Chapter Nineteen
“Oui, allo.” Miriam answered the phone in French because she'd been watching the Reseau d'Information, the French language news channel, for information on the conflict in Southern Lebanon. “Sorry, Miriam here.”
“Miriam, it's Gert down to the store. There's a couple of suspicious looking men asking after you or Jerry. I said I'd seen you in town, but that I wasn't sure where you were staying. I didn't say where Jerry lives.”
Miriam's heart began to race. Jerry was in Lunenburg talking with his lawyer about options regarding Michelle and had left her behind at his house to answer the phone if Annabelle called. “Thanks, Gert. Bye. Oh. Are you still there?”
Gert said yes and Miriam asked that she call Jerry on his cell then gave the number.
Miriam fumbled for Glenn Parker's card and called. It rang four times then gave her his answering machine. She tried Maureen's number but her voice mail also took that. Remembering that there was a phone upstairs, Miriam went up quickly to Jerry's bedroom. She peered around the curtains to see an older Ford Taurus pull up to the house.
She moved into the dimness of the bedroom while observing the two men getting out of the car. The first man was in his twenties swarthy skinned with a beard. He was wearing a short khaki tunic and trousers with a white cotton cap and a long brown vest. She saw a glimpse of what looked like a shoulder holster under his vest.
The second, larger, man was her uncle, Mahmoud Hassan. He was dressed in Western clothes but in his hand was a short sword. Miriam picked up the phone and dialled 9-1-1.
“What is the nature of your emergency?”
“There are two armed men outside the house. One is my uncle Mahmoud Hassan and the other is a younger bearded man in traditional Arab dress. I'm afraid that they are here to kill me.” Miriam said this as calmly as possible.
“We will dispatch the police to investigate. May I have your name?”
“Miriam. Miriam Nadif. I have to go, they're coming up the walk.”
Miriam hung up and tried to think of a hiding place. She could hear them talking in Arabic through the window.
Her uncle's voice reached upward. “You are certain the Jerry Ernst in that disgraceful photograph is from Hubbards?”
The other man replied in an incongruously high voice, “The McMaster Alumni directory lists Jerry Ernst as from Hubbards. The yearbook for their last year at McMaster has him listed a president of one of the infidel Christian organizations. Salim's wife remembers that they spent much time together on campus, but always in the company of others. She confirmed it was Jerry Ernst. She was shocked to see that picture from the Internet. Miriam was always considered a model of propriety.”
“That picture is the reason we are here. Her shameful refusal of her guardian's choice of husband could be solved by disowning her, but to dress like a whore and kiss that firangi in public is too much. Anyone who can use the Internet can find that picture and know how disgraceful she is. Others in the community are questioning my judgement in allowing her to live with me. We need to enforce that fatwa.” Mahmoud was angry. “Talking about her immoral behaviour does not help us find her. Are you sure of this address?”
“There is only one Ernst family in Hubbards. This is the house. According to the directory it belongs to Steve and Dorothy Ernst. They must be his parents. We should be polite.” Miriam edged away from the window and crept up the stairs to the attic leaving the door open to hear what was going on.
She heard a knock at the door. Her uncle called “Is there anyone home?”
The other man said, in Arabic, “The inside door is open and there is no car in the drive. We could wait inside for them to return.”
Mahmoud answered in Arabic, “That is a good idea.”
Miriam heard the creak of the screen door spring. There were footsteps and she heard the high voiced man. “She has been here very recently. The computer screen shows emails from your niece in Lebanon, the one who is married to that doctor who refuses to support the jihad against Israel led by our brothers in Hezbollah.”
“Then we search for her. She may be hiding in the house somewhere.”
“The tea mug is still warm.”
She looked around frantically and decided that she would have to crawl out one of the small windows onto the roof. Barely squeezing herself through the window, she stepped gently onto the roof, then closed the window with her fingernails on the edge of the frame. She sent up a brief prayer of thanks that Jerry had replaced these windows; the old ones had been painted shut. She climbed up onto the top of the dormer and sat as still as she could.
She heard a deep voice drift upward from the open window in Michelle's room. “Did you find her?”
“She is not in the cellar.”
“She is not in any of the main floor rooms or closets. She is very small, check under the beds up here.”
She heard more movement and creaking floorboards. “There are stairs going up. Should I look up there?”
“Yes, but wait for me. Walid said she was not afraid to strike a man. I will stand guard at the bottom of the stairs in case she is up there and tries something foolish.”
