Caught Between (4 page)

We are definitely not going to be friends, Liz and me.

"Nine o'clock," Luke muttered. "About time to get some shut-eye. We're up before the ass-crack of dawn tomorrow."

The others agreed and slowly rose, bidding each other goodnight.
Marya followed Liz into the girls' hostel, where Amy was already fast asleep. She slipped into her pajamas and curled into bed, waiting for sleep to overtake her, but it wouldn't come.

What's wrong with me? I need to sleep.

An hour passed; she glanced at the clock and stood. She leaned out the open window, sucking in the fresh air. She heard gravel crunching as someone approached, and she ducked behind the diaphanous curtain. The lone figure of a man walked down the road towards the gate, a satchel hanging from his hip.

Luke.

There was no question it was him. She watched him slip through the gate and hail a cab. He climbed into the car and it headed towards town, its red brake lights disappearing as it turned a corner.

5.

Just as the
sun became hot, the Bedouin workers appeared.

Ducharme
called the team down from the tell to introduce the dark-skinned young men and assign them to different sections. Marya wiped the sweat from her eyes and surveyed the six Bedouin boys, no older than seventeen.  They were wiry and thin, wearing loose shirts, pants, and plastic sandals, with headcloths on their heads. One of them, one of the smaller ones, appeared to be the leader; his name was Yusef and he communicated with Dr. Ducharme on behalf of the others.

Luke nudged
Marya forward. "I think your services might be needed."

Marya
stepped forward, and the Bedouin boys looked at her suspiciously. Yusef said in Arabic, "Now who's this?"

Marya
licked her lips. "My name is Marya," she managed in her pathetic Arabic.

Yusef's
eyebrows shot up and he grinned, revealing that he had most of his teeth. "She speaks Arabic! Brothers, they brought someone who speaks Arabic this year! Thank Allah!"

Marya
smiled. "I speak very little."

"It's better than nothing,"
Yusef replied. He turned to Ducharme. "I will work with Marya this year," he stated.

Ducharme
looked to Marya for a translation, and Marya felt her cheeks grow warm. "He wants to work with me."

Ducharme
sighed. "That's fine. Tell Yusef to have the others follow me."

"
Yusef," Luke said warmly. "Good to see you again."

Yusef
chuckled and thumped Luke on the back. "Luke! You've returned again, eh? As I said last year, you are an honorary Jordanian."

Luke laughed but didn't ask
Marya to translate. They climbed back into their pit and began breaking rocks that blocked their attempts to dig. After slipping on protective goggles and gloves, Luke and Yusef took turns swinging a sledgehammer against the obstinate boulders. Despite his small frame, Yusef was deceptively strong. Marya stood on the edge of the pit, watching them work. Luke had rolled up the sleeves of his t-shirt, and the muscles of his arms, shoulders and back strained and flexed as he swung, glistening with sweat.

"An attractive man, that Luke."
Marya jumped at the sound of Yusef's voice. She found the young Bedouin smiling at her knowingly, and she flushed. "All these Canadian women favor him," Yusef continued, waving his hand. "And the Jordanian girls too!"

Luke paused, breathing heavily. He looked over at
Marya. "Is he talking about me?"

"Nope,"
Marya answered without hesitation.

"I am jealous,"
Yusef continued, a mischievous glint in his eye, "especially if the beautiful Marya favors him as well."

"I do not,"
Marya answered carefully.

Yusef
squinted at her. "Hmm," he said. "I don't think you are being truthful."

"
Yusef," Luke called, pulling off his goggles. He held out the sledgehammer. "Your turn." As Yusef began hammering at the rock, Luke leaned against the edge of the pit, near Marya. "He's not giving you a hard time, is he?"

"No, he's just being a teenage boy,"
Marya answered.

He drank deeply from a bottle of water, and
Marya fixed her eyes on the horizon. The question was on the tip of her tongue:
Where did you go last night?
But she said nothing, for fear he might think she was watching him.

