“But, wait! Nilima!”
“Don’t worry, Miss Kelsey. Everything will be fine. The paperwork you need for school is on the kitchen counter. There’s food in the fridge, and all of your belongings are upstairs. You can take the car and visit your foster family later today if you wish. They are expecting your call.”
She turned, gracefully walked out the door, and climbed into the private car. She waved gaily from the passenger seat. I waved back morosely and watched until the sleek black sedan drove out of sight. Suddenly, I was all alone in a strange house, surrounded by quiet forest.
Once Nilima had gone, I decided to explore the place that I was now going to call home. Opening the fridge, I saw that the shelves were indeed fully stocked. Twisting a bottle cap off, I sipped a soda and peeked into the cupboards. There were glasses and plates, as well as cooking utensils, silverware, and pots and pans. On a hunch, I opened the bottom drawer of the refrigerator—and found it full of lemons. Clearly, this part was Mr. Kadam’s doing. The thoughtful man knew drinking lemon water would be a comfort to me.
Mr. Kadam’s interior design touch didn’t end in the kitchen, though. The downstairs half bath was decorated in sage green and lemon. Even the soap in the dispenser was lemon-scented.
I placed my shoes in a wicker basket on the tiled floor of the laundry room beside a new front-loading washer and dryer set and continued on to a small office.
My old computer sat in the middle of the desk, but right next to it was a brand new laptop. A leather chair, file drawers, and a shelf with paper and other supplies completed the office.
Grabbing my backpack, I headed upstairs to see my new bedroom. A lovely queen-sized bed with a thick ivory down comforter and peach accent pillows was nestled against the wall, and an old wooden trunk sat at the foot. Cozy peach-colored reading chairs were arranged in the corner, facing the window overlooking the forest.
There was a note on the bed that lifted my spirits right up:
Hi, Kelsey!
Welcome home. Call us ASAP— we want to hear all about your trip. All of your things are stored away. We love your new home!
Love,
Mike and Sarah
Reading Mike and Sarah’s note in addition to being back in Oregon grounded me. Their lives were normal. My life with them was normal, and it would be nice to be around a normal family and act like a normal human being for a change. Sleeping on jungle floors, talking to Indian goddesses, falling in love with a . . . tiger—none of that was normal. Not by a long shot.
I opened my closet and saw that my hair ribbon collection and clothes had indeed been moved from Mike and Sarah’s. I fingered through some things I hadn’t seen in a few months. When I opened the other side of the closet, I found all the clothes that had been purchased for me in India as well as several new items still in garment bags.
How on earth did Mr. Kadam get this stuff here before me? I left all this in India. I closed the door on the clothes and my memories, determined not to open that side of the closet again.
Moving to the dresser, I pulled open my top drawer. Sarah had arranged my socks exactly the way I liked them. Each pair of black, white, and assorted colored socks was wound into a neat ball and placed in a row. Opening the next drawer wiped the smile right off my face. I found the silky pajamas I had purposely left in India.
My chest burned as I ran my hand over the soft cloth and then resolutely shut the drawer. Turning to leave the bright, airy room, a detail suddenly hit me, causing my face to flush scarlet red. My bedroom was peaches and cream.
He must have picked these colors, I surmised. He’d once said that I smelled like peaches and cream. Figures he’d find a way to remind me of him even from a continent away. As if I could forget . . .
I threw my backpack on the bed and instantly regretted it, realizing that Fanindra was still inside. After taking her out carefully and apologizing, I stroked her golden head and then put her on a pillow. I took my new cell phone out of my jeans pocket. Like everything else, the phone was expensive and totally unnecessary. It was designed by Prada. I turned the phone on and expected his number to show up first, but it didn’t. There weren’t any messages either. In fact, the only numbers stored on the phone were Mr. Kadam’s and my foster parents’.
Various emotions raced through my head. At first, I was relieved. Then I was puzzled. Then I was disappointed. A part of me pondered, It would have been nice of him to call. Just to see if I arrived okay.
