Chapter 66

Three months later...

Tim pulled into his driveway, parked in the garage, and then sat in the car for a few seconds. It had been a long day with work and therapy and his kids would already be in bed. He had called home as he left work so that he could say good night, but that was all for today.

After trying to live a normal life again for a few months, he was starting to feel the pressure a little. Salma still had moments of anxiety but she was going to school and the teacher had not indicated she was having any major trouble. Jonathan was attending a preschool two days a week which gave Zahara some time to herself. Now in her third trimester, she was very pregnant, getting as large as she had with Jonathan. She had wondered if that meant another boy, but they had decided that they wanted to wait a little longer to find out. Their doctor preferred to do three ultrasounds, one just shortly before the baby was born and so instead of finding out with the second ultrasound as they had with the other two, they decided to wait until the third one. Salma and Jonathan had both declared that they wanted another sister and brother, respectively. Tim just wanted everything to go well. While every checkup had been fine, he still worried that something would go wrong after all the stress in Egypt. His meeting with Dr. Hicks was mostly to work on relaxing and accepting things. It wasn't easy yet, but he was trying.

Finally, he took a breath and got out of the car. He went inside.

"I'm home!" he called softly, still loving that he could say that. And he tried to focus on the fact that he did love having family to come home to.

He heard Marra's paws on the floor and he was ready for his dog to come running in to greet him. Marra had reached her full growth and she was a big dog, not a large frame but it was all muscle and she could easily take Tim down if she wanted to. The vet had said she would likely develop a bit more muscle mass given her pedigree, but generally, she was at her adult height. She was calming down somewhat as well. ...except when Tim got home from work.

With Marra excitedly jumping around him, he walked into the kitchen where Zahara was warming up his dinner.

"You are very late," she said.

"Yeah, I needed to go over some things with Dr. Hicks. Just the usual."

Zahara looked up from the stove with concern.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm just tired."

"You should take some time off, then."

"I will, but it can't be this week. We're starting the annual review and I can't leave that to Tony. But it's the weekend and I can take some time now. Any success in finding an apartment for Ahmed?"

Zahara smiled. Ahmed was proving strangely picky about where he lived. When he accepted so many things without comment, he was very particular about what his apartment should be like.

"Some. He has decided that he does want to live close to us. Jonathan said that he had to have an extra bedroom so that he could sleep over sometimes."

"What did Ahmed say to that?"

"He just smiled."

While Ahmed had spent a lot of time with both his niece and his nephew, it was clear that there was a strong connection with Jonathan. Ahmed had admitted to seeing in Jonathan the life he wished he'd been able to have as a child and, as much as the normally stoic man could, he doted on him.

Tim sat down at the table and Zahara brought over a plate of food.

"You got a letter in the mail today," she said.

"Really? I almost never get letters. Who from?"

Zahara smiled. "You will like it, but you will forget your food if you read it first. So you will eat first."

Tim laughed. "Okay."

Zahara sat down beside him and he spared a hand to rest it gently on her stomach. He felt the baby kick.

"Our baby only does that when you are around."

"You're saying I'm a bad influence?" Tim asked.

Zahara laughed. "Yes. Just like Marra."

Tim laughed and finished eating. He cleaned up his plate and then went with Zahara into the living room. Ahmed was still recovering somewhat from his torture and he tired easily in the evenings. The doctor said that he would get his stamina back over time so they tried not to worry about it. This did mean that they usually had some quiet time in the evening alone. Quiet time was rare and treasured. They sat down on the couch and Zahara handed him the envelope.

There was no return address as such, just a name. But that didn't matter. Tim knew the name.

"Suhayl sent me a letter?" he said in surprise.

"Yes."

"I wonder how long that took to mail."

"I do not know. How do you think he knew our address?"

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that."

Tim looked at the envelope again. The handwriting on the address was different from Suhayl's name and from Tim's own name.

"Maybe whoever he works for got it for him."

"Perhaps. Open it. I have been wondering what he wanted to tell you all day."

Tim looked at the letter again. Part of him worried that it wasn't really from Suhayl, but he also knew that his mail was scrutinized just in case. It should be fine. After a moment, he slid his finger under the flap. He pulled out a piece of paper. And it was actually a letter from Suhayl. However he had got the letter to Tim, it was a real letter.

"What does he say?" Zahara asked.

Tim scanned through the letter. For some reason, he didn't think about Suhayl actually writing anything down. It was dumb of him, he knew, but all of his interactions had been in situations where writing wasn't even necessary and in his head it had translated to not writing ever. He mentally rolled his eyes at himself and then started to read it aloud. Suhayl wrote very formally, the way one might write if communicating in a second language.

"'Tim, may the peace, mercy and blessings of God be with you. I pray that you may be better than you were with our last meeting. On our second meeting, you taught me a poem that I have long enjoyed. I remind you of the end of it now.

Though my soul may set in darkness
It will rise in perfect light.
I have loved the stars too fondly
To be fearful of the night.

You were able to find the beauty of the sky no matter your trials. This is what you must relearn. I am starting to teach Samia to see the beauty of the sky. This is something she can take with her no matter where she goes in her life. I pray she will not be swayed away by the chaos of your part of the world, but if she is, she will have my teachings to go with her. I shared with her some words of Kahlil Gibran that I believe you should also have to carry with you as you continue in your life. As with the poem you shared, this is written as an astronomer having a conversation. It is called 'On Time'.

And an astronomer said, Master, what of Time?
And he answered:
You would measure time the measureless and the immeasurable.
You would adjust your conduct and even direct the course of your spirit according to hours and seasons.

Of time you would make a stream upon whose bank you would sit and watch its flowing.
Yet the timeless in you is aware of life's timelessness,
And knows that yesterday is but today's memory and tomorrow is today's dream.
And that that which sings and contemplates in you is still dwelling within the bounds of that first moment which scattered the stars into space.