There was a brief argument over who should climb the stairs but eventually Miriam heard a muffled sound of steps on the creaky attic stairs. She said another prayer for safety and when she opened her eyes, she saw four police cruisers approaching with lights on but no sirens.
There was a noise directly below her. “It's safe to come up. This is deserted as well.”
“Is the window latched?” Her uncle's deep voice asked.
“No. But none of them are. They probably open them when it gets too hot for them.” There was a derisive snort. “As if any of these pink faced infidels know what truly hot weather is.”
Miriam heard a movement toward the front dormer windows. “Aiii. There are police cruisers below.”
“Stay calm. For all they know we are merely here to locate and visit my niece. My English is better than yours. Let me do the talking.” She heard the steps retreat down the attic stairs. She looked down the road and saw Jerry's car.
One of the police officers looked up and saw her. He called up to her. “Are you okay?”
“There are trespassers in the house.”
She heard her uncle swear then yell, “She must be on the roof. You said there was no one up there.”
Miriam shifted and heard the roof creak under her. There was a sound of stomping feet getting closer. They were climbing the attic stairs again. Miriam looked down at the porch roof ten feet below. She saw a glimpse of a white cap poking out from the other dormer window.
“I found the whore,” the young man shouted then he described where she was. Miriam heard a shot ring out and felt some wood splinters from the shingles bury themselves in her back. Without a thought she slid to the edge of the roof and dropped to the porch. She heard the high voiced man say, “She's on the porch roof.”
Thundering footsteps sounded down the attic stairs. Miriam heard shouts from inside the house. A singing sound came from behind and she saw the flash of a sword cutting open the screen in Michelle's bedroom.
The police, who had been quietly deciding what they needed to do, sprang into action. One officer took the back door, one took the side door and two went quickly through the front door. Miriam heard one of the officers shout, “It's the police. Surrender quietly.” The 'or else' was implied.
Miriam went around to the roof of the side porch just as her uncle fired his pistol at her. Bits of brick spalled off the wall as the bullet ricocheted. She moved to the edge of the porch roof and looked down at Jerry. He looked up in concern and said, “If you hang off the edge, I can catch you.”
Miriam heard the two men inside the house arguing. The younger man wanted to climb out the window after Miriam with the pistol. Mahmoud wanted to keep the pistol so that he could keep the police from interfering. Mahmoud gave him the sword and told him to go after Miriam while he held off the police.
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Miriam gathered her courage and dropped into Jerry's arms. He carried her quickly to hide behind his car and wait for the police to give the all clear. A paramedic van pulled up to a safe spot next to Jan's house.
A few minutes later there were more gunshots and some loud indecipherable shouts. Two police officers came out of the house dragging the younger man who was struggling against them. He was shouting in Arabic. “You understand nothing about honour or the proper respect that a woman should have for the head of her family.” He spotted Miriam and inclined his head toward her. “That whore was seduced by that barbarian and rejected everything that made her honest and decent. She is a disgrace to her family and deserves death.”
Her uncle staggered down the steps clutching his bleeding right arm. “Shut up Salim. The slut speaks Arabic and will tell them what you said.”
Miriam stood up straight and said, in English, “Uncle, why are you here?”
He looked at her with undisguised venom and answered, also in English, “To protect the family's reputation. You are a disgrace. I knew it was a mistake to take your father's money to let you study at McMaster. You allowed yourself to become corrupted. As a wise imam said, 'When a branch is diseased it must be removed.'”
“And you used the fatwa issued by that venal and self-important Imam Hadadi as an excuse to do what is wrong in the eyes of the Almighty.” She crossed her arms and waited for his response. The police officers allowed the conversation to continue.
“Imam Hadadi is a true scholar of Shariah. He knows the way of truth. Look at you. You are dressed immodestly, showing your legs and hair to everyone. I found you alone in a man's house, no other women, no chaperones. The photograph on the Internet shows you kissing that pink faced barbarian and you are not even decently married to him. Your immoral behaviour disgraces the family. Your father was weak in allowing your mother to influence him. He wanted an educated wife with the result that he allowed the corrupting influence of education to taint his family – my wife's family.”
“So I deserve punishment?”
“You deserve death. You should have stayed in Lebanon to get what you deserve.”
“And you are the person to carry out that punishment?”
“Imam Hadadi, who knew all of the facts of your apostasy, decreed that your death was needed to keep the rest of the community pure. Your rejection of Walid's authority and wisdom in the choice of a good husband for you brought shame upon him and upon me. The photo merely confirms your rejection of all goodness.”
