One by one, the police cars clustered in front of the masjid began to roll away. Taal glared at Adeelah through the back window of the last cruiser to depart, his scowling visage shrinking as it crept through traffic. "Okay, ma'am." The short female officer grabbed her attention. "We're finished for now. Be safe."
"I will, thank you." Were things finished? Would there ever be a time she could actually just breathe and not have to worry about Taal's rage? Adeelah hugged herself with one arm and looked down at her mother's face shining under the web of her phone's shattered glass. "Just great."
"What's wrong?" Urban Lancelot leaned his head near hers, obviously avoiding any casual touching. Red brows shot up. "Oh, that's not good."
"No, it isn't. I could probably still use it, though." She sighed and strode down the street, skimming over bubblegum-stained concrete for a cherry-colored cloth. "Right now, I need my khimar." Her knight in shining blue jeans trailed her.
"I think I see it." He jogged a little ahead and bent at the curb. Full peach lips surrounded by a thick auburn beard pressed into a thin line. He presented the filthy garment. "This isn't good either."
Adeelah took the khimar, grunted and rubbed her pulsing temples. "Subhanallah." Her shoulders shook as she sniffed back all of the embarrassment, pain and regret loving the wrong man brought her. "I can't catch a break."
—
Wade dipped his head to get her attention and smiled. The oval, dark brown eyes brimming with tears sent a surge of concern through him. "Don't worry, sis. Allah is merciful, we can fix all of this." His heart skipped when her brown cheeks rose into orbs flanking full lips. He shifted his gaze to his sneakers.
"We?"
"Yes, we." He put a hand to his chest. "I can't just leave you like this." He turned his head up and down the street. "There." He pointed to a store with Islamic clothing hanging in the window and headed towards it. "Come on." He looked over his shoulder. The beautiful woman, pinned to her spot, fumbled the dirty khimar. He walked back and offered a reassuring grin. "I'm sorry. As salam alaykum. I'm Wade Reid. Please, let me help. I could use the blessings."
Her eyes softened. "Okay. Jazakallah. I'm Adeelah Yazdi—" she shook her head and grimaced, "I mean Bilal—Adeelah Bilal."
"Pretty name." Wade glanced at his phone and read Diego before tucking it into his front jean pocket. He can wait. "Let's go." They stepped into the store with Quran wafting through garments cascading from hooks near the ceiling. Air, balmy from incense and oils in glass cases and on shelves, greeted his nose. He stood opposite her at a long table hosting piles of folded khimars with a Hijab sign hanging from the ceiling.
"So," Wade jammed his fingers in his front jean pockets, "what would you like?" He smiled at the sunken head with soft, black waves flowing into a bun of coils at the base. Damn. It's getting hard not to look. What is it about this woman?
"At this point," she dug through the pile, "who cares?"
Her shaky tone tugged at him. She seemed strong and fragile at the same time. He plunged a hand into the soft fabric. This couldn't be easy for her. The covered Muslim women he knew went to great lengths to stay that way, and here she was with a bunch of strangers ogling her. He lifted a red folded scarf. "How about this one? It looks like what you have."
She snatched and opened the rectangular fabric, wrapping it around her head and neck. She looked up. "Sorry. Jazakallah." She pinned her shoulders back, searching her bag on her way to the cash register.
Wade dashed to meet her. "No," He pulled the wallet from his back pocket, "I'm paying."
The handbag she hiked up her shoulder swung at her hips. "You don't have to."
"But I want to."
"Jazakallah." She lifted her chin and disappeared through the shop door. Wade tossed a large bill on the counter and raced after the sister. There was something about her that called to him. He couldn't lose track of her. The tension in his neck eased when he saw her standing outside—the city darkening around her. The hem of her red skirt whipped around her ankles and shoes; the new scarf flew up in the breeze and brushed her cheek, making an already stunning women look like an ethereal beauty—irresistible to touch. But resist, he must. He sucked his teeth and dug his phone from his pocket. Diego's name appeared on the screen again. He grazed his thumb across the screen and began typing.
"It's almost maghrib," she announced in a calm voice.
He stopped. "Yeah, how about we find someplace to break our fasts? You wanna go to the masjid?"
"No."
He raised his eyebrows at the snap. "Okay, let's not go to the masjid."
She let out a heavy sigh. "Sorry," she shifted her gaze to the sidewalk. "I keep saying that, don't I?"
"It's alright. You've been through a lot." He tucked the phone away. "There's a coffee shop on the corner. How about we go grab something?" She chewed her lip. Was he coming off creepy? He read his phone.
Diego: ASA I'm at the masjid. Where are you?
WAS Heading to the coffee shop at the corner. Meet me there instead. Wade scratched the back of his head and returned his attention to Adeelah. "You must be hungry. I sure am."
She swayed and twisted the corner of her new khimar. "I don't know."
"I'll sit at a different table. Just let me get you some food." He pulled his lips into a boyish grin. "A little coffee won't hurt, right?"
Herpouty lips twitched. "I guess it won't."