their faces. Logan beams while Luke giggles.
There’s a pink-frosted cupcake on the tray with a card beside it. In big crayon writing, the front of it says SORRY JANNA. Logan waits for me to reach the bottom step of the gazebo before speaking. “Janna, we’re very sorry. Really sorry for laughing at you. You didn’t fart.”
“Reawy sowwy,” Luke says, echoing Logan. “You didn’t fawt.”
“We were joking. But now we’re sorry.” Logan looks behind him at Haytham. “Is that good?”
Haytham shakes his head and points at me. “You’ll have to ask Janna.”
“Janna, is that good?” Logan says, walking over to me carefully with the tray. “Is the apology good?”
I climb the two steps to take the cupcake, nod, and look at Haytham.
He smiles at me, the edges of his eyes scrunching with mirth in the dappled light of the sun filtering through the leaves of the trees behind him, and suddenly the sky that was in my heart before when I thought of Nuah flies out and surrounds me.
It’s like happiness is everywhere now, not just secretly in my heart.
What is happening?
I drop my gaze to the cupcake in my hands.
“Wow. Wow, wow, wow!” Dawud suddenly shouts, his face still covered with what I now see is a super-heavy book, almost like a textbook.
It says WEDDINGS in big letters across the top. The bottom says TO DIE FOR.
“Can we get this flower-ceiling thing for the wedding? It’s like an upside-down garden! The one made from lilies is the best!” He lowers the book and looks at Haytham through round glasses askew. He’s eight years old, so he ignores me.
“Aren’t you going to say salaam to Janna?” Haytham takes the book from him and closes it.
“Assalamu alaikum, Janna,” Dawud mutters to the trellis above him. “We could have the flowers hanging from up there! It’s going to be so cool!”
I respond to his salaam and turn to leave. But then turn back.
“Okay, yeah, that was a good apology,” I say, putting an arm out for hugs from Logan and Luke, the two temporarily reformed hooligans. “Thank you.”
They descend the stairs toward me, Haytham standing proudly behind them, holding the wedding textbook.
“Ugh, you’re all wet, Janna!” Logan jumps back. Luke just squishes himself into my thighs, laughing as his shirt and face get wet.
“Well, that’s what happens when you go into the lake. But now let me go inside to shower and change maybe?” I dislodge Luke, who’s still rubbing his face in my burkini, and start walking toward the house. “Thanks for the cupcake.”
I say this to Logan and Luke, but I sneak a small glance at Haytham to acknowledge his part in reforming them.
He nods at me and smiles again, before saying, “Hey, just an FYI, don’t use the bathroom on the third floor. The one attached to the alcove guest room. It’s got a fan issue, and it’s still steamed up from my shower just now.”
I nod and head to the back patio.
Behind me, I hear Logan say, “Now finish the song, Uncle Haytham!”
Uncle Haytham? How did that happen so fast?
“ ‘I wanna live in a land called Paradise. Wanna see the birds fly…’ ”
His voice.
Haytham’s voice is unbelievable.
Deep, melodic, passionate.
I can’t stop my head from swiveling. He’s sitting on the gazebo steps, the kids gathered around him, and when he notices me, he lifts a pretend hat and continues singing.
Maybe I should choose a lighter, fresher color hijab to wear after my shower, instead of the raggedy black one I was going to wear today around the house and to go into town to see Mom.
I mean, I don’t even have a lighter, fresher color scarf in the stuff I brought here, but I can check my stepmother Linda’s closet. She doesn’t wear hijab, but she has a massive wardrobe with tons of accessories. And she’s always cool with me borrowing stuff—even without asking.
As I walk across the second-floor landing to knock on the master bedroom door, Muhammad emerges from his room. “Sarah’s downstairs in the basement. She said she wants to see you about something.”
“Okay, but then I might be late to go see Mom.”
“Mom’s not getting in until five—she made a stop on her way. Check your messages.” Muhammad looks at me carefully. “You okay? With the laddoos laughing at you like that?”
“They apologized. And gave me a cupcake.”
“Oh yeah, Haytham made those for their drive over. Sarah said he packed the car with his baked goods.”
“That was a good cupcake.”
Why is Muhammad peering at me more carefully now?
“Hey,