“Laila!” Amira had heard about the conjugal relations of men and women for as long as she could remember, but the suggestion that some particular women—especially Nanny Karin—might be “sexy” was shocking. “Relax, little sparrow. I’m only joking. I know she’s had a tragic life.”

That was true, too. Both of them were silent for a moment, contemplating the delicious sadness of it.

O

“I came to al-Remal when I was just twenty-two,” Miss Vanderbeek had told Amira, “to work as a secretary and translator for a Dutch construction company. We were building a plant to take the salt from seawater and make it fit to drink.” She sighed deeply, as if the memory were still too painful to contemplate.

“And then you fell in love” Amira prodded, for she cherished the tale of her nanny’s romance and never tired of hearing it.

“Yes.” Miss Vanderbeek smiled. “I fell in love.” “With a Saudi. A pilot.”

“Yes. Actually, he owned his own plane and carried passengers between the main cities and the small coastal towns of Saudi Arabia. It was on one of his flights that we met. We exchanged a glance,” Miss Vanderbeek continued, “nothing more, but that was enough.”

Amira sighed. To meet one's love floating above the clouds, to recognize one’s qismah, one’s destiny. Could anything be more romantic?

“Lutfi wasn’t like the other men I’ve met here,” Miss Vanderbeek explained. “Just because I was a Western woman, he didn’t try to take advantage of me …” Amira nodded vigorously. She knew her nanny could never have passed Omar Badir’s door if her reputation had been clouded with even a hint of impropriety.

“No, he behaved honorably from the start. He wanted to call on my family, but my parents are dead, and I am alone in the world. And so he came to the man who seemed to be most responsible for me—my supervisor, Mr. Haas.”

Amira smiled. She liked this part of the story, which seemed a testimony to the perseverance of true love.

“But Mr. Haas was an engineer with a rather scientific and unsentimental nature. He simply could not understand why this pilot—‘a pleasant enough fellow,’ he said—began calling at the office once a week, bringing gifts, making pleasant small talk, mentioning my name as if in passing. Of course, Lutfi was hoping for an appropriate response, so he could take the next step and begin discussing his qualifications as a husband. But Mr. Haas never said a word. Poor Lutfi.” For a moment, Miss Vanderbeek seemed to be lost in bittersweet memory.