The rest of the day passed much like the one before, and in the blink of an eye dusk was upon them. As Amy left to attend
Ducharme's lecture, Marya looked around restlessly, wondering if Luke would invite her to smoke shisha on the patio again. She had enjoyed it, despite Liz's occasional looks. When she didn't see him, she wandered out to the patio to find the same group already there.

Luke smiled and waved her over. "Just so you know, we're a
lways here after seven," he said, winking at her. As Marya pulled up a chair, Liz looked away, clearly not pleased with Marya's presence but determined to appear as though she didn't care.

Around nine, Luke yawned, making the same comment about the hour and having to get up early.
Marya went back to the hostel and got in bed, saying goodnight to Amy and the other girls. When an hour had nearly passed and the hostel was quiet, Marya slipped back into her clothes, strapped on her purse, and quietly went outside. She sat against the outside wall of the hostel, around the corner where passers-by wouldn't see her.

I am completely crazy for doing this
.

Just as she was about to give up and return to bed, she heard the gravel crunching. Her heart raced as she peered past the bushes and watched Luke make his way down the hill to the gate. She waited until she was sure he wouldn't hear her,
then began to follow him. She didn't want him to see her, but wouldn't have been upset if he did. In a way, he'd given her an excuse to escape ACMER
and
an excuse to spend time with him.

Why do you need an excuse to spend time with him? Why do you
want
to spend time with him?
The answers evaded her, troubled her. She wasn't normally attracted to guys like him. She was attracted to the sensitive types, the smart types... the
nerds
, if she was being completely honest with herself. The guys who oozed with confidence and charm just annoyed her.

And yet, Luke somehow straddled both worlds. The girls chased after him, but he was also smart and getting a
Ph.D in archaeology, of all things. He looked like the kind of guy parents feared their daughters would bring home, but his looks were deceiving.

I'm intrigued, that's all.

She reached the street and saw him strolling down the sid
ewalk, a dark shadow now. There were people about, and so Marya followed, keeping a safe distance. If he got into a cab, she'd lose him. But so far, he was just walking.

Her eyes were focused on Luke, but she didn't miss the fact that Amman was teeming with life. Like the Damascus of her memory, the city came alive at night. Children ran and played on the sid
ewalks, their parents unfazed by the late hour; kebab stalls perfumed the air with the scent of roasted meat; people sat at small cafes along the street, sipping thick Arabic coffee. Marya struggled to keep sight of Luke as they walked further into downtown Amman. Many shops were still open, many merchants still hawking their wares. There was so much to see, so much to take in. 

She was nearly distracted by a shop of colored glass lamps when she saw Luke turn into a narrow alley. She picked up her pace, afraid to lose him. The street was narrow and smelled of m
anure. Ahead, everything was dark and quiet, doors and windows shut. It looked to be a dead end. A stray cat scampered across her feet, startling her.

Where did he go?

"Marya Helwe." She squealed and spun around, a hand on her heart. Luke stood against the wall behind her, hidden in the shadows. His jaw was tensed, but his eyes were curious. "Why are you following me?" he asked softly.

She waited until her heart stopped racing to answer him. "I saw you leave last night. I was... curious."

He took a step forward. "You know what they say about curiosity. The cat and all that." He pulled a cigarette and lighter from his satchel, lighting up casually. She noticed the black-checkered headcloth, the
keffiyeh
, draped around his neck. A fashion statement? Or a political one?

For some reason, she was getting nervous again. After all, what did she know about Edward Lucas Marshall? And now he looked
downright dangerous, taking the hoodlum thing to new levels. "Is that a threat?" Marya said as calmly as possible.

He blew a stream of smoke from his mouth and smiled. "A warning. It isn't safe for you to be wandering alone in the city at night."

"You're doing it," Marya shot back.

"I'm a guy.
And not one afraid of a fight, either. Here, come with me." He led her out of the alleyway and to a tiny cafe across the street. They sat down at a plastic table and Luke ordered some tea. He finished his cigarette and squashed it in the ashtray on the tabletop.

