Time to Say Goodbye (Michigan Sweet Romance)
Page 5
“Beti, it’s time for you to settle down and start a family,” her papa had begun the moment his backside landed in the chair. “You’re not getting any younger.”
She reasoned she hadn’t heard right. “What did you say?”
“It’s time for you to get married. You’ve been single long enough, taking care of your brother’s home. But now, we must see to it that you—”
“Papa, I’m not interested in getting married at all. I have to fight for Dev. We have to exonerate him of these charges.” How could her father focus on something other than Dev’s freedom?
Papa’s bushy black eyebrows had drawn together. “Beti, your brother is very sick now. We know God will heal him, but you cannot continue in this state.”
“Papa—”
“I’ve some prospective husbands for you. A total of five or so. All of them have agreed to meet with you.”
“Meet with me?” Her mouth had fallen open. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve invited them here when their schedules permit. I expect you to—”
This had to stop. The only relationship she fought for was the one with her brother. She loved him, and she had to do whatever she could to rescue him from this nightmare.
“Papa, I am not going to be meeting any prospects at all. I have other things to worry about.”
“Beti—”
“Nahin, Papa. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Though she kept her tone respectful, she knew from the growing darkness in his face her father had taken umbrage to her objection. After all, he was the parent, she the child. Children obeyed their parents.
In this regard, Gargi had to stand her ground. When she hadn’t before, the results had been disastrous. The memory tried to play in her mind, but she forced it back. It hurt too much to think of what might have been.
Now, on top of her father’s insane goal to marry her off to a good Indian man, an enemy stood within the doorway of her house.
“Can I have my badge back, please?”
Gargi opened her eyes and handed the badge back. “You can see how this is going to be impossible. You won’t be able to maintain any sort of objectivity when it comes to Dev.”
An arrogant eyebrow perched in his hair line. “Why do you think they sent me?”
Gargi drew back to peer up into his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Leon splayed his fingers apart. “Look, I wasn’t jumping up and down about coming here, either. I was ready to turn down the assignment. Then I realized something.”
She frowned. “You realized you could make your wish come true by helping my brother rot?”
A savage smile curved his mouth. “Even better.”
Gargi folded her arms. “What’s that?”
Leon bent swiftly till they were eye level. It took all her willpower not to flinch at the sudden movement. “I will do everything in my power to see he can push a wheelchair around.” His voice contained a heavy dose of rough satisfaction. “No one is more motivated than me. I want to see him back in jail where he belongs.”
A chill went through her despite the heat of the day. His dark golden eyes once again held the same rapacious flash from before. The set stance of his jaw and the resolve burning from his gaze cast her into a sea of uncertainty.
“Are you going to let me in?” he asked when she continued to stand there.
Something inside of her whispered. A small, dark thing without substance. It sat in the center of her being like a lump of bad food mixed with the queasy notion—or was it a warning? —she shouldn’t trust this man.
Did any of that matter now? Her brother had to get well so he could have some independence when he was finally freed.
Gargi moved aside to let Leon in and closed the door. The sense of everything shrinking due to his massive presence repeated itself, as it had the first time she’d met him.
“I’ll show you were Dev is.” She stuffed her hands into her pockets to hide their slight tremor. “Follow me.”
She led him down the narrow hallway to the living room; only one plea kept resounding in her head.
Dear God, please let me be doing the right thing.
You could have said sorry.
Stepping inside the house, he decided to leave the words unsaid.
He stopped to retrieve the slip covers for his shoes from his pockets. His gaze drifted around the dwelling. White walls lined with a tangerine color. Small and spacious with high ceilings. Elegance and understated luxury.
How much did it cost to buy this house?
Shoving the question away, he yanked the slip cover over one foot and switched to the other.
When she jumped him, if that was indeed what she’d tried to do, the ferocity of her attack both shocked and amused him. She was knee-high to nothing almost. Kapoor’s sister reminded him of his mother’s Chihuahua, Bugsy, before it died several years ago.
That dog was no bigger than a fingernail but it guarded his mother like a Rottweiler. Alma had that useless animal for fifteen years before it passed. In fifteen years, Bugsy never liked him. Kapoor’s sister, with her diminutive height and stature, gave him the same attitude.
Bugsy hadn’t smelled as good though. With the soft crush of herself against him, a fragrant, indistinguishable scent had his nostrils flaring.
Kapoor’s sister glanced back. “Are you ready?”
He ignored the note of impatience in her voice and followed her down the narrow hallway, mentally shrugging. On the plus side, he gained the opportunity to be the overseer of Devansh’s rehabilitation. He hadn’t lied to Kapoor’s sister when he made that comment.
On the negative side, he took up the responsibility of Kapoor’s treatment. What had he been thinking? As they neared the place where the crook was, a burning boil in his gut burst into flame.
Leon couldn’t forget the day, six years ago. He and Alma had sat in silence on the porch overlooking the five acres of land his parents had bought eleven months prior to his father’s death. Alma tried to find solace in nature and its beauty. Bird calls had pervaded the air, and rodents crossed their paths. The serenity of their surroundings had no effect on either of them. Finally, his mother spoke.
