Legacy

Yusuuf narrowed his eyes, watching the white children of this neighborhood walking to their parent's vehicles to be transported to the new private Muslim school built a few miles away. There was Katie, radiant and happy, followed by her dour siblings, Aaron and Emily, chafing under the foreignness of the dress and manner expected of them.

Was this enough? He looked at the letter he'd received from the al-Assafs yesterday. A princely sum of money to go to Dubai and manage some of their oil and gas affairs. Was conquering this woman, taming her children, breeding her and spreading his faith and his customs and his men around this neighborhood, to take the wombs and women of these weak and infertile men enough?

It was vexing. Part of him believed that Elizabeth would thrive overseas -- she certainly showed a fascination with the Middle East. And part of him believed he'd truly done enough -- a Muslim school in the American south was truly monumental.

And yet, part him wanted to stay here. To keep his personal sacrifice going of using his wife to lure others in, the bait to make what he started here last for generations. There were thousands of white women just down the street, in the red bricks and the green eyes, impressionable minds that would shape the future.

He sipped his coffee. What was more important? A personal legacy that would affect a few dozen lives? Or a social legacy that could affect a thousand?