Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

T his was the riskiest part of the plan, but Michael wanted them to head to the airport in Pittsburgh, thinking that if somehow Dari's men tracked their car down later, maybe they would assume Jasmine and Rabie had gotten on a flight.

So, after Derrick pulled the car away from the motel where they'd spent the day, Jasmine couldn't help checking the road behind them, certain she'd see a black SUV on their tail.

As far as she could tell, nobody followed.

In the backseat, Rabie clutched his new bag to his chest as if terrified Derrick would try to pry it away and throw it out the window. Despite all Derrick had done for him, Rabie hadn't forgiven him.

They didn't talk while Derrick followed the signs and then drove into an airport parking garage. They remained quiet as they grabbed their bags and made their way to meet the shuttle that would take them to the off-site car rental facility.

It was after eleven at night by the time he plugged their destination into the Toyota sedan's navigation system.

"This is all it will take?" She double-checked the arrival time on their latest car's screen. "Only six hours to New York City."

"Sounds right."

New York was another state she'd never seen—and still wouldn't because of the darkness. "We will be early, no?" They weren't supposed to meet Basma and her cousin until eight o'clock in the morning, when the train station would be packed with people. But the map told her they'd arrive in the city a couple of hours before that.

"There'll be traffic, and we'll need to find a place to park. We can get some breakfast. That'll kill some time."

"What is the plan exactly?"

Derrick's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, and he shook his head.

She twisted and saw Rabie was staring out the window, wide awake. She reached back and patted his leg. "I think you should try to sleep."

He didn't bother to look at her. The joy at hearing that Basma was going to meet him had faded, leaving him sullen again. Or perhaps afraid something would go wrong. "I'm not tired."

"You want to be well-rested when you see your sister, no?" One of the blankets they'd brought from the cabin had been shoved onto the floor at his feet. Jasmine tried to drape it over Rabie, though she couldn't reach him to do it well. "The pillow is there too. Get comfortable. If you sleep, the time will pass faster."

He seemed about to argue but, after a moment, did as she directed, cuddling the cheap bag she'd bought him like a stuffed animal.

"You can put your backpack down. Nobody's going to touch it."

He sent a narrow-eyed glare at the back of Derrick's head but dropped the bag on the floor.

She smiled at him. "In the morning we'll get breakfast. Do you like pancakes with maple syrup?"

He shrugged.

"You will. Trust me. And then we'll see Basma, okay?"

That brought a slight softening of his features. She couldn't blame Rabie for his worry. He'd been through so much.

"Where are we going now?" he asked.

"New York City!" She infused the words with enthusiasm.

His eyes widened. "To the Statue of Liberty?"

"I don't think to that place, but perhaps Basma can take you another time."

"Then where exactly?"

She waited for Derrick to answer, but he didn't, just kept driving.

"We'll see when we get there. Please, get some sleep." She grabbed the other blanket, the one she'd folded and placed at her own feet, and covered herself. "I'm going to rest too."

That seemed to mollify him. He closed his eyes and settled against the door.

She did the same, and they drove in silence for a long time, nothing but the sound of the classical music playing softly over the speakers.

She tried not to fall asleep. Derrick hadn't had any more sleep than she had, and he'd been injured. She should probably help keep him awake. When she hadn't heard anything from the backseat in a half hour, she peeked.

"He out?" Derrick asked.

"I think so." She kept her voice low. "Why don't you want him to know where we're going?"

"It's stupid, but…" Derrick glanced at her. "I was thinking about all the questions he was asking when we left the cabin about what kind of car we were driving and the license plate an d where we were going, and I just…" His shoulders lifted and fell. "There's no way he could have been in contact with Dari, right? But what if the thing that alerted his brother wasn't a tracker? What if it was some kind of a transmitter, and the guy was hearing what Rabie was saying? Or even listening to us?"

"You think he was telling Dari where we were? You think he wants his brother to find us?"

