Free Angeline by Karleen Bradford

again.
    Angeline could see an ugly, half-healed scar on his forehead. Stephen rubbed at it, then seemed to make an effort to regain his enthusiasm.
    “But you,” he said. “Zeid has told me that you are being well treated and that the concubine, Zahra, has grown fond of you.”
    Fond of her? Zahra had grown fond of her?
    “She is good to me,” she replied. “But everything is strange here, Stephen. I am so alone and I have worried about you. I miss you!”
    “I have missed you, too,” Stephen replied. He dropped his hand to his side and stood for a moment, hunched, as if cold, even though the sun beat down upon them with an unrelentingheat. “Zeid reassured me that you were not being mistreated …” He stopped, said nothing for a long moment, then drew a deep breath and spoke again.
    “This is not how we thought it would end, is it, Angeline?”
    Angeline’s initial relief at seeing him died. She could not bear to see him so defeated, so hopeless. He looked hollow. Empty. Like a cast-off, burned up lantern.
    Samah was tugging at her arm. Must she go back to the harem and not see him again? She could not!
    As if sensing her thoughts, Stephen spoke quickly.
    “I will see you again, Angeline.” He drew another deep breath, as if summoning up strength, then turned back to Zeid.
    “I work with Kareem the gardener in the mornings,” he said, “but in the afternoons I help Father Martin when he teaches the Emir’s son, Habib. If Father Martin sent for Angeline, would she be allowed to go to him? Our priest has worried about her. He worries that she is not hearing Mass. That she has not made her confession since we’ve been here.”
    Zeid nodded. “It could be done,” he said. “The maid could come to Father Martin after Habib has finished.”
    Her patience exhausted, Samah snapped out a few words to Zeid and he nodded.
    “Go with Samah now,” he said to Angeline. “I will arrange it. You will be summoned when it is time.” He smiled. There was even a flicker of what might have been amusement in his eyes. “You have a right to worship with your priest,” he said, “and I do not think anyone would find it amiss if Stephen were there, too.”
    “Thank you,” Angeline said. She felt suddenly light. “I will come if I am allowed, Stephen,” she said. “We will be together again, you will see. Perhaps then we can bear this.”
    How strange, she thought. I am comforting him. When all the time we were on that terrible journey, it was he who comforted me.
    Angeline waited impatiently for the call to go to Father Martin. Finally, one day after their afternoon sleep, Samah came for her, heavily veiled. Zahra must have been expecting her, because she was not surprised.
    “Imshi,” she said.
    Angeline had heard the other concubines say that to the slave girls often enough to know that it meant
Off with you.
The other women snappedit out as a curt command, but Zahra said it almost affectionately. She waved Angeline out of the room.
    Samah led Angeline through an unfamiliar part of the house, then they descended into a small garden at the back. Angeline thought she saw the whisk of a gown disappear into a doorway as they crossed to a separate wing of the residence. There they followed another passageway to the end. A door stood open and Angeline could hear Father Martin’s voice. Samah led her up to the room, every stiff step expressing her disapproval. At the doorway she turned quickly and left.
    When Angeline entered, she could not suppress the rush of gladness that overwhelmed her. Father Martin rose from where he had been sitting at a table and came toward her. She almost hugged him. Stephen stood behind the priest. She rushed over to him and held out her hands.
    “Now we can really talk,” she began.
    Father Martin interrupted her. “I believed it was for religious instruction you wished these meetings?” His voice was dry but there was a smile behind the words. “I suggest we pray,” he