Chapter 2

Hey so seeing as the Book of Ruth in the bible is only four chapters and is considered a short story, I wanted to actually add more to it so this will most likely be a full length story, (though again anything could change depending on what I decide.) I just wanted to let you guys know so no one would be confused that this story isn't shorter. Anyway, here is the second chapter. PLEASE review! I enjoy hearing everybody's thoughts! Enjoy :)

Disclaimer: Any factual research or quotes do not belong to me. All rights go to respective owners. No copyright intended.

Ruth's POV:

After breakfast, I quickly helped Naomi finish washing the dishes before heading outside to begin my chores. The men had already begun working on Emir's old vintage car, which he held in very high esteem. He'd had it ever since he'd been engaged to Naomi, probably why it was so special to him, but lately it had broken down and Emir had been laboring the past few days to try and get it to work.

"How's it coming?" I asked, handing Maalik a bottle of water from Naomi.

"Not too good, we might even have to get rid of it. Father won't hear of it though" he murmured.

"What was that?" Emir questioned, his jumbled voice coming from beneath the hood.

"Nothing Father" Maalik reassured him.

"Aye!" he groaned, pulling himself out and stretching his neck and back. His hands were covered in dirt from the car gears.

"Cadi, give it a try. You might have more luck than me."

Cadi bent down and began tinkering further with the car.

"No wait...does this go here...no that goes there..." Cadi murmured aloud to himself.

Maalik rolled his eyes, shaking his head with a grin.

"It would be a miracle if he got the car fixed by the time he was eighty."

"I heard that Maalik!"

We both giggled lightheartedly.

"Well, I'll leave you to it then." I gave him a quick kiss and and headed towards the stables, where there was an old friend I very much wanted to see.

I tugged on the heavy stable door, and a faint echoing whinny could be heard from inside. A black horse poked it's head out of the only stall, chewing hay and eyeing me curiously.

"Hey there boy" I patted him on the nose, stroking his face. His name was Sarie (swift), and he was a pure blood Arabian. He'd been a gift from Maalik when we married because I had told him of my love of horses, the Arabian in particular. When I was a little girl and still a Muslim, my blood father, Ahmed, had told me legends about how Allah had created the Arabian from the South Wind, and how he'd said "I call you Horse; I make you Arabian and I give you the chestnut color of the ant; I have hung happiness from the forelock which hangs between your eyes; you shall be the Lord of the other animals. Men shall follow you wherever you go; you shall be as good for flight as for pursuit; you shall fly without wings; riches shall be on your back and fortune shall come through your meditation."

Sarie whinnied at me, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"Sorry, boy I guess I was somewhere else." I gave him a smile and another pat before grabbing the bucket and shovel.

"Now, to work" I mumbled.

###

Once I had finished mucking out Sarie's stall, I let him outside into the fenced paddock to allow him some much needed breathing room and exercise. Satisfied that he was happy, I then made my way back towards the house. The chickens clucked around me as I strutted across their path, raising their feathers slightly in indignation before settling back down.

I tossed them seed from the pouch at my side and they're tiny beaks were soon pecking away at their treat.

Naomi was watching the desperate attempt to fix the broken car when I got back, struggling to control her grin.

"That should do it!" Emir exclaimed.

I stepped beside Naomi murmuring:"Do you think it'll work."

"It would take a miracle" she mumbled back.

"Now let's give it a try. Maalik start it up."

Maalik climbed onto the driver's side, leaving the door open. He turned the key and suddenly the engine roared to life.

"It works! It does!" Emir whooped in triumph.

"I take that back" Naomi whispered, grinning.

Emir suddenly stopped and placed a hand on his back, looking as if he was going to lose his balance for a moment before recovering.

"Darling, I think you ought to go and rest now." Naomi strode over, rubbing his back affectionately.

"I don't think I disagree with you habibata (my love)." He made his way inside, supporting the base of his back with his hand. Both of us looked after him worriedly.

"Do you think he'll be alright?"

"Oh yes Ruth. After thirty years of marriage I've learned that Emir is tough. He'll make it through."

I leaned against her and she rubbed my back affectionately.

"Now, come we should finish our work."

"Would you check on Emir later today? Just to make sure he's doing alright?"

"Oh, of course, anything I can do to help."

Naomi grinned, moving a piece of my black hair out of my face.

"What did I do to deserve a daughter such as you?" We embraced each other and proceeded inside to finish the housework.

###

A few hours later, I softly knocked on Emir's door, a cup of hot tea clutched in my hand.

"Come in" he called.

Emir was in bed, his form propped up against several pillows, and an old worn bible was clutched in his hands.

"Ah Ruth" he said, placing the bible on the nightstand next to him.

"I thought you might like some tea Father, to relax you a little."

"Thank you." I sat upon the side of the bed, the mattress squeaking underneath me, as I handed him the cup, making sure his hands held it securely before releasing it. As he sipped at the hot liquid, I gazed around, noticing a picture of him as a young man in military combat gear, including a large camouflage helmet and a large Ak-47 slung across his shoulders, and he was standing with two others, and all of them had equal looks of seriousness. It was no secret that Emir had been forced to fight as young man in the Iran-Iraq war.* He'd never spoken anything else really about it besides that, and I didn't blame him for it. Emir noticed me glancing at it. He took the picture from the nightstand and gently handed it to me so I could look at it more closely.

"May I ask if these are your friends?"

