Sands of Redemption

36

'What is it?' Georgia asked, nestling on the floor of Latifah's home.

'It is henna. It will make your skin like mine.' Kneeling in front of her, the Bedouin woman rubbed the cream into her own hands and showed Georgia. Her palms had darkened. 'Good secret, yes?'

'Yes,' Georgia agreed uncertainly.

Gesturing Georgia forward, she took a generous scoop from the small porcelain pot and applied it under Georgia's eyes.

'Do you really think this will work?' Georgia asked again, finding herself in need of constant reassurance.

There were so many things that could go wrong with her plan that she was starting to wonder whether it was such a good idea after all. What would happen to her if she were caught? She doubted she would get much sympathy from Jordan, and likely not even her own country, if she were caught smuggling a terrorist across borders.

'Do not worry. It is good plan, the only plan, if you want to help Khalid,' she said. Georgia closed her eyes so that she could dab at her eyelids. 'He is handsome,' Latifah added.

Georgia's eyes snapped open. 'That is not why I'm doing this. He saved my life. It is only fair that I try and help him too.'

Latifah's knowing smile was infuriating. Clenching her fists in her lap, Georgia closed her eyes and let her finish with the foundation.

The plan was to disguise herself as Hassan's wife, a theoretically simple task since Latifah always preferred to cover herself from head to foot. Georgia didn't like the idea. Physically she resembled a Bedouin woman well enough. But what if they asked her questions? How the hell was she going to answer them?

Briefly she thought of hiding herself along with Khalid in the back amid the rugs but promptly scrapped the idea. Khalid would hate that, and he hated the plan enough already. Besides, she doubted there'd be enough room. And it would be hot. So hot. She twisted her mouth.

'Finished,' Latifah said finally. Georgia opened her eyes. Latifah placed her hand beside Georgia's face, comparing their skin tones. 'Good. Here.' She handed Georgia her niqab. Unfurling it, Georgia reluctantly pulled it on.

It felt like a chain wrapped around her head.

'That is good,' Latifah said, adjusting it. Leaning back, the woman picked up a small, cracked mirror, holding it up for Georgia to see. Georgia was quietly appalled but had to admit that it was a good disguise.

'It is good but what about my eyes? They're not the same colour as yours.' Georgia's voice was muffled. Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, she pulled the veil off.

Latifah shook her head. 'No problem, no problem. A good, modest Muslim keep eyes away.'

'But what if they ask me questions?'

'They should not. They should ask Hassan questions only. If they do, you have right not to answer.'

'I wouldn't be able to anyway,' Georgia said, folding her shaking hands in her lap. 'How long will the trip take, do you think?'

'Three hours.' Latifah looked down at her henna-covered palms. 'Be safe, Georgia.'

Georgia leaned forward and touched her hand. 'Thank you for helping me and for helping Khalid and Mohammed, you and your husband and the rest, I won't forget it.'

Later in the afternoon, cloaked in black, her blond hair tied into a hard knot at the nape of her neck, Georgia paced anxiously in front of the women's tent. Dust eddied around her feet, leaving a dirty imprint along the hem of her borrowed abaya. Frequently, she glanced at the men's tent, but it was clear Khalid planned to stay put until the last moment, keeping safely hidden away from Georgia and all the difficulties she presented.