Annoyed with myself, I called my foster parents and told them I was home, tired from the flight, and that I would come over for dinner the next night. Hanging up, I grimaced, wondering what kind of tofu surprise would be in store for me. Whatever the health food meal turned out to be, I would be happy to sit through it as long as I got a chance to see them.
I wandered downstairs, turned on the stereo, made myself a snack of apple slices with peanut butter, and started rifling through the college papers on the counter. Mr. Kadam had chosen international studies as my major, with a minor in art history.
I looked through my schedule. Mr. Kadam had managed somehow to get me, a freshman, into 300- and 400-level classes. Not only that, but he had also booked my classes for both the fall and the winter terms—even though winter registration wasn’t available yet.
WOU probably received a big, fat donation from India, I thought, smirking to myself. I wouldn’t be surprised to see a new building going up on campus this year.
KELSEY HAYES, STUDENT ID 69428L7 WESTERN OREGON UNIVERSITY
FALL TERM
College Writing 115 (4 credits). Introduction to thesis writing.
First Year Latin 101 (4 credits). Introduction to Latin.
Anthropology 476 D Religion and Ritual (4 credits). A study of the religious practices around the world. Delineates religious observance as seen through anthropology, while focusing on particular topics including spirit possession, mysticism, witchcraft, animism, sorcery, ancestor worship, and magic. Examines the blending of major world religions with local beliefs and traditions.
Geography 315 The Indian Subcontinent (4 credits). An examination of South Asia and its geography, with emphasis on India. Evaluates the economic relationship between India and other nations; studies patterns, issues, and challenges specifically related to geography; and explores the ethnic, religious, and linguistic diversity of its people, historic and modern.
WINTER TERM
Art History 204 A Prehistoric through Romanesque (4 credits).
A study of all art forms of that period with specific emphasis on historical and cultural relevance.
History 470 Women in Indian Society (4 credits). An examination of women in India, their belief systems, their cultural place in society, and associated mythology, past and present.
College Writing II 135 (4 credits). Second-year class expanding research-based document writing and skills.
Political Science 203 D International Relations (3 credits). A comparison of global issues and the policies of world groups with similar and/or competing interests.
It was official. I was a college student now. Well, a college student and part time ancient Indian curse breaker, I thought, remembering Mr. Kadam’s continuing research in India. It was going to be difficult to focus on classes, teachers, and papers after everything that happened in India. It was especially odd knowing that I was supposed to carry on and go back to my old life in Oregon just like that. Somehow my old life didn’t seem to fit anymore.
Luckily, my WOU courses sounded interesting, especially religion and magic. Mr. Kadam’s selections were subjects I probably would have picked for myself—other than Latin. I wrinkled my nose. I’d never been too good with languages. Too bad WOU didn’t offer an Indian language. It would be nice to learn Hindi, especially if I’m going back to India at some point to tackle the remaining three tasks outlined on Durga’s prophecy that will break the tiger’s curse. Maybe . . .
Just then, “I Told You So” by Carrie Underwood came on the r
adio. Listening to the lyrics made me cry. Brushing a tear away, I considered that he probably would find somebody new very soon. I wouldn’t take me back if I were him. Letting myself think about him for even a minute was too painful. I tucked away my memories and folded them into a tiny wedge of my heart. Then, I shoved a whole bunch of new thoughts in place of the painful ones. I thought about school, my foster family, and being back in Oregon. I stacked those thoughts like books, one on top of the other, to try to suppress everything else.
For now, thinking about other things and other people was an effective distraction. But I could still feel his ghost hovering in the quiet, dark recesses of my heart, waiting for me to be lonely or to let my guard down, so that he could fill my mind again with thoughts of him.
I’ll just have to stay busy, I decided. That will be my salvation. I’ll study like mad and visit people and . . . and date other guys. Yes! That’s what I can do. I’ll go out with other people and stay active and then I’ll be too tired to think about him. Life will go on. It has to.
