Then Freddie piped up.
“What does he like, I mean…”
He hesitated at the awkwardness of his question.
“What did he like to do before this happened?”
Douglass again answered.
“He was just a normal, bright kid, according to the neighbors. He excelled in one area. Even the local imam, the holy man, said Faisal had been blessed with a talent for music.”
He paused, remembering the last notes of the polonaise, just as the blast erupted.
Galen waited for one more voice to be heard.
Tonio looked at his favorite tio.
“He can stay with me.”
The children cleared the table before heading to their rooms to finish their homework. The adults returned to the living room, where Nancy served brownies and some of Edison’s favorite Jasmine tea. Its aroma put everyone in a more relaxed mood. This time the old sergeant broke the silence.
“Pretty amazing group here, folks. Those kids picked up right away on what was needed.”
Douglass held his wife’s hand. He tried to speak, but the emotion overwhelmed him.
“What Lach wants to say … what the three of us feel … can’t be expressed.”
Diana smiled at her husband, so tough on the outside but tender in the heart. She had known they were meant for each other from the moment the tall-but-awkward, high-school basketball player asked her for a date. She had never doubted he was the right man for her.
Edison savored his tea.
“Think we can handle it, guys?”
Nancy looked at the younger woman seated across from her, and in that telepathy shared by women she conveyed that she, too, had found a keeper.
The boy sat silently in the car, feeling the vibration of the ride through his feet. The American soldier and his wife had picked him up from the hospital. He said nothing, when they talked about his coming to live with them. He said nothing, when they said he first would be staying with friends who had children his own age. And he said nothing, when he felt the car make a hard turn and begin a long climb up a road, its tires crunching the gravel, stopping at a place where the air felt cooler and fresher.
“Tio Galen, Tio Galen, he’s here!”
Tonio rushed into the living room, as the big patrol car pulled up out front. It was early in the day, but Nancy was already outside fixing up a new planter box. She heard the approaching car and moved toward it. Edison was working on a storage cabinet for the garage, and he, too, hurried to meet the new guest. But it was Galen, moving at steam-engine speed out the door, who reached the vehicle first.
Lachlan stretched his long frame, as he got out of the driver’s seat. Diana, Dresden-petite, sat in the front seat for a second before getting out.
Galen opened the right-rear door and looked inside. The boy sat impassive, unmoving. Galen stared at him, as flashbacks of an Asian village and napalm-covered, burning, screaming children tore at his psyche. He reached in and touched the boy’s right arm.
“
Faisal Fedr, assalamu alaika, bi rahmati wa qudrati Allahu Taala wasalta ila huna
.”
Faisal Fedr, Salaam Alaichem. Allah’s Grace and Will has brought you here.
The boy turned toward the voice and reached out both arms.
Galen picked him up and carried him from the car. As they approached the sign, he stopped, set the boy down, and took his hands in his own. Slowly, he guided the long, slender fingers over the nine letters: SAFEHAVEN.
“
Inna daruna mahallun amin ya Faisal, wa huna beytune. Wa talama tahibbu al baqua maana wa huwwa baituka aithan
.”
This is Safehaven, Faisal. It is our home. For as long as you need to stay, it will be your home.
The children lined up on the stairway, as Galen, guiding the boy by his left elbow, moved him forward. He whispered what was in the path ahead as they moved forward to the steps.
“This is Carmelita, Faisal.”
The boy extended his hands, and Galen placed them on the girl’s face. His fingers moved and felt the wetness of her eyes and the softness of her hair. He was startled to hear her, as Galen did, greet him in his native tongue.
“
Ahlan wa sahlan wa marhaba ila baitina ya Faisal
.”
Welcome to our home, Faisal.
Freddie was next, but he stood awkwardly, unsure what to say. Then he blurted out, as the boy’s hands touched his face, “I’m going to teach you how to play baseball! And maybe you, me, and Tio Eddie can work the radios together, too.”
They moved up a few steps, and Galen placed Faisal’s hands on Tonio’s face.
“You’re going to stay with me, Faisal.”
And then, to everyone’s surprise, Tonio blurted out, “And someday, I’m going to make you see again!”
