Huda gripped the phone tight. It had only been a few hours since she dropped Ally at home.

“My dear, I can’t talk right now.” She prayed the girl wouldn’t say anything dangerous on the line, and that the mukhabarat weren’t taking notes. “I will stop by your house tonight when I go to the market. We’ll talk then. Now is not good.”

“Listen, I—”

“Really, it’s better if we talk later. I am frying eggplant. It’s—”

“Please, listen.” The girl’s words surfed in and out of a buzzy fog of static. “I’m going to Jordan for a short holiday. I want to leave tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Huda pressed her hand to her chest. “That’s too soon. It’s impossible.”

“The day after, then. No later.”

“But I need to organize a car.”

“I can’t put this off.” Ally’s pitch began to climb. “Really, I can’t delay.”

“Okay, be calm. I will get everything ready for you to travel. Thank you, Ally. Thank you.”

As Huda hung up, tears gathered in her eyes. She hurried to Khalid’s room and stuffed three changes of clothes, a toothbrush, hat, and sneakers into his backpack. Tomorrow, she told herself, she’d add water, sesame bars, dates, and flatbread, and then sew the $540 she’d stashed in the tea canister into the lining of his bag.

Huda turned a circle, eyes like lighthouse lamps. Khalid’s Chewbacca doll lay beside his pillow. Should she pack it as well? She picked up the toy and hugged it to her chest. She pictured Khalid, six hundred miles away, all alone. Can I really do this? she asked. Can I send my baby away?

Huda wiped her eyes, then she grabbed the flashlight Khalid used for late-night sessions with Harry Potter and slid it into the backpack. The Corolla rattled into the street. Huda’s heart pounded. She shoved the backpack into the closet and slammed the door shut.

Out in the kitchen, the eggplant’s pale flesh was turning brown. Huda poured bread crumbs onto a plate and cracked two eggs into a bowl. She shot an anxious glance over her shoulder, and a string of egg white dribbled onto the counter. The front gate groaned.

Huda picked up a plank of eggplant and dipped it in egg wash. Abdul Amir’s key jangled in the front door. Boots crunched over tile. Huda took a deep breath and pressed the dripping eggplant into the breadcrumbs.

“Sister, we’ve come at a bad time,” muttered Abu Issa.

Huda wheeled around in shock, crumb-coated hands raised in the air.

“I didn’t intend to interrupt your dinner preparations.” Abu Issa stepped into the kitchen and sniffed. “Is that chicken with cardamom I smell?”

Huda’s heart hammered so hard she feared it might tear a hole in her ribs.

“What are you doing here? How did—”