Page 56 of Sheltering You

She swallowed. “Yes, very. Very sweet. I like them both.”

“You have to pick one.” Rabie sounded horrified. “Which one is better?”

“Why do I have to choose? Why can I not like them both?”

He seemed to struggle for an answer, finally saying, “I don’t know. Just because.”

Derrick chuckled. “Everything’s a competition, don’t you know?” He shook his head, focus on Rabie. “She doesn’t get it.”

“Girls never do.”

“Ha!” Derrick punctuated the point with a fork aimed at the child. “You should meet my sister-in-law. She’s the most competitive person I know, and that’s saying something, considering I have five brothers.”

His little eyes widened. “Five?”

“I’m the youngest. When I was born, my parents knew they’d finally gotten it right and didn’t have to keep trying.”

Jasmine laughed, though Rabie didn’t seem to understand the joke. She took another bite of the cinnamon donut, then asked Rabie, “How did you sleep?”

“I sort of remember getting here last night. When I woke up, I heard a noise and came out to see what it was. Derrick was tearing up newspaper.”

Leaning against the counter, arms crossed, Derrick gave him a fond smile but didn’t interrupt.

“He let me help him build the fire.”

She glanced at the flames across the room. “You did a fine job.”

Rabie beamed. “He even let me use the lighter.”

“Have you ever done that before?” When he shook his head, she said, “I haven’t either. Maybe you could help me learn?”

His little eyes brightened. “I can teach you.”

Ah, the confidence of children. “We will ask Derrick to supervise so I don’t burn the house down, eh?”

That brought a solemn look. “Good idea. Women need help with these things.”

Derrick cleared his throat. “We all need help when we don’t know how to do stuff, don’t we?” The electric kettle steamed, and he poured hot water into Jasmine’s mug, added a teabag, and slid it across the bar to her, along with the sugar bowl and a spoon.

“Thank you.”

He nodded but kept his focus on the boy.

Rabie didn’t respond, just studied him as if he couldn’t quite figure him out.

Not surprising. Derrick was different from all the men she’d known in Iraq. This culture was different. This world was different.

Rabie had probably never met a man who treated women like equals. It felt foreign to her, who’d at least understood, theoretically, that such men existed in the world. In Baghdad before Iraq fell apart, she’d seen Western men, Americans and British and others. Some diplomats and businessmen, but mostly soldiers. They treated women with respect and dignity.

Rabie hadn’t had that example.

She sipped the tea, added a little sugar, and sipped again. It was strange. Sweet and sharp and unexpected.

She glanced up to find Derrick watching her.

He blinked. “Uh, is it okay? You want a glass of juice?” He headed for the refrigerator, adding, “I think there’s orange⁠—”

“No, thank you. Where did the food come from?”