Page 107 of Rescuing You

“Unstable,” he corrected. “You mean…mentally ill?”

She dipped her head side to side. “Bibi—my grandmother—told Mama a story once, that my father as a boy had been feeding a stray dog and had become attached to it. In our culture, dogs are unclean, but Baba liked them. Later, when Yasamin and I were girls in Baghdad, he would feed strays, even though Mama wouldn’t let them in the house. There was a litter of puppies once.” She could still remember the fluffy little balls of fur. “They were very lovable. We begged Mama and Baba to keep one. I believe Baba would have, but it was not done.”

Michael didn’t look amused. “Your father fed stray dogs but denied you food for days?”

She shrugged, unable to explain.

“Go on.”

“When Baba and Hasan were boys. Baba became attached to a stray dog. He loved it and wanted to keep it. Hasan killed it.”

Michael straightened, the shock slight but unmistakable. “Did your grandmother know why? Was the animal dangerous or diseased?”

“No, I don’t think so. Mama suggested perhaps Hasan had been jealous, but Bibi said it was only cruelty. She was afraid of him. Afraid he would harm Baba. So she and my grandfather sent Hasan away.”

“This was their mother, yes?” At her nod, he asked, “To where?”

“I think a family friend, though I don’t know more than that. Baba and Hasan were not raised together after that. Baba went to school in Baghdad. Hasan…I do not know.”

“Do you know how old they were when that happened?”

“Maybe nine or ten?”

Michael’s face was blank, but she got the impression he was trying not to react. “They’re close now? Your dad and your uncle?”

“They were before I left, a decade ago. Now? Jasmine will know, I think.”

“When did Hasan come back into your father’s life?”

“I don’t remember a time Hasan wasn’t part of our lives. He visited more when I was a teen than when I was young. We saw him every month the last few years I lived in Baghdad. Before that, maybe a few times a year.”

“Did your grandparents try to keep them apart?”

“If they did, they failed. Which is not surprising. They are not only brothers but twins. There is a connection, one that defies distance.”

She’d felt a chasm in herself after she left Jasmine in Iraq. A few moments with her sister and the chasm was gone. Even though they had lived drastically different lives for a decade, they were twins, and the connection didn’t fade.

She doubted Baba and Hasan’s had, either.

“So Hasan was in your life, but you weren’t supposed to tell anybody about him.”

“He always arrived at night, always unexpectedly, and if someone came to visit when he was there, he would stay out of sight. He usually wore a thobe and would cover his face with a keffiyeh.”

A thobe—the long robe-like garment many men in her culture donned—wasn’t unusual, nor was the keffiyeh, or head scarf.

But to cover his face—that was unusual. Effective in hiding his identity.

“If he was seen in Baghdad by someone who mistook him for Baba, he would not correct the assumption. There were times they would tell funny stories about being seen by the same person on the same day, but in different clothes. They would laugh about people’s confusion.”

“Nobody ever put it together?”

“Who would assume there was a hidden twin?”

“Do you know where Hasan lives?”

“I do not.”

“What can you tell me about him?”