name?”
“Tamar.”
“Tamar,” the doctor repeated.
“It means date.”
“The sweetness of dates.”
“I did not choose the name.” José cut in. “It was Reyna’s idea.”
“Yes, your daughter must have brought much sweetness into your lives to have been given such a name.” He waved down a young boy and requested a cup of coffee then turned back to José. “You know that I would have been there if I could. I would have given anything for La Señora, for your wife, for you .”
“You would?”
“Of course, José. How can you even question it? I have known you since you first stepped foot off that ship—From the moment you and Reyna arrived in Istanbul. Now tell me, why haven’t you been home?”
José lowered his chin, looked around, then whispered, “I think I am being punished.”
“How can you think that way? What a ridiculous idea.”
“I rejected my fate.”
“You didn’t reject anything, José.”
“I changed the course of destiny. We were never meant to marry.”
“You can’t change your destiny. This is all G-d’s plan.”
He turned away and settled his gaze on an obscure spot ahead. “It’s like I’m an impostor in my own home. I can’t stand it any longer.”
The doctor stood abruptly from his place and pulled José up with him. “We’re leaving.”
“Doctor?”
“You’re going home to take care of your wife—Take care of your family . This is the responsibility of a man.”
They walked besides one another taking the backstreets in order to avoid the hustle of the market.
When they arrived at the villa, Doctor Hamon turned to José. “I need to be heading back to the palace now.”
José nodded. “I suppose it’s time I met my daughter.”
Doctor Hamon nearly gasped. “I think so,” he said quietly.
José turned abruptly and made his way along the cedar-lined path toward the entrance of the grand villa. Without stopping to remove his shoes, he climbed the staircase to the second story landing and headed toward the nursery. He could hear Reyna singing soft lullabies as he entered the room. When their eyes met, she did not stop her song, but turned her attention back to the infant cradled in her arms.
He approached gently, his measured step in perfect rhythm to Reyna’s slow, soothing lullaby. When her song came to an end, she looked up at José. Her face was pale but her eyes radiated light.
“Reyna.” He took a few quick steps towards her.
“Shhh.” She ushered him close with one hand. “Come see your daughter.” She tucked the edge of the blanket around the baby. “Here she is.” Reyna’s voice was calm and steady.
José came to one knee and examined his baby girl. Around her neck lay a long strand of blue beads.
“To protect her,” Reyna explained.
He looked about the room. Swords and daggers hung from the walls, along with garlic bulbs and onion bits.
“And those are to ward off evil spirits,” she continued.
José examined his daughter.
Her eyes were as green and glistening as the Mediterranean waters that had carried them to Istanbul. She uncurled her fingers and reached out to José’s bearded chin. Her pink lips puckered as she looked about the room.
“She’s beautiful.” José leaned forward and kissed the tiny button of her nose. “Tamar,” he said the name aloud. “How very much your baba loves you.”
Reyna turned to José. “Does this mean that you are happy?”
He swallowed the bitterness he felt inside. Could he ever be truly happy, going through life, knowing that he would never father a son? He glanced down at his daughter. She was beautiful and perfect in every way. He had loved her from the moment he first laid eyes on her. And yet, he was not happy, not yet anyhow. Perhaps in time he would come to accept his fate. Perhaps in time, he might even be content.
He looked deep into the eyes of the woman that he loved and forced himself to say, “Yes, my dear. I am happy.”
The next morning, he awoke
“Tamar.”
“Tamar,” the doctor repeated.
“It means date.”
“The sweetness of dates.”
“I did not choose the name.” José cut in. “It was Reyna’s idea.”
“Yes, your daughter must have brought much sweetness into your lives to have been given such a name.” He waved down a young boy and requested a cup of coffee then turned back to José. “You know that I would have been there if I could. I would have given anything for La Señora, for your wife, for you .”
“You would?”
“Of course, José. How can you even question it? I have known you since you first stepped foot off that ship—From the moment you and Reyna arrived in Istanbul. Now tell me, why haven’t you been home?”
José lowered his chin, looked around, then whispered, “I think I am being punished.”
“How can you think that way? What a ridiculous idea.”
“I rejected my fate.”
“You didn’t reject anything, José.”
“I changed the course of destiny. We were never meant to marry.”
“You can’t change your destiny. This is all G-d’s plan.”
He turned away and settled his gaze on an obscure spot ahead. “It’s like I’m an impostor in my own home. I can’t stand it any longer.”
The doctor stood abruptly from his place and pulled José up with him. “We’re leaving.”
“Doctor?”
“You’re going home to take care of your wife—Take care of your family . This is the responsibility of a man.”
They walked besides one another taking the backstreets in order to avoid the hustle of the market.
When they arrived at the villa, Doctor Hamon turned to José. “I need to be heading back to the palace now.”
José nodded. “I suppose it’s time I met my daughter.”
Doctor Hamon nearly gasped. “I think so,” he said quietly.
José turned abruptly and made his way along the cedar-lined path toward the entrance of the grand villa. Without stopping to remove his shoes, he climbed the staircase to the second story landing and headed toward the nursery. He could hear Reyna singing soft lullabies as he entered the room. When their eyes met, she did not stop her song, but turned her attention back to the infant cradled in her arms.
He approached gently, his measured step in perfect rhythm to Reyna’s slow, soothing lullaby. When her song came to an end, she looked up at José. Her face was pale but her eyes radiated light.
“Reyna.” He took a few quick steps towards her.
“Shhh.” She ushered him close with one hand. “Come see your daughter.” She tucked the edge of the blanket around the baby. “Here she is.” Reyna’s voice was calm and steady.
José came to one knee and examined his baby girl. Around her neck lay a long strand of blue beads.
“To protect her,” Reyna explained.
He looked about the room. Swords and daggers hung from the walls, along with garlic bulbs and onion bits.
“And those are to ward off evil spirits,” she continued.
José examined his daughter.
Her eyes were as green and glistening as the Mediterranean waters that had carried them to Istanbul. She uncurled her fingers and reached out to José’s bearded chin. Her pink lips puckered as she looked about the room.
“She’s beautiful.” José leaned forward and kissed the tiny button of her nose. “Tamar,” he said the name aloud. “How very much your baba loves you.”
Reyna turned to José. “Does this mean that you are happy?”
He swallowed the bitterness he felt inside. Could he ever be truly happy, going through life, knowing that he would never father a son? He glanced down at his daughter. She was beautiful and perfect in every way. He had loved her from the moment he first laid eyes on her. And yet, he was not happy, not yet anyhow. Perhaps in time he would come to accept his fate. Perhaps in time, he might even be content.
He looked deep into the eyes of the woman that he loved and forced himself to say, “Yes, my dear. I am happy.”
The next morning, he awoke
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