Uncharted (Jersey Girls Book 3)

by Lisa-Marie Cabrelli

  “I remember this picture, I think.” Ravi nodded at the photo. “I asked you to give this to her. You were the one who signed the match contracts with my parents, right?”

  Satish nodded. “It was my match—my first one. It was so important to me that I get it right, because Nandita was so special to me. I’ll deny it if you tell her, but she has always been my favorite sister. Until she could write letters herself, I only knew her through my father’s correspondence. I do know she was trouble from the beginning, though, and she perplexed him so. He didn’t quite know what to do with her, which is why I think he was so relieved to hand the match responsibilities over to me. I was amazed when he agreed to an American match, but I shouldn’t have been. He wanted to get rid of her—she was too much trouble. We never told her she would be leaving India, but she ended up leaving anyway, just as we should have expected: on her own terms.”

  Ravi dropped his head into his hands. How could he even begin to apologize? “I’m so sorry for everything, Satish. You made a perfect match. I am the right man for her—I love her and I’d do anything for her—but I’ve ruined everything. I should have told her everything from the beginning. She’ll never speak to me again.”

  “Just tell me why you did it, Ravi.” Satish leaned over his desk. “My father is not a good man and he treated your family terribly after Nandita ran away. Why would you agree to something like this?”

  Ravi opened the backpack he had plopped at his feet when he arrived and withdrew a sheet of paper. It was the bank statement Satish’s father had emailed him—the one that he said proved their guilt in a money laundering scheme. He passed it across the desk.

  Satish picked up the paper and looked it over. “And?” he asked.

  “My parents don’t have that kind of money. I was on scholarship my whole life, in Lawrenceville, Princeton, and even U. Penn. The scholarships are all based on academic achievement and financial need.”

  Satish shook his head and looked closer at the paper. “All information that my father would know.” He looked across at Ravi and smiled. “Listen, your family was the only non-monied family that we had ever matched with. The benefits your family brought to the table were contacts, not money. I guess your parents never shared with you that Nandita’s hand came with a substantial dowry.” The young man leaned back in his chair and flushed, shocked. “I know, I know. It’s old fashioned, but so is my father.” Satish lay the document on the desk and pointed to the initial balance on the statement. “I happen to know the amount of that dowry, because I was the one who provided it. I deposited it into this bank in India under your parents’ names on the day Nandita ran. A contract is a contract.”

  Ravi’s head was spinning, “If this money legitimately belongs to my parents, why haven’t they used it? Why is it still sitting in that bank?”

  “Do you want to think about that for a minute?” Satish pushed back in his chair and smiled at him again.

  Pride welled up inside Ravi, fighting with the shame that he would believe, even for a minute, his parents would ever do anything illegal or immoral. “Because my parents are good people. They don’t believe they have any right to that money. Even after everything we went through when Nandita ran, they still didn’t touch it.”

  “I believe that you are good people, too, Ravi,” Satish said. “You know, I couldn’t figure it out. I knew it was terrible for your family when the match fell through—I knew everyone was angry, and rightfully so—but even as I was telling Nandita about you, I knew there had to be another explanation other than revenge.”

  Ravi’s chest swelled, and he found it hard to take a breath. “She thinks I did this for revenge?” He couldn’t believe it.

  There was a knock on the door and Satish stood to fetch the coffee from his secretary. He brought the tray to his desk and placed a cup in front of Ravi.

  “She does right now,” he said, “but mostly because she’s hurting and she doesn’t have any other explanation. You’ll need to explain everything.” Satish pulled his coffee in front of him and stirred in his sugar. “I think she needs time to let all of this settle down. She needs to consider her own behavior. Can you give her that?”

  Ravi’s chest loosened, “My God, of course, I can, Satish. Do you think she’ll talk to me eventually? Is there something I could do for her?”

  Satish leaned over and patted his shoulder. “I think she'll come around, and I know something you can do in the meantime.”

  46

  Nandita – The News

  These past few weeks had been the most challenging in Nandita’s entire life. She hadn’t seen or spoken to Ravi since the day she uncovered his unforgivable secret, and she still couldn’t believe everything between them had been a lie. She’d spent much of her time obsessing about him—what she had known, what she should have known, and what she would have done differently. The only thing that made things bearable was her renewed contact with her mother. After finding out the truth about Ravi, she’d considered just giving up and go back to India to be with her mother. Surprisingly, it had been Satish who had persuaded her otherwise.

  “You can’t go back now,” he’d said. “I don’t want you around Father.”

  She didn’t care about her father, at all—in fact, she wanted to forget he existed—but she wanted her mother. She couldn’t remember ever wanting her mother so badly in her entire life. Nandita had called her the first chance she got; Satish knew when his father was away from the house, and he phoned her so the charges would not be evident on the bill. It had been an emotional phone call, and since then, Nandita had been calling her daily.

  She’d only stayed one night in the townhouse before Claire had driven her back to Princeton. She’d learned her lesson. Even though her desire was to curl into a ball in her old room and stay there until she figured out what to do next, she knew Satish and Claire needed their space. They'd do everything they could to help her, but she would not ruin their newly found privacy.