“Uncle Mahmoud, you are not my guardian. You are not related to me in any way. It falls to my cousin Saleh, who respects me, to decide on my fate within the family. It is not your place to usurp his authority over me. But hear this, no matter what happens between Saleh and me regarding my status in the family, I am a Christian and I have the right to choose my own husband.”
Miriam shook her head sadly. “I will pray for you, uncle, that you find the way of peace that is the best expression of Islam. I will also pray that you find Jesus, as I have, that your heart may be turned away from hate.”
Jerry took her by the arm. “Your back is bleeding, hayati. Let's go see the paramedics.”
Mahmoud went livid and redoubled his efforts to escape the police. “You let this kafir call you 'his life'? Your disgraceful behaviour knows no bounds.”
“Know this, Mahmoud Hassan, this infidel, this pink faced barbarian, this firangi, is the sun and moon to my eyes. He is the kindest and most honourable man I have met, surpassing even my father. We will be wed in due course because as I am his life, he is mine. You have no say in this decision. Get out of my sight you brainless dog.” She turned to Jerry. “Let's go see the paramedic. My back is hurting.”
Miriam's uncle bellowed, “You are cast out of the family. Your name will no longer be mentioned.”
Miriam held her head high and allowed Jerry to lead her to the medics. She sat down on the rear bumper of the van while the medic started to examine her. A female police officer came over and said, “I'll need some photos of the damage to her back.” Then she spoke to Miriam. “Miss Nadif, can you hang on for a few more minutes?”
“Yes, I can do that.” She squeezed Jerry's hand and looked up to see Rose and Jan hovering. She looked at Rose and said, “Rose, can you bring me a clean blouse and a sweater?”
Rose, happy for something useful to do, bustled off. By the time she returned, the policewoman had taken the pictures and the paramedics were slowly removing the ruined blouse and starting to extract splinters. Jerry was standing nearby providing emotional support and the policewoman was writing notes as Miriam was dictating her statement of the events that just happened.
Miriam finished her statement then looked up at the police officer and said, “It takes longer to tell about it than it did to happen.”
The officer got a rueful look and said, “It often works that way when you've been involved in something very intense.”
Jerry asked, “What happens now with Miriam's uncle and his friend?”
“They'll be securely transported to the hospital to be patched up.” The officer turned to Miriam. “What language were they speaking?”
Miriam said, “Arabic. The younger man has an Arabian accent, but not Saudi. Maybe Emirates or Yemeni.”
“Good. We'll make sure there's a translator waiting for them. We'll arrest them officially after the translator shows up.” The policewoman sighed to release some tension. “At least we have the older man's confession to attempted murder based on that conversation he had with you. He was holding the pistol and shot at the officers who tried to detain him.”
The medic finished. “You might want to change your blouse now, miss. We've done what we can but we'd like to keep the ruined blouse for evidence.”
A crime scene team had arrived while Miriam was being looked after. They took pictures of the hole in the roof and of the holes in the plaster from the three other shots fired in the house. They dug the bullets out and placed them in evidence bags.
After Miriam had been released they asked if they could sit on the porch where they could hear the phone. After a short conference, the scene team agreed that it would be fine as long as they went only to the phone.
Many of the neighbours came by to get the story. Jan had been close when Miriam gave her statement to the police, so she was the one who told the story. People saw them on the porch and waved.
Miriam tried to ignore the chaos around her and the building headache now that her adrenaline levels were dropping back to normal. She turned to Jerry and asked, “Did you get to speak with Lorne?”
Jerry looked at Miriam in surprise then realized that he had been in Lorne's office only three hours ago. “Yes, we got everything filed with the court. It may be helpful in the custody hearing. But I still have to wait another day before I can file a missing persons report.” Jerry looked sad.
“You don't want to file that report, do you?” Miriam took Jerry's hand.
“No, I don't. Annabelle was almost reasonable, for the first time since just before Mitchie was born. I was asking around and she would go over to the tavern for a beer after she dropped off Mitchie off. She flirted a bit with some of the guys she got along with, but she was in bed by ten, apparently alone. I want to believe she's grown up a bit.”
“Well, I'm having a hard time with what she's done. She should have fought through the courts to prove that she's responsible enough to look after Michelle. This doesn't look good for her. And if she's hurt Michelle in any way...” Miriam looked fierce.
Jerry took Miriam's hand. “Let's pray that they are both okay.” Jerry moved his chair to face Miriam. “How are you doing, really?”
Miriam leaned forward. “I'm still in shock, I think. You hear about these sorts of things happening to others, but you don't think that they will happen to you.”