By the time I headed for bed, it was late and I was tired. Patting Fanindra, I slipped under the sheets and slept.
The next day, my new cell phone rang. It was Mr. Kadam, which was both exciting and disappointing at the same time.
“Hello, Miss Kelsey,” he said cheerfully. “I am so glad to hear that you have arrived back home safely. I trust everything is in order and to your satisfaction?”
“I didn’t expect any of this,” I replied. “I feel supremely guilty about the house, the car, the credit card, and school.”
“Don’t give it a moment’s thought. I was happy to arrange it for you.”
Curiosity getting the better of me, I asked, “What’s going on with the prophecy? Have you figured it out yet?”
“I am attempting to translate the rest of the monolith you found. I sent someone back to Durga’s temple and had pictures taken of the other pillars. It appears each pillar features one of the four elements: earth, air, water, and fire.”
“That makes sense,” I said, remembering Durga’s prophecy. “The original pillar we found must have been related to earth since it showed farmers offering fruits and grains. Also, Kishkindha was underground and the first object Durga asked us to find was the Golden Fruit.”
“Yes, well it turns out that there was also a fifth pillar that was destroyed a long time ago. It represented the element of space, which is common in the Hindu faith.”
“Well, if anyone can figure out what’s next, it’s you. Thank you for checking in on me,” I added before we both promised to speak again and hung up.
I studied my new textbooks for five hours and then headed to a toy store to buy orange-and-black stuffed animal tigers for Rebecca and Sammy since I’d completely forgotten to bring them back something from India. Against my better judgment, I also ended up buying an expensive, large, white stuffed tiger.
Back at home, I grabbed the tiger around the middle and buried my face in the fur. It was soft but didn’t smell right. He smelled wonderful, like sandalwood and waterfalls. This stuffed animal was just a replica. Its stripes were different, and its eyes were glassy—a lifeless, dull blue. His eyes were bright cobalt.
What on earth is wrong with me? I shouldn’t have bought it. It was just going to make forgetting him that much harder.
Shaking off the emotion, I pulled out a change of clothes and got ready to visit my foster family.
As I drove through town, I went the long way around so I could avoid the Polk County Fairgrounds and more painful memories. When I pulled in front of Mike and Sarah’s house, the door opened wide. Mike hurried toward me . . . but couldn’t resist getting a better look at the Porsche and ran past me to the car.
“Kelsey! May I?” he asked sweetly.
“Knock yourself out,” I said and laughed. Same old Mike, I thought and tossed him the keys so he could drive himself around the block a few times.
Sarah put her arm around my waist and guided me toward the house. “We’re so glad to see you! Both of us are!” She yelled and frowned at Mike who waved happily before backing out of the driveway.
“We were worried when you first left for India because we didn’t receive too many calls from you, but Mr. Kadam phoned every other day and explained what you were doing and told us how busy you were.”
“Oh? And what did he say, exactly?” I asked, curious to know what story he had made up.
“Well, it’s all very exciting, isn’t it? Let’s see. He talked about your new job and about how you will be interning every summer and working with him on various projects from time to time. I had no idea that you were interested in international studies. That is a wonderful major. Very fascinating. He also said that when you graduate, you can work for his company full time. It’s a fantastic opportunity!”
I smiled at her. “Yes, Mr. Kadam’s great. I couldn’t ask for a better boss. He treats me more like a granddaughter than like an employee, and he spoils me terribly. I mean, you saw the house and the car, and then there’s school too.”
“He did speak very fondly of you over the phone. He even admitted to us that he’s come to depend on you. He’s a very nice man. He also insists that you are . . . how did he say it . . . ‘an investment that will have a big payoff in the future.’”
I shot Sarah a dubious look. “Well, I hope he’s right about that.”
She laughed and then sobered. “We know you’re special, Kelsey, and you deserve great things. Maybe this is the universe’s way of balancing the loss of your parents. Though I know nothing will ever take the place of them.”
