“I think life in places like al-Remal isn’t nearly as romantic as you imagine it to be,” she said evenly. “Women aren’t allowed to drive or to travel without a brother or husband. They have no civil rights, and they need male permission to do virtually everything that matters.”

Jacqueline was not impressed. “I think some of those so-called rights you mention are not especially relevant in a setting like al-Remal,” she said dismissively.

“Well, what about the right to live?” said Jenna, her voice rising a little despite her effort to control it. “What about the young woman who was shot by her brother—fifteen times—because she failed to meet his standards of modesty? Or the wife who was stabbed to death by her husband simply because she wanted a divorce? Are those relevant enough for you?”

Karim and Jacqueline stared at her, Karim looking especially surprised and appalled by her passionate but obviously benighted response. “You seem to have heard some sensational stories about al-Remal,” said Jacqueline. “Have you ever been there?”

“I … I’ve read a great deal about the Arab world during the years I’ve lived here,” Jenna said lamely, dodging another direct question.

“Reading and living are two different things,” Jacqueline sniffed, smugly confident again. “Most articles and books about the Middle East are written by Westerners. They have no feeling for our values, our Eastern soul.”

“I agree that there’s a certain amount of blindness to other cultures—on both sides. Would you like some tea, Jacqueline? Or coffee?” It was prudent to forfeit the debate. Jenna feared that she had said too much already, and in any event, Jacqueline was not going to be persuaded by a woman whose “Eastern soul” had atrophied. As for Karim, he was obviously so infatuated with the girl that he would happily join any jihad she wished to declare. “Isn’t she great, Mom?” he asked after returning from walking Jacqueline home.

“She’s … she’s a very interesting young woman.”

“And her dad, he’s brilliant. He knows so much about Egypt. He asked me all kinds of questions about you. I told him we’d all get together sometime soon. I’ll bet he knows some of the people you grew up with. Wouldn’t it be great to find out how they are? What they’re doing?”

Jenna grimaced involuntarily. She couldn’t imagine anything she desired less than a chatty little get-together with Professor Hamid. How many more lies would she have to tell? Could she invent relatives and friends who weren’t there? Convincingly enough to satisfy someone who knew intimately the country that was supposed to be her home? And what if she slipped up, got caught in a lie? What then?