Page 10 of Sheltering You

Jasmine couldn’t take the chance.

Anyway, Leila and Michael were going to New York with Bryan and Sophie, and after that, Michael was leaving town again. Jasmine didn’t know much about what he was doing, but it was related to the terrorists he was still tracking—including her husband. She very much wished for him to find Khalid before Khalid found her. And her wish for that only added to her ever-present guilt.

She was in a family of terrorists. Married to a terrorist—the father of her unborn baby.

Was she wrong to have run away from him?

Should she have stayed? Supported a terrorist? Allowed her son to be taught to hate, or if she carried a girl, allowed her daughter to become a slave? Allowed her child to be taught about Allah instead of the One True God?

To stay or to run. Both were right, and both were wrong.

No matter what she did, she was guilty.

And now, a new guilt pressed. Because Basma needed her, and she had to find a way to help.

The men were already back from snowmobiling by the time Jasmine and the rest of the bridal party returned to Sam’s house in Shadow Cove that afternoon. The house was large, but with everybody congregating in the living room, not nearly large enough.

When they all talked at the same time, who was listening?

Maybe that was Jasmine’s job. But how was she supposed to listen to sixteen people at once?

Fading into the shadow of the Christmas tree, she used her phone to find directions to Washington, DC. The American capital was on the east coast, and Maine was as well. How far could it be?

The directions loaded, and she gasped.

Nearly six hundred miles?

Even worse, the route would take her through the cities of Boston and New York. Jasmine had only had her driver’s license for a month. Could she make the drive by herself? Or would she get hopelessly lost? Or wreck Michael’s car?

She needed help.

She couldn’t ask Leila for advice, though. Leila would tell Michael, and Michael would not let her go, not because he didn’t care about her but because he wanted to keep her safe.

He could stop her simply by taking the keys to his car.

She owed everything to Michael and his family. She lived in Michael’s house and used a phone he’d provided. She worked for a business Sam owned.

She was grateful, so grateful.

But with no car of her own, limited money, and few friends, she suddenly realized she was not as free as she’d thought.

If only she could trust her sister and her future brother-in-law to help her, but her protection was their priority. They wouldn’t understand what Basma meant to her, and she wouldn’t be able to convince them in time to help her friend.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Peggy scooted up beside her. “You’re awfully quiet. Are you all right?”

“Of course.” She worked to hide her turmoil. “It’s just”—she gestured to the chaos—“very much.”

“You want to help me get dinner on the table?”

“Yes, please.”

Laughing, the older woman linked their arms and led the way.

The kitchen smelled of spices and something sweet. Jasmine should be hungry, but a few minutes later as she grated a block of cheddar cheese, her stomach churned with worry.

Maybe she could take a train to Washington. Was there a train in Portland? Or Manchester? If not a train, then surely there was a bus. There had to be a way to get to DC. But how could she help Basma and Rabie escape if she didn’t have a car? If they tried to get away on foot, Basma’s uncle’s security would surely catch them.

She could hire a taxi to pick up her friends, but would a taxi driver help them get away?