I nodded. She was happy for me. And, knowing that I would be financially secure enough to live comfortably on my own was probably a big relief to them.
Sarah hugged me and pulled a strange-smelling dish out of the oven. She placed it on the table, and said, “Now, let’s eat!”
Feigning enthusiasm, I asked, “So . . . what’s for dinner?”
“Tofu and spinach whole wheat organic lasagna with soy cheese and flax seed.”
“Yum, I can’t wait,” I said and wrestled a half-smile to my face. I thought fondly of the magical Golden Fruit that I had left behind in India. The divine object could make the most delicious food appear instantly. In Sarah’s hands, maybe even a healthy meal would taste good. I snuck a bite. Then again . . .
Rebecca, six years old, and Samuel, four years old, ran into the room and bounced up and down trying to get my attention. I hugged them both and directed them to the table. Then I went to the window to see if Mike was back yet. He had just parked the Porsche and was walking backward to the front door, staring at the car.
I opened the door. “Umm, Mike, it’s time for dinner.”
He replied over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off the car, “Sure, sure. Be right there.”
Sitting between the kids, I scooped up a wedge of lasagna for each of them and took a tiny piece for myself. Sarah raised her eyebrow, and I rationalized my small portion by saying that I’d had a big lunch. Mike finally came in and started chatting animatedly about the Porsche. He asked if he could take Sarah on a date and borrow the car some Friday night.
“Sure. I’ll even come over and babysit for you.”
He beamed while Sarah rolled her eyes. “Who are you planning on taking out, me or the car?” she asked.
“You, of course, my dear. The car is just a vehicle to showcase the beautiful woman sitting at my side.”
Sarah and I looked at each other and snickered.
“Good one, Mike,” I said.
After dinner, we retired to the living room where I gave the kids their orange tigers. They squealed in delight and ran around growling at each other. Sarah and Mike asked me all kinds of questions about India, and I talked about the ruins of Hampi and Mr. Kadam’s house. Technically, it wasn’t his, but they didn’t need to know that. Then they asked me about how Mr. Maurizio’s circus tiger was adapting to his new home.
I froze, but only for an in
stant, and told them that he was doing fine and that he seemed very happy there. Thankfully, Mr. Kadam had explained that we were often out exploring Indian ruins and cataloging artifacts. He’d said my job was to be his assistant, keeping records of his findings, and taking notes, which wasn’t too far from the truth. It also explained why I was going to minor in art history.
Being with them was fun, but it also wore me out because I had to make sure I didn’t slip and tell them anything too weird. They’d never believe all the things that had happened to me. Sometimes I had a hard time believing it myself.
Knowing they went to bed early, I gathered my things and said goodnight. I hugged them all good-bye and promised to visit again the next week.
When I got home, I spent a couple of hours studying and then took a hot shower. Climbing into bed in my dark room, I gasped quietly as my hand brushed against fur. Then I remembered my purchase, shoved the stuffed tiger to the edge of the bed, and tucked my hand under my cheek.
I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I wondered what he was doing right now and if he was thinking of me or if he even missed me at all. Was he pacing in the steamy jungle? Were he and Kishan fighting? Would I ever get back to India—and did I really want to? I felt like I was playing whack-a-mole with my thoughts. Every time I punched one thought down, another one would surface in a different place. I couldn’t win; they kept popping up from my subconscious. Sighing, I reached over, grabbed the leg of the stuffed tiger, and pulled it back onto the bed. Wrapping my arms around its middle, I buried my nose in its fur and fell asleep on its paw.
2
Wushu
The next few days spun past quickly and uneventfully, and then it was time to start school. I collected my term assignments from each class and realized that my experiences in India would come in handy. I could write about Hampi for my research paper on an Indian metropolis, discuss the lotus flower as a religious symbol in anthropology, and theme my world religion final around Durga. The only class that seemed overly challenging was Latin.
(Tiger Saga #2) Tiger's Quest Page 2