Page 9 of The Earl That Got Away (Sirens in Silk #2)

Chapter Seven

Before

Philadelphia

E at,” Mrs. Shaheen encouraged Basil. “Eat more.”

“It’s very delicious, ma’am.” Basil slid his empty plate forward for Eyad’s mother to refill. She piled his plate high with a second serving of rice, lamb and vegetables. “May I ask what is in this?”

“It’s called maklouba ,” Naila said. She was seated at the opposite end of the table from him.

He’d have liked to sit closer to her, of course, but instead he was surrounded by Eyad and his brothers, a distance Basil thought might have been purposely engineered.

Naila’s young male cousins appeared very protective of her. “Which means upside down.”

“How does it get that shape?” he asked, mostly just to be able to continue speaking with her. The maklouba had been in the round shape of a cake when first presented at the table.

“We cook it in a pot and then flip it upside down for serving,” Naila explained.

“It have lamb and seasoned rice,” Mrs. Shaheen explained in her heavy Arabic accent. “And fried vegetables, eggplant, cauliflower and carrots.”

Supper with Naila’s relatives turned out to be like nothing in Basil’s previous experience. His main reason for coming was to see Naila again but, to his surprise, he was enjoying the communal assembly.

There were a dozen people seated around the table including Eyad’s parents and siblings, Basil and his uncle Edward, and Naila and her aunt. The others were assorted cousins. The older people were lively and animated and knew how to tell a good story.

“The first time I ate a pancake, I thought it was the most terrible thing I’d ever tasted,” said Mr. Shaheen, Eyad’s father. “It was soggy and sweet. I couldn’t understand how Americans could eat that.”

Mr. Shaheen was called Abu Eyad and Mrs. Shaheen was Um Eyad. Naila later explained that translated to “Father of Eyad” and “Mother of Eyad.” It was how Arabs respectfully referred to adults, by referring to them as the parent of their eldest son.

“What if the eldest child is a daughter?” he’d asked.

“My parents were Um and Abu Nadine, the name of my eldest sister, until they had a son,” she explained.

“Then they became Um and Abu Salem, which is my brother’s name.

I don’t think Nadine ever got over the demotion,” she said with a playful smile.

“But that is the way of the world. Girls always get pushed aside.”

His heart fluttered whenever she smiled at him. And he could not imagine anyone ever pushing Naila aside. She was born to be the center of attention, the axis around which everything else revolved. He was thrilled to be in her orbit.

Mr. Shaheen pushed a plate of liver and onions in Basil’s direction. “Here, have some. It’s very good.”

Basil wasn’t a picky eater but there was nothing in the world that he detested more than liver. He couldn’t even stomach the smell. “Thank you, sir. But I have plenty of food on my plate.”

The man pushed the serving dish even closer to Basil. “But it’s liver,” he insisted. “Very good.” He began to spoon the organ meat onto Basil’s plate.

To his relief, Uncle Edward interjected. “Basil doesn’t care for liver.”

“ Shoo? What?” Mr. Shaheen scrunched up his face. “Who doesn’t like liver?”

“I’ll take his share,” one of the cousins said, sliding his plate across the table. To Basil’s immense relief.

He fared better with dessert, a milk and rice pudding served alongside hot tea flavored with mint.

“This is very delicious,” he commented after sipping the steaming beverage.

“Hot tea with mint is my most favorite drink in the whole world,” Naila said from across the way. She took a drink and sighed with complete, unfettered pleasure. Basil couldn’t take his eyes off her. But he pretended to, given that he was under the collective watchful eye of her male cousins.

After supper, the men brought out instruments, a small hand drum called a tabla , and a pear-shaped stringed instrument that produced a deep mellow sound. Eyad said it was called an oud. The evening was spent drinking mint tea and listening to the upbeat music.

Someone brought out a water pipe, which Basil had never tried before.

He took a few turns when the pipe came to him, enjoying the soothing gurgle of the water as he inhaled, and the camaraderie that came along with sharing the ritual with the others.

The men he sat with laughed and made jokes, asking Basil when he intended to marry because at twenty-two, he was already very old.

Some of the cousins got up to dance. They lined up and held hands, the men at the front of the line, with Naila and Um Eyad bringing up the rear.

Hands clasped and shoulders aligned, they moved counterclockwise, doing synchronized dance steps with their feet.

Eyad, who led the line, was clearly the most talented dancer, moving with flourish and setting the energy for the rest of the dancers.

Basil found himself tapping his foot to the beat.

Mostly, he couldn’t stop staring at Naila. She danced with an abandon that mesmerized him. Her cheeks were flushed and some of her hair fell from the loose bun at her nape. He imagined curling those dark strands around his fingers.

One of the older men encouraged him to get up and dance.

Basil welcomed the opportunity because Naila was at the end of the line.

He rose, eager to join her, to feel her hand against his.

But just as he reached her, the cousins at the head of the line all gave Basil a hard look.

Naila herself refused to take his hand, even though he’d danced a waltz with her before.

“Up here,” Eyad called to him in a voice that was equal parts polite and steely. “You break in with the men. Not with the young ladies. Naila does not hold hands with men.”

Basil flushed. “My apologies.” He’d waltzed with Naila, which struck him as more intimate than holding her hand.

But he obeyed the rules of debke by joining the men as instructed.

His rhythm wasn’t great but he was nonetheless soon swept up in the dance, stomping his foot somewhat awkwardly until he started to get into the swing of things.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Naila laugh as they all perspired and grew breathless from their exertions. And, although disappointed because he hadn’t had the opportunity to truly speak with Naila, Basil couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed himself as much.