“Good morning, baby girl,” Mehmet crooned the moment he saw us.
Runa’s head jerked toward his voice. Her muscles grew stronger every day, but that little head of hers was a considerable weight for such a new neck and she took the responsibility of holding it up very seriously.
“Good morning,” I smiled, lifting Runa’s hand to give him a small wave.
“Ah.” He clutched his heart.“She is likeTürkiyebaby now.”
His English wasn’t perfect. Neither was mine. We managed.
“I have noticed children are very calm here,” I said as he came around the counter to greet Runa properly.
“Mine are old and—how you say?” He paused, delighted with himself.“Ugly. But my grandchildren are like this one.” He grazed the back of his finger over Runa’s plump cheek with the gentleness of a man who had done this many times and never stopped finding it remarkable.
“You must feed her full of goodness. Yes?” he said, already moving back behind the counter with the energy of someone who had made a decision on our behalf and considered the matter settled.
I winced. He always sent us away with something. He got offended if I refused, so I had long since stopped refusing and started simply accepting with as much grace as I could manage.
The fresh pistachio dessert was already in a bag waiting for me.
“Tesekkürler,” I murmured, taking it from him.
“No thanks needed.” His eyes had already drifted back to Runa.“You take care of baby and you.”
I waved as I left the small shop, scanning the street as I went. Nothing new. No men lurking at the edges. Just ordinary people going about their business in the particular unhurried way of a city that had decided the morning was not something to be rushed.
I kissed Runa’s head and began telling her what was planned for the day. In between her naps and feeding times, of course. My entire day worked around her—and I had stopped minding that some time ago without noticing exactly when.
She was loved and she was content.
When she cried it was a process of elimination—my boobs, a fresh nappy, or a tummy rub. She was not a complicated person. I respected that about her.
Teething would come. Growth spurts would come.
But for now we walked, I talked, and she enjoyed the ride.
??????
While Runa had some tummy time I joined her on the floor for my own exercises. There were days I would sit and dream of all the things we would do together, and there were nights I would weep that Makari never had the chance to be with me—to become a big brother, to exist in the same world as his sister. And somewhere in between, I would think of the man who gave and took in equal measure, never once considering the destruction he provoked.
I spent countless hours staring into Runa’s eyes. So wide, so blue, so innocent. Then I would catch a glimpse of him in her and the fear would settle in—that he would find us one day, that his fury would decimate the quiet happiness we had built here. But then Runa would gurgle and smile, and her reassurance would distract me until the next time.
Ever so slowly summer arrived and Runa discovered the great outdoors. As long as I found cool spots for her she was happy—content to be carried and observed and spoken to, which suited us both. The expansive cotton scarf became her favourite thing, toying with its edges before disappearing beneath it to drink her milk away from prying eyes.
It became a habit.
Milk, scarf and sleep.
When she slept I would hold her and stroke her dark hair gently to one side until I found it—the same swirl of hair at her forehead, lining up exactly like his. The more similarities I found, the more nervous I became.
Those words.
Property of—
I couldn’t even think it.
Then the anger would surge when I remembered the price he had put on Runa’s head. Twenty thousand American dollars.
My daughter was fucking priceless.
