The Senator's Daughter (12 page)

“Why the unnecessary expense? I was expecting economy.”

“He only travels first class, and he wants you to live like his daughter would.”

“But I'm not his daughter.”

“I think he wants you to be.”

She pretended to study the menu. The senator already had the daughter he wanted: her half sister, Victoria. Vickie had just finished law school at Yale. Kat's PhD was from a small-time state college that most people didn't even know existed. Her father didn't want another daughter; he wanted to absolve himself of guilt.

The flight attendant returned and Alex ordered a soft drink. “I'll have lemonade,” Kat said.

“She'll also have a glass of the Riesling,” Alex added smoothly. Before she could protest, he turned to her. “Trust me, you'll want a glass of wine—there's something I need to tell you.”

CHAPTER NINE

A
LEX
WAS
MADDENING
. Kat was on her second glass of wine; they'd already been served appetizers of crab-stuffed mushrooms and falafel. He'd filled the air with inane facts about polling data, information she already knew and couldn't care less about.

“Alex, when are you going to get to the point?”

He took a sip of his soft drink. “Senator Roberts would like you and your mother to meet his other children.”

She blew out a breath. It wasn't a big surprise; she'd figured with all the media coverage, it would only be natural to meet his family.

“I don't think my mother would like that.”

“For what it's worth, I think he genuinely cares about your mother.”

“He has a funny way of showing it.” She played with the rim of her cup.

“Why couldn't he have asked me himself?”

“He plans to. He just knew I'd be spending a lot of time with you this trip.” Alex's voice was smooth, persuasive, the way he had been with the EAGLE manufacturers.

“So he wanted you to soften me up.”

He sighed. “Why can't you be happy that the father you haven't known your whole life wants you to be a part of his family? He could've just as easily decided not to have anything to do with you. What's he done that makes him such a villain? Did he beat your mother? Didn't he offer you support the second he found out about you? That's more than most men would do.”

She studied him as he stared at the bubbles in his drink. “Alex, what happened to your father?”

“That's not the point of this conversation.”

“No, but I want to know.”

“I don't like to talk about it.”

“You can tell me now or I can annoy you for the remaining eighteen hours of this trip.”

His mouth twitched, even as he tried to give his signature look of annoyance.

“Come on—we can only discuss the polls for so long. If we're going to have an honest conversation about my father, I want to know about yours.”

“My mother left my father when I was eight, and we haven't seen him since.”

“Why did she leave?”

“Because he was a drunk who spent her hard-earned money on booze, then beat us both.” The words were said so matter-of-factly that it took Kat a full minute to absorb their meaning. She placed her hand on his, sensing the pain he was so carefully controlling.

“Because of him we were forced to...” He swallowed. “That's all I'm willing to discuss.” He unbuckled his seat belt and excused himself. He followed the aisle to the bathroom, but she was sure it was an excuse to get away from her. When he returned, he opened his book. Kat noticed it was the latest presidential biography.

“What do you think I should do?”

He raised a brow.

“About my father's invitation,” she clarified.

“I think you should give him a chance and get to know your half siblings. Vickie is a really bright woman—you'll enjoy talking to her. Walter is younger and a little immature still, but he has a good head on his shoulders.”

“I don't want him hurting my mother.”

“I don't think he intends to, but ultimately it's her decision.”

“Would you let your mother see your father again?”

His response was instantaneous. “Not if I could help it.” He clenched his jaw. “In fact, if I saw my father again, I'd probably kill him before he could get to her.” He hadn't meant to say the last part. That was obvious from the way he set his lips and turned away from her. She couldn't see his eyes and resisted the urge to reach out and pull his face back toward her so she could see them. Adjusting his seat, he picked up his book, and she knew it wasn't wise to pursue the conversation.

* * *

K
AT
DIDN
'
T
FEEL
as tired as she should have when they arrived in Doha. She'd taken a nap in her reclining seat, marveling at the relative luxury that four times the airfare bought. Yet when she thought of the promises and compromises that had to be made to fill the campaign money coffers, her stomach sickened. It was unreasonable of her, but she expected better from her father. From Alex.

