Authors: Eris Field
“What do you want me to do?” he asked humbly.
“I want you to talk with the Stem Cell Team tomorrow and let them know about the cord stem cells.”
“Tomorrow?” He winced. “Couldn’t we have a few more days before . . .?”
“Each day we wait, we put you at risk of infection or . . . bleeding.”
“Tomorrow.” He grimaced. “I’ll talk with them tomorrow. The treatment will require more tests and then hospitalization while we wait to see if the stem cells find their way to the bone marrow and start producing healthy blood cells.” His glance was somber. “Using cord blood stem cells would lower the risk of the cells attacking normal tissue but it takes longer for a graft of cord stem cells to become established.” His voice dropped. “It can be as long as two months before we know if the graft was successful. Two months of not knowing, of not being with you. I don’t think I can do it.”
“Think of the time we will have together—you and I and our children. Hold on to that thought, your own family.”
“Our own family?” Pieter mused. “When Carl suggested that I preserve sperm cells before starting chemotherapy, I told him that there was no one who wanted my sperm.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Well”—he lowered his eyes in embarrassment—“I did have some of my sperm cells frozen. I didn’t know why I did it at the time. But now, I am glad.”
“I read that sperm cells can repair themselves in two years,” Janan said quietly. “We will wait.”
“Two years? Do you believe that we will have two years?”
Chapter 20
“Your father is coming home today,” Janan sang to the babies in the play pen positioned in the middle of the spacious drawing room. “Remember we have been working on saying
Baba
? You’re lucky that the Turkish word for father is easier than the Dutch. You could be walking by the time you mastered
Vader,
” she chattered nervously and then she heard Saskia open the door and suddenly Pieter was there, a little thinner and his face more lined but his eyes were gleaming like black onyx.
Oh, my love,” she said as she flew across the room and gathered him into her arms. “You’re home.”
With his face buried in her hair, he rocked her in his arms as though he would never let her go. When he finally lifted his head, he found himself being studied by two pairs of dark eyes. “They don’t know me,” he said.
“Of course they know you,” she answered indignantly. “I have been showing them pictures of their
Baba
every day.”
“
Baba
?” he asked as he walked them both toward the playpen.
“Turkish for father. Much easier than
Vader
, don’t you think?”
“I think you are the most wonderful thing that ever came into my life . . . and they”—he smiled at Tomas and Barina—“are a miracle.” A shadow of his wicked grin lit up his face. “They are our greatest accomplishment.”
With a beaming smile that revealed two bottom teeth, Tomas held up his arms in a silent plea to be lifted out of the playpen. Barina gave Pieter a long stare and then uttered a soft “Ba.”
“She knows me,” Pieter whispered.
“Of course,” Janan answered smugly.
“I was away for almost four months and so much has changed,” Pieter said softly as he settled Tomas on his lap and motioned for Janan to hand him Barina. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t be here for Maarten’s funeral. The Team did not want to risk my being exposed to any infection.” He blinked to clear his eyes. “Maarten and I had so little time together.”
“He was enormously proud of you. He talked about you every day.” Janan smiled at the memory. “Most of the time he called you his grandson.”
“The library won’t be the same without him sitting in his chair by the fireplace.”
“I think he enjoyed the last months of his life. He loved watching Barina and Tomas and he treasured your letters.” She stoked her husband’s hair. “I don’t know how you found the energy to write but he lived for your letters. I think Sophia misses him more than she says. He spent so much time helping her with her Dutch and English.”
“Yes, she was always terrified of men, even Dirk, but she was at ease with Maarten.” He thought for a moment and then asked, “Is she going to be ready to start the nursing program this fall?”
“I don’t know if that is what she really wants,” Janan answered slowly. “She seems restless, not unhappy but as though she is waiting for something.” She jumped up from her chair. “It is time to take the children to her for their lunch and nap.” She gave him a radiant smile. “We will have lunch in our tree house and then we will rest.” She blushed at the gleam in his eyes. “Today you are mine. Tomorrow, Crispin and Ann Marie and Emine and Marc are coming to dinner to welcome you home.”
She wanted to tell him that Alan Al Bayati would be joining them to share the good news but Alan had asked her not to say anything in case something came up and he could not make it.