Nancy looked at Faisal, smaller than Tonio. A ragdoll, patchwork child, she thought.
How can
such things happen?
She stepped forward, as Galen approached the top of the stairs. Edison stood right beside her. Already, his mind was in motion, realizing that this boy’s life was now sound and touch.
Shouldn’t be too difficult to put sound emitters of different frequencies around the house to guide him
.
He thought of Freddie’s comment about baseball.
Easy enough to put a sounder in one of those, too
.
Nancy knelt down, and once again Galen guided the boy’s hands to her face. Edison also squatted and stared at those artificial eyes—stuffed-toy fabrications no matter how cosmetically real they looked. He made another mental note to ask Galen about nerve implants and electronic eye feasibility.
“Faisal, this is Tia Nancy.”
“Hello, Faisal,” she said, her voice quivering. “We are pleased to have you in our home.”
She was glad that the boy lowered his hands just as her tears began to flow.
“And this is Tio Edison.”
“I’m glad to meet you, Faisal,” he said, taking the boy’s right hand in his and shaking it.
“Faisal, you can call me Tio Galen if you like. It will be time for lunch soon. Your guardians will stay with us for lunch, then we’ll get you settled down. We hope you will like living on the mountain.”
“Come sit next to me, Faisal,” Tonio said, as he followed Galen’s lead in guiding the young boy by his left elbow into the dining room. He placed the boy’s hand on the back of the chair he was to sit on and helped him pull it away from the table. He waited until his new roommate had seated himself before sitting next to him.
“In front of you are your knife, fork, and spoon, Fai. Feel their location.”
Galen noted Tonio’s immediately familiar manner with the boy and felt pleased.
As the meal progressed, Faisal began to relax. It was difficult not to. He smelled the rich scents of simple food, the smooth, cool taste of fresh milk, and finally the rich sweetness of Nancy’s brownies. What had become the habitual tightness in his neck eased, and his jaw muscles gave up their near-constant, clenching tension. Hesitantly, in the direction he had last heard Nancy’s voice, he turned and stammered, “Thank you.”
Edison raised his hands and started to clap slowly, then faster as the others joined in.
“Faisal, we’re going to come here every day, until you feel ready to come with us to your new home. We’ll be back tomorrow.”
Diana and Lachlan each hugged the boy, who ran his fingers over their faces then raised his hand in a tentative effort at goodbye. Lachlan helped his wife, whose eyes had filled with tears, into the car. The adults and children gathered in front of the house and waved, as the cruiser rolled slowly down the driveway.
He felt Freddie take his left elbow and heard him as they started to move.
“Come on, Fai. I’m going to give you a guided tour of the house and the neat stuff we have here. Carm and Tonio are coming, too.”
The three former orphans took their new charge on a word-and-touch tour of the house. They reached Tonio’s room last, where an extra bed and dresser had been placed.
Tonio led Faisal to the bed. Sitting on the smooth, cotton sheets and soft quilt suddenly made him very tired.
“May I rest now?”
Carmelita and Freddie left him with Tonio.
He was running, running with his little dog, Fez, back through the dusty streets of his hometown. It was early morning, and the sun had not yet begun to heat the sandy dirt of the roads and raise the shimmering light waves that cooked the earth like his father’s big ovens.
He smelled the yeasty scents of the flat breads and the sweet honey cakes his father and mother would make daily for the townspeople, and he ran. He ran in circles of play, Fez dancing a four-legged jig around him. He ran, and his mind conjured up the music he would play for his parents. He ran, and the notes danced in his head. And then the sky exploded in unbearable brightness, and he screamed and screamed and screamed.
Nancy sat on the bed and held him in her arms, rocking him back and forth.
“We’re here, little one. We’re here.”
The early, Sunday morning sky was cloudless blue. Galen knocked gently on the door to the boys’ room. Tonio, pajama clad, opened the door quietly, and Galen stepped in. He saw the boy everyone now called Fai curled up on the bed but not asleep.
“I hear you, Tio Galen.”
“Fai, today is a special day of the week for us. There is a place here on the mountain that your new friends and I call our Garden of Remembrance. Every Sunday we visit that place. Would you like to come with us?”
