means unity through love, never through hatred. Now let us pray all together.”
Farshad had no need to pray. Allah had already spoken to him.
**
The look on Ike’s face as he savored his lasagna had Eryn biting her lower lip to keep her pleasure from showing. She willed the flush of satisfaction from her cheeks. It was obvious by the reverent way he chewed each bite that he loved it, though he hadn’t said a single word.
Words weren’t always necessary, she assured herself. She ought to know that from teaching English to speakers of other languages. Body language conveyed thoughts just as effectively, if not more so. But she wasn’t comfortable sitting at a table across from someone and saying nothing. Seeking some way to fill the silence, she attempted to continue the conversation he had aborted earlier. “So, you grew up in Ohio. Which part?”
He shot her a dry look. “Small town outside of Columbus,” he admitted shortly.
“Anywhere else?”
“No.”
She couldn’t imagine growing up in just one place. “I’ve lived in Northern Virginia, South Korea, Japan, Germany, and Jordan,” she offered, ticking off each locale on her fingers. She looked over at him, awaiting a response.
It took him several seconds to respond. “Which was your favorite?”
“Germany.” She didn’t have to think about it. “Oh, my gosh , every kid should have such an experience! On weekends we’d take the train into bordering countries, even across the channel to England to sightsee. That’s where I got Lancaster, remember? You’ve been to Europe, haven’t you?”
“Turkey,” he said, getting up for a second helping.
“Oh, I’ve been there, too. I went on this fantastic archaeological dig with my mother when I was eleven. She was crazy about ceramics. Everywhere we went, she collected pieces. And on this dig in particular we got to uncover a mosaic that dated back to the Byzantine era.”
Ike sat across from her again, his gaze lingering on her face, which she knew was lit up with nostalgia. “So where have you done your tours?” she asked, trying to put the focus back on him.
He stabbed at his dinner. “The usual tourist traps,” he said, his mouth quirking with cynicism. “You know, Iraq, Darfur...Afghanistan.”
She could only imagine what his adult years must have been like, trading one hellhole for another. “I didn’t care much for the Middle East,” she admitted, “though don’t tell my students that. There’s just not enough foliage. I need color. I need green.” Like the color of your eyes, she almost added.
“Jordan’s not bad,” he said, forking up a bite.
“I guess not. Dad got orders to go to Iraq the same week my mother was told her cancer was spreading. She wanted to be close to him, and Jordan was the only stable country with decent hospitals.”
Ike lowered his fork. It chinked against his plate. “Stanley talked a lot about your mother.”
His confession put a weight on Eryn’s chest. “They were crazy about each other,” she agreed. “If Mom hadn’t been sick, I’d probably have a dozen siblings.”
A log in the woodstove popped and sprayed sparks. Ike cut the edge of his lasagna with the side of his fork, but he didn’t eat it.
“Are you an only child?” she asked, crossing her fingers that he would give her an answer this time.
“Have an older brother,” he said shortly.
“Were you close?”
“He beat me up to keep me in my place.”
His words told her more than he knew. “I guess having a sibling doesn’t guarantee you’ll get along,” she said, subdued.
He grunted in agreement, stuck his food into his mouth and chewed.
Eryn’s goal had been to get him to talk, but maybe if she set the bar, he’d follow her example. “I was thirteen when my mother died. We brought her body home and
Farshad had no need to pray. Allah had already spoken to him.
**
The look on Ike’s face as he savored his lasagna had Eryn biting her lower lip to keep her pleasure from showing. She willed the flush of satisfaction from her cheeks. It was obvious by the reverent way he chewed each bite that he loved it, though he hadn’t said a single word.
Words weren’t always necessary, she assured herself. She ought to know that from teaching English to speakers of other languages. Body language conveyed thoughts just as effectively, if not more so. But she wasn’t comfortable sitting at a table across from someone and saying nothing. Seeking some way to fill the silence, she attempted to continue the conversation he had aborted earlier. “So, you grew up in Ohio. Which part?”
He shot her a dry look. “Small town outside of Columbus,” he admitted shortly.
“Anywhere else?”
“No.”
She couldn’t imagine growing up in just one place. “I’ve lived in Northern Virginia, South Korea, Japan, Germany, and Jordan,” she offered, ticking off each locale on her fingers. She looked over at him, awaiting a response.
It took him several seconds to respond. “Which was your favorite?”
“Germany.” She didn’t have to think about it. “Oh, my gosh , every kid should have such an experience! On weekends we’d take the train into bordering countries, even across the channel to England to sightsee. That’s where I got Lancaster, remember? You’ve been to Europe, haven’t you?”
“Turkey,” he said, getting up for a second helping.
“Oh, I’ve been there, too. I went on this fantastic archaeological dig with my mother when I was eleven. She was crazy about ceramics. Everywhere we went, she collected pieces. And on this dig in particular we got to uncover a mosaic that dated back to the Byzantine era.”
Ike sat across from her again, his gaze lingering on her face, which she knew was lit up with nostalgia. “So where have you done your tours?” she asked, trying to put the focus back on him.
He stabbed at his dinner. “The usual tourist traps,” he said, his mouth quirking with cynicism. “You know, Iraq, Darfur...Afghanistan.”
She could only imagine what his adult years must have been like, trading one hellhole for another. “I didn’t care much for the Middle East,” she admitted, “though don’t tell my students that. There’s just not enough foliage. I need color. I need green.” Like the color of your eyes, she almost added.
“Jordan’s not bad,” he said, forking up a bite.
“I guess not. Dad got orders to go to Iraq the same week my mother was told her cancer was spreading. She wanted to be close to him, and Jordan was the only stable country with decent hospitals.”
Ike lowered his fork. It chinked against his plate. “Stanley talked a lot about your mother.”
His confession put a weight on Eryn’s chest. “They were crazy about each other,” she agreed. “If Mom hadn’t been sick, I’d probably have a dozen siblings.”
A log in the woodstove popped and sprayed sparks. Ike cut the edge of his lasagna with the side of his fork, but he didn’t eat it.
“Are you an only child?” she asked, crossing her fingers that he would give her an answer this time.
“Have an older brother,” he said shortly.
“Were you close?”
“He beat me up to keep me in my place.”
His words told her more than he knew. “I guess having a sibling doesn’t guarantee you’ll get along,” she said, subdued.
He grunted in agreement, stuck his food into his mouth and chewed.
Eryn’s goal had been to get him to talk, but maybe if she set the bar, he’d follow her example. “I was thirteen when my mother died. We brought her body home and
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