82. Something Old, Something New 

“Oh dear, that’s not going to end well…” Adam halted the mare at the side of the barn, a few yards still from the yard.

“A piano?” Lilyah pulled up next to him and stretched her neck to see what he had spotted. They had enjoyed a wonderful ride together, the first real extensive and purely leisurely ride they had shared since they had returned from the promontory, and the laughter still reflected on their faces. Or rather on her face, as Adam’s had momentarily darkened. Momentarily, as his features immediately brightened again.

“A reed organ – for the wedding march tomorrow, I guess.” Adam bent forward to comfortably lean on Mariah’s crest, deliberately scratching his cheek as he watched the scene in front of the house. There was a high-wheeled carriage from which Ben Cartwright and an unknown man tried to heave a bulky contraption that was dangerously balancing on the carriage’s edge – and threatening to slip from it any moment. A very sour looking, elderly woman stood aside, agitatedly gesticulating about. Her apparently sharp, short commands were hard to understand from the distance.

“Shouldn’t you help?” Lilyah asked tentatively and cocked her head to study his face. The grin she saw there looked downright smug.

Adam seemed to ponder the thought. “Hmm… yes… perhaps I should. I just think Mariah needs a little rest after the hard ride. We did gallop quite a lot, she must be so exhausted. Poor girl.” His hazel eyes were glistening with mischief as he hissed through his teeth. “Kssss. hold on to your reins, my love, the dramatic crescendo will sound up any mom…”

The organ slipped from the men’s hands and crashed to the ground. It was a crescendo indeed, albeit a rather unmelodic one. And while Chai and Mariah merely threw up their heads, the poor horse harnessed to the carriage reared up and bolted, first into the post in front of the porch, then against the water trough, and finally it made a sharp turn to trample into the crashed organ, nearly throwing the carriage off its wheels. Ben and the man clung to its reins, while the woman had started shrieking in the highest pitches, spooking the poor cob even more.

Adam buried his head into Mariah’s mane and nearly suffocated in his attempt to suppress his laughing fit. His shoulders were shaking.

“Adam…” Lilyah inadvertently whispered, more confused by his untypical behavior than anything else. “That’s not very nice.”

Adam cleared his throat and straightened up, resetting his dislocated hat. “Alright. Act two, scene one. Enter the helpful son.” He clicked his tongue to urge his mare forward, cantering into the yard. “Oh, Mrs. Pennyweather, if only I could’ve been here earlier to help!” He jumped from the saddle even before Mariah stood and scanned over the wreckage, his hands clasped behind his back. “What a tragedy!”

Lilyah shamefacedly hid beneath her veil and brought Chai to a halt next to the mare. While Adam looked and sounded like angelic innocence personified, she didn’t need to see his eyes to know that there were a thousand little devils dancing around in between the brown rays. Worst was his standing there with his hands still at his back, slightly bent forward to curiously ogle the wrecked organ, while his father and the rather skinny old man were laboring to pick it up. She didn’t dare look into Ben Cartwright’s face.

But then she noticed the cold stare that was piercing her – and the blatant contempt with which the old woman was looking her up and down, the mouth in the rigid old face a sharp downward arc with almost no lips. Lilyah swallowed, inevitably tensing and reassuring herself that she was decently and properly covered from head to toe with all the veils in place. It took her a second to realize that it wouldn’t have made a difference were she clad all in black along with niqab, gloves and eye net. Feeling deeply uncomfortable in the contemptuous glare, she inconspicuously moved Chai a bit backwards. The stallion snorted and stomped, sensing his mistress’s emotion.

“Adam, would you just care to lend us a hand?” Ben Cartwright’s voice was a snarl already, his face had turned red, in part of course due to the strain with the rather heavy instrument.

“Of course, Pa.” Adam finally bothered to help, but no one could have accused him of falling all over himself. “Back on the wagon?”

“Of course back on the wagon!” the old lady shrilled, finally taking her eyes off Lilyah. “It needs repairs! Wilbur, this is all your fault! It was you who let it slip! I saw it! You never, ever do anything right!” She went on and on, and her loud, cutting voice wasn’t the easiest to bear, causing the horses to unwillingly rotate their ears.

