Home Is Beyond the Mountains by Celia Lottridge Page A

the walls. The grapes dried very slowly under the ground,
and the raisins were juicy and delicious. Before Samira and her mother
returned to the bright world above, they would pick a few of the grapes and
chew them slowly, remembering the summer.
    â€œI think there’s an umbar
here,” Samira said. “People must have lived in those two small buildings
before the barracks were built. They would have needed a place to store
food.”
    â€œPeople like Mr. Edwards
would never think of an umbar,” said Anna. “They didn’t store food for us in
Baqubah or Kermanshah and they won’t here. They’ll send food in. Endless
lentils and onions, probably.”
    Samira made a face. “It
would be better if we had some food stored up. Something we could count on,
the way we did at home. We live here. It should be more like home.”
    THE TRUTH WAS THAT the
orphanage didn’t feel like home. The rooms were dark and bare. Cold wind
from the mountains blew through the open windows. The children shivered
under their quilts at night and dressed quickly in the morning to run to the
eating room where hot tea and warm bread would be ready for them.
    Mr. Edwards kept saying that
the director would arrive soon. But the director didn’t come.
    One morning in the middle of
October, Samira woke very early, knowing that something had disturbed her
sleep. She listened intently. On one side of her Anna was sleeping quietly,
but on the other side Elias was coughing and breathing heavily.
    Samira went over to him. He
was hot with fever, and she could hear his breath rasping in his throat.
    She woke Anna.
    â€œElias is sick,” she said.
“Go and get Mr. Edwards.”
    Mr. Edwards slept in one of
the boys’ dormitories, in a room right beside the main door. In only a
moment he was kneeling by Elias, feeling his forehead.
    â€œYou’re right,” he said.
“I’ll send the caretaker to the city. I hope the doctor can come very soon.
How are you feeling?”
    â€œI’m worried about Elias but
I feel fine,” said Samira, and Anna said, “Me, too.”
    â€œThat’s good. Stay away from
the other children until we find out what this is. But you can fetch some
breakfast from the kitchen.”
    Samira sat down beside
Elias. His face was flushed and he muttered in his sleep.
    Samira remembered Maryam’s
face as she lay in their mother’s arms. But she was so still. Elias could
not be as sick as she was.
    The doctor didn’t come until
nearly noon. Samira made herself busy wiping the little boy’s hot face with
a damp cloth and keeping the quilt from tangling around him as he moved
restlessly. Anna brought her a piece of bread and a bowl of yogurt.
    When Samira set them down
uneaten, Anna said, “It won’t do any good for you to get sick, too. I’m just
as worried as you are but remember, Elias is a strong boy and he hasn’t been
running through the wilderness to save his life.”
    â€œI know. I just can’t help
remembering.” Samira leaned back against the wall and ate the food.
    When the doctor finally came
she waited outside in the corridor with Anna. It seemed a long time before
he came out with Mr. Edwards and closed the door.
    He smiled at them. “The news
is good. Elias is a sick little boy but he doesn’t have typhus or any of the
dangerous illnesses we watch for.”
    Samira took a step toward
him. “You’re sure? He won’t…” She stopped.
    The doctor looked at her
seriously. “No, Elias won’t die. He’ll be miserable for a few days but he
will get well. I’m wondering whether you two girls would look after him? The
important thing is to keep him in bed and give him plenty of cool, weak tea
to drink. Moving him all the way to the hospital wouldn’t help.”
    When both girls nodded he
went on, “Take turns being with him. I don’t want either