always. Protected from the sun by the shadow thrown by his body, she looked up into his eyes and said, “Sit with me.”
He took a seat, his gaze watchful though the garden was relatively empty.
“My father always called me a spark,” she began, and it was the first time she’d spoken to anyone about the life she’d once had. “My brother was the steady, calm one of the two of us. He was well suited to life in our village, to working in the huge fig and date groves that bring the village its income.”
“You weren’t born to be a farmer.”
“No.” She smiled a bittersweet smile, her hands gripping the edge of the bench on which they sat. “My father said that, too. That was why he supported my studies—he made me do my homework, got me what I needed in terms of study aids, paid for advanced classes I could take through the computer.”
“It sounds like he was proud of you.”
“Yes.” She swallowed. “But you see, he thought I’d end up running the power station in the village—it’s the biggest, most prestigious job there. And really, really important.”
“So far out, power can save lives.”
“Yes.” As they’d both seen in the quake zone. “But I’d learned how to run the power station by age sixteen, and I knew there was so much more out there in the world. So I applied for a scholarship on my own, one that meant I could study engineering.” She could still remember how her pulse had fluttered, how her palms had sweated as she filled in the online application form.
“Did the rift happen then?”
“No.” Her heart ached again, a throb of sorrow. “I was so scared he’d be angry at what I’d done, but my father was so proud that his daughter was one of only five students in the entire country chosen for a scholarship based on academic merit. He told everyone, held a celebration.” Tazia swallowed her tears as her mind filled with memories of the way her father had danced her across the square, her skirt swirling around her legs.
“When the time came, I was afraid to go to the big city to study.” All at once, she’d realized she’d be far from home, from family. “But my father spoke to a friend he had in the city, and I boarded with them.” Jedim Nerif had made sure his spark of a daughter had a family away from family. “They had a girl at university, too, and she helped me, but I went home every holiday I could. I missed everyone so much.”
Stefan no doubt knew how this story would end, but he stayed silent, let her speak.
“I was happy to be done with my studies, to return home. But I knew even then that I’d have to leave again if I was to practice as an engineer.” She blew out a breath. “I thought I could send money back, help the village, but my father, he hadn’t given up on his dream that I’d run the power station . . . or that I’d marry the son of the man who was a good friend.”
Stefan, forearms braced on his thighs, sun on his hair, seemed to go motionless. “He wished to force you into marriage?”
“No, Stefan, it wasn’t like that. He knew Kabir and I were friends, that Kabir was a good man who would care for me and who would support me in my important job.” She tried to make Stefan understand. “In my culture, the father is responsible for his daughter’s happiness. If I’d said I didn’t like Kabir, or even that I’d met another suitable man, he might’ve been angry, but he wouldn’t have forced the match.
“But what I said was that I didn’t want to marry at all.” She could still see the shock on her father’s face at her declaration. “I knew if I did, I’d never be able to do what I wanted to with my life, which was to work on the Alaris team. If not that, then another location that’d test my skills.” She’d been so hungry for knowledge. “All the men my father would’ve accepted as suitable came from the village, and they would’ve all wanted me to stay there. Even Kabir wouldn’t have been so accepting as to allow his wife to work on an island far from the village, then in an undersea station, and only return home one month out of four or five.”