Lilyah calmingly brushed over Chai’s mane, watching the men trying to lift the organ back on the wagon, stemming their weight against it as it teetered on the edge. Ben and the unfortunate Wilbur righteously worked in the sweat of their brow, while Adam cheekily lifted his head to have a look at the skittish horse that no one held. And then he sneezed. Loudly.

The horse made a nervous jump forward and the organ crashed down again. Of course the horse bolted again, the old lady screeched again, both Ben and Wilbur stammered excuses while struggling with the fractious horse. Adam wrung his hands and looked down at the wrecked organ. “Oh, Mrs. Pennyweather, I just can’t tell you how sorry I am. It’s this terrible dust in the air…”

“Maybe we should take this as a sign.” The haggard woman raised her head, casting a short, poisonous look into Lilyah’s direction. “For it is written in the Holy Bible, Be ye not unequally yoked together with the heathens, for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? And what communion hath light with darkness?”

“Mrs. Pennyweather!” Ben sharply cut in. “My future daughter-in-law is not a heathen! She’s a Mohammedan!” He took a breath and mellowed his tone. “But first of all, she’s a young bride, and I do know that you have accompanied so many young brides on their wedding day and made it so very special for them. And you certainly will find it in your heart to give this young bride an equally special day. I know you will.”

“It doesn’t seem likely, looking at that organ,” Adam remarked dryly. “Even though it would have been such a pleasure to hear a duet between our dear Mrs. Pennyweather here and Wily Slim Pickles of the Silver Dollar and his melodeon.”

“Wi…” The old lady didn’t get the name out, so aghast was she. “This… godless creature? This drunkard? This mongrel?” She snapped around to Ben. “Mister Cartwright!!! This is outrageous!”

“But… but… I… I… but…” Ben stammered, almost as shocked as she was. “But I had no idea…”

“You probably should’ve asked me.” Adam crossed his arms over his chest. “I asked Wily yesterday if he would play on the wedding and he readily agreed.”

Ben stared. “You asked a bar pianist from the most notorious saloon in town to play on your WEDDING??”

“As it is written in the Holy Bible,” Mrs. Pennyweather shrieked before Adam could answer. “Nor his daughter shalt thou take unto thy son. For they will turn away thy son from following the Lord, that they may serve other gods: so will the anger of the Lord be kindled against you, and destroy thee suddenly.”

Adam turned his eyes heavenwards. “Oh, Allah””

“Wilbur! Put this instrument on the carriage at once! Now move, you useless, lazy man, move!”

Ben didn’t know what to do first or at whom to turn first. “Mrs. Pennyweather, this certainly wasn’t this young lady’s idea… ah, Mister Pennyweather, let me help… ADAM! Would you just care to move a finger, PLEASE?”

Lilyah maneuvered Chai a few yards forward and slid from the saddle to hold the still nervous carriage horse, soothingly stroking the animal’s nose while the organ or rather its wreckage was hauled onto the load bed again. After much hassle and ado and lots of more shrieking, the high-wheeled carriage finally rumbled out of the yard and disappeared alongside the barn.

Ben heaved a deep breath and turned towards his eldest, his eyes shooting flashes. “You hired a bar pianist for your wedding? What’s he going to play when the bride comes in? ‘The Yellow Rose of Texas’??”

“No.” Adam shifted his weight on his right leg, arms crossed again. “We’ve sort of agreed on ‘Oh Susanna’.”

Ben’s eyes bulged, he opened his mouth and closed it again.

“Pa, I think Wily Slim Pickles is enough of a musician to get the wedding march together; and besides, he won’t come here with the bar piano from the Silver Dollar, but with his own melodeon. And apart from that, I’d rather have Joe tooting the wedding march on a comb than having that old scarecrow sitting in the corner staring at my wife!” Adam’s voice had become louder.

Ben had no difficulty matching the volume. “Adam, with all due respect, Mrs. Pennyweather is the CHURCH ORGANIST! She’s an institution in the community! She played at every wedding in the area, she’s done it for years!”

