Read Online Nobody's Child by Marsha Forchuk Skrypuch - Free Book Online

what he was about to say.
    â€œIf you stay with us and help us get in as much of the crop as we can before it goes completely to seed, I shall pay you.”
    Mariam was about to open her mouth. Payment wasn’t what they wanted. The Turk held up his hand for silence. “I will also take you myself to Marash. In my oxcart. God willing.”
    Mariam smiled. “Thank you,” she said. The turn of events came as a relief. She had felt uneasy about travelling by foot all the way to Marash, but she hadn’t been able to see an alternative. Just as her gut had told her in the spring that it was wrong to stay in this house then, now it was telling her this was the best choice.
    Her one concern was for Anna. Could she work in the fields in her condition? And would the Turkish couple let her live in their house, or would their superstitions exile her to the barn? Mariam regarded AbdulHassan. This time he had barely taken notice of Anna. She looked over to Amina Hanim. The woman was staring at Anna. It was obvious that she wanted to ask a question, but didn’t know how.
    Anna, who always kept her eyes cast down in the presence of strangers, felt the heat of the gaze. She looked up and met Amina Hanim’s eyes. “Yes?” she asked.
    Amina Hanim quickly looked away. Looking at her own hands, which were rough and reddened with work, she said, “Hanim, can you work in the sun with your white skin?”
    Mariam smiled inwardly. The very thing she was wondering herself.
    â€œIt is difficult,” she said. “The sun burns my skin rapidly.” She looked at Kevork, then Onnig, Marta, and Mariam. “But I would do anything to help these children.”
    â€œI can think of two possible solutions,” said Amina Hanim. “You could stay inside and look after the house. That would free me up to work in the fields.”
    Anna nodded.
    â€œYou could also look after the little boy.” Amina Hanim gestured towards Onnig.
    â€œBut that would be a waste of an adult,” said Anna.
    â€œWhich leads me to my other possible solution,” said Amina Hanim. “You would be hot, but a thick paste of oil and clay might protect your skin. I have used it myself when the sun’s rays burn brightly.”
    â€œIf the woman goes into the field,” asked Abdul Hassan, “who will look after the boy?”
    â€œI could,” said Marta.
    Everyone turned in her direction. “I am almost eight, and Onnig is my little brother. I know how to look after him.”
    â€œBut could you look after the house while everyone else is in the field?” asked Amina Hanim.
    â€œI have watched my sister and Anna bake bread,” the little girl replied gravely. “I think I could do it. And I already know how to sweep and to wash clothing and many other household chores.”
    Mariam smiled sadly at this exchange. Her little sister had grown up quickly since their parents died. She could wash clothing, sweep, shell nuts, milk the goat, collect eggs, weed the garden, and many, many other things. The only reason she had never made flatbread was that she and Anna had made several weeks’ worth at once, then dried it and stored it, taking out only what was needed each day.
    â€œThere would be no need for you to make Armenian flatbread,” said Amina Hanim. “I make Turkish pide each morning before going to the fields.”
    The first time Mariam slashed her mother’s tiny sickle through an expanse of wheat, an image of Turks with bayonets on horseback filled her mind. The thought gave her energy, and she pretended the stalks of wheat were her parents’ killers. She slashed through them with a force she didn’t realize she had.
    â€œYou’re very good at this for such a young girl,” said Amina Hanim, who was working not far from her.
    If only she knew what I was thinking, mused Mariam.
    Kevork was good at it too, and Mariam suspected that his thoughts