The first notes of the Wedding March began to play, and Claire stepped into the aisle. Satish’s face lit up the same way it had every time Claire had entered a room since the evening Nandita had tricked him into going to her boutique to win her over. It was the first day she had ever seen them together, and it seemed so long ago, but also felt like it was only yesterday. Her brother’s love and passion for the lovely Claire was undeniable. He’d risked family and reputation to be with her, and it had been worth it. The guests turned in their seats as she progressed down the aisle, and more than one pulled a Kleenex from their purses. Claire was a stunning bride.
Her father held out his hand for Satish and shook it warmly before the groom pulled him into a vigorous hug. This man had been a surrogate father to her brother, and the affection between them was touching. She was glad Satish had that—the absence of her own family was conspicuous and a little jarring. Satish raised trembling hands and lifted the veil from Claire’s face carefully. They grinned at each other as the music slowed and then gripped each other’s hands, oblivious to the rows of damp, staring eyes and the iconic view behind them.
The mayor began to speak. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Satish and Claire in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate that is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently and soberly. Into this estate, these two persons present come now to be joined. If anyone can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”
Satish and Claire’s smiles widened as a loud throat-clearing came from the back of the rows of chairs. They turned, laughing, toward the sound and both shot sneaky glances in Nandita’s direction. What was going on? She looked over the rows to see Claire’s father, standing again at the end of the aisle, but with another woman on his elbow, this time—an older woman she recognized.
Claire’s father called down the aisle. “I don’t think any man should get married without his mother present. Do you?”
They started to walk down the aisle together as the guests erupted into applause. She burst into tears, makeup be damned! Her mommy was here! After four years of pining for her and weeks of feeling an enormous burden of guilt for the way she had treated her, she was here, in the flesh. Nandita looked at Satish again, and he nodded to her, laughing. She was off, straight up the aisle and into her mother’s arms. Her warmth, her scent, her patting hand on the back of her head—everything was as she remembered.
Her mother hugged her hard and then whispered into her ear, “Let’s get back to the important people, shall we?” She nodded into her mother’s neck, embarrassed that she had taken even a single wattage of the spotlight away from the beautiful couple about to be wed.
When she turned down the aisle, though, they were just smiling at her. They had planned this! They knew what was going to happen. She reluctantly released her mother as she took her seat in the vacant chair Nandita had not noticed until this very minute. Hustling back into her place next to Phil, she tried to stem the flow of tears.
Satish leaned over and whispered, “We’ll explain later.”
48
Nandita – The Reception
The wedding celebrations kicked up a notch just as the stars began to pop in the darkening sky. Tonight, the sudden appearance of these stars as seen through the sheer panels of the roof on the expansive canvas tent seemed like magic. To Nandita, tonight, everything seemed like magic. Her mother was here, and she had not left her side. She sat next to her throughout the meal, reaching a hand to her arm occasionally, just to check that she was real. The tuxedo-clad wait staff had cleared the dinner plates, and the DJ had asked the room to prepare for the first dance of the newly married couple.
Nandita repeated the question she’d asked five times, already. “I don’t understand, Mother? How did you get here? Why did Father let you, and how could you travel alone?”
Her mother stood, pulled her chair away from the table, turned it to face the wooden dance floor, and sat back down. She had no intention of missing even a second of her son dancing with his bride. “Nandita, you have always had so many questions ever since you were a tiny girl. Why can’t I do this? What does this mean? Where did that come from?” At her look of complete frustration, her mother patted her hand, chuckling to herself. “I will tell you now what I told you then: all will become clear when it should be clear. You don’t have to know everything about everything the moment you join this beautiful world. Look how long I waited to meet my new American daughter—and it was worth it.”
“Are you staying for a while?”
“Mmm… perhaps,” Nandita’s mother said. She smiled as the first notes of Van Morrison’s “Someone Like You” drifted from the speakers and Satish and Claire floated onto the floor.
“Let’s all give a big round of applause for Mr. Satish Bhatt and his beautiful bride, the brand new Mrs. Claire Bhatt, as they enjoy their first dance as a married couple.”
The tent burst into loud applause. It was almost too intimate to watch Satish and Claire smile at each other, noses almost touching, Satish with his grip tight around Claire’s waist. They danced as though they were the only people in the room, and the applause and conversation quickly died off as the guests became caught in the spell of two people deeply in love. Nandita could only imagine the thoughts going through the heads of those watching in silence. Were some remembering their own wedding and wishing they could live that day again? Were some convinced they would never find a love as pure as the one on display before their eyes, or wishing that they could find a man who would look at them the way Satish was gazing at Claire?
For her part, Nandita felt an overwhelming rush of sadness. Her mother was here, and it was the most marvelous surprise she could've ever imagined, but there was still someone missing. She had known a man who looked at her the way Satish looked at Claire—she had known him, she had loved him, and she loved him still.
In the weeks since she went looking for Ravi at his old apartment, she had spent so many hours thinking about everything that had happened between them. No matter how often she tried to convince her brain that Ravi’s intentions had been vindictive and that his goal had been to humiliate her, her heart refused to believe it. He had loved her. She didn’t know why he had agreed to help her father, but she didn’t care.
