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)
“I don’t care about that. I care about you.” Rough voice, his Adam’s apple moving as he swallowed. “Of course I’ll be here.” The sunlight sparked off the signet ring on his finger as he squeezed her hand. “Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”
In that moment, with this boy who had become so much more to her than a lovely flirtation, Susanne realized that she’d been lucky. She’d loved and been loved by two good men in her life. Not the same way—how could a relationship that would never even reach the five-year mark compare to one of decades?—but loved all the same.
Chapter 29
The wind chimes sounded again, a faint nocturne that penetrated under the skin and took root.
Not a ringtone at all. Never a ringtone.
Fighting back the chilling whisper but unable to stop the cold from spreading through my veins, I said, “I didn’t know about Dr. Rajesh’s brother and parents.”
“He didn’t like to talk about it. How his big family became so small.” Expression somber, Ravi pointed out a particular statue after first putting his hands together in prayer and saying a string of words under his breath.
“That’s the one you need,” he said. “Dr. Sarita’s mother gave it to her before she passed. Don’t take the one beside it, though—Dr. Sarita bought that after baby Ani passed away. It’s for Ani, and Dr. Sarita always said that Ani’s soul is here, where she died.”
“I won’t touch it,” I promised, suddenly not sure I’d ever seen any pictures of Ani in the family home in Lake Tarawera. It was possible that she’d been in the collection on the piano, but I’d never paid too much attention to that—especially as, most of the time, I’d been trying to be polite and make conversation with Diya’s family while being very aware that they hadn’t yet made up their minds about me.
After partially closing the intricately carved doors of the prayer alcove, Ravi led me down the hallway. “You want an upstairs room?”
“Downstairs is fine. No need to open up anything extra.”
“This room is great for the morning light.” He showed me one that faced the frontage, and all that thriving tropical foliage. “I’ll ask Kushma to put sheets on the bed.” He pointed up. “No air-conditioning here, but you have the fan and the windows. Usually a nice breeze coming from the ocean.”
Able to feel that breeze through the glass louvers as soon as he flipped them open, I said, “This is perfect, thank you”…just as the wind chimes sounded again, louder this time. More real.
Not ghost music, but an actual physical object.
Wanting to kick myself for falling victim to the atmosphere and Ravi’s dramatics, I drew deep of the salt-laced air. Then I turned to the caretaker. “Ravi, can I ask you about Ani?” I had to take the chance. “The family doesn’t talk about her and I really can’t ask Diya or Shumi after all this. I don’t want to put my foot in it by accident.”
Ravi’s already long face fell. “Yes, such a sad thing. Come with me—I’ll show you the tree Dr. Rajesh planted for baby Ani. Ashes went in flowing water as is proper, but he always said this was Ani’s place, and he put the tree there for her.”
As we walked out into the dark gray of oncoming night, the sky erased of even a touch of the orange-pink I’d seen on my drive, he said, “I don’t know so much about how baby Ani died—everyone just says accident. But Kamal who lives up the road, he was the police who came to handle it. He’ll know.”
“The blue house?” I asked, because that was the only house I’d passed before reaching this one.
Ravi nodded. “Lives with his wife and son and daughter-in-law.” Coming to a stop in front of a large tree with narrow green leaves from which hung countless curving yellow-red fruits, he said, “Dr. Rajesh told me Ani loved mangoes. This tree? It gives the sweetest fruit.” He plucked one off, held it out. “Here, for you to taste.”
“Thank you.” Something had been niggling at me about the mango tree since Ravi first mentioned it, but right then, it was the size of the tree that struck me. A lot of years had passed since Ani’s death, and yet hers was the name Diya had spoken right before she lost the battle with consciousness.
A wind chime silvered by time hung from one of the lower branches.
“Diya beta put that there,” Ravi said, following my gaze. “Just before the family moved to New Zealand. They’d been in Nadi for a few years by then, so Kushma and I were already here as caretakers. Dr. Sarita said Diya found it at the market one day and brought it home for Ani.”
Diya and Ani.
Two girls.
One clinging to life, one long dead.