Free Veil of Silence by K'Anne Meinel

causing the taller woman’s forehead to bob up in synchronicity, she answered, “I think it’s time that you tell your family that you are gay.”
    Swallowing slightly, she asked, “Do they have to know?  Can’t I let them guess?”
    “Well, when you walk down the aisle and I follow along next, don’t you think they might clue into the fact that you are marrying a woman?”
    “I don’t know.  Some of them are pretty obtuse.  They may think you are just one of my bridesmaids only with a better gown…” she grinned at the thought.
    “I think you are going to have to come out to your family,” she told her.
    Marsha lost her grin and the playfulness she had felt up to that point.  “Why don’t we just elope and tell them afterwards?”
    “Kinda defeats the purpose of inviting all our friends and family to our wedding,” Heather pointed out.
    “They don’t have to know,” she pointed out in return.
    “I want a big wedding with the white dresses, my father walking me down the aisle, and the celebration of our love.  I’d kinda like you to be in attendance.”
    “Your father is dead,” she pointed out.
    “That’s irrelevant to the point I am making.  I want a wedding, in a church, with everyone there…including you !” she used her forefinger to point at her fiancée’s nose.
    “Then I guess we are going to have to tell my family that I’m gay,” she conceded with a long drawn-out sigh.
    Shaking her head, she backed away slightly.  “Nuh uh, it’s your family.  You break the news to them.”
    “You won’t go along for moral support?” she asked incredulously.
    “I don’t think it’s the moral thing that will be the issue,” she joked in return.
    Marsha smiled in remembrance.  Coming out to her family had been a lot harder than coming out to the army.  The repeal of ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ and the ‘Defense Against Marriage Act’ had allowed many service personnel to declare spouses that had formerly been hidden, which allowed them benefits and had been a big breakthrough.  Marsha wanted Heather to be her wife.  She wanted her to have her benefits if anything ever happened to her.  She wanted to publically declare, “This is MY wife.”  And she did.
    Her thoughts continued as she gazed at her sleeping children.  Now her thoughts went to the wedding and the reception afterwards.
    “You’re a great dancer,” Marsha said.
    “Shhh, don’t tell anyone!  I’m counting.”  They shared a laugh because it was obvious she could dance.  To keep the brevity going, she started, “One, two, three…one, two, three.”  They shared another laugh because it was so far off from the song they were dancing to.
    Marsha had been surprised by who had come to their wedding and who had stayed away.  The disapprovers had been among the minority and she figured they were no loss.  Those that really cared had come and celebrated the two women’s marriage.
    Marsha checked on Amir as he turned in the seat, trying to get more comfortable.  The seatbelt kept him locked in place.  She pulled the blanket up and, using it like padding, made more of a spot for him to snuggle in.  She herself was feeling the fatigue of the past few days, hell, the past week and her flight from captivity.
    Zabi had insisted on new clothes for his whole family: his two children and his two wives.  Since the American was thought to be useless as anything but a breeder, Malekah and her women friends sewed the outfits.  Marsha thought it ironic that Malekah meant queen.  This was not the word she would use to describe the bitter, old woman, but she didn’t blame her, not really.  Zabi was a real ‘catch’ by their tribal standards.  An up-and-coming warrior, he had married the older woman and then regretted it when she couldn’t breed.  He had claimed the American woman because she proved to be a fighter and he enjoyed dominating her.  The first few times he had required help as she fought him,