When the Apricots Bloom
Chapters (35)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- CHAPTER 1
- CHAPTER 2
- CHAPTER 3
- CHAPTER 4
- CHAPTER 5
- CHAPTER 6
- CHAPTER 7
- CHAPTER 8
- CHAPTER 9
- CHAPTER 10
- CHAPTER 11
- CHAPTER 12
- CHAPTER 13
- CHAPTER 14
- CHAPTER 15
- CHAPTER 16
- CHAPTER 17
- CHAPTER 18
- CHAPTER 19
- CHAPTER 20
- CHAPTER 21
- CHAPTER 22
- CHAPTER 23
- CHAPTER 24
- CHAPTER 25
- CHAPTER 26
- CHAPTER 27
- CHAPTER 28
- CHAPTER 29
- CHAPTER 30
- CHAPTER 31
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- Discussion Questions
Title Page
WHEN THE APRICOTS BLOOM
GINA WILKINSON
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Copyright Page
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2021 by Gina Wilkinson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The K logo is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.
ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-2936-1 (ebook)
ISBN-10: 1-4967-2936-6 (ebook)
ISBN: 978-1-4967-2935-4
Basra Province, 1978
Huda fished the knife from the pocket of her long apricot dress. Rania eyed the jambiya’s sharp tip and buffalo-horn handle and grinned in approval.
“That’s perfect for our oath.” Rania’s amber eyes dilated with a jittery mix of fear and anticipation. “It’s even better than the knife in the American movie.”
“Last week, I saw a real American. A woman,” said the younger girl proudly. “She was on the corniche, eating ice cream and watching the boats.”
“I’ve seen plenty of foreign women in Baghdad,” said her fourteen-year-old companion, not to be outdone. “Teachers and nurses, mostly. They like to picnic by the Tigris.”
“Do you think they’ve ever sworn an oath like this?” Huda stared up at Rania. She’d grown taller and slimmer in the three months she’d been away at the prestigious Baghdad Ladies High School. Huda felt dowdy beside her, even in her favorite dress.
“What should we say?” she asked.
Rania eyed the double-bladed knife in Huda’s hand. The ivory handle was stained from years of use. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.
“Today we vow to be blood sisters,” she intoned. “Closer than sisters from the same womb.”
Impressed, Huda nodded and repeated the pledge. The two girls added a promise of loyalty and to come to one another’s aid whenever called.
“Don’t forget about secrets,” said Huda. “We mustn’t keep secrets from each other.”
Rania paused, then pressed her hand to her heart. “No secrets.”
“What’s the punishment for breaking a blood oath?” asked Huda.
Rania consulted the cloudless sky, its blue so perfect it could break a heart.
“If the blood oath is broken,” she declared theatrically, “then the penalty is sorrow.”
Huda threw her a skeptical glance.
“Sorrow?” she said. “For how long? A day? A week? It’s got to be more than that.”