Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
“It really feels like they were preparing to come back.”
“They always said they’d retire here—nothing like home, Dr. Sarita always said, and Dr. Rajesh would smile and nod. Even though they were so successful overseas, they never got too important to remember this place. They always brought my boys chocolate from New Zealand, said they’d sponsor them to study there later on if they got good marks in school.”
The talkative man angled his head to the right. “I’ll show you the prayer place.” A pause, a touch of awkwardness. “You know about being clean before you touch the prayer statues? Full shower. And no eating eggs or meat while handling things?”
“Yes, my grandmother was Hindu.” She hadn’t managed to pass on her religion to her son or grandson, but I’d been around her enough to pick up a few things. “I won’t touch anything until I’ve showered.”
As in the Lake Tarawera house, the prayer alcove had been custom-built, a generously sized rectangle of space nestled in the wall. It held a number of small brass statues of gods, and the shallow clay oil lamp that was the genesis of Diya’s name. Tucked into the corner were several photos of a chubby-cheeked little girl along with a young couple.
“Baby Ani and her parents,” Ravi said. “Whole family, just gone. I think that’s what killed old Mr. and Mrs. Prasad.” He indicated the black-and-white photos on the other side. “Lost their younger son and daughter-in-law and then, only seven months later, their granddaughter.
“He had a heart attack not long after, and she just went in her sleep a month later. Five people, gone in less than two years. Everyone still in mourning for Hitesh and his wife, but then another funeral, then another and another. Bad, bad time.”
The tragedy of it crashed over me like the ocean I could almost hear, but held within it was the realization that Lake Tarawera, too, had involved five people. As if this family’s terrible losses came in multiples of five.
Music. A faint wind chime melancholy in its timbre.
My arms prickled with goose bumps. “Is that someone’s ringtone?” I asked, though I hadn’t seen any signs of a third person in the vicinity.
“No, that’s Ani,” Ravi said. “That little baby never left here. I think she plays under the mango tree.”
Chapter 28
Susanne
“The results came back.” Susanne sipped the special juice Tavish had made for her that morning in an effort to help settle her stomach. He’d used lots of fresh crushed ginger, and it felt good in her throat.
Beyond the metal railing of the apartment balcony, Singapore glittered and thrived, the water a silvery glimmer of light in the distance.
The sun was warm on her skin, the humidity just right.
She’d wanted a long vacation in the place where she’d spent so much of her childhood, and—with what was happening—Tavish had deferred a semester and come with her.
“What did they say?” He dragged over his chair so that he sat facing her rather than on the other side of the metal table on which he’d put the pitcher of juice. “Suzi, tell me.” He took her hand, began to do that massage thing on her palm that always made her feel good.
Eyes closing, she leaned back in her chair and smiled. “I’m glad I picked you up that day.” She met his gaze. “I thought I’d sow a few wild oats before settling down into life as a sophisticated old lady. We’ve had fun together, haven’t we?”
His throat moved. “Yes. I thought we were having fun and that was it, but…I really like you. I wish we’d been born at the same time.”
“Sweet boy.” She managed a little more of the ginger drink, then put the glass down on the table. “It’s lung cancer. Bad, but not terminal…yet.”
His pupils flared in front of her. “You’ll fight it,” he said, and while it sounded like an order, his voice was raw beneath.
She didn’t think he was pretending; he was too young, too unfinished. “I don’t think so, Tavish.” Susanne had lived the reality of a long, devouring illness with her husband, would wish that fate on no one.
Her forever-laughing man had become a ghost of himself, a querulous stranger whose eyes had begged her for surcease. “I’m choosing to live as I’ve always done, go out as myself in my home rather than a shriveled creature in the hospital.”
“Susanne, no.”
“I’ve always gone my own way, darling, you know that.”
Tavish blinked and looked away. It warmed her that he would grieve her.
“Will you stay with me?” she asked. “Not to be my nurse—dear God, no. I’ll hire someone for that when needed, but to be what you are to me. My friend and lover. We’ll stay here, in the place where I spent the happiest years of my childhood.”
She touched the side of his face, his skin smooth since he’d just shaved. “It’s selfish of me to ask. You won’t graduate with your class.”