Ally realized that Baghdad would never reveal all its secrets to her. But she had the answer she’d come for—she knew why her mother lost her smile. Ally would have to carry that terrible knowledge with her, across the ancient rivers of the Tigris and the Euphrates, through the baking Mesopotamian plains, and on, always. Even if Ally wanted to exile truth from her mind, she couldn’t purge it, no more than Baghdad could expel every tiny pearl of desert sand. But, if fortune was on her side, she could help to write her story a new ending.

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 28

Huda lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. The blades of the fan whistled overhead. Next to her, Abdul Amir stirred.

“No,” he muttered. “Don’t, don’t . . .”

He slurred something Huda couldn’t make out. He’d barely slept all night. He’d wanted to talk to Khalid before he came to bed, to pass on some fatherly words of courage before his son supposedly set off for Basra. Huda convinced him it was too risky. Khalid might let it slip to Bakr, then Bakr might tell his parents or a friend, and who knew where it would end. A secret is like a dove, she’d whispered, once it leaves your hand it flies where it wants.

Now, as Abdul Amir moaned, guilt spread its wings in Huda’s chest. Could she really deprive her husband of his son? Abdul Amir cried out again. The sound bruised her insides. She reached over and turned the alarm clock off before it had a chance to chime.

Abdul Amir jerked awake.

“Is it time already?”

“Stay in bed,” she whispered. “I’ll go make us coffee.”

“I want to come to the bus station with you.” He dragged his hands across his face. “Khalid will notice that he’s getting on a bus to Basra, not Lake Habbaniyah. When he does, I want to talk to him, man to man, father to son.”

“No, you need to stay here in case the mukhabarat come by,” Huda whispered in his ear. “You can pick the car up tonight, but in the meanwhile tell anyone who asks that I’ve gone on a day trip. When they work out that . . .” She shuddered, and forced herself to continue. “Please, tell them you knew nothing. Tell them you’re furious. Tell them you’ll divorce me. Say anything, but, please, don’t try to take the blame. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Huda swung her legs off the bed and slipped out of her nightgown.

“Huda, wait.” Abdul Amir’s fingers brushed against the curve of her back. “Lie down with me for just a few minutes more.”

Huda quivered. Sixteen years of marriage was not something she could steal away from, without even a kiss goodbye. She slipped back under the sheets.