“Seven years? Is that all that curry-muncher gets for stealin’ my money?”
On any other day, Leon would have instantly chastised his mother for her racial epithet, but today he let it alone. After all, Devansh Kapoor had stolen two hundred thousand dollars from his mother in a Ponzi scheme that had repercussions felt all over the state.
“At least it’s somethin’, Mama.”
“It ain’t enough, Leon. Ain’t nearly enough.” His mother picked up the sweating pitcher of lemonade between them on the pine table his father had made, and poured some of it into the glass. “At least you got a chance to go an’ get higher learnin’. That wretch cain’t take everything from me.” She set the pitcher back down. “He cain’t take yer smarts away. Thank God fer that.”
Leon had stood and stretched his arms out. “What you wanna eat, Mama?”
“Make me a sandwich, Leon. Don’ care what kind. Might as well enjoy it while we can ‘fore the bank comes an’ takes it away.”
That day, a trail of tears coursed down his mother’s cheeks.
Devansh Kapoor had made his mama cry.
Leon’s throat contracted as he reminisced. His parents had saved for years to purchase a nice house and a sizeable piece of land to call their own. For a while, their dream had come true. It was going to be taken away because of one man’s greed.
The part of his heritage craving justice the old-fashioned way fought for recognition. Leon squashed it, as he did all aspects of his upbringing. That crook would pay for his crimes, courtesy of the U. S. justice system. He had to be content with that.
Any southern boy, heck any man who loved his mama as much as he did, knew there wasn’t a worse sin among men than making a woman they cared about show her tears.
“Dev, this is Leon.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The water of Tawas Bay resembled a sea of crystal under the luminous glow of the moon. The silver light transformed the sand along the shoreline into white powder. Gargi longed for the serenity before her to somehow enter her body and soothe its chaos. She peered into the tranquil dimness and then sighed as she drew the tangerine-colored curtain.
Going over to the bed where her brother lay, she asked, “Are you comfortable?”
Dev gave her a half-hearted smile. “I really can’t tell. I guess there’s dark humor in this: in being paralyzed I can’t feel anything, can I?”
She flattened the downy white blanket with her hand as she tried to think of something to say in response. “What did you think of the therapist who came today?”
The question came out of her mouth before she had a chance to consider it. It had hung at the back of her mind all day after the session this morning. Dev hadn’t made any comments after Leon had left. She hoped he would, and found it strange he hadn’t.
“I didn’t think anything of it.” His brows drew inward. “I thought it was pathetic I needed help lifting my arm.”
“Shhh,” Gargi cooed as she went over and sat next to him on the bed. “It won’t always be like this.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” he muttered in an acidic, bitter tone. “You’re not the one lying here with a diaper on because you can’t even control your own—”
“Dev!” Gargi clasped his shoulder. “What are you—”
He leveled a glare at her. “Chale jao!”
Get lost? Why would he say something to her like that? Her mouth quivered and she drew back. “What’s wrong? Why are you so angry?”
Dev’s eyes lost some of their acrimony. He let out a harsh breath. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”
The distant sound of the bay through the shut window filled the room. Gargi perched on the edge of the bed and smoothed the pink cotton of her nightgown. She waited.
After several minutes of silence, Dev spoke. “Chhotee bahan.”
“Haan, bhaaii?”
“I’m so angry with God now.”
Gargi’s head dipped. “I know.” She would have to be blind to not notice his disillusionment, although they hadn’t spoken of it before.
“Must I suffer the humiliation of having to be stuck in that chair for the rest of my life?”
“Nahin!” Gargi denied. “You will not be there forever. You won’t.”
He made a sound crossed between a humorless laugh and a groan. “It’s so easy for you to say that.”
Gargi’s forehead creased. Had she offended her brother with her determination to see he’d live a normal life one day? In her efforts to comfort him, had she blown off his concerns? Trampled on his feelings?
Yet, in her heart, she knew one day he’d be found innocent. It was only a matter of time before the single piece of evidence they overlooked would reveal itself.
“I have tried to be more positive about my situation, Gargi.” Dev’s voice reminded her of a lost little boy. “But I cannot find anything to be grateful about. I’m a paralyzed convict who needs help with the simplest things. I can’t raise my arm without assistance. My sister must play as my mother to wash, dress, and feed me. My father can’t look at me without pity and shame in his eyes.”
Gargi flinched when he said the word ‘mother.’ She darted her gaze from his prone figure and picked at the fine nap of the blanket on the bed. “That is not true, bhaaii. Papa does not look at you in that way.”
“You’re naïve, chhotee bahan, but it doesn’t matter. Let’s not talk of it anymore.”
She almost protested but then decided that it was enough for one day. They’d both been dealt a series of blows in a long line of them. Sometimes it was better to sleep and regroup for the challenges of the next day.
She got up from the bed. “Shubh raatri.”
Dev scoffed. “Will it be a good night for me?”
Gargi bent and turned off the light on the night stand. The moon bathed the room in luminosity. Despite the vividness of its glow, the darkness within the room swirled about as an opaque and heavy cloud. Dev said nothing more and neither did she as she left.
