Free Nobody's Child by Marsha Forchuk Skrypuch Page A

two rooms to himself. One of the rooms had an elaborate carpet on the floor with richly embroidered cushions on top. In the centre of the room was a
hookah
— a water pipe used to smoke tobacco — and in one corner was a prayer matfacing Mecca. Even the walls in this room were hung with beautiful Turkish carpets. It was divided from the second room by a doorway of beads. This second room of the salemlik was similar to the haremlik’s single room, although the cushions were more heavily embroidered.
    Abdul ushered Kevork and Onnig to the tonir in the main room. “This is where you shall sleep,” he said. Then he pushed aside the beaded divider and stepped into the other room.
    As Kevork settled in to sleep, he could see the silhouette of Abdul on his knees, bowing towards Mecca. The rhythmic sound of prayers drifted through the beads.
    They worked the fields for three weeks, but did not manage to harvest even a third of the wheat before it dried on the stalks.
    â€œBecause of the decimation of so many fields, even this small yield will bring in a fair price,” said Abdul Hassan with satisfaction as they gathered together for what was supposed to be a final evening meal.
    Mariam saw him look at her with an appraising eye. What must I look like to him? she wondered. As she reached for a fig and popped it in her mouth, she saw how her arms had changed. They were now brown as a nut and faintly muscular, but they looked more womanly than girlish. She looked up and caught his eye. He returned the look with a fatherly glance of approval. She was glad they were leaving soon. She had a feeling that he would like nothing better than to marry her off to some young Turk.
    She watched as he appraised the others in her group, and she did the same, trying to imagine how they must all appear from his point of view. Kevork’s shoulders had broadened with hard work and he looked more like a little man than a boy. Mariam thought Abdul probably wouldn’t mind keeping Kevork around as a farm hand.
    When Abdul Hassan’s appraising gaze fell on Anna, Mariam was pleased to see that his face held nothing but affection and respect. Anna’s face was a painful blistered red, and her hands were cracked and callused. The issue of the Evil Eye seemed moot.
    Mariam already knew how both Abdul Hassan and his wife felt about Onnig. On more than one occasion they had mentioned that they would love to adopt him. Amina had confided in Mariam that they had lost both of their sons. One had died in infancy, and the other had died as a soldier in the Sultan’s army. Amina could no longer have children, and she had suggested to her husband that he take on a second wife, but he refused.
    Mariam also knew how they both felt about Marta. She turned to look at her now. As always, she was close to the skirts of Amina. With the veil tucked tightly over her hair and a small apron over her dress, she looked like a miniature version of a Turkish housewife. Mariam knew that Amina had come to depend on her.
    Abdul Hassan drew a purse of coins from his belt and turned to Mariam. “As promised, here is your payment.” He handed the purse to her.
    â€œThank you,” said Mariam with a smile. “This will help us when we get to Marash.”
    The Turk replied, “So you are truly set on leaving?”
    â€œWhere else would we go?”
    â€œLet me be frank,” said Abdul Hassan. “The Armenians in Marash fared much better than those in Adana. In fact, some Turks even hid their Armenian neighbours when the gendarmes rained down with their bayonets.”
    â€œThat is good to know,” said Mariam.
    â€œHowever,” said Abdul Hassan, “Marash is not entirely safe. The Young Turks have grasped power from the Sultan and some say they are even more fanatical than he was.”
    â€œBut I thought they believed in reforming Turkey,” said Mariam.
    â€œThey do,” replied Abdul Hassan,