So it was subdued. No parade of beflowered cars and camels, no elaborately decorated hotel reception hall, no singing and dancing until four in the morning.
Just the bride and groom, the minister, and their closest family and friends gathered in a church one Thursday evening. Aunt Nur hosted a small backyard get-together at her home the next day. Cousins, neighbors, and a handful of friends all mingled under strings of twinkle lights and paper lanterns. If her mother had been there, Leila would have called it perfect.
As a group conversation with Xander’s brother-in-law Mark moved from archaeology to politics, Leila stepped away and scanned the crowd dispersed throughout the garden, surrounded by palms and the purple blossoms of jacaranda trees.
Of course. Mark is my brother-in-law now, too.
Her gaze settled on her grandma for a moment, all the way here from her little farm in Indiana. Despite looking out of place—she was usually found in her country kitchen—her grandma beamed as she chatted with the neighbors about the art of baking the perfect lemon meringue pie.
Then she caught sight of Sami, sitting by himself on a bench nestled under the jacaranda blossoms. He watched a group of the neighbor kids waving sparklers as they ran in circles.
Her heart broke for the millionth time. Hating to see him alone, clearly lost in his thoughts, she walked over to the bench and sat next to him.
“Having fun?” she asked, keeping her tone subdued. She smoothed out the skirt of her white dress—a simple, lightweight, just-below-the-knee style, paired with strappy sandals.
Sami shrugged.
“Have you eaten yet?”
“I had something from the grill.”
“Good. We’ll have some cake soon.”
“What kind is it?”
“Lemon with raspberry filling.”
Sami nodded.
Leila sighed. What could she do for him? Aunt Nur had said he’d hardly left his room since moving in with them. Leila wasn’t surprised. Back on the island, Sami had been hiding in the bushes and had seen the whole confrontation—including their mother’s murder.
“Do you miss her?” she asked softly.
Sami nodded again.
“I do, too.” It was the truth. A truth that had taken her a few months to accept, despite her hurt and anger toward her mother. She’d caught herself starting to text Aisha a few times, then remembered there would be no reply. She’d turn on her phone screen to call, then she’d remember there would be no answer.
Despite the ugly truth, Aisha had tried to make things work between her and Leila. Her mother had made a terrible mistake, then she had built her life around a lie she didn’t know how to get back out of. Maybe she felt trapped because that had been her life for so long. Maybe she was just trying to keep Faris happy so he didn’t hurt anyone. Maybe, somehow, she really did care for him.
Despite the unanswered questions, one thing was certain; her mother would have loved to be here. A heaviness settled on Leila’s shoulders, and she held back a sigh. The truth gave her a choice—be angry at someone who’d lost a chance to make it up again, or move on and appreciate what they did have, as short as it had lasted.
“I don’t miss him, though,” Sami muttered.
A burning ache swelled in her chest. At a loss for words, she put an arm around her brother’s shoulders.
Sami glanced up at her, his large brown eyes filled with worry. “Am I like him?”
“No,” Leila said quickly and firmly. “No, you’re not. You’re always nice, always helpful. You always want to do what’s right. You always listen. You’re not him, and you never will be.”
At that moment, one of the young girls ran toward them, her dark braids bouncing behind her. She giggled wildly as the other kids gave chase.
Leila eyed the cup in the girl’s hand.
She ran closer, and thud. The girl tripped and landed on Leila’s lap.
Leila jumped up and set the girl back on her feet. “Are you okay?”
“Oh no, your dress!” the girl cried out. “It’s ruined!”
Leila glanced down. A brown stain had splashed across the front of her dress.
It figures.
With a helpless smile, she shrugged. The girl ran off. Leila looked back at the bench, but Sami had stood and was making his way toward the dessert table, his hands shoved in his pockets.
“Leila,” Aunt Nur’s voice rang out over the lawn as she crossed. “How about you cut—” Aunt Nur gasped, slapping her palms to her cheeks. “What happened to your dress?”
“Just an accident.” Leila shrugged again. “Time for cake?”
“Let’s see if I can get you cleaned up first.” Aunt Nur grabbed Leila’s wrist and pulled her inside the house.
More guests lingered in the kitchen. Leila smiled innocently as she passed by, Aunt Nur dragging her toward the stairs, and she wondered where Xander had disappeared to.
“Was that soda?” Aunt Nur muttered when they reached the upstairs bathroom. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to get that out.” After a few soapy washcloths and some scrubbing, Aunt Nur gave up. “Let’s go see if I can find a scarf.”
Leila studied her now soaked dress. “Okay.” She followed her aunt into the bedroom on the right.
The closet doors stood open, and Aunt Nur held up two bundles of fabric. She scrunched her lips to one side. “I’ve got leopard print or green.”