“Not at mine!!” Adam bent forward. “Haven’t you seen that look on her face? Not to mention her Bible quotes?”

“Oh, Adam, she’s an old woman, you know she’s had a hard life, you can’t take her seriously.” Ben made a disparaging, but still uncomfortable movement with his hand. “And she was upset about her instrument being broken. You of all people should understand that.”

“My understanding has its limits,” Adam retorted. “This is the same woman who seriously suggested any Indian coming in sight should be shot. The same woman who asked the town council to make a rule that the Chinese shouldn’t walk along the main streets anymore, but stick to the back yards. And no, I don’t take her seriously, not at all. I just don’t want to see her anywhere within a five mile radius of my wife!”

“But Adam, son, a bar pianist, and that Pickles fellow to boot!” Ben’s hands waved through the air. “A wedding is a sacred ceremony before God, it should have a proper setting and an appropriate atmosphere!”

Adam blew a breath through his nose. “Wily Slim Pickles might have his quirks, I know he drinks too much and he hasn’t seen the inside of a church for at least thirty years. But he’s a kind-hearted man and he’s got more decency in his little finger than this old, vitriolic shrapnel has in her whole body!”

“Adam, I won’t TOLERATE you talking about…”

“Stop it! Both of you!” 

Father and son turned their heads to look at Lilyah who stood there next to her horse, holding onto the reins as if she needed the contact to her equine companion to muster the courage for acting up.

“This is the eve of my wedding.” She still stuck out her chin, her eyes gliding from one to another. “And I don’ want to hear my husband and my future father-in-law yelling at each other!”

“But… we’re not yelling…” Ben spread out his hands and tried a laugh.

“He hasn’t even reached his ultimate loudness yet,” Adam remarked, albeit with a twinkle in his eyes.

Ben brushed him off with a half-amused grumble and turned to Lilyah again. “I hope this old lady hasn’t upset you, dear. You shouldn’t take such people seriously, or listen to what they say. And those Bible quotes certainly weren’t exemplary for anyone’s thinking.”

“I know.” Lilyah smiled. “We have such people in our country, too. They’re the reason why my father always said that religion should reside deep in everybody’s heart, because the minute it starts falling out of people’s mouth, it loses all its blessings.”

“Those are wise words, indeed,” Ben admitted. “But come into the house, please – there’s a surprise waiting for you!”

“I’v got to take care of Chai first…”

“Adam can take care of your Chai!” Ben took her arm. “The surprise isn’t meant for his eyes, anyway – not yet.”

Lilyah caught Adam’s smile and allowed Ben to usher her to the house. Wily Slim Pickles and Mrs. Pennyweather were all but forgotten.

* * *

Inside, Ben didn’t tell her what the surprise would be, but led her up the staircase and all the way into her room. Her gaze immediately was drawn to the wardrobe and the dress hanging at its door.

“My red robe!” She turned around to the older man. “But where…”

Ben chuckled. “I’m afraid I’ve got a confession to make – I stole it!”

Lilyah looked at him, question marks all over her face.

Ben smiled. “You see, Adam and I had a little disagreement about your wedding dress. I wanted to buy you the prettiest wedding dress ever, since your own father couldn’t be here and do it for you, but Adam insisted you would prefer to wear an Arab dress – and I think he was probably right.”

“Oh yes…” She didn’t quite understand what he was getting at. “But it was very kind of you to think about it.”

“Well,” Ben carried on. “I still think a young bride should have a special wedding dress, and not just wear one of her usual garments to that very special day in her life. And since both Adam and I agreed that your red robe is one of your most beautiful ones, we decided to have it copied, more or less.” He went to the wardrobe and opened it to take out a white dress along with its appendant veils and wraps. “Because, of course, you couldn’t possibly wear a dark red dress to your wedding. It’s simply not done anymore these days.” He placed the clothes on the bed.

Lilyah was speechless as she stepped to the bed, admiring the white dress. It was almost an exact copy of the red robe, even down to most of the golden embroideries and laced brocade trimmings, and yet it looked so different in its shimmering creamy white.