  Hank had surprised them all with his friendship. He’d been devastated to hear things hadn’t worked out with Ravi; she hadn’t told him the details, and he hadn’t pressed her on it. Thankfully, he didn’t bring up their own shared past, although now their relationship had morphed into a parental one, and anything more would have felt wrong to both of them. Good, old Hank had sensed how badly she needed company—it was not good for her brain to be left alone, as it tended to wander to bleak and dismal places—so he popped by frequently for quiet dinners on her balcony, bringing boxes of take out and lists of the most recommended Netflix binges. He had been her rock in a way that only a neutral party could be.

  One night, after they had polished off a large bucket of KFC, Nandita’s stomach churning in rebellion, he’d raised the issue of his connections at Princeton again. He was a legacy, he’d said, and a valued alumni. He could pretty much guarantee her acceptance, and she could start in the spring. The hardest life lessons were often taught by the toughest life challenges, and Nandita had learned a great deal about herself over the course of the last few months. One lesson was the importance of accepting help. She had learned there was no requirement that you accomplish something alone and in a vacuum for that achievement to have merit.

  Acceptance into any university was often arbitrary—a combination of qualifications and luck. There was probably more than one legacy student already accepted into the program, and perhaps one had even taken her place. She had talked to Satish about the possibility of accepting help from Hank, and he had breathed an audible sigh of relief. He didn’t want her to go back to India, but he couldn’t make his sibling application go any faster. This would solve all of those problems, plus give Nandita the opportunity she craved. They agreed she should take it.

  The acceptance email had popped into her inbox this morning. Nandita couldn’t believe that, after everything she had been through, this was how it ended. She thought of Ravi constantly, but today, she felt a physical urge to pick up the phone. She couldn’t th
ink of anyone who would be more thrilled for her than him—not even her mother.

  She had spent the morning wandering her tiny apartment aimlessly. Now it was lunchtime, and she was still a bundle of repressed energy. She called Satish, Claire, and Sally, all of them thrilled, and Claire audibly weepy. She called her mother, who, even though she realized this meant she would not see her daughter for a while, had been bursting with pride. She was fidgety with excitement, and she decided she needed a walk.

  The July heat was brutal in Princeton, and as she headed off of the main commercial streets toward the residential areas, she was grateful for the shade. It was the middle of the day and the sun was high in the sky, but thankfully, Princeton was brimming with ancient oaks, elms, and beech trees. They loomed over the sidewalks like protective parents over a newborn’s crib. Some of these trees had watched over these streets for centuries; she wondered if they were ever surprised anymore by the lives of these silly humans walking below them, or if they had seen everything. Were they whispering to each other about her self-involvement and shaking their branches at the insignificance of her single broken heart?

  He had broken her heart. She had loved him, but she wasn’t sure she could ever forgive him. That didn’t stop her heart from aching for him, though, and obsessing over that first passionate kiss in her apartment doorway. She couldn’t shake his tender, dark eyes from her mind. How could someone who had looked at her like that have been lying to her? She’d never understand people as long as she lived.

  When she found herself across the street from his front porch, she hesitated. She peered over the steaming asphalt to assess the likelihood that someone was home, and whether she would have the nerve to go over there if they were. She could see the porch where they’d rested the day she’d stupidly trod on poor Sandy’s foot. The porch chairs and cushions were there, but the water bowl for the dog wasn’t.

  “He’s not here anymore.”

  She jumped about a foot in the air; the voice had come from right behind her left shoulder, and she turned to find herself face to face with Tammy. She had a pair of running shorts on and a stretch tank top. Silver bangles sparkled on the skin of her flawlessly tanned arms, and her headphones dangled from her ears, the tinny sound of some upbeat pop song barely audible. She had a strap around the bicep of her right arm with her phone tucked inside.

  “I was out for a run,” she said pointlessly. “I saw you turn the corner, so I came back to tell you he’s not here.”

  “Where is he?” Nandita asked. Tammy didn’t answer. “He told you not to tell me.” It was a statement, not a question. Of course he wouldn’t want her to know where he was. She felt a hard knot form in her chest and tried not to imagine it stuck there for the rest of her life.

  Tammy’s eyes held an emotion that looked an awful lot like pity. “It’s funny, you know, because we are probably the same age.”

  She didn’t say anything further, so Nandita agreed. “We probably are.”

  “So, how come I know so much more than you?”

  Nandita shook her head, starting to feel oppressed by the sun beating on her head. She backed into the shade and sat carefully on the stone wall that circled the gardens of the tidy, Edwardian home behind her. “I don’t know.”

  “How many men have you dated?”

  Nandita hesitated. That was a pretty personal question. “Not many.”

  Tammy's firm nod made it clear she believed she'd confirmed her theory. She tightened the armband on her bicep and pulled up her shorts, as though she were about to depart, but then she turned back to her.