But she couldn't control their behavior...just like she couldn't control her mother's. Even this trip. It had been her decision to come, yet Alex had arranged everything, and he was still calling all the shots.

The Doha airport was a surprisingly modern facility filled with a wide range of passengers. Kat had no trouble spending the four-hour layover watching people scurrying about.

“It's amazing, isn't it, how this airport looks just like ours, yet the people aren't the same.”

Alex smiled at her. “The world looks very different outside of Washington, DC.” He tilted his head to indicate a family sitting a few feet away. “What do you notice about them?”

She observed them for a few moments, trying to see past the obvious fact that the woman was veiled and the man was wearing a traditional thobe—a white, ankle-length robe—and a headdress.

“My guess is that they're from Saudi Arabia. Obviously they can afford to travel outside the country, but there's only one wife, or at least just one traveling with him. Hard to know, but let's say they're middle class.” She'd read that Saudi Arabian men were allowed to marry up to four women. The rule was that all four wives had to be treated equally, so plural marriage was only common among members of the royal family, who were wealthy enough to afford four palaces, and the very poor, who could afford four tents in the desert. Although the trend was changing toward monogamy.

He nodded. “That's a lot of assumptions. But what else do you notice?”

“The woman has her face uncovered.”

“You wouldn't see that at the Riyadh airport. Qatar isn't exactly a liberal country, but for a family like that, even little freedoms we take for granted, like how we dress, are regulated.”

Kat hadn't covered her head. Alex had said she could wait. The Doha airport included numerous European, Asian, Middle Eastern and African travelers. Kat noticed people in traditional clothes she'd only seen in pictures, and Alex served as a tour guide, amusing her with cultural facts that she had learned through study and that he knew through experience.

“What about them?”

She nodded to a couple sitting on the far side of the waiting area, obviously distressed. The woman was crying and the man was trying to comfort her.

“Their love is forbidden.”

She looked at him. “How could you possibly know that?”

He pointed to the passports they were holding. “See his passport, it's a dark green—my guess is Pakistan. And hers is dark blue, almost the color of ours, but it has a different alphabet on it. It's Indian. I can't say for sure, but I'd bet that he's Muslim and she's Hindu and their families don't approve.”

“So what?”

“What do you mean?”

“Let's say you're right—so what if the families don't approve? It shouldn't stop them from being together.”

“Could you be with a man who didn't understand your need to take care of your mother?”

Her eyes snapped to him. “That's not the same thing. My mother would never forbid me from marrying someone I loved.”

“Yes, but in your case your future husband won't just have you to take care of—he has to be willing to accept the fact that your mother is an integral part of your life. Your husband is marrying into your family.”

She raised her eyebrows, as he had just put into words one of the chief reasons she'd been attracted to Colin. Most of the men she'd dated scoffed at the fact that she still lived with her mother, but Colin had embraced her responsibilities.

“In South Asia, you don't marry the man—you marry the family. A daughter is given away and her husband's family becomes her own. Parents don't want to send their daughter into a family who won't accept her. The guy's parents probably don't want him marrying a girl who's not from their country or their religion, and who they perceive doesn't understand their values.”

She turned to watch the couple. The young woman was wiping tears from her face as she embraced the man a final time before getting in line to board the plane. The man stared at her, unabashedly wiping tears from his own face. “If all that mattered, then how did they fall in love?”

“Because they don't care about the politics of their countries. They don't worry about religion. They were probably educated abroad, and that's how they met. But as they go home, reality is hitting them. They realize their parents will never accept their union and there is no way for them to be together. This might be the last time they see each other.”

Kat watched the woman break from the line and fly into the man's arms. They held each other, sobbing.

“Why can't they make their parents understand?” She knew they were making up a narrative for a random couple at the airport, but she was getting wrapped up in the story.