“It seems the tailors couldn’t copy all the details.” Ben smiled at her eyes, so large with surprise and delight. “From what I’ve understood, some of the silks and embroideries seem to be specifically Arab in style and are obviously hard to come by here. But the silks are of best Chinese quality, Hop Sing’s favorite uncle made sure of that.”

“It’s… so beautiful…” Lilyah’s hands glided over the fabrics. “A real wedding dress…” Her eyes glided to Ben. “Thank you…”

“It was my pleasure,” Ben said softly. He couldn’t help the feeling that she was just so short to come to him to accept a hug, but there was still a little something that kept her from doing so. Maybe it was merely this Oriental attitude of female conduct and untouchability.

“I think…” Lilyah broke off and hastened to the wardrobe to unearth the precious golden lace veil with the tiny Omani pearls. “I think this would go just beautifully together… it was a gift from my father. I rarely wear it and never while riding because it’s so delicate, but I always keep it with me.”

“I think it just matches perfectly,” Ben agreed. “And I believe your father would be happy to know you’re wearing it to your wedding.”

“Oh, yes…” She draped the veil on the dress. “He would be so happy I’m getting married at all…” She laughed a little, her fingers brushing over the lace. “He always used to grumble and complain that the closest he’d ever come to having a son-in-law would be Chai…”

Ben sensed the tears before he heard the little sob, and he didn’t hesitate to close in on her and gently pull her into his arms. To his joy she didn’t mind, and while she didn’t exactly cuddle up, she still accepted his comfort. He carefully stroked over her hair. “I believe wherever he is now, he’ll be watching over you. And he’ll be so proud of his girl…”

She nodded her head and stepped back, wiping the tears from her face. “You must think I’m stupid… I should be so happy… and I am crying…”

“No, I don’t think so at all.” Ben took his kerchief and gently dabbed off her cheeks. “I know your father would have loved to deliver his daughter to her bridegroom tomorrow, and how hard it is for you to not have him here on your wedding day. But I hope you’ll accept me delivering the bride in his place, and in his honor.”

“Of course…” She squeezed his hand and smiled through the last tears, before her attention was diverted to the dress again. “Has Adam seen it yet?”

“Oh no, of course not!” Ben exclaimed in feigned shock. “And he must not see it until the wedding. That’s a rule – and an important one!”

“Oh…” She wrinkled her brow. “Yes, I remember Marfa talking about it… I just never really listened, because I always thought I wouldn’t ever marry, anyway. She also said the bridegroom shouldn’t see the bride on the wedding day, not before the ceremony…” She looked at him with a suddenly worried expression. “It would be a bad omen.”

“Only on the wedding day,” Ben mitigated. “And your wedding day doesn’t start until midnight, that’s… wait…” He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. “That’s a little more than eight hours from now.”

“Oh, good.” She breathed a little sigh. “I better put it away until tomorrow… Adam might still come in.” She still couldn’t resist brushing over the soft silk.

“You do that.” Ben turned to the door. “And don’t worry about any details. I think Madame Esma will give you all the right advice and have a watchful eye on everything.”

“I’m sure she will.” Lilyah picked up the dress. “Thank you, Ben… thank you for everything!”

He smiled. “Everything for my favorite daughter-in-law.”

The remark brought a little laugh into her eyes.

* * *

Esma and the children arrived in the late afternoon, accompanied by Little Joe, and they came just in time to watch Hoss steering their old wagon onto the small place aside of the barn. Adam had made sure the old vehicle went to the wainwright and got its badly needed repairs and renovations – and badly needed they had been. According to the wainwright, the decade-old axes wouldn’t have survived another year.

“Shabaro…” Esma gave him a deeply affectionate knock into the ribs and Adam understood why Joe had jumped out of her reach so hastily. “Making an old woman almost teary…”

“My pleasure.” Adam smiled and inconspicuously rubbed his side. “Besides, it’s thanks to you I won’t have to feed on burnt trouts and yellow cheese for the rest of my life.”

“And buying a new pan after every round of burnt beans!” Joe quipped.

“Ah, shut up, you two tinhorns!” Esma was back on her rough, old self. “You wouldn’t do any better either if no one ever had shown you.”

“Right again.” The brothers laughed.

