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reflection of my feelings for you.”
    “I didn’t bring up marriage. Your mother did.”
    “Are you unhappy...” His eyelids started to droop. He blinked, but they began to droop again.
    Charlotte stood to leave and let him sleep.
    “Don’t go,” he said, patting the mattress.
    “You’re falling asleep.”
    “I’m fine.”
    “Uh-huh, I see the morphine hasn’t dulled that stubborn streak.”
    “Charlotte, are you unhappy with our living arrangement?”
    “No, I love our life.”
    “Good. I’m happy too.”
    “But your mother is right about going home to heal. It would please your parents, and your father said he knows how to treat your wound. I don’t have any experience in that arena.”
    “The doctors here will show you.”
    “Go home.”
    “Only if you come with me.”
    “Are you nuts? Weren’t you listening? Your mother hates me.”
    “Her emotions will settle. She’ll get to know you better and change how she feels.”
    “No, they won’t. My being under foot twenty-four-seven only exacerbates her feelings.”
    “Eggs in a basket—funny English word.”
    “The drugs are making you silly.”
    “Perhaps. Slide closer.”
    Careful not to disturb the IV pole, Charlotte moved.
    “How my mother feels about you doesn’t matter to me. She doesn’t rule my life.”
    “I won’t go.”
    “Fine, then we’ll stay in Istanbul until the wreck project starts.”
    “You really think the Ministry will let you work a site in your condition?”
    “I’m not an invalid. If a problem arises that I need help with, I’ll request someone from my unit to assist—probably Iskender.”
    “All right, but I don’t want to be in the room when you tell your parents you’re not going home.”
    “One thing will have to change when we get back to my...our place.” Atakan slid his hand over her blouse and gave her breast a light squeeze, “At least for a little while.” His sleepy eyes glittered with sexual innuendo for a split second.
    “Yeah, you’ll have to play my stallion while I’ll ride you like an unbroken thoroughbred,” she said, reading the intent in his eyes. “At least until you work out your shoulder kinks.”
    He pulled her down for a gentle kiss. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you at the basilica this morning,” he said, breaking off the kiss but still caressing her breast.
    “I’ll save the ‘I told you so’ for a better time.”
    His parents returned. Charlotte subtly pushed his hand away, rose, and left the room.
    Metin gave her a tight-lipped smile as she passed him.
    Nuray kept her eyes on Atakan.

Chapter Six

    Qandil Mountains, Iraq
    “Look at this.” Darav Binici laid the front page of the Hurriyet newspaper down on the table.
    “What is it, another article on how the government should deal with us?” Omar asked not looking up from his texting.
    Turkey, the EU, and the CIA had labeled them a terrorist organization. Articles in European and Turkish papers appeared regularly offering different opinions on how to handle the PKK. Kurds and Kurdish groups spoke out with strong opinions too: some sympathetic to their methods, some condemning. Darav was aware of the critical rumblings from even other members of the PKK, the less militant, more political wing. More and more, they were turning against men like Darav, men who led the most dedicated of followers. Little by little they’d begun to disavow men and women who lived harsh lives in the Qandil Mountains for the cause. He had no use for such soft-bellied types.
    Darav tapped the picture in the paper.
    His friend and PKK compatriot, Omar, stopped texting. He dragged the kerosene lamp over to examine the picture in better light. Both men sat hunched in military field jackets. A biting wind whipped against the tent’s walls. The tent was old and offered scant protection from the brutal climate. Wind and snow seeped in through the entry flaps and under the bottom of the canvas sides. The comfort of warmth was impossible