“Because their parents are practical. They know how difficult life will be for these young lovers. They'll be ostracized from their communities. He won't be able to find a job anywhere because his wife isn't Muslim. She won't be welcomed back into her family because she'll be considered tainted. She'll lose her community and eventually resent him.”

“They can live somewhere else, where these things don't matter.”

“Like the US, where we're free?”

Kat nodded. For some inexplicable reason, she couldn't take her eyes away from the couple, wanting desperately to find a way for them to be together. She watched for several minutes as they held on to each other. The line dwindled and a flight attendant came and tapped the young woman on the shoulder. She shook her head but the young man gently pushed her toward the gate. The woman wouldn't go, so he gave her a kiss on the forehead and left. Kat watched him as he raced away, tears shining on his face. He didn't bother to wipe them.

“There are billions of people like them in the world, who don't have the freedoms we do. There are people in Iraq being executed. Children are kidnapped every day. We can't bring them all to the US. That's why we're in Iraq—that's why we're fighting for the people there. It's to make the world a better place, to fight for those who can't fight for themselves.”

A deep ache formed in her chest. It wasn't as clear-cut as she thought. Even if the story they'd made up about the couple wasn't true, she knew there were couples out there for whom it was a reality. She knew Americans were in Iraq to fight the extremists who killed innocent people.

“What about what we need at home? Like Dr. Atao, who needs medical facilities in Guam for those babies? Or programs for victims of domestic violence.”

His face twisted.
Open up to me, Alex.

“We can't do everything,” he said quietly.

“We can't save the world, either.” But even as she spoke the words, she couldn't stop thinking about the couple. Despite all the obstacles, they'd found the courage to fall in love. She knew it was just a story she and Alex had made up. They could just as well have been individuals cheating on their spouses, but somehow she didn't think so. She could feel the pain in their souls.

* * *

T
HE
FLIGHT
FROM
Doha was more of what Kat was used to, people packed like sardines into too small seats. Her arm was pressed against Alex's, and she enjoyed his warmth.

“There's not a lot of demand for business class to Baghdad,” Alex explained.

She watched the passengers file past. The people who boarded looked like any other passenger manifest once you took away their ethnic dress. There were families with crying babies and chattering children, men with briefcases, couples and elderly individuals, some accompanied by younger caregivers.

“Who are all these people?”

“They're going home or visiting family. The normal reasons people get on a plane. The only travelers you aren't seeing are tourists.”

Hers was the only white face on the entire plane. Kat brought out the scarf she'd been advised to wear and put it on, conscious of her blond hair in the sea of black and brown. “That's probably a good idea,” Alex whispered.

There were no drinks or food offered on the flight. For the most part, the passengers sat in silence, though several people prayed. Tension crackled in the air and Kat couldn't understand why.

As if reading her mind, Alex said in her ear, “They're nervous. Baghdad is still unpredictable. They don't know what to expect at the airport. It's likely they'll be harassed about who they are and whether they are legitimately entering or reentering. Their belongings will be searched and items that the customs officials find interesting will be confiscated without reason.”

“Why?”

“Because they can. A perfume bought in Qatar can fetch a nice price on the black market in Iraq. People are used to it—they consider it the price of travel.”

When they landed, it was early afternoon. Alex placed a hand on her arm and directed her to stay in her seat until the rest of the passengers had deplaned. When they exited, it was the dust that hit Kat first. She sneezed and put her scarf over her mouth as they walked to the main customs area. The smell of perspiration clung to the air that was being ineffectively circulated by floor fans.

A woman they'd seen earlier began sobbing loudly. A customs officer hit her viciously with a stick. Kat put a hand on her mouth to suppress a scream.

Alex placed an arm around her. “Don't say anything, don't do anything. Someone will come get us.”

Sure enough, a man in western clothes waved a badge and was let through the glass doors that separated them from the rest of the airport. He introduced himself as Roger Koralis then escorted them to the gate, where he handed a padded envelope to the customs official standing guard. No one bothered to check Kat's passport or the visa they had painstakingly obtained.