“Esma!” Lilyah’s trilly call came from the house and she ran all the way across the yard into a mighty bear hug. “Esma, I’ve gotta show you something!”

“Hopla!” The old woman laughed. “Is it white?”

“How do you know?” Lilyah broke off as she noticed the laugh on Ruby’s face, the smirk on Adam’s and the stealthy grins of his brothers. And it occured to her that likely everybody had known about it.

“But you haven’t seen it yet?” she asked.

“No, child – and I would just love to!”

“Esma!” Ben had followed more slowly. “Welcome to the Ponderosa! You’re just in time, Hop Sing has a fine dinner all ready.” He also greeted Ruby and patted Pico’s head before he turned to the old shepherd woman again. “I sure hope you trust young Bill Morley to keep a watchful eye on your flock.”

“Aw, yes, he seems like a bright young man,” she replied. “Thanks for sending him.”

“I hope somebody told him the sheep are bleating all the time.” Adam chuckled. “We’re not used to that with cattle – they will only bawl when they’re hungry or something’s amiss.”

“Yeah, I told him.” Joe laughed and gathered the horses. “Hadn’t had the heart to let him run around between those sheep all the time fretting and worrying what might be wrong.”

Everybody laughed and Ben ushered the group along to the house. “Come on, everybody, come on in! Esma, my house is your house!”

“Don’t say it too loud, old boy, we might keep the furniture!” Esma marched ahead, with no cares that Ben’s mouth had fallen open and his three sons were struggling to contain their laughter.

* * *

“Oooh, that looks good!” Pico’s eyes popped out looking over the dinner table. “I’m hungry!”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Adam caught the boy’s hand reaching out for the roasted meat. “We’re waiting for the ladies! And apart from that, the meat is taken from the plate using a fork.”

“Aw…” Pico laughed and scrambled onto his chair. While he wore what Adam knew to be his best shirt, he still looked a bit out of place at the fine dinner table with its silver chandeliers and the best dishes, almost reminding him of the gypsy boys in a Murillo painting. But of course he didn’t mind, and no one else did, for that matter. “Adam, they might take ages hovering over Lilyah’s new dress! We might be starved by then!”

“Boy’s gotta point here, Pa…” Hoss agreed with a pleading look.

“I’ll go and see what’s taking them so long…” Adam grinned and attempted to get up, only to be pushed back on his seat by both his brothers.

“You stay put, Adam!” Joe had jumped up. “That’s none of your business up there.”

“You must not see the dress before the wedding!” Ben added.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Pa, she’s my wife.”

“Preliminary, son, preliminary!” Ben retorted. “Your wedding day is tomorrow.”

“You better listen to Pa here, older brother,” Hoss chimed in. “I heard tell it’s real bad luck if the groom’s seen the dress before the wedding, or the bride on the wedding day before the ceremony. And you sure had your share of that already.”

“Oh, come on, that’s an old wives’ tale.” Adam looked from one to another. “Don’t tell me you believe in that nonsense.”

“You never know!” Joe slapped his brother’s shoulder. “I’ll go and have a look.”

“Really, Pa…” Adam shook his head. “Think logically. I already know what the red robe looks like, so it doesn’t take much to figure out its white equivalent, does it?”

“That’s not the same, son. The red robe isn’t a wedding dress, the white one is. That’s the difference.”

“Pa’s right.” Hoss longingly eyed the roast beef. “You could as well say that all of them wedding dresses look alike, leastways all I’ve ever seen did, the white ones, that is, and no one could ever tell them apart, and still that old rule is there. Must be sumthin’ to it.”

Pico had listened to the exchange. “And what if she marries in an old dress that everybody knows already? Would that be bad luck, too?”

“Good thinking…” Adam smirked. “Well, Pa?”

Ben wasn’t fazed at all. “No, Pico, it would not, because the old dress wouldn’t be a wedding dress, but just an old dress. A wedding dress is a dress specifically made for a wedding.”