"I don't know. Maybe. He likes Dari, and he doesn't put a lot of stock in his sister's opinion."

He wouldn't, especially if Dari had fed him lies about her.

"Even if there'd been some kind of…transmitter"—Derrick seemed uncomfortable even suggesting the word—"it's gone now, lying by the side of the road in West Virginia." But by the worry in his eyes, he wasn't convinced. "It doesn't make sense. Rabie didn't have a phone or any way to contact him. Michael's probably right and there was a tracker, and it just wasn't very good." Derrick tapped the wheel. "If that's the case, how did they catch up to us so fast at that gas station—in the middle of nowhere? They must've been following us for a while. I just hadn't noticed." He checked his rearview mirror, then shook his head. "They could be back there right now for all I know." By the way his lips pressed closed, he wasn't happy about the thought.

"You couldn't have known. None of this is your fault." His hand rested lightly on the gear shift, and she slid her palm over it.

He weaved their fingers together, then dropped their joined hands on his knee. "I'm glad you think so."

"Every second vehicle on the road is an SUV, and most of them are dark. For all we know, they've switched to another kind of car altogether. Why this whole…flock of SUVs?"

That brought a grin. "Fleet? "

"This is the word?"

"For cars, yeah. If they attacked riding giant geese, flock would work."

The image made her smile. "You are a silly man."

"Hmm. Just how I always wanted to be described." He was joking, but by the way his amusement faded, he wasn't only joking.

Perhaps men preferred not to be referred to as silly.

His voice was serious when he continued. "I just want to get Rabie back to his sister and get you home before anything else goes wrong. This whole thing has been…bizarre."

"I'm sorry I got you into it."

"I could've said no." He squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry I didn't talk you out of it. I'm sorry I couldn't keep you two safe."

"How could you have seen any of this coming?"

"Michael would have." The way he grumbled the words made her smile. Then he muttered, "I doubt he's ever been described as silly ."

That was probably true. Michael was intense. She loved her future brother-in-law, but she could never be with a man like him, a man who took the world so seriously. She much preferred the one who sat beside her, who appreciated good things, who focused on joy, not darkness. Who laughed and wanted others to laugh with him. Derrick valued peace over conflict and war. Derrick was simply…happy. She'd known so few truly happy people in her life. To her, his happiness, his joy, was magnetic.

She'd spent enough of her life with hate- and anger-filled men, whose laughter was cruel and whose smiles were sinister.

Not that Michael was like that. But he wasn't light or joyful like Derrick was.

And also… "Your brother is not perfect. Even with all his training, he makes mistakes." Jasmine and Leila had nearly been returned to Iraq because Michael had let his guard down. "You sh ould be less hard on yourself. To spend time with, I prefer you. Even now, with all this happening, I prefer you."

That brightened Derrick's expression.

She shouldn't have said that.

Even if it was true, she shouldn't have said it. She added, "He will be my brother, but you are my friend."

"Right." Derrick's smile faded, and he slid his hand away. "I'm glad."

She wasn't sure what to say, and silence stretched between them. Before, back in Maine, their friendship had been easy and comfortable, never tense as it was now.

Would they be able to return to the way it had been, or was it ruined forever?

"So, um…" Derrick sounded as tentative as she felt. "You seem to know a lot about the Bible. You had one, I guess? In Iraq?"

"Oh, yes." This was a safe subject and one of her favorites. "When Leila and I gave our lives to Christ, the father in the family that led us to Him gave us each Arabic Bibles."

"You must've kept it hidden."

"I did, for all those years. It was easy in Baghdad. Baba never came into my room. After Khalid, it was more difficult, but I hid it at the very bottom of a chest, and he never suspected me of anything. He never found it. I don't think…I don't think he ever considered that I had thoughts, like a human being, you see? It would never have occurred to him that I would have something that would matter, something worth keeping secret."

"Sounds like a keeper, that one."

"Oh, yes. He was like Don Joo-an."

