Page 6 of Sheltering You

Jasmine Fayad—Jasmine French, she reminded herself—had done her share of shopping since she’d arrived in the US. Just having the freedom to leave the house whenever she wanted was a thrill, so even though she didn’t have much money to spend, she loved looking at all the pretty packages at the giant Target store and the small shops in downtown Shadow Cove. And now that it was Christmas season, everything was extra sparkly with pine trees and twinkle lights and shimmery holiday balls.

But she’d never been to a place like this.

The building was shaped like a little house on the outside with wreaths hanging in front of every window and garland around the front door. Only the round sign hanging over the entrance gave away that it was a shop. Inside, mannequins were displayed on pedestals all around, each wearing a different gown. Sleek and elegant—puffy shoulders and strapless and everything in between. There were colorful dresses, likely made for bridesmaids—reds and greens, which seemed the predominant colors for the holiday season—but most were white and pure and represented what marriage should be. They represented what her marriage was not and could never have been, even if she hadn’t run.

The gowns represented everything Jasmine had lost and would never get back, no matter the freedom this country offered her.

Her shame felt heavier than any beaded and sequined dress could ever be.

“This place is amazing, is it not?” Leila broke off from the other women and linked her arm with Jasmine’s, leaning close. “Which is your favorite?” Jasmine shrugged, but her twin pressed. “Please, I want to know.”

As they perused the selection, Jasmine allowed herself to imagine how she’d look in the different styles, considering and then discarding each one.

And then she and her sister followed the other ladies around a corner, and a dress caught her eye.

The pure white satin bodice was covered with lace that rose to a bateau neckline, stretching from the shoulders across the base of the mannequin’s neck. The lace continued down, forming long, elegant sleeves. The lace tapered over the full skirt, which fanned out behind the mannequin in a beautiful train.

“Yes.” Leila studied the dress, reading Jasmine’s mind. “It’s exactly right. Modest and lovely, just like you.”

Jasmine attempted to smile but couldn’t pull it off. Leila was trying to be kind, but imagining the gown, imagining herself wearing the gown, brought a stab of grief and regret.

Why hope for things that could never be?

The store owner asked Leila to point out the styles she liked best. The rest of the bridal party crowded in.

Summer, the former-model-turned-fashionista, offered her opinion, as did Michael’s mother. They both had good taste, but they didn’t understand Leila’s style.

Leila beckoned Jasmine through the crowd of women. “What do you think, sister?”

Jasmine took her time studying the gowns the other women had pointed out. “They will be lovely on you.” But Leila didn’t need a compliment—they were identical twins, after all. Across the showroom, she spied a style similar to one Leila had exclaimed over in a magazine. Off-the-shoulder with a modest neckline, it wasn’t fussy with sequins and lace. The beauty would come from the woman who wore it. Jasmine gestured to it. “This one, I believe.”

Leila gave her sister a grateful smile. It wasn’t that she was shy—she’d always been the bolder sister. She didn’t want to offend these women who would soon be her family.

The clerk promised to pull all the gowns the women had chosen and a few more and ushered Leila away.

Jasmine joined the other bridesmaids on sofas that faced a platform in front of mirrors, choosing a seat beside Eliza, Sam’s wife. Sophie, who’d recently moved to Shadow Cove and was staying with Jasmine and Leila, took the spot on the adjacent sofa.

Peggy, Summer, and Camilla—wife of the oldest Wright brother, Daniel—chatted on the other sofas. Summer was expecting a baby, though she was barely showing. Jasmine figured her height—nearly a foot taller than Jasmine—was at least part of the reason she could hide her pregnancy so long.

Jasmine wouldn’t be so lucky.

The women laughed and shared stories, and Jasmine tried to follow them, but she didn’t contribute. She knew very little of this culture, and none of her stories would make them laugh.

Finally, Leila emerged wearing a lacy A-line dress.

It was beautiful, and the women exclaimed over it, but by the distaste in Leila’s eyes in the mirror, she didn’t care for it.

“I’m not sure.” Jasmine’s voice never carried far, and she was surprised when the women turned to her. She shrugged, feeling her cheeks warm with the attention. “It is not what I imagined you would choose, Leila.”

“Yes, you’re right, sister. It is lovely, though.” She shot Jasmine a grateful smile and returned through the door to try another.

She’d only been gone a moment when Jasmine’s cell phone vibrated in her pocket, sending a jolt of excitement through her.

She’d always wanted a cell phone. Baba had strictly forbidden it, and Khalid had only laughed when she’d asked. “Who are you going to call? Everybody you know lives here.”

As if Khalid had ever known anything about her. Jasmine had had school friends in Baghdad. But after Leila escaped, after Mama died, Baba had hemmed Jasmine in, practically imprisoning her. He’d deemed all of Jasmine’s friends bad influences, forcing her to sneak around like a criminal to have a simple cup of tea with a neighbor.

She didn’t miss Iraq, but she did miss Basma, her dearest friend. But Basma, like Iraq, was lost to her now. She’d reached out to her, but Basma hadn’t returned her messages in years.