They had all gathered in the library for a glass of Jenever before going in to dinner and Pieter, standing by Alan, felt blessed as he looked around the room—Crispin and Marc talking together and Emine, Ann Marie, and Janan laughing together by the window overlooking the garden. Dirk had sent his best wishes, adding that he would be with them for New Year’s. He turned at Alan’s quick breath and followed his gaze to Sophia as she stood shyly by the door, dressed in a plain, indigo-blue dress with long sleeves and a high neckline that emphasized the ivory oval of her face. Her hair was covered by a cream-colored headscarf with a pink lace trim. Taking Alan’s arm and leading him toward the door, Pieter said gently to Sophia, “May I introduce my good friend, Alan Al-Bayati.” He turned to Alan. “This is Sophia Sadik.” Alan bowed slightly and then, to Pieter’s astonishment, murmured, “
Merhaba, Sophia, hanim
.”
Pieter was stunned to hear Sophia respond in a clear voice, “
Merhaba. Al-Bayati
? It is a Turkmen tribe,
evet
?”
“Well, my grandmother told me stories of the family being driven out of the Caucuses by the Russians.”
“You speak Turkish?”
“Only a few words that my grandmother taught me,” Alan answered. He did not mention as he studied her headscarf with satisfaction that his grandmother, with no granddaughters to talk to, had also taught him the secret language of lace edgings.
Facing Pieter across the breakfast table, Alan asked with a quiet intensity that was at odds with his usual genial manner, “What is Sophia’s position here?”
Pieter considered Alan’s question for a moment. “She lives with us and is employed as a mother’s helper. She helps with the care of the children,” he answered in a neutral voice.
“Are you her legal guardian?”
“No.” Pieter met Alan’s eyes directly. “She is over eighteen and has been granted asylum in The Netherlands.” Studying his friend’s face, he thought,
I don’t remember seeing Alan like this since the early days of his marriage nearly eight years ago. He was intense then but happy. Now he is intense and uneasy.
“What’s this about?”
“You know how much I loved my wife, and when I lost her, I thought I would never be attracted to a woman again. I felt nothing. Then, when I saw you and Janan together, I began to want that closeness again.” He moved restlessly in his chair. . “Last evening, it came like an electric shock . . . when I saw Sophia standing in the doorway. I had this overwhelming feeling to protect her, to cherish her.” He slammed his hands down on the breakfast table. “What nonsense! I am nearly twenty years older.”
Finally Pieter broke the silence following Alan’s outburst. “I know very little about her. Her family was killed in Iraq and she ran away to escape a marriage that her uncle was arranging.” Pieter paused before continuing. “When she first came, she said that she wanted to study nursing. But Janan says that Sophia seems to have changed . . . restless as though waiting for something.” He felt compelled to add, “She usually shrinks from any contact with men.” He rubbed his chin. “Strange. She did not know you, but she did not seem afraid of you.”
“It was the name, not me.” Alan shrugged. “She associated my name with people she had known.”
Pieter watched mystified as Alan, catching a glimpse of Sophia passing the door of the dining room, suddenly straightened his shoulders and grinned. “Maybe it’s not just the name.”
“What makes you say that?” Pieter asked in bewilderment.
“Didn’t you notice?” Alan stood up impatiently. “Yesterday, the scarf’s lace edging was pink hyacinths but today the edging is purple hyacinths.” He nodded in satisfaction. “It’s not just the name.”
“Alone at last,” Pieter murmured as he closed the door of their bedroom. “I enjoyed seeing everyone again but I like it best when there is just the two of us.” He slid his arm around Janan’s waist and kissed the base of her throat. “We missed so much time that I savor every moment that we have together.”
“We are two of the most fortunate people in the world. We have tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow to love. We have time to love slowly and sweetly,” she said as her lips explored the hollow of his shoulder. She lifted her head. “Did I ever tell you that I like your shoulders?”
“You’ve brought me such happiness,” Pieter said as he rocked Janan in his arms. “I never dreamed that life could hold this much joy.” His kiss was hot with passion. “I want to give you the world.”
“I would like to ask you to give me a small part of the world,” Janan answered seriously. “I’ve been a refugee all my life but now I want Amsterdam to be my home. I want to be at home here and I don’t know it. I’m an outsider.”
“Oh, my darling.”
“You know Amsterdam in your bones. You can give that assurance to our children but I can’t.” She cradled his face in her hands. “I would ask that you help me know my home.”
“My library and everything that I know about Amsterdam are at your disposal, and what I don’t know, we will learn together. We will start tomorrow.” He thought for a moment. “We will start with Amsterdam’s canals.”
“They are so lovely. Are there many?”
“Only 165. We will take our time.” He smiled at her, inviting him to share his wonder at the words, ‘Our time.’
“Our time,” she murmured against his lips. “We have been given the greatest gift possible. Time.”