Derrick laughed. "Don Juan."

"That's not how it's spelled."

"Spanish name. "

"I see. But it was the correct usage, yes? I read it somewhere, a man was described like this, a charmer, no? A ladies' man?"

"You got the name. You even nailed the sarcastic tone. Nicely done."

His compliment brought a flush of pleasure. Not that she should aspire to sarcasm, but it was hard enough to be amusing in Arabic, much less in an unfamiliar language. She used to be funny, when she was a child. Back when life was easy. She was always the shy twin, and perhaps for that reason, people were even more surprised when she would say something to make them laugh.

"What if he had?" Derrick's tone was serious again. "Found the Bible?"

"Oh." She shrugged, though Derrick didn't see. "He probably would have killed me, at least before he knew I was expecting."

"What a risk."

"Perhaps, for some. But I was desperate to be free in whatever way God chose for it to happen—through escape or death. I would have taken either."

Derrick winced. "That's…" He lifted his hand like he was going to reach for her, then gripped the steering wheel. "I'm sorry."

"‘To live is Christ, to die is gain,' no?"

Derrick didn't respond, but a muscle twitched in his cheek, which told her he didn't like that answer.

"The Bible was my only friend. In Baghdad, after Mama died, I would read for hours and hours. It was my comfort. At the compound, if Khalid was away, I would read all night long. When he was there, I didn't dare take it out, but he was with Salwa often."

"Salwa is...?"

"His beloved wife. "

"Oh."

Even in the darkness of the car, she could see the scowl that crossed Derrick's face.

"And sometimes"—she hurried to add—"he would go on trips. He is the one who found Leila in Germany. He knew who she was because?—"

"You're identical."

"Yes. He recognized her immediately."

"Makes sense."

Derrick grew quiet, but Jasmine longed to prolong the conversation, to keep things from getting awkward again. Jasmine and Derrick had discussed their faith often enough, so this felt like a safe topic.

"Michael has several Bibles on a bookshelf in his living room, which he said I could look at. It is fascinating, all the English translations and how different they are—and also how similar, yes? And there is a book with the original Hebrew and Greek words and their definitions, and how they are used in different places in the Scripture. Also a book with archaeology and history, and some commentaries with people's opinions about every verse in the Bible. Do you have these things as well?"

"I have a couple books like that, yeah."

"Do you study these? Do you find them helpful?"

"I don't use them as often as I should, I guess."

"There were things I couldn't understand before—historical events, for instance, about Israel and the world at the time of the Scripture. Michael's resources have opened my eyes to the stories in a new way. But other things in those books I'm not sure the purpose of. Why have a man interpret Scripture when God will do it if only you ask Him?"

"Just for a different perspective, I guess."

"But another perspective is better than God's?"

"You've never found God to be silent? To not give you insights?"

"No. Have you?"

"Sometimes. Maybe I'm just in too much of a hurry."

Ah, yes. It seemed to her that Americans were always in a hurry. "How many Bibles do you have?"

He considered the question a moment. "Probably…seven or eight, more if I count the ones I've had since I was a kid."

"This is amazing, to have so many."

"Especially when you consider that I use the Bible app on my phone most of the time."

"This I like, to have it always with me, as you have always had. You must know so much, being able to study whenever you wish, to go to church and study with others."

"I don't know. From all the conversations you and I have had, I think you know more than I do. I have all the access I want, but I never had to fight for it like you do."

She considered that. "To have to fight for it is good?"

"When you became a believer, you knew what it might cost you. When I became a believer, everyone celebrated me. I had nothing to hide, nothing to worry about. Yeah, maybe some kids at school made fun of me sometimes, but really, what did I care about that?"

"You had all the freedom to study the Bible and didn't."

"I did, I just didn't treasure it like you did."

"I see, yes." She thought about the leather-bound book she'd loved, its pages worn, her handwritten notes in the margins. She never would have dared writing in it if not for the kind man who'd given it to her. He'd encouraged her to not only make notes but to date them so that, years later, she could remember what the Lord had taught her during different seasons.