Who among you does not feel that his power to love is boundless?
And yet who does not feel that very love, though boundless, encompassed within the centre of his being, and moving not from love thought to love thought, nor from love deeds to other love deeds?
And is not time even as love is, undivided and spaceless?
But if in your thought you must measure time into seasons, let each season encircle all the other seasons,
And let today embrace the past with remembrance and the future with longing.

You are timeless and eternal. Do not imprison yourself in a cell of your own making. Reach out to the future that may be full of wonder as the sky above us all is full of wonder.

I treasure the friendship with you. God made our paths cross in a way that neither of us could have known.

In the safety of God,
Suhayl Ibn Hunayn al-Hurram.'"

Tim looked up from the letter and saw tears in Zahara's eyes.

"That is a beautiful letter," she said softly.

Tim nodded. He looked at it again and realized that Suhayl had not only written all of that by hand but also that he had translated words he had always spoken in Arabic so that Tim could understand them.

"Almost like poetry itself," he said.

"Yes."

"Who would have thought that... that I'd matter that much to him," Tim said, almost in a whisper. For far too long, he'd felt that any attention he got was negative and that his only value to people outside his immediate circle was as a tool to be exploited. He knew that Suhayl didn't think that way and that none of the bedouins thought that way, but to see it in black and white like this was shocking in a way that Tim couldn't adequately express.

"You are important, Tim," Zahara said. "Suhayl cares for you and you can see it here."

"I wish I could respond but there's no address."

"Perhaps you will see him again."

"It's not likely."

"No, but you have seen him four times and each time it wasn't likely."

Tim smiled as he stared at the letter, unable to look away from the kindness and caring expressed by a man who was always so stoic in his interactions. ...but then, Tim had to admit that he'd had glimpses of Suhayl's deep feelings and his strict code over the years, moments that Tim wouldn't have expected but had come up multiple times.

"True."

Then, he looked up at Zahara, the embodiment of what Suhayl said he needed.

"I love you," he said.

She leaned over and kissed him.

"I love you. Always."

They sat together on the couch in silence for a while. Then, they went up to bed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony heard the door to the bathroom close...for the fifth time that night. Ziva had said that it seemed like her whole torso was just her stomach and all the other organs were squished. This somehow translated to needing to use the bathroom all the time. As he had expected, Ziva hated how awkward and uncomfortable she was. Just the week before, she had finally given in and started maternity leave. This would be her first week at home. She'd already been working at her desk for weeks before that due to her inability to get around easily, but she could barely sit at her desk at this point. It had been a grudging admission but she had been forced into it.

The bathroom door opened and Ziva walked back to bed with an awkward gait that was almost waddling. Just as he had thought, her small size had left the babies no place to go but out. She looked far larger than Zahara did, even though Zahara was over a month further along. Everything about the pregnancy was difficult and Tony felt bad that he couldn't really do anything to make that better.

He felt Ziva sit down with a soft sigh and he rolled over to face her.

"I'm going to ask the stupid question," he said quietly. "Are you feeling all right?"

Ziva let out a short laugh. "No. I am feeling fat and achy and nothing is working right... except for my uterus apparently. That is fine."

She lay down and he knew she wasn't really going to be able to get in a comfortable position at this point. It was about four a.m. and Tony would need to get up in an hour or two, but he could go without enough sleep for a night. Apparently, he'd have to get used to that in the future anyway.

"Do you want me to try to be encouraging or do you want me to shut up?" Tony asked.

Awkwardly, Ziva rolled herself over to face him. It was dark in the room and they couldn't really see each other's faces.

"I don't know," she said. "I know this is all normal, but I don't like it."

"I know. I can't fix anything and I wish I could."

Ziva reached out and squeezed his hand. "There is nothing to fix. This is how it is supposed to be. I just hate it."

Tony smiled at that.

"Well, Dr. Layher said that 36 weeks will be the maximum you'll get and that's just over a month away."

"It's too long, and we still don't have a house."

"I know."

They'd put in an offer on a house in Silver Spring (not in Tim's neighborhood, although it was close by) a few weeks ago, but for some reason there had been no movement on it. Their realtor was trying to get a response one way or the other, but there had been nothing.

"I wanted to bring our babies home to their home, not to this apartment."

"I did, too. But it's probably not going to happen now. Do you want to give up on this house and find something else?"

"Not if we don't have to. It is the first place we were able to agree on. We don't have time to start over," Ziva said. "I just want to know."

"So do I. Tomorrow...or later today, I'll see if the realtor can do something. Contact the sellers and let them know that we're expecting. That's supposed to help sometimes, giving a personal connection or something like that," Tony said.

Ziva let out a sound indicating she'd had a cramp. They were becoming more common as she was further along, but they had been told these were false labor contractions. Dr. Layher had given them some information about how to tell the difference, but Tony worried that they wouldn't really know and that they wouldn't be able to get to the hospital on time.

"The next ultrasound is on Monday. Maybe they'll have moved around enough to see the sex," Tony said, trying to distract Ziva a little bit. The babies apparently were conscious of the scrutiny and trying to maintain their modesty. None of the ultrasounds had managed to give a glimpse.

"We have enough clothes for both," Ziva said.

"And enough diapers and bottles for an army."

"Maybe."

"We'll get there, Ziva. We'll make it."

"Keep saying it. I need to hear it," Ziva said.

"I will."

"You should try to sleep more. I may not be working, but you are."

"You're working too. Just in a different way. I can't do much, but I can do this. Roll over."

Ziva did and Tony started to massage her back, trying to help his wife relax as much as possible.

"You're doing enough," Ziva whispered.