  “I’ve dated many—so many that I can spot a good man from about two-hundred feet away. Ravi is one of the good guys, and if I’d have known what I know now before he fell for you, I would have ensured he was off the market, pronto. I didn’t know, though, and now he’s gone.” Nandita stared at the wall and picked at the moss growing between the stones. She didn’t want to look at Tammy—didn’t want her to see how her words stabbed her. “So, let me give you some advice,” Tammy continued. “If you ever—and I mean ever—get the chance to love someone as special as Ravi again, or if you ever see him again, don’t screw it up. Jump on that chance, Nandita, or you’ll be sorry.”

  With those final words, she hiked up her running shorts again and took off. Nandita watched her gorgeous figure get smaller and smaller until she turned the corner at the end of the street.

  Tammy was right: she should have given Ravi a chance to explain, but she had been avoiding him for weeks. During the first week or so, he'd constantly called and texted, and she hadn't responded. After that, he went quiet. Satish had encouraged her to contact him that first week, but then he'd given up, too. Now Ravi was gone for good, and she had no idea how to find him.

  She looked across the street at the empty porch, her gaze landing where the missing water bowl would sit. She wanted to be on that porch, drinking a cool glass of water, with Ravi and Sandy at her side. She wanted a do-over.

  47

  Nandita – The Wedding

  Nandita stared at Claire through a misty veil of tears. Sally had just secured the long, flowing veil into her tamed curls that were swept into a sophisticated up-do and handed her the bouquet. She was more beautiful on her wedding day than any bride could ever hope to be, and all three of her bridesmaids were struggling to keep it together. The group had just dropped a bundle of cash at a local salon, so these makeup jobs were an investment they didn’t want to ruin. The moment was upon them, and the girls gathered their flowers as they prepared to leave this luxury tent, perched between the edge of the city and the end of the Hoboken Pier, to walk the aisle between their closest friends and family.

  “Knock, knock,” the voice came from just outside the canvas flap of the tent door. Nandita recognized it right away as Claire’s father.

  “Come in, Dad!” Claire called as Sally fussed over her veil and Claire swatted at her hands.

  He walked into the tent, took one look at his daughter, and stopped short on the grassy floor. His hands went straight to his pockets, where he fished for one of his famous ironed handkerchiefs, and he wiped his face with it brusquely, pretending he was dabbing at sweat.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, “you look just like your mother.” He stepped forward to embrace her.

  Claire held her arms out straight in front of her with an appalled look on her face that made Nandita giggle. “Oh, no you don’t, Dad. I’ve had a hard enough time not crying without your you-look–like-Mom stuff and killer hugs. Don’t take another step closer.”

  Her attempt to lighten the mood for her stiff and formal father worked like a charm and her dad relaxed and reached out his arm, offering her the crook of his elbow. “Are you ready to go?”

  Nandita stepped back to let Claire pass; her father smiled his daughter and fished out his hankie again. She heard a little twang as another of the strings she had wrapped around her broken heart snapped. She missed her mother even more now that they had reconnected and were talking every day, but she'd been so busy preparing for the wedding that she hadn’t spoken to her in days. How she wished she could be here to give her the cuddle Claire had just denied her father. She also wished she were here for Satish.

  Claire and Satish were a well-liked couple and had many friends. Claire had some family in attendance, some cousins, and her aunt, but Satish only had her here, and she had been a poor excuse for a sister for most of his life, although she was trying to remedy that now. If only her mother were here, this day would be perfect. She'd never forgive her father for the way he had treated her and controlled her mother, but Nandita would've put up with his presence if it had meant that her mother could be here, too.

  Ravi should have been here. She'd come to appreciate how smart Satish had been in making the match for her. He was not only her perfect other half, the yin to her yang, but also their families, values, and backgrounds were wholly compatible. Plato believed that, when humans were first made, they were actual
ly two people with two faces, four arms, and four legs, but Zeus was so jealous that he’d split them apart. The philosophy was that all people spent their lives wandering the world, looking for their other halves. Satish and Claire had found theirs, and they were about to be reunited. Nandita feared she had found hers and let him go.

  The setting of the wedding was like a dream. The City of Hoboken had converted the old, run-down pier into a stunning park that stretched into the Hudson River like some massive, luscious green thumb. The classic and unmistakable New York skyline loomed over the lawn, with the Empire State Building serving as the focal point behind the local mayor, ready to officiate, and a nervous, fidgeting Satish. Stephen, Tod, and Satish’s work colleague, Phil, stood by him, smiling down the aisle in preparation for the appearance of the ladies. White chairs in tidy rows marched toward the skyline, a stark contrast to the sumptuous green of the grass. The black railings circling the pier were looped with white bunting and interspersed with bouquets of red roses. It was a striking scene, and Nandita’s eyes started to itch again. She took her own handkerchief from where she'd tucked it into her sleeve in preparation for the inevitable flood. Hopefully, she could hold out until after the photos.

  She made it to the end of the aisle and took her place next to Satish’s friend, Phil, who smiled at her awkwardly. He seemed completely overwhelmed at being asked to participate, and had been tripping over himself to do everything right since the moment they had been paired at the rehearsal last night. She had been afraid to give him the wrong idea, but Maureen told her not to worry and that he was happy as a perpetual bachelor. That had stirred a memory for Nandita, and she’d tried to work out where she had heard of Phil before now, but the pace and excitement of the rehearsal had quickly cleared it from her mind.