"They were. Shortly after this picture was taken, they died while we were in the trenches. The Iranian's overran our trench and shot us down, slaughtering us. I was the only one of my brigade to survive."

"May I ask how you escaped?"

"I managed to hide myself beneath a pile of dead bodies of other men and was forced to stay there till night fall, watching the Iranian soldiers smoking and laughing and drinking as if there weren't at least 200 dead men lying sprawled around them in every direction. Then, at night, I slipped away and managed to make it back to my commander, carrying my gun and bearing at least 40 pounds of combat clothing and equipment."

My heart ached for him. How awful.

"I'm so sorry Emir. No one should have to go through something like that. Thank you for sharing this me." I hugged him tightly, wanting him to know how much he was loved. He embraced me back warmly and then shortly after released me.

"At least, if there was one good thing to come out of it, it's that I met Naomi." Naomi had come from Norway as a young woman, to work as a doctor, tending to the wounded Iraqi soldiers, which is how she'd met Emir at the field hospital after his back had been injured.

"I had her picture that she'd given me, with me that day. It's what kept me going. I remember I had to stop at one point on my journey because I was so exhausted. I'd tried drinking from my water canteen but it was empty and the cold of the desert at night was chilling me to the bone. I wanted desperately to make a fire, but, I knew that was as good as sending up a flare to the Iranians. I took her picture out of the pocket of my camouflage coat and gazed at it, thinking to myself that I would give anything to see her smile in person again, to tell her how much I was in love with her, and then after that it wouldn't matter if I died. So long as I got back to her."

My eyes flooded with tears of happiness at his story of utterly unselfish love and sacrifice.

"So what happened when you did get back to her."

A grin broke out on his face for the first time since the beginning of our discussion.

"I remember walking into the field hospital, and she saw me and gasped. We walked towards each other, but before she could say anything, I dropped my gun, got down on one knee, equipment, and grime all over my face and hands and all, and I took her hand, looked into her eyes and said "Naomi Svenson I have come back to you. Will you marry me?"

"And she said yes?'

"Well, she cried a lot first and then she said 'Yes Emir Assad, I will marry you.' Then we kissed and the whole room started clapping and we were both a little embarrassed because neither of us liked being the center of attention."

"That is so incredible Emir. Did you get married right afterwards?"

"Yes, actually about a month later. I had injured my back further in the incident, so much so that my commander deemed me unfit to fight and sent me home to Qaraqosh with my papers of discharge. Naomi stayed with the family of one of my friends in that picture, because after he'd perished in the war, they felt it was a honor to help the friend of their lost child. Then we were married in the same church as you and Maalik, had two beautiful sons, and now have two beautiful daughters as well. I have a lot to be thankful for and I've been incredibly blessed." He smiled at me and I squeezed his hand.

"You're more of a Father to me than Ahmed has ever been."

"And it has been one of the greatest honors I've ever had" he replied, placing his other hand on top of mine and squeezing it back.

"Will you be down for dinner or would you like me to bring you up some?" I asked, hoping he didn't mind my changing the subject.

"No I'll be down later. I just need to rest a little more I think." I nodded, and releasing his hands, I picked up the empty tea cup and saucer and opened the door, preparing to leave when something stopped me.

"Father why did you tell all this to me? I mean I know Naomi obviously knows but...well you never seem to discuss it with the boys."

Emir smiled tiredly.

"Truth is I don't know" he mumbled, laying his head back against the pillow and closing his eyes.

"Perhaps it was because God wanted me to." His eyes closed and he looked so peaceful. Yet, I noticed he suddenly wasn't breathing.

"Father?" I asked.

No answer. I hurriedly placed the cup down and felt for a pulse. There was none.

"Naomi! Naomi!" I screamed, as I charged out of the room and downstairs.

###

The church bells rang as the coffin was led out of the church. Naomi sobbed quietly into her tissue, Omera and I doing the same, and Maalik and Cadi followed in silent grief. All of us were dressed in black, the lady's in dresses and the men in dark suits. It didn't feel real, as if all of this was just some big horrible nightmare that we would soon awaken from. I kept thinking about Father and that last beautiful story he ever told me. He was a true warrior, a fighter. Brave and loyal and kind to the end to all who needed him. More tears coursed down my cheeks as I looked up at the sky, wondering how the sun could shine even on a day like this.

"God hear my prayer" I whispered, tearfully.

"Have mercy on my Father. Amen." I crossed myself, and sobbed quietly. I felt an arm go around my shoulders and glanced over to see Maalik there. His eyes were glistening, and he simply nodded to me in understanding. He kissed the top of my head as I laid it on his shoulder, all the way to the cemetery.

Author's note: Any non-English words spoken in this chapter is Arabic. Syriac is the main language in Qaraqosh, which before the Islamic State, was Iraq's largest Christian majority city, though most people in the area speak Arabic as a second language. I will be using Arabic though simply because it's more well known and easier to translate than Syriac is.

*Just to give you guys some context and background about the Iran-Iraq war. The Iran-Iraq war began in September of 1980 when dictator Saddam Hussein declared war on Iran. Approximately 500,000 Iraqi and Iranian lives were lost with neither country's aims being achieved. The war has been compared to World War I in it's use of extensive trench warfare with barbed wire, manned machine gun posts, human wave attacks by the Iranians (where one side overruns the trench of another), bayonet charges, and use of chemical weapons on the battle field. The conflict lasted until August of 1988.