Page 52 of Sheltering You

What a fool she was.

For the first time since she’d received Basma’s email, she understood the enormity of what she’d done.

With Derrick, she’d glossed over the danger that coming to DC would put her in.

She’d hardly considered her own safety. Maybe that was part of her problem, the belief that she only deserved to exist if she made everyone else’s existence easier.

She’d spent her life sacrificing herself—her happiness, her freedom—to accommodate those around her. When she didn’t willingly sacrifice herself, she’d learned the sacrifice was taken against her will, so why fight it? Why not just give in for the sake of safety and harmony and peace?

Right.

As if those had ever existed for her. They’d been elusive as wind until she’d reached Maine.

But she had found them in her new home—and then risked them. Why?

She would have to answer that question, someday, because knowing she’d put herself in danger to save her friend didn’t bother her at all.

But now she saw what she’d refused to see before—that she might have put her sister in danger. And she certainly had put Derrick in danger.

And she’d risked her baby. Not that Basma and Rabie weren’t worth the risk, but she hadn’t even considered the child she carried.

She turned to Rabie and saw again his incredible…preciousness. He was valuable because he was. It was that simple.

And so was Jasmine’s child, regardless of who his father was.

Jasmine rubbed a hand over her belly. I love you, my child. I will protect you.

Fresh tears slid down her face. She did love him, and when she failed to do so, she would ask God to help her. He would, of course. It was His will that she love, certainly that she love her own child.

If only she could promise her child the love of a good father. But she would die before she let Khalid get his hands on her baby.

It wasn’t Khalid’s face that swam in her mind’s eye, though. It was Derrick’s.

No.

She curled up again, refusing to imagine what it would be like to be Derrick’s wife, to have him as the father of her child.

Because she was a married woman. As much as she despised her husband, she’d taken a vow. And there was no undoing that.

Loud knocking pulled Jasmine from sleep.

She sat up, blinking in the light from the bathroom, which she’d left on for Rabie. Only darkness showed through a space between the curtains.

“Jasmine?” Derrick’s voice coming from the other room was faint.

She slipped from the bed and cracked the door open.

On the other side, he wore his T-shirt and pajama pants, his hair sleep-tousled. “We need to go.”

“What? Where?”

“Michael just called. He’s sending someone to pick us up, and they’ll be here in twenty minutes. He wants us to be ready. I need about five to get dressed, and then I can help you. What do you need?”

She was still trying to catch up. “Where are we going?”

“We’ll talk about it in the car. How can I help?”

She glanced at the boy asleep in the bed. He hadn’t stirred.