Though Jasmine had bought a new Bible in Maine, that first, treasured Bible was lost to her forever. She'd had no choice but to leave it behind. It was the only thing she missed about her home.

Had Khalid found it? If so, what did he think? That it had corrupted her?

If he thought that, then he was a fool, and that was no surprise to her. His eyes had been darkened by lies and deception. He didn't know better, and she prayed he would, someday. That he and Baba and Uncle Hasan would someday understand the truth.

At least, when she was her best self, she prayed for them.

Mostly, she prayed Khalid would never find her.

Jasmine was relieved when Derrick exited the highway.

"We need gas," he explained. "And I could use some caffeine."

She twisted to see Rabie sitting up and stretching. "Do you need to use the bathroom?"

"Where are we?" His words came out on a yawn.

"About halfway there." Derrick shot her a look she figured was meant to remind her not to tell him anything more detailed than that.

Inside the brightly lit gas station, he accompanied Rabie into the men's room and was waiting outside the ladies' room door when she emerged. "You need anything?"

"Maybe some water."

He grabbed two bottles of water and one of Coke. After he paid for them, they all returned to the car together. It seemed Derrick didn't intend for them to split up for even a second this time around—and she certainly wasn't complaining.

She and Rabie climbed into the car while he filled the tank.

"Are you excited to see your sister?" Jasmine asked him.

"Uh-huh."

No matter how hard Jasmine had tried, Rabie hadn't warmed up to her again after catching her on the bed with Derrick.

"Can I talk to you about what happened this morning?"

His narrow shoulders lifted and fell.

"I know you have heard that men and women who are not married should not sleep together, yes?" At his nod, she continued. "This is true. There is more to that—what men and women are not to do in bed—than what happened between Derrick and me last night."

"I know." He crossed his arms. "I'm not a baby."

She did her best not to smile. "Then you understand that Derrick was under the covers, and I was under a different blanket on top of his covers. You see? We were not together in that way."

"You should not have been…"

The door opened, and Derrick climbed in. "You guys ready?" When he saw them, his eyebrows draw together. "What's wrong?"

"Rabie and I are discussing what happened last night."

"Why?" By his tone, Derrick still felt it wasn't the kid's business.

"Because it looked unseemly, and we are not to give even the appearance of sin, is that not true? I believe we gave the appearance of sin, so we ought to explain. It's about holiness."

Derrick's mouth snapped shut. He shifted into gear and started driving.

Jasmine turned her attention to Rabie again. "You are correct, Rabie. I should not have been there. We gave the impression that we had done something wrong, and it made you feel uncomfortable, which I did not wish to do. So, I want to explain now that I was only beside Derrick because I was sad and frightened after what happened, and he wanted to comfort me. We were talking, and we fell asleep. That is all. There was nothing else. Do you understand?"

Rabie's gaze flicked from her to the back of Derrick's head. He nodded.

"Will you forgive me for making you feel uncomfortable?"

His little lips quirked, and he straightened, triumphant. "I will. Now, I have forgiven you both for something."

"Does that mean you win?" She asked the question, even though it made no sense to her.

"Of course."

Beside her, Derrick chuckled. "Okay, bud. Back to sleep. We have three more hours."

He didn't argue this time, just pulled the blanket up over himself and tucked in. Within minutes, he was out.

After a few miles, Derrick asked, "What did you mean, holiness? If we did nothing wrong, how was it about holiness?"

"To be holy is to be set apart, no? To be set apart for God, but also to look set apart to the culture. To Rabie last night, we looked as if we had sinned. I didn't wish for him to believe that about us. It's even more important when you think of what his brother tells him about all American women. I think many in America don't understand, but in my country, and I think in much of the world, people believe all Americans are Christians."

"Really? Why?"

"Perhaps because most countries do not have so much…difference? Different cultures and religions?"