Once back in her room two doors down, she threw the covers back and flopped into bed. The open window allowed the sound of the bay to reverberate in her room. Though the temperature had dropped considerably since nightfall, she enjoyed the cold air as it whooshed in and chilled her body.
What a day! First her father and his attempts at marrying her off. Next, the physical therapist and his disdain. Now her brother’s depression.
Gargi turned onto her side and curled up into a ball. She rested her head on her arm. If there was a time in her life where she wished for the embrace of her mother, this moment would be it. She tried to recall the image of her mother, but she couldn’t remember. Papa had taken all the pictures away when she died.
It always hurt to think about her mother. Even after so many years, the thought of Mama caused a sharp, shooting pain in her chest. Gargi flipped onto her back. She forced her mind down another track, but that was less savory than the other.
Leon Reckley.
Throughout the session, she waited with bated breath to hear him berate her brother for his so-called ‘thievery.’ Yet the man never mentioned it. Sure, palpable waves of tension rolled off him through the entire process. She’d seen the hard set of his mouth within its bearded mass. The flat look from those golden eyes had meandered over her brother prostrate form with penetrating scrutiny.
When he’d left, the relief she experienced almost made her collapse onto the floor, but it was short-lived. He’d come back again tomorrow and the next two days.
Would she be able to survive his presence lurking about in the house? How could she stand by and let him help her brother when he believed Dev had behaved atrociously towards his mother?
Gargi picked up the edge of the covers and drew them to her chin. It came down to the undeniable truth: She had no other choice. When the scandal erupted, she’d lost contact with her so-called friends and co-workers. Church members abandoned her family, some of them claiming to be victims of the scheme. Her other relatives still lived in India, so she couldn’t reach out to any of them for assistance.
Despite Leon Reckley’s attitude, he was the only one who would help her brother. Reluctantly or not, he alone, with God’s grace, would at least give her brother a chance for an independent life.
But don’t trust him. Whatever you do. Don’t trust him.
Leon stood at the stove in the small house provided to him by Sunstone Health. Its top-of-the-line kitchen was an assortment of oak cabinetry and stainless-steel appliances. The smoke from the fried ground turkey wafted into the air while diced potatoes boiled on the back burner. He chopped up onions, carrots, celery, tossed in a cup of frozen peas, and mixed it with the meat. The oven signal went off, indicating the preheated time had passed.
As he cooked, one question raced around in his head.
How was he going to make it through the next ten weeks?
Being in the same house with the man who swindled his mother was enough to make him want to do serious harm. Each time he touched Kapoor, he’d had to conquer the rage threatening to explode. Kapoor’s sister, or rather Gargi, eyed him like a hawk. Her dark eyes remained glued to him the entire length of his stay.
Bugsy did the same thing every time he came to visit his mother.
He sighed. He turned off the fire and drained the meat mixture of grease in the sink. Next to the counter, he reached for the glass casserole dish and dumped the meat and vegetables in it. The scent of it made his stomach growl.
He sampled the mixture and smacked his lips. “I am good,” he said out loud
as he spread it out evenly.
This morning when he walked into the Kapoors’ residence, faint delectable odors of spice and exotic oils hung the air. They also made his stomach rumble.
With a determined shake of his head, he grabbed the pot of diced potatoes and strained out the water. The next few minutes he spent seasoning and mashing the potatoes before topping the meat mixture with them. The steam rose in his face, along with an image of Kapoor.
With a thud, he set the empty pot back on the stove and massaged his neck. He wished he had more cases than just this one. If he had more patients to see, he could stop himself from thinking too much.
He grabbed the large spoon and leveled the mashed potatoes over the meat. Green specks of dried chives and Italian herbs dotted the top. With a small smile of accomplishment, he opened the oven door and placed the dish inside.
“Twenty minutes ought to do it.” He set the timer, grabbed a dish towel, and began cleaning up the kitchen. Yet the busy activity didn’t keep the events of the day at bay. How he wished they would.
The session had lasted for almost two hours as he evaluated Kapoor’s condition and made observations in his patient’s file. It wasn’t clear exactly how the man’s paralysis came to be. According to Doctor Manchester, she believed it was a combination of the disease and the antibiotics he’d been administered for treatment.
The water from the wet dish towel dripped along the lines of his palm and onto the counter top. He squeezed the towel and more water dribbled onto the smooth surface. How often had he taken for granted these limbs and their ability to allow him to do whatever he demanded them to do?
Whenever he worked a case with a patient, he was reminded of how blessed he was to have full functionality of his body. Everyone deserved to have complete control over their physical health. Or so he’d believed once upon a time. Now, he found himself in a quandary of whether that thought still rang true.
A vision of Kapoor rose in his brain. Not the recent image of him as he sat in the red-accented wheelchair in the living room this morning. Instead, Leon recalled the video clip the prosecutor played during the trial. It showed Kapoor riding a top-of-the-line trike with his sister and someone else as they tore through the woods of Huron National Forest.