The Haj - Leon Uris [257]
‘Of course not, Allah forbid.’
A small Mona Lisa smile crossed her lips. ‘If I am to stay, I would like the Sabbath and one other day each week when I do not have to work. Zeinah in the kitchen is quite capable of taking my place on those days. The children like her very much.’
‘Just what do you intend to do in Amman by yourself?’
‘I want to join the fedayeen.’
‘You must tell me honestly, Nada, you must. Am I as good as Bernard Joxe?’
Nada rolled over on her back, stretched, and sighed happily as he kissed her nipples.
‘Well, tell me, you damned little wench, tell me.’
‘You are magnificent, Hamdi.’
‘I am as good as Bernard Joxe. Say it.’
‘Am I as good as Madame Othman?’
‘You are a bitch, a bitch, a little bitch. How does a peasant girl like you know how to make love this way?’
Hamdi Othman was indeed a lover with some finesse. But he was selfishly in love with himself. He demanded. He let himself go when he was ready. Then Nada simmered him down and demanded to be delighted by his many tricks.
She knew she would have to leave soon. The atmosphere was growing thick. Madame Othman had soured on her. It had happened with the woman many times before.
Hamdi Othman could never reveal the affair without bringing the walls crashing down on himself, for Nada was not to be intimidated. Moreover, she had gotten beneath his skin and he was now babbling out little cravings for her, showing little jealousies.
Nada had been careful to do it only during the safe times, and nothing had happened to get her with child. Making love with him, selfish as he was, had had different and wild moments. She now realized the new power of being able to drive a man slightly mad. It was a wonderment.
The moment Nada’s eyes fell upon Joul, she knew that this could be the deep and meaningful love she craved. The fedayeen commander who exuded bravado and wore a revolutionary name proudly: Abu Zaim, Father of the Leader Joul, was known for his bravery and cunning, having survived three raids over the border.
Nada saw through the outward mannerisms. He had Ishmael’s penetrating eyes and wit. Joul had the sensitivity of her beloved brother. This love would be pure.
He was flattered by her attraction to him. Many other girls pursued him, but they were not Nada. Joul became uneasy about her forwardness at first, but he was hopelessly trapped in the web of her beauty. They spoke long and passionately about their plight and growing feelings. He was bound to a traditional family, but one of low station. Nada knew Haj Ibrahim would reject him out of hand.
There came that day and moment of complete aloneness with him, away from the mad atmosphere of the camp and the stilted air of Amman. Joul poured out his love. Nada spoke of making love. He was perplexed by a lifetime of conditioning. He did not know what to do. But he was going wild with wanting her.
‘I want you, Joul, and I am not afraid of afterward. Let’s have each other and let tomorrow take care of itself. You don’t have to promise anything.’
‘I love you so much. I think of nothing but you, Nada. I am going out of my mind.’
‘Let us feel each other without clothing.’
‘Yes,’ he whispered.
Nada took his hand. ‘Before we do it, you must know that my virtue has been taken.’
Joul registered astonishment.
‘It happened in Jaffa after we had fled our village. One day I was walking alone through narrow alleys from the market. Iraqi soldiers seized me and raped me. Three of them.’
He could not look into her sad eyes. Tears ran down his cheeks.
‘Does it matter?’ she asked a bit apprehensively.
‘No.’
Nada unbuttoned her dress and lowered it down her shoulders until she had revealed her breasts. She took his head and pressed it against her. ‘They’re yours. ... Softly ... sweetly ... Oh yes, I knew you would be so gentle.’
Slowly and beautifully Nada opened the gates of paradise to him. It was a free and unashamed love that did not dim or tire.
Hamdi Othman was furious when she locked her door on him. His threats fell flat.