Binta

Chapter Ten — What Tracy Knew

I stared at Tracy's message until the screen went dark.

Then I turned it back on.

I read it again.

Issa, we need to talk.

I finally know why your father wanted you to marry Binta.

And if I tell you, you'll never look at your wife the same way again.

My first instinct was to call her.

My second was to wake Binta.

I did neither.

Instead, I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my sleeping wife.

Binta had no idea what was happening.

Or perhaps she knew more than she had told me.

That thought hurt.

I had promised her that I would trust her.

But how could I trust someone who was surrounded by secrets?

I looked at the wedding ring on my finger.

Only a few weeks ago, I had believed marriage would simplify my life.

Instead, it had turned every unanswered question into a louder one.

I typed a response.

Where are you?

The reply came almost immediately.

Old Palm Grove. Tomorrow. 6 p.m.

I frowned.

Why there?

Three dots appeared.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared again.

Finally:

Because that's where your father told me the truth about Binta.

My heart started pounding.

I looked at Binta again.

She shifted in her sleep.

"Issa..."

I froze.

She opened her eyes slightly.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

She looked at my phone.

"Who is it?"

"Nobody."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You're lying."

I put the phone down.

"Go back to sleep."

She stared at me for a few seconds.

Then she turned away.

I remained awake until morning.

At breakfast, Binta was unusually quiet.

She poured tea into my cup.

"You didn't sleep."

"Neither did you."

She smiled faintly.

"I slept."

"No, you didn't."

She looked at me.

"Why?"

I almost told her about Tracy.

Almost.

But something stopped me.

Perhaps fear.

Perhaps guilt.

Perhaps the part of me that still loved Tracy.

"I was thinking about my father."

Binta lowered her eyes.

"You're always thinking about him."

"Because there are too many things I don't understand."

She nodded.

"You'll find the answers."

"Will you help me?"

She looked at me.

"Yes."

"Even if the truth hurts you?"

Her hand stopped.

"Yes."

I reached across the table and held it.

"I believe you."

She squeezed my fingers.

But there was something in her eyes.

Something she didn't want me to see.

And I knew then that she was still hiding something.

By afternoon, I had convinced myself not to meet Tracy.

I told myself that I was married.

I told myself that whatever she knew could wait.

I told myself that Binta deserved honesty.

Then six o'clock came.

And I found myself driving toward Old Palm Grove.

I hated myself for it.

But I needed answers.

The place was almost empty.

A few people sat under the trees.

Children played in the distance.

The evening breeze carried the smell of the ocean.

Then I saw her.

Tracy was sitting alone on a bench.

She looked different.

Not like the girl I remembered.

There was sadness in her face.

She stood when she saw me.

"You came."

"You said you knew something."

"I do."

"About Binta?"

"About your father."

I stopped.

"What did he tell you?"

She looked away.

"Three years ago, your father came to my father."

"Why?"

"He wanted to stop our relationship."

I laughed bitterly.

"My father didn't like Gold Creek."

"That wasn't why."

"Then why?"

Tracy looked at me.

"He was afraid of my father."

I stared at her.

"My father was afraid of Daniel?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because your father knew what Daniel had done."

"What had he done?"

She shook her head.

"I don't know everything."

"Then what do you know?"

She took a breath.

"Gold Creek wasn't always your father's enemy."

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"My father and yours were friends."

I froze.

"What?"

"Before you were born."

I remembered the photograph.

My father.

Daniel.

My mother.

The three of them standing together.

"Why did they become enemies?"

"Money."

"That's it?"

"No."

She looked down.

"Something happened between them."

"What?"

"I don't know."

"Tracy."

"Issa, listen."

She stepped closer.

"Your father discovered something about Gold Creek."

"What?"

"Illegal land deals."

I shook my head.

"I've heard that before."

"There's more."

"What?"

She looked around before lowering her voice.

"People disappeared."

I stared at her.

"What people?"

"People who tried to expose your father."

"My father?"

"No."

She shook her head.

"My father."

Silence.

I stared at her.

"Your father knew?"

"Yes."

"And he was involved?"

"I don't know."

"Then why did my father want me to marry Binta?"

Tracy closed her eyes.

"Because Binta's father was one of the people who had evidence."

I felt my stomach tighten.

"So this has nothing to do with love."

"Not originally."

"What does that mean?"

Tracy looked at me.

"Your father believed marrying Binta would give you access to that evidence."

I stepped backward.

"You're saying my father used me?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"He was trying to protect you."

"From whom?"

"My father."

I laughed.

"This is insane."

"Issa, please."

"You expect me to believe that my father arranged my marriage so I could investigate Daniel Cole?"

"I don't know what your father intended."

"Then what do you know?"

Tracy's eyes filled with tears.

"I know he told me to stay away from you."

"Why?"

"Because he believed my father would use me against you."

I stared at her.

"And you did?"

She looked wounded.

"I loved you."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Then why did you leave me?"

She looked away.

"Because my father gave me a choice."

"What choice?"

"Stay away from you or watch someone die."

"Binta?"

Tracy nodded.

My blood ran cold.

"You keep saying Binta."

"Because she was the one he threatened."

"Why?"

"Because her father had the evidence."

"What evidence?"

She reached into her bag.

"I don't know exactly."

She pulled out an envelope.