"If you're going to sneak out of ACMER and wander around Amman, there are a few things you should know," he said, ru
mmaging in his satchel. He pulled out a small Canadian flag and passed it to her. "Put this on your bag, or backpack, or whatever. In clear sight. If anyone asks, you're a Canadian, eh? Not a good time to be an American in the Middle East."

Marya
fingered the cheap cloth, tracing the red maple leaf. "Um, okay."

His eyes darted over her, assessing. "It'd be smart to cover your hair when you're out and about, but I know how you American ladies feel about that."

She shrank away from his scrutiny, suddenly bashful. "I'll do it for safety. Whatever." The waiter brought their tea, and Luke poured her a cup. Some of her boldness returned, and she said, "So you still haven't told me why you snuck out."

He leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. "What if I told you I just wanted to escape, walk around alone for a bit?"

Marya shrugged. "I'd say that sounds like a great idea. And then I'd ask if you wanted some company." She smiled at him hopefully.

The amusement in his eyes all but disappeared and he pursed his lips. "No."

She tightened her arms around her middle, feeling like he'd punched her in the gut. Looking down, she said, "Oh. Okay."

"It's not you,
Marya. I just need to be alone."

"No, that's fine. I understand." She knew she sounded hurt; it was practically dripping from her voice. She stood, her chair scra
ping against the ground. "I should get back. We'll be up in a few hours, after all." She added, "Thanks for the tea."

She pulled some Jordanian dinars from her purse and hailed a cab. Before climbing in, she glanced back at the cafe, where she and Luke had been sitting.

He was gone.

***

Luke took a long drag from his cigarette, his third of the night. His eyes were fixed on the old door just a few steps down the alley. It was easy to miss, since it hardly looked like a door at all -- what was underneath the nailed planks and graffiti may once have been quite beautiful. Cedar wood carved into intricate flourishes and painted blue, he thought. A shame.

He heard voices and looked to his left. Two young men strolled passed, paying him no attention. Luke exhaled slowly, stubbing out his cigarette.
Marya has made me jumpy.
He shook his head. He still couldn't believe she'd followed him. Of course, she had no way of knowing she was putting herself in danger. But still -- the girl had some balls. It made him like her even more.

He scowled. He didn't mind being attracted to her. Attraction, he could handle.
But actually
liking
her? That wasn't good. Not for him, not for her.

The door opened with a groan.
Luke straightened, his heart beat faster. A bearded man in a black leather jacket looked out, nodded to Luke.
Here goes.
He went in behind the man, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dimness. The door was shut and barred behind him. People were crammed inside -- men mostly, but there were women too. A British journalist sitting on a stool, a French photographer talking to a woman in the corner. It smelled of smoke and sweat and garlic, and Luke was dizzy for a second.

The man in the leather jacket, Ahmed, gestured to a chair around a table of men, all bearded and smoking. Luke sat and greeted each of the men in turn.
Syrian exiles, most of them, their faces hardened with pain. Ahmed spoke in Arabic. "Marshall, what can you bring us?"

Luke spoke quickly. "Assault rifles, sniper rifles, hand gr
enades, and night vision goggles." He paused. "I can get some cell phones, radios, and transmitters, too, if given more time."

Ahmed squeezed Luke's shoulder. "My friend, may God pr
otect you. You can have until the end of the month. We will be crossing the border into Syria then."

"I want to come with you," Luke said.

The men exchanged looks. "Why?" one of them asked.

Luke traced a crack on the tabletop with his forefinger. "I have friends in Damascus. They need me."

Ahmed rubbed his chin. "It would be safer for you to go in alone. Why come with us?"

"Because I want to help you, Ahmed," Luke insisted. "Let me be a part of this. Let me fight alongside you."

One of the other men shook his head slowly. Ahmed said, "We must think on it."

"Then think on it," Luke said, pushing back in his chair. "I'll be back tomorrow night. I'll be bringing some of the things you need."

Ahmed led Luke to the door. As Luke stepped out, Ahmed said, "Go with God, Marshall."

Luke looked back at him with a nod. "Think on it, Ahmed."