Page 65 of Sheltering You

The chair scraped, and she was sure Derrick was going to walk away.

But he brushed his hand over her hair. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have said that.” He scooted the chair closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Forgive me. Please.”

“You did nothing wrong.” She wiped her tears and forced her hands to her lap. He was so close that his breath warmed her cheek. “You are always kind.”

He gazed beyond her, out the windows. “You can talk to me about…whatever. I’m happy to listen. If you want to talk about how it happened, or…” He seemed to struggle, then forced out, “the…father, I can⁠—”

“I do not.” She ducked out from under his arm and leaned away.

“Um… Okay. I was just wondering if maybe…” Derrick looked stricken—as if she’d slapped him. And knocked him over. And then kicked him. “Is he the reason you don’t… You’re not…?” Derrick took a breath. “Did you love him very much? Do you⁠—?”

“Stop.” She stood and backed up. “I do not wish to talk about him. Or this. I cannot.”

“I’m sorry.” He shoved his fingers through his hair, and she felt terrible.

She should tell him everything. It was only shame that kept her quiet, but not telling him would make this worse.

She was a coward.

Courage, Lord. I need courage to speak. And the words to say, please. And…

“Yasamin?”

She spun at the sound of her Iraqi name.

Rabie stood in the middle of the kitchen, gaze flicking between her and Derrick. “I’m sorry I was mean.” He spoke in English, adding, “I’m supposed to ask you if it’s okay that I’m sorry or something.” He turned to Derrick. “I forget what you said.”

Derrick cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh. You say, ‘Will you forgive me?’ Basically, you’re giving her the option to accept your apology or not.”

Rabie focused on Jasmine again and spoke with great solemnity. “If I clean up the mess, will you forgive me?”

“Yes.” She forced a smile, dropping to her knees. “Yes, of course I will. Can I have a hug?”

He moved into her arms, and she held on tight.

She had done this right. This one thing, with this one child who didn’t belong to her. Maybe it meant she wouldn’t mess up her own child too badly, the way she’d messed up her friendship with Derrick.

If she could be a good mother, maybe her child could be more like him and Leila and the rest of the Wrights. Perhaps, if she could be very, very smart and very, very wise, her child could be worthy of love.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

After Rabie put away the game, he grabbed the Uno cards, and the three of them sat at the coffee table in front of the fire and played. Derrick tried to make conversation, and he could tell Jasmine was working at it as well, but it wasn’t easy. Fortunately, the kid seemed oblivious to the tension.

Jasmine played a card, and Derrick glanced at his hand, grabbed the first yellow one he saw, and dropped it on the discard pile.

He still couldn’t believe it.

She was pregnant.

She’d been pregnant when she’d left Iraq in October, two months before. As long as Derrick had known her. But she had to be more than two months along. Didn’t morning sickness end after the first three? Not that Derrick had that much experience, but people talked about this kind of thing. Had her morning sickness ended, or had Dad given her something to make it stop?

Was morning sickness curable?

If it were, why would any woman have it?

And there’d been that tiny belly. When did a woman start showing a pregnancy? Summer was five months pregnant, maybe six, and she barely had a belly. So was Jasmine farther along? Or was it not that simple? He had no idea.

He itched to get on the laptop and do some research, but he’d agreed to play a few games of Uno. He could wait.