Adam audibly sighed, “I’m somewhat surprised you ever told us the truth about Santa…”

Ben was relieved of an answer as the laughing chatter coming from the staircase indicated the missing ladies and the dinner could begin at last, much to Pico’s and Hoss’s delight. Once again, Hop Sing had outdone himself with the meal, raking in praise upon praise and then some more praise for the sweet pudding he served. And while the silver chandeliers and the fine dishes only used for the most festive occasions haplessly fought for a noble air, the atmosphere soon resembled the convivial mood of a campfire on the promontory, drowning in waves of laughter.

“Daisy wasn’t just pretending!” Ruby protested as the talk came to the children’s favorite ewe. “She really was badly injured and very ill when we came up to the promontory!”

“She was,” Lilyah confirmed. “But she still lay there in her blankets long after her wounds were healed and Esma couldn’t find anything wrong with her. And no one could explain why she simply wouldn’t get up – until Adam and Esma had a brilliant idea.”

“And?” Ben asked curiously. “What did you do, son?”

“Nothing much…” Adam smirked. “We merely removed that huge heap of grass and leaves the children used to pile up in front of her nose – and that was when she finally bothered herself to the pasture.”

“The imaginary invalid in sheep skin!” Ben laughed out loud. “Now who would have thought that?”

“I’ll never again say sheep are stupid.” Joe cackled. “She certainly had you going!”

Adam laughingly got up when Hop Sing served the coffee in the living room. They had already moved the sofa in a 90 degree angle to its usual spot and pushed the armchairs from the round table closer to have more comfortable seats for the guests. They probably wouldn’t need nuch more, after Adam had radically wiped out about 90 per cent of his father’s proposed guest list. The wedding dinner would take place outside, anyway. The crates with the decorations were already piled up in front of the grandfather clock.

“Lil?” He took her arm and led her to one of the red armchairs, seating himself on its armrest. One more day, and his father’s quite obsolete remarks a la ‘Preliminary, son!’ would be gone for good. Adam smiled to himself and barely paid any attention to the chatter splashing by, his long fingers absent-mindedly playing with a strand of Lilyah’s hair, caressing her back the same time. Tomorrow…

“Hey Adam, what do you think?” Joe’s voice ripped him out of his dreamy thoughts. “We help Esma drive her sheep down the mountains come Tuesday!”

“So early?” Lilyah seemed to have been dreaming as well, enjoying Adam’s soft loving while applying strict and almost painful control over her fingers to not have them sneak up to his leg on the armrest. “The grass on the promontory is still good.”

“It’s better to move them across the Sierras now, child, as long as the weather is comfortable.” Esma puffed her pipe, visibly delighting in Ben’s tobacco. “And I’d like to be in California before the cold months come.”

A shade of sadness crept in Lilyah’s eyes. “I’ll miss you.”

“Our paths will cross again, child.” Esma gave her a smile and then chuckled as she saw Pico half asleep in the blue armchair. “And I think we better go to sleep now.”

“It’s gotten late already and we sure have a busy morning ahead of us.” Ben got up and cast a look to the grandfather clock. “Joe will show you your rooms.”

“Rooms? What rooms?” Esma rose to her feet and stretched her arms. “Who needs rooms when we have our wagon outside, all new and shiny? And truth be told, old boy, I’ve had enough of rooms. I need wheels under my floor!”

Adam chuckled. “Don’t forget most of your household is still up in the mountains, particularly beddings and blankets. Rooms might be the better option for the night.”

“Where’s the problem?” Ben laughed. “Joe, Hoss, go upstairs and get some bedding for our guests. These young’uns just don’t know how to improvise, do they, old girl?”

“You’ve nailed it!” Esma dipped her head in full agreement.

Adam raised his hands in funny defeat and got up to gather in the cups and glasses, with Lilyah’s amused help. Hop Sing could still be heard rumbling in the kitchen, most likely preparing something for the big day tomorrow. Adam’s heart warmed. It would be his big day. His and Lilyah’s.

* * *

Half an hour later Adam furrowed his brow in disbelief as he heard the key turning in the lock.

“Lil?” He tried to open the indoor, but it was actually locked. “Lil, what are you doing?”

“It’s 40 minutes to midnight.” Her voice came through the closed door. “That’s 40 minutes to our wedding day.”