"Diversity?"

"Yes, this is right. When Dari says American women are all, you know?—"

"I remember."

"What he's saying is that Christian women are like that. He believes Christians have loose morals. All Christians are evil and impure. You see? I didn't wish for him to believe that. He needs to understand that what his brother says is not correct. Also, I didn't want him to hold a grudge against me or to think you and I had done something we hadn't done. It felt wrong not to explain."

He grunted. "I guess I was being a little stubborn."

"A little?"

His quick grin didn't hold. A few minutes later, he said, "Can I ask…?" But his words faded.

When he didn't finish, she prompted with, "Ask what?"

"If you don't want to talk about this, I get it. And if it's none of my business, then I get that too. Just tell me, and I'll shut up."

She twisted to check on Rabie, but he hadn't moved. "Okay."

"I get that you feel married."

Irritation spiked. "I am married."

"Right. That's what… I'm just… If you'd been married in America, and he was married to someone else, it wouldn't be legal."

"I was not married in America."

"I know. It's just weird to me for a man to have two wives. I'm trying to say that I get it, sort of. How you feel. Or I'm trying to. You and Khalid were intimate, and you're carrying his child. If you weren't married, then what would that mean for you? You'd be like one of those women with loose morals. So I get it. You're married." The last two words came out with a defeated breath. He took another, then started again. "Did he ever hurt you? Physically?"

Jasmine flashed back to too many moments at the compound, moments she preferred not to remember. "He did not hit me."

"That's a carefully worded answer. What does it mean? "

"I would prefer not to discuss this."

"Jazz, come on. Just tell me."

Had he not just said she didn't have to talk about it if she didn't want to? And yet, here he insisted she talk about it.

His hands tightened on the wheel, but after a moment, he said, "Fine. He didn't hit you, but I'm guessing he did hurt you."

"It is not unusual in my country. He would grab me sometimes or push me if I didn't move fast enough. Nothing terrible."

"In America, that would be considered abuse, and that's grounds for divorce. Not that you need grounds here—you can divorce for any reason at all, but as a Christian… I'm just saying, God wouldn't ask you to stay with a man who hurt you."

"I do not understand what you're saying."

"If you don't think the fact that he has another wife is good enough reason to divorce him, then abuse definitely is. I don't know the legalities of it. We'd need a good lawyer to figure out how to go about it, considering Khalid lives in Iraq. But the point is?—"

"You're saying I should divorce him?"

"Of course. It's the simplest solution."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why? Because… Do you want to be married to him?"

"That is irrelevant. I am married to him."

"But you don't have to be. In America, the law is set up?—"

"I do not live by the law of America."

"This is your home now. This is where you're going to spend your life, right? You have to obey the law of the land."

"Yes, you're right. Like in the Book of Romans, of course." Jasmine was trying to understand what Derrick was saying. "But first, I obey a higher law."

"I know that." His volume ticked higher. "I'm just saying?—"

"Please, do not wake Rabie. "

He raked a hand through his hair and took a breath. "Sorry." Though he spoke more quietly, his words carried just as much frustration. "Don't you want to be free of him? Why wouldn't you?"

"Free? Is that what I would be?"

"Of course."

"You think he would stop pursuing me if I divorced him? He would stop searching for his child?"

"If Khalid came for the baby, you'd have legal recourse. You would have full custody. You could seek protection. If you petition the court with all the facts—about his other wife, about the abuse—they wouldn't consider Khalid a fit parent. He wouldn't have any legal right to take him."

Ah. "So for protection, you think I should do this. But custody will not make a difference to Khalid. He will not accept the law of America."

"Well, right. But if you're hidden, as long as he can't find you…"

"Then what does it matter?" She shifted and pulled her knee up on the seat to better face Derrick. "I do not understand. If a divorce wouldn't protect me, then what would be the point?"

"You would be free of him. Don't you want that?"