Miriam paused, searching for the right words. “Muslim women don't have many rights under Shariah. They are under the co
ntrol of their father, then their husband, then their oldest son or son-in-law. When the man who controls their life is good and honourable, it can be a very good arrangement. My father was such a man who encouraged his daughters and wife to be part of his life – to help him make good decisions, to support him, to love him. When the man is not good or has been led astray by a bad imam, the results can be awful – honour killings, social isolation, forced marriages, limited education, and marital rape among them. You hear rumours of bad things happening, but you never expect them to happen to you.”
“What I am most upset by is that two men, my uncles, who were supposed to protect me and have my best interests at heart are the ones trying to kill me.” Miriam got up and slid onto Jerry's lap. “I could handle being disowned. Jesus warns us that following him can lead to estrangement from the family. But to want to kill me to satisfy their misguided sense of honour...I can't understand that, Jerry. I just can't.”
Jerry drew Miriam closer and stroked her back until Miriam winced. “Well I'm so glad you're in one piece.” Jerry kissed Miriam on the top of the head. “When I got the call from Gert I thought I'd be preparing for your funeral today. I'm not ready to lose you, my life, not when I just found you again.”
Miriam was comforted by Jerry's firm hug and twisted so she could wrap her arms around his solid chest. “I don't want to give you up, either.”
“I am curious about one thing. Your uncle called me a firangi. I assume it isn't a compliment.”
Miriam said, “It's not. Firangi is literally Frank, like the Frankish Crusaders who built all of those castles in the Middle East. It's mostly used as a racial slur against Europeans. But I don't care what he thinks, you are my pink-face barbarian and I love you dearly.” She stretched up to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“If I am your firangi then you are my desert princess,” Jerry drew her closer, mindful of the lacerations on her back. Miriam laughed gently then relaxed against him.
They just sat wrapped up in each other while the police came and went with various kits and labeled bags. Neighbours came up to see what the fuss was about and to commiserate with them. About an hour later Rose came by to remind them that they needed to eat.
After consulting with the crime scene team, they decided to continue waiting at Rose's. The team leader said they needed another three hours or so to complete gathering the evidence, so they left a note by the phone with Rose's number and a request to forward calls.
After a lunch that neither of them tasted, they moved to the parlour. Jan and Mrs. Conrad came by to sit with them, making small talk. Gert phoned to get the story and Jerry got calls from a number of relatives including his Aunt Ethel. Everyone was relieved that Miriam only suffered very minor injuries.
Shortly before supper, a policeman came over to inform them that the crime scene team was finished their work and to let them know that the two men had been charged with attempted murder and a number of lesser offences. He finished by saying, “I don't think they will bother anyone for several years.”
“Thank you for your prompt response today.”
“Just doing our job, ma'am. We'll be in touch if we need more information from you.”
They returned to the house to begin the clean up. Jerry noted the damage to the walls and roof then got out the ladder and supplies needed to put a temporary patch over the bullet hole. Miriam got out the broom and began to sweep up all of the plaster and dust that had fallen from the walls where the bullets hit.
Jan came in around six-thirty with a macaroni casserole and a shop vac. They took a break to eat and have some tea then Jan went to work with Miriam to clean up the mess inside. Jack came over to hold the ladder and offer his usual advice. A couple more neighbours came over to help and by sundown the cleanup and emergency repairs were finished.
When the mantel clock struck eight Jerry realized that he hadn't really thought about Michelle for hours and felt guilty about that. Miriam looked up and then at the phone which still hadn't rung.
Physically exhausted but unable to sleep, Jerry and Miriam sat with Rose and Jack playing cards until midnight. They tried to make small talk but the day's events and missing Michelle made it a sombre evening.
As Miriam climbed into bed she took a deep breath and prayed. She gave thanks for the police, for the warnings from Glenn and Maureen, for Gert's friendship and warning, for the neighbours and their support, and above all for Jerry and his solid presence. She prayed that her uncle's heart would turn towards Jesus so that he would realize his errors. She prayed for her sisters in Lebanon that they would remain safe in the midst of the fighting. She prayed that God remove her sinful gloating at the death of Rafiq and his supporters. Last she prayed for the safe return of Michelle.
Somehow she got to sleep.
Jerry's prayers were shorter. He told God of his relief that the threat to Miriam had been identified and neutralized. He prayed that God would watch over all those he loved, especially Miriam and Michelle. He gave thanks that his lady escaped yet another death threat with only minor injuries. Finally he asked for the strength to bear up with another day of uncertainty waiting to hear from Annabelle.