"My father gave me this."

I stared at it.

"What is it?"

"I don't know."

"Then why are you giving it to me?"

"Because I don't want to be part of this anymore."

I took the envelope.

"What's inside?"

"You'll know when you're ready."

I looked at her.

"You brought me here to give me a mystery?"

"No."

She stepped closer.

"I brought you here because I need you to understand something."

"What?"

"Your father didn't choose Binta because she was poor."

I said nothing.

"He chose her because he trusted her."

"Trusted her with what?"

Tracy's eyes filled with tears.

"With you."

I drove home with the envelope on the passenger seat.

I didn't open it.

Not immediately.

I wanted to see Binta first.

When I arrived, she was sitting outside with her father.

The old man was pushing his tea cart toward the roadside.

He saw me.

His expression changed.

"Isa."

"Good evening, sir."

He nodded.

Binta stood.

"You went somewhere."

"Yes."

"Where?"

I looked at her.

"To see Tracy."

Her face fell.

Her father looked between us.

"Issa..."

"I needed answers."

Binta nodded slowly.

"Did you get them?"

"Not all."

She looked at the envelope in my hand.

"What is that?"

"Something Tracy gave me."

Binta's expression changed.

"What?"

I held it out.

She didn't take it.

"What is inside?"

"I don't know."

"Then don't open it."

"Why?"

"Because some truths cannot be undone."

I stared at her.

"You already know what's inside."

She shook her head.

"No."

"Then why are you afraid?"

Her father stepped forward.

"Because there are things better left buried."

I looked at him.

"Did you know my father?"

He became silent.

"Binta?"

She looked at her father.

He sighed.

"Yes."

"When?"

"Long ago."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Because your father asked us not to."

I felt anger rising.

"Everyone knew him."

"Not everyone."

"You did."

The old man looked down.

"Your father saved my life."

That stopped me.

"What?"

"He came to my home when I was sick."

I remembered.

The first time my father had taken me to treat Binta's family.

The beginning.

The beginning of everything.

"Why did he choose Binta?"

The old man looked at his daughter.

"Because he believed she could protect you."

I laughed bitterly.

"From what?"

He didn't answer.

"Sir?"

He looked at me.

"From yourself."

I didn't understand.

"What does that mean?"

He shook his head.

"You'll understand one day."

I turned toward Binta.

"Do you know?"

She was crying.

"I know some things."

"What?"

She stepped closer.

"But I'm afraid if I tell you, I'll lose you."

I stared at her.

"You already have me."

She shook her head.

"No."

She touched my wedding ring.

"I have your name."

Her voice trembled.

"But I don't know if I have your heart."

I couldn't answer.

She pulled her hand away.

"Go home, Issa."

"What?"

"Open the envelope."

She looked at me.

"And then decide whether you still want to be my husband."

That night, I sat alone in my father's old office.

The envelope was on the desk.

I opened it.

Inside was a photograph.

My father.

Binta's father.

Daniel Cole.

And three other men.

They were standing outside a building.

On the back of the photograph was a date.

July 2003.

My birth month.

I turned the photograph over.

A handwritten note was attached.

The night Issa was born.

My heart began racing.

I pulled out another paper.

It was a hospital record.

My father's name.

My mother's name.

My birth.

But something was wrong.

The time of birth had been crossed out.

Beside it was another handwritten time.

11:43 p.m.

I stared at it.

Why had someone changed my birth record?

I reached into the envelope again.

Another letter.

This one was from my father.

I unfolded it.

Issa,

If you're reading this, then I failed to tell you the truth while I was alive.

My eyes burned.

There is something about the night you were born that your mother never told you.

I stopped.

My hands began shaking.

You were not born in the hospital where your records say you were born.

I couldn't breathe.

I read it again.

You were born somewhere else.

I stood abruptly.

"No."

The letter continued.

And the woman who delivered you was not the woman you think she was.

My heart hammered.

I dropped into the chair.

There was another sentence.

Binta's mother was there.

I froze.

A sound came from the doorway.

I looked up.

Binta stood there.

She was crying.

"You knew."

She shook her head.

"I didn't."

"You knew something."

"I knew there was a secret."

"What secret?"

She couldn't speak.

"Binta!"

She stepped into the room.

"Issa, please."

"What happened the night I was born?"

She covered her mouth.

"I don't know everything."

"Tell me what you know."

"I can't."

"You promised you'd tell me the truth."

"I know."

"Then tell me."

She looked at the letter.

Then at me.

"My mother..."

She swallowed.

"My mother didn't just know your father."

I waited.

She whispered:

"She helped him hide you."

I felt the room spin.

"Hide me from who?"

Binta looked terrified.

Then her eyes moved toward the window.

I followed her gaze.

A black car was parked across the street.

Its headlights were off.

Someone was sitting inside.

Watching the house.

Binta grabbed my arm.

"Issa."

"What?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"Don't go outside."

"Why?"

"Because I know that car."

I stared through the window.

"Whose is it?"

Binta's grip tightened around my arm.

"My father's."

I turned toward her.

"But he's here."

She looked at me.

"Exactly."

A terrible silence filled the room.

Then we heard the front door downstairs slam open.

Someone had entered the house.

Binta's face went pale.

She whispered the words that made my blood run cold:

"He's not alone."