"How would I be free? I think…I think this freedom you talk about is different from the freedom I seek. I am already free."

"You're hiding. You're pregnant, and you're about to raise a kid by yourself."

"But that would not change if I?—"

"I'm talking about the freedom to decide your own future, Jazz." He glanced her way, then reached for her like he'd done so many times. His palm was warm over the back of her hands, and she reveled in his gentle grip. "If you divorce Khalid, you can get married, for real, to a man of your choosing. You can…" De rrick's Adam's apple dipped as he swallowed. His voice was lower when he continued. "We could be together. I could be your husband. I could be your baby's father. You don't have to be alone."

"Oh." Her cheeks warmed. Her whole body flushed with his words, with what he was saying.

Derrick wanted to be with her. He wanted to marry her.

This good, good man wanted her.

If only things could be different. But they could not, and they would not. And they were not.

No matter how she wished it.

"I guess you're not there yet." He must've misinterpreted her silence. "I think, if you let yourself consider it, let yourself see me as more than a friend, you'll see that this is a good option." He lifted her hand to his mouth, then pressed a kiss to the backs of her fingers.

The slight touch sent pleasure shivering across her skin.

She pulled away and crossed her arms.

He exhaled. "If you'd just give me a chance. That's all I'm saying. I'm all-in here. I would… There's nothing I want more than to be with you. But even if… Even if you don't want me, wouldn't you like to be free of Khalid? Wouldn't you like the freedom to make that choice?"

His simple kiss to her hand—had he even realized he'd done it—had thrown her off-kilter, as if the whole world were tipping to one side, and she couldn't keep her balance.

She needed to think. She took a few breaths, trying to work out what to say. What she must say. "In America, you see freedom as the ability to do anything."

"I'm not talking about America, sweetheart. I'm talking about you and me."

She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Here, you are free if you can go where you want and do what you want. You are free if you have money to buy what looks pretty in the store. People wear whatever clothes they choose, even if they are immodest or even ridiculous. They can eat and drink anything, whether it is healthy or will make them fat or will make them drunk. There are few rules, and even the rules that do exist—some rules that have existed since the beginning of time—your society wants to tear down. And they call this freedom, no?"

"That's not what I'm talking about." Derrick's words came out hard. "You were forced to marry a man you didn't choose, a man who has another wife, a man who imprisoned you and who'll no doubt hurt you—maybe more than hurt you—if he catches up with you. That breaks some old-as-time rules, doesn't it? I'm pretty sure Adam and Eve chose each other. How could you possibly want to stay married to him? I mean, fine, in America maybe we take the whole freedom thing too far, but come on." She didn't miss the anger in his eyes. "How can you not want to separate yourself from him?"

"You ask the wrong question. The true question is, will I be free if I do what you suggest. I say I am already free because true freedom isn't the ability to do what I want. True freedom comes from doing what God says. True freedom is in walking with Him, is it not?"

Derrick didn't say anything, but his jaw tightened. She had a feeling he was setting himself against her words.

She wished she could do that. Part of her wished she believed as he did. How much easier it would be if she thought ending her marriage were as simple as signing a legal document. That she could hire a lawyer to draw up papers, and then she could do as she wished.

But she didn't believe that.

"I think…" She paused to try to put her thoughts into words. "I think that America is blessed to have so many who believe in Jesus. And God has blessed this country. There are good ch urches here. There are amazing people here—people like you and your family. I have never known such generosity as I do in America. So I do not wish to criticize, but I think in some ways, American Christians have forgotten the holiness of God. You see your laws and think that, as long as you call something acceptable, it is acceptable. But to divorce Khalid because of these things you mentioned—that is an American way of thinking. It is…how do I say? Not to think of eternity but only to think of this life, as if this life is all that matters."

"Temporal." Derrick's single word was flat, emotionless.