“Yes, it’s late and we should go to bed.”

“You must not see the bride before the ceremony.”

Adam stood dumbfounded. “What?”

“It could be a bad omen!”

“Lil, that’s superstitious nonsense. Open the door and come back in… please.”

“I’ll sleep in this room tonight.”

Adam stared at the door. “Lil, you’re my wife!”

“But it’s still our wedding day in 40 minutes, isn’t it?”

Adam rolled his eyes and marched out of the room to try the other door from the hallway. He came just in time to hear the key turned in that lock, as well. Supporting himself with one hand at the door frame, he tried his luck again. “Lilyah, our wedding day isn’t in 40 minutes, it is tomorrow, starting at sunup.”

“But the day actually starts at midnight, doesn’t it? Your father said so, too.”

Adam drew a breath, his fingers began tapping against the frame in slight exasperation. “Lil, it doesn’t matter when exactly the day starts. But there is no such thing as a bad omen, and there is no logical reason whatsoever why the husband shouldn’t see his wife before the marriage.”

“You mean, the bridegroom the bride…” She had to stand very close to the door as he could hear her soft voice clearly, even though she spoke quietly.

“Yes, the bridegroom the bride. And there is absolutely no scientific foundation for any…” He broke off and raised his head, alerted by a sound coming from the adjacent hallway. Making a few apprehensive steps backwards, he spotted his father fastiduously straightening out a painting at the wall.

“Oh, Adam… I’m just making sure everything is in perfect condition for tomorrow.” Ben blew a few times across the painting’s frame. “Can’t you sleep, son?”

Adam merely rolled his eyes and let out a wordless grumble.

“Ah, I understand, son – the night before the wedding! The tingling anticipation of all the wonders to come, the longing desire for pleasures hitherto unknown, but still so lively in the imagination…”

Adam’s shot him an enervated look from under tetchy brows. “Good night, Pa!” He went back into his room and closed his door to shut out the clucking sounds of strenuously suppressed laughter.

Returning to the indoor, he refrained from trying the knob again. “Lil…”

Her light footsteps immediately approached the door on the other side.

“Lil, this is ridiculous. We’re married already…” He lowered his voice, just in case his father got any ideas of sweeping the floors in the hallway outside. “And there is no reason why we shouldn’t spend this night like all the nights before, as man and wife.”

“But it’s our wedding day tomorrow… in less than 30 minutes.”

Adam inhaled a deep breath and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. “Lil, didn’t the imam always tell you that a good Muslim woman should not care about superstitions and any sort of old wives’ tale?”

“The imam doesn’t know everything. Adam…” Her voice took on a pleading tone. “I’ll miss you already tonight, my love, but I don’t want to have a bad omen on you.”

Adam sighed – and gave up. He would have some enlightment work to do in the next couple of years, but for now it might be better to not put a fear into her heart – as unfounded and irrational a fear it would be. Scratching his neck, he glanced at the locked door and a soft smile stole across his lips.

“Adam? I’ll play for you, alright?” Her footsteps moved from the door and moments later there were sounds like she was rearranging the room.

“Lil? What’re you doing?”

“I’m putting the mattress in front of the door. That’s more comfortable to sit and I won’t have to play so loud as to disturb your father and brothers.”

Adam was torn between laughing and tearing his hair out. “Don’t you worry about that – my brothers sleep like groundhogs and my father deserves a 50-men-trombone-and-kettle-drum band under his bedroom window playing Dixie Land all night long.”

“What did you say?” She was apparently heavily working.

“Nothing.” Adam shook his head as a light bump against the door indicated the mattress being pushed in place. “Oh, what the heck!” He went to his bed and threw off the beddings before he hauled his own mattress on the floor next to the indoor, muttering under his breath how absolutely ridiculous it all was.

The first tones of the oud sounded up, soothingly and tender, and he silently carried the beddings to his mattress, piled a heap of pillows against the wall and slipped out of his clothes before he lowered himself onto the makeshift bed, the guitar in his hand. Had it not been for that confounded door, they would practically sit side by side.

He could literally hear her smile in her play as his guitar softly joined in.

* * *