Children of the Storm - Elizabeth Peters [68]
“But he is happy in Heaven,” said Dolly.
“He certainly seems to be,” I agreed, without thinking.
There was a general shuffling of feet and clearing of throats, and Evelyn, whose religious views are more conventional than mine, hastily changed the subject.
“The design is really lovely, David. Simple and traditional, yet it has an extraordinary grace.”
“Yes, indeed,” Walter agreed. “What a pity it has been disfigured by this unseemly rubbish.”
The cord strung across the opening supported what was admittedly an unsightly collection of objects. They were not unseemly, however, and I felt obliged to mention this.
“It is not up to us, Walter, to decide what is proper to believers in any faith. For instance, our custom of entering our churches without removing our shoes would be considered quite unseemly by Muslims. These humble tokens are thanks to the holy man for favorable answers to prayers.”
Emerson had, with great effort, refrained from making any of the sarcastic comments that express his views on organized religion of all denominations, though he did roll his eyes rather a lot. It was my insistence that he refrain from heretical comments when the children were present. Religion is difficult enough without people like Emerson confusing the issue.
Now he cleared his throat and remarked, with a slight curl of his lip and a provocative glance at me, “Abdullah seems to have answered a good many prayers in a rather short period of time.”
“So he has,” I agreed. I had no intention of allowing Emerson to provoke me into a theological discussion.
“I find it touching,” Evelyn said gently. “What is it they ask for, I wonder?”
“The same things all human beings want,” I said with a sigh. “Health, children, a peaceful life, and forgiveness of sin.”
Evvie sat down quite suddenly and began to unlace her shoes. I fear it was not propriety that moved her so much as an excuse to remove these objects of attire, to which, like most children, she strongly objected. Her mother remonstrated, for she was of course concerned about scorpions, snakes, and sharp stones. As we debated the matter, a form emerged from the darkness of the interior and greeted us in Arabic.
His appearance gave me something of a start; I had not realized anyone was there. He wore the usual turban and galabeeyah and the usual beard covered the lower part of his face. It was vaguely familiar to me, but I could not place it immediately. However, I returned the greeting, as did David, while the others murmured politely. A closer examination of the fellow’s face finally gave me my clue. He was obviously a member of Abdullah’s far-flung family.
“You are Abu’s son Abdulrassah, are you not?” I inquired.
“I am the servant of the sheikh,” was the reply, accompanied by a pleased smile.
“I see. You have taken Hassan’s place?”
The boy—he was hardly more than that—nodded. “Have you come to pray? It is good.”
“I don’t believe I will,” Walter murmured in English. “Do you mind, Amelia? I mean no disrespect, it’s just that—”
“Quite all right,” I replied. “What about the rest of you?”
Evelyn decided to stay with Walter, and after receiving a somewhat dubious look from Abdulrassah, Lia said she would stay outside with her daughter. “I don’t remember the prayers,” she explained. “And I don’t think it would be ‘seemly’ for Evvie to be running around inside.”
Emerson’s excuse was audible only to me, at whom it was intentionally directed. “I don’t mind praying when prayer is expedient, but Abdullah would laugh himself sick to see me capering around his tomb.”
I saw no reason why my old friend should not enjoy a hearty laugh at Emerson’s expense, and I felt sure he would be more amused than offended to have an innocent descendant playing nearby. However, Dolly was taking the business very seriously. His small face grave and his eyes wide, he had already removed his shoes. So only three of us went inside—David and I and Dolly—and it was fitting, since we were the ones who cared most. David took his son by the hand and led him through the prescribed ritual. Though