"Yes, like temporary. That's all this is, temporary. There is so much happiness in America, and this is good and nice—if it is real. But it is also bad because it gives the idea that happiness here, on earth, is the point. But this is not what the Bible teaches. Jesus said we would have suffering?—"

"But why do you want to if you don't have to?"

"I am married." Now it was her voice getting too loud.

"You already left him, Jazz. You've already walked out on your marriage. Why not make it official? I mean, aren't you supposed to honor your husband? Respect him? Wasn't running away from him sin? How do you decide which ones are acceptable and which aren't?"

"But I was?—"

"And as long as you've gone halfway with it, why not finish? Why not just?—?"

"If you ask me a question," she snapped, "then you listen for my answer."

He clamped his lips shut.

"You know Rahab?"

"Not personally."

She ignored his sarcasm. "In the Bible, in the book of Joshua, the prostitute who?— "

"I know who she is." The words were cold. "I might not stay up all night reading my Bible, but I'm not ignorant."

"I did not mean… I do not wish to argue, only to explain."

"Sorry." He waved a hand toward her. "Go on, then. Explain."

"Rahab was in an impossible position, a position she did not choose. The Israelite spies were at her home, and when the city officials came, she had to make a decision. She could betray the spies and tell the truth, or she could protect the spies and lie. Either way, there was good, and there was sin. To betray God's people was sin. But to lie was sin also. There was no sinless path. You see?"

Perhaps Derrick knew where Jasmine was going because he didn't say a word.

"I was in a position like Rahab. To stay with a man who was married to another woman, who was a terrorist, who would have raised our son to be a terrorist like himself, or our daughter to be a slave like me. To raise our child to hate the One True God and to love a false god—this is sin, no?"

She paused to give Derrick the opportunity to argue, but still, he said nothing.

"But to dishonor my husband was also sin. I had to choose. Maybe my choice was wrong, but my hope was to honor God the way Rahab honored God. In Jericho, Rahab was a prostitute, but with the people of God, she was redeemed. This was my prayer, that my life could be redeemed. That away from my husband and my father, I could raise my child to matter, the way Rahab's child mattered. An ancestor of Christ, yes? This I studied, and this I prayed. That my child could grow up as His child. You see?"

Derrick's head dipped and rose, though by the tightness in his jaw, the admission cost him something.

"Do you think I chose wrong? "

"No." He swallowed. "No, you did the right thing." He didn't look at her.

She hated this. She hated hurting Derrick. It felt like her heart was shattering into a million pieces.

She'd known, when she married Khalid, that she was forfeiting the marriage God might have had for her—if she were a different kind of person, born into a different culture, a different world. She hadn't had a choice, but she'd grieved what she knew she'd never have—to the degree that she'd understood.

But she hadn't understood.

How could she have? She'd never known a man—not well, anyway— who was truly devoted to his wife. She'd never seen a man lay himself down for a woman like Christ did for the church.

She'd never had a man want her, desire her, or even notice her.

She hadn't experienced true love.

Even after she'd come to America and seen how the Wright men loved their women, she hadn't really processed that she could have been one of those women. She'd always felt…separate. As if she could never have been worthy.

But now she understood what she never had before.

Derrick knew her. He knew her like nobody had ever known her. After a decade's separation from her twin, Jasmine thought Derrick knew her even better than Leila.

And he loved her.

And it was wrong, and she shouldn't, and she would need to ask God to forgive her and help her overcome her feelings, but she loved him too.

She loved him like she had never known she could love a man.

For the first time, she understood what she'd sacrificed when she'd made that vow to Khalid.

"You won't do it." Derrick wasn't asking a question. The words were more a statement of fact. "You won't divorce him."

"If I thought it would protect my child, I would consider it." Tears stung her eyes and made her voice high. She cleared her throat, but that wouldn't help. There was no hiding the truth from Derrick. "To marry another man though…" She took a breath. Once it was said, it would be done. "I cannot. I did not wish to make the vow to Khalid, but I did make it. I am his wife, and I cannot undo that. No matter how much I wish I could."