Legacy and Redemption by George Norris

surprised. He shook his head before speaking. “Where did the night go?”
    Cathy Quinn was the first to stand as she searched her pocketbook for her car keys. “Walk me to my car, Tim.”
    As they stood up, Keegan took a hold of her jacket from the back of her chair and helped her on with it. The two of them walked out of the bar at a slow and even pace. Jericho Turnpike, a main thoroughfare on Long Island, was nearly desolate in the early morning hour. Keegan noticed that Cathy’s Toyota had been parked only a couple dozen feet in front of his car. Their cars were now the only two cars on the entire block.
    As they reached their destination, Keegan was trying to build the courage to ask her out on a date. He was sure the feelings were mutual. As they stood outside of her car, he looked her in the eyes. “Cathy...”
    Before Keegan could utter another word Quinn had moved in pressing her body against him. She leaned in and gently pressed her lips to his. They kissed slowly and softly at first. Quinn set her purse down on the hood of her car, her hands resting on his shoulders. Keegan put his hands on her hips as the kissing became more passionate. Keegan could sense her breath becoming shallower as he felt his heart race heavy against his chest. Quinn withdrew from the kiss long enough for the two of them to momentarily search each other’s eyes. Neither said a word, but instead began to kiss again.

Chapter 5
    Nazeem al-Haq stepped out from the Richmond Hill mosque with his left foot first as was tradition. He bowed his head. “I exit in the name of Allah. Oh Allah! Send your prayers upon Muhammad and the progeny of Muhammad and forgive my sins and open the doors of your grace to me. All praises belong solely to Allah, the Lord of the universe.”
    Al-Haq tucked his white button down shirt into his loose fitting khaki pants and began his walk to the bus stop. He reflected on the Friday sermon given by the Imam as he walked. Al-Haq seemed to have found peace attending this mosque. He hadn’t missed a single Friday prayer service since his return to the states.
    Less than a block away from the mosque, al-Haq was approached by a stranger. The man extended his hand, “As-salamu-alaykum, my brother.”
    “As-salamu-alaykum,” al-Haq returned the greeting as a sense of heightened awareness took over his body. It was a feeling he had not felt since he left Afghanistan to begin his journey back to America.
    This is it!
    There was no doubt in his mind that this was the contact he had been waiting for. The contact that Muhammad Sheykh Hajjar had told him about; the one that the Imam had also reassured would find him when the time was right. Al-Haq studied the man. He was about the same age as al-Haq, but still had a full head of dark black hair and a long beard to match. He was tall and lean, but the most distinguishing feature on the man was his eyes. They were dark; not just in color. There was something in those eyes that told al-Haq that this was a dangerous man.
    The man reached into the inside pocket of his cream colored jacket and withdrew an envelope. He handed it to al-Haq. “Take this and open it when you get home. Do not open it before then,” the man instructed. He then turned away and walked in the opposite direction from al-Haq without any further dialogue.
    Al-Haq felt the weight of the envelope and studied it’s thickness before placing it in the front pocket of his pants. His mind raced as he walked to the bus stop. It was really happening. He had no idea what was being asked of him, but it didn’t matter. This was the chance he had dreamed about. He stood at the bus stop along Jamaica Avenue in Queens. The bus couldn’t come fast enough. His mouth went dry from the excitement. As tempted as he was to open the envelope and take a peek inside, he knew that he couldn’t. It seemed to take an hour until a bus finally came. A light rain started to fall in spite of the bright sky. Al-Haq never even noticed