A Price Above Rubies

Chapter Five

He shouldn't have done that. The thought always comes every morning after a night where's rougher with her than he meant to be. This morning, the guilt is filtered through a throbbing headache which Leon knows would be much worse if Hilal hadn't taken such good care of him when he came home. She sets his coffee down by his plate and touches his shoulder, lovingly. When he looks at her, her beautiful eyes are warm, letting him silently know she didn't mind one bit.

She insists that she never does mind. "Everything we do is wonderful because it's you," Hilal says but he can't help the guilt. He doesn't think of himself as a brute. He has numerous faults but he always tries to be a gentleman, especially with the woman he loves. The mother of his children deserves better than to be treated like a common... No, not quite that. He's had whores before he married, in the army. He likes to think he treated them well but there wasn't...this, this connection with this woman who even with the passing of years and daily life of work, marriage and children, still manages to turn him inside out.

Leon watches her leaning over Acelya to refill their daughter's cup of milk and the way his wife's breasts stretch the front of her dress, modest when she's standing straight, but the way the curves swell against the fabric when she bends ov... Leon has to stop, he thinks, feeling his face flaming as he takes too big of a drink from his coffee and burns his tongue. He sucks in his breath and presses his lips together setting the cup down. Hilal looks over in concern and puts some more milk in his cup.

"Try now," she says.

Leon drinks more slowly from the cup. His tongue still stinging a bit, but he nods. She touches his shoulder again. The redness there is already starting to fade from her mouth and he wishes it had stayed longer. She always touches him more after a night where their love making has been more rough than usual, as if sensing he needs the reassurance that she's not upset with him.

Their children's chatter is excited as they speak about their cousin Cevdet and uncle Mehmet coming to play with them. Acelya says something about Mehmet bringing a jazz record that they could play on the record player if Leon says it's okay.

"Papa, it's from America where Mehmet says is all the way on the other side of the world. You have to take a boat and everything!" Acelya exclaims.

"I wanna go on a boat. Papa, we go fishing?" Yorgo asks.

"Not today, Yorgo. Maybe tomorrow? If you're a good boy and eat all your vegetables," Leon insists. He turns his attention back to Acelya. "Where did Mehmet get a jazz record?" He's never heard Yakup play english music in the tavern.

"He said Uncle Yakup got it from Mr Azat. He got it from a boat from America," Acelya said.

Hmm, so Azat's organization is smuggling in American jazz records now, Leon thinks. That could get Yakup in trouble with some of the more traditional Turks who are resisting the push to bring the country, now that it was free from Greek oppression, into a more modern age. Leon is not surprised that his brother in law hasn't tested the waters in his tavern yet. It was too soon, even if it had been over five years.

"It's a girl singer, Papa, and Mehmet let us hear a little bit and she sings so nice. Not as good as Mama though," Acelya insists quickly with a look at Hilal, making sure she hasn't hurt her mother's feelings.

Leon may be biased but he thinks his wife has the most beautiful voice he's ever heard. A tiny whisper of a memory of the first time he'd heard her sing, listening outside her prison cell...Leon shuts the door on the memory. He can't bear to remember how close he came to losing her. So many times. Prison. A bullet. Leon shudders and Hilal notices.