He put on the new clothes they had bought him: the blue jeans and polo shirt and comfortable shoes Tonio called “sneakers.” He followed Tonio on his own now, the sounds of the house and the feel of the wall giving him direction to the breakfast table. Then Tonio took his left elbow, as Carmelita and Freddie met the three adults at the top of the steps. They all walked down together.
Faisal smelled the morning dew and the aroma of trees, grass, and flowers—so different from the scented oils of his hometown. The air felt cool on his face, and he seemed to float with the little band, as they walked down the mountain. The trees parted, and a grassy clearing filled with scents of seasonal flora overwhelmed the boy. Tonio took his hand and helped him move it over the various flowers and shrubs, while the peeps of sparrows and the rawkish calls of bluejays filled his ears.
Galen spoke in quiet tones.
“Fai, this is our Garden of Remembrance. It is a garden of flowers, birds, and memories—memories of those whom we all have loved and who are no longer with us. Tio Edison, Tia Nancy, Carmelita, Freddie, and Tonio … and myself … each hold precious thoughts here. We celebrate the goodness of those we remember, and we mourn their passing. Now, we would like you to bring your memories here.”
Nancy and Edison held hands, thinking of the baby daughter they never had the chance to raise. They looked at the children and blessed the Fates for bringing them three to care for so late in life.
Carmelita, Federico, and Antonio thought of the storm-tossed raft, each straining to recall the faces of their parents, who had sacrificed themselves so their children could live in freedom.
Galen stared ahead, seeing in the flowers the faces of Leni, Cathy, and June, and those of his friends now gone.
Faisal heard music in the light breezes and the caressing touches of warmth from a sun he could no longer see. He cleared his throat and began to speak.
“
Al dumuu tamlau al ayun wal qualbu maqbuthin bil alam wal ahzan
.”
Galen translated for the group.
“The eyes shed tears and the heart is grieved…”
Faisal hesitated, his voice quavering with emotion.
Then he heard Galen’s voice, and he joined in the prayer the prophet Mohammed spoke upon the death of his own son:
Walaakin soafa la neshtaki aw naqula illa ma yurthi Allahu Taala
.
“But we will not say anything except which pleases our Lord.”
Inna Lillah wa inna Ilaihi rajaun
.
“We came from Allah and we will go to Him.”
Two voices, one boy, one man, echoed across the mountain.
A few months passed. Faisal had grown an inch since arriving at Safehaven. Nancy had lengthened his jeans and trousers to match his new height. He now knew the house well and could walk unguided to each of the rooms and workshops, running his fingers over the radio equipment and shop tools, in which Edison took such delight.
He sometimes sat in the kitchen, listening to Nancy and Carmelita talking what Freddie called “girltalk,” as they mixed ingredients for Nancy’s baked delights. Once he had knocked on the door of Galen’s room on a dare from the other children, who giggled when the bear of a man appeared.
Galen saw the boy standing expectantly and noticed the other three watching from a safe distance in the hallway. He remembered the days during his internship and residency, when the nurses and hospital staff would play tricks on him. But now, with age and circumstance changed, he growled only to delight the pranksters.
“Fai, I understand that you are a musician. Would you like to try my electric piano?”
He left the door open, allowing Faisal to follow the sound of his voice and footsteps. He removed the dust cover from the full-keyboard, Yamaha electric, pressed the on switch, and touched a note.
The boy moved toward the sound but then hesitated, his sightless eyes pleading.
“May I try it?”
Galen pulled out the piano bench, guided Faisal’s hands to it, and then stepped back, as the boy sat and touched the keys.
“Is there a forte pedal, Tio Galen?”
Galen placed the boy’s foot on the pedal control for loudness.
The three children stood in the doorway, watching as Faisal tested the keys. Then, quickly, the room filled with the sounds of Bach’s “Toccata and Fugue” in D Minor. Soon Nancy and Edison joined the audience, marveling at the boy’s fingers moving like centipedes across the keyboard, his body swaying in time, his voice humming along. As he finished, there was a second of silence, then six pairs of hands clapped loudly, and his mind flashed back to that yeast-scented night, and he sobbed, tearless and in silence.