deteriorated. A European delegation was dispatched to negotiate his release when it was leaked that Bilal had been transferred to a military hospital, possibly in critical condition. Two weeks later, more than four months after Bilal’s arrest and nearly ten weeks into his hunger strike, Israel agreed to negotiated terms for his release, and they broadcast his first bite: a spoonful of soup. The phones rang off the hook at the house, the salon, and the bakery.