But there had been no need to tell: Isra had not planned to keep the baby. She hadn’t told anyone that she had gotten pregnant last month, not even Fareeda, who, in the midst of grieving Sarah, still found energy to remind her that Adam needed a son.

Shame that made her abort her most recent pregnancy. It was shame that made her do it, Isra thought now, shame at being a woman. How could she call her daughter-a seven-year-old child-such a dirty word? What had she been thinking? Her head ached, and she tapped her forehead against the window to relieve the pain. Just the other day she had witnessed Deya waving goodbye to the boys on her school bus! It had made her rigid with terror, and she had yelled at Deya, called her a Deya’s face had crumpled, and Isra had been overcome with shame ever since. She had also come to fear the public schools, afraid that one day her daughters might follow in Sarah’s footsteps. As much as she hated admitting it, he was right. Over the next few weeks, Isra considered Adam’s plan. Instead she sank into bed and disappeared beneath the sheets. Isra opened her mouth to respond, but thought better of it. “An Islamic school has just opened on Fourth Avenue. “But the school year just started,” she whispered.

She pulled the blanket closer, feeling a sudden chill. “These American schools will corrupt our daughters,” Adam said, swaying in the bedroom doorway. By the time the school year started again, so many weeks had passed since Sarah had left that Isra was surprised when Adam told her: he was taking the girls out of public school.

A woman is no man novel