What was he doing now? What had he been doing since that day she walked from his apartment, her photo in her hand? Maybe he had gone early to medical school. She hoped he hadn't—she hoped the experience they’d shared had convinced him that he shouldn’t choose his career based on his parents' desires. In her frequent daydreams, in which he played a starring role, Ravi went to his parents and told them he wanted to be a vet, and then he came and banged on her apartment door the way he had in the middle of the night not so very long ago. In the dream, he swept her off her feet and upstairs into her bedroom. She blushed as she remembered what happened next, and she gave her mother a quick glance to see if she’d noticed. Her imagination was so vivid that she was afraid her thoughts were written all over her face. Her mother couldn't be distracted, though; she was fixated on the dancing couple before her and was quietly weeping while wiping her eyes with one silken, sari-clothed sleeve.
She'd tried to find Ravi. She'd even asked Satish to reach out to his parents to see if they would give her his contact details. He’d laughed and patted her hand, as though she were a toddler. “Nan,” he'd said, “the chance of those people taking my call is about as likely as the chance that I’ll become a stand-up comedian.”
She had walked by the house a few more times, hoping to see Tammy and beg for both her forgiveness and Ravi’s information, but it looked as though the house was empty. She must have moved on, too. Enough with this, Nandita, she chided herself. You screwed up! You’re focusing on the happiness of others, remember? You’re letting go of these obsessive tendencies to go after a goal and blind yourself to the feelings and needs of those
around you. Remember?
She returned her attention to Satish and Claire as the song faded and they shared a sweet and tender kiss.
“Now it’s time for the guests of the Bhatts to join them on the dance floor,” the DJ announced. “Grab your loved one, or if you’re single, grab one you’d like to love, and come on up here. I don’t want to see anyone in their seats.”
Nandita turned quickly away from the dance floor to look for her drink on the table. If she had it in hand, it would be much easier to turn down Bachelor Phil, who was technically her partner at this wedding and would surely come looking for her. The last thing she wanted to do right now was dance.
She heard her mother behind her say, “Ah, here he is! Here’s my knight in shining armor!”
Nandita turned, and there he was.
Ravi crouched in front her mother, depositing a gallant kiss on her soft, crepey hand. He looked every bit the movie star from the day she’d met him, but now the glow was enhanced with a classic tuxedo, which he looked amazing in. Ravi gave her a shy, nervous smile as he stood from her mother’s side and moved toward her carefully, as though she were a frightened gazelle about to spring away. She couldn’t have run if she wanted to, which she didn’t, as all the muscles in her legs seemed to be both frozen and jelly at the same time.
“Hello, Nandita,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you. My name’s Praveen.”
“Hey,” she said softly, staring at him as though he had stepped directly from her daydream, which he kind of just had.
“Would you like to dance with me?” He held a hand toward her, and she stared at it for a few moments before she answered.
“Are you real?” She looked over at her mother, who smiled softly at her and gave her an encouraging nod.
He smiled and let out the breath he’d been holding. “I think so,” he said. “Here, feel.” His lifted his chin toward his hand to indicate for her to take it.
Nandita reached for his hand, and when her skin touched his, she felt that same familiar jolt of connection. Her other half was real, but what was he doing here?
Ravi gently pulled her toward him and turned to the dance floor. She followed behind him, admiring his broad back and muscular frame, which were enhanced by the tailored suit. As he strode through the guests, many pairs of eyes followed his progress—maybe in curiosity, but more likely in admiration.
Tod was already dancing to the slow song the DJ had chosen, spinning Sally and her little bump across the floor. Sally caught Nandita’s eye and fanned her hand in front of her face, mouthing, “Wow!” as they passed. Tod playfully slapped her hand down and spun her away.
They stopped in the center of the dance floor, and Ravi took her in his arms. He held her firmly and began a gentle spin across the floor. The room blurred. She was in Ravi’s arms—Ravi was here.
He leaned down to her ear and whispered, “Is this too much? Do you want to talk, first?”
She gently shook her head. Right now, this moment was too sweet to spoil. Right now, she just wanted to dance with Ravi at her brother’s wedding and pretend she understood everything. She concentrated on the feel of his arm around her waist and focused on the smooth movements of his body as they danced like they’d been taking lessons together for years. She was afraid to find out why he was here, in case it wasn’t for her. She was afraid this was just a fly-in visit, and then he would be gone within a few hours.
They would have to talk, but not now. Right now, she just wanted to dance with the man she loved.
49
Ravi – The Homecoming
Ravi couldn’t believe he was holding her in his arms. With her in that drop-dead gown and him in a tuxedo, he could almost convince himself that this was their wedding. He pulled her more tightly against him, and she rested her head on his chest and sighed. He was in Heaven, surely. As the song ended, he reluctantly moved his hands from Nandita’s waist. As he looked around the room, he realized he needed to get her out of here so they could talk. He had so much to explain, and the frank, inquisitive stares of her friends and family were more than a little intimidating.
Claire stepped toward them and leaned in. “Why don’t you both head to the girls’ dressing tent across the park? It’s empty and has a very comfortable couch. Satish already had a waiter bring some champagne over. You’ve got at least an hour before we cut the cake—plenty of time to talk.”
Nandita looked confused, but she nodded at Ravi, who took her elbow and guided her toward the exit. At the girls’ tent, he pulled aside the canvas door and led her inside. It was quiet here. They could hear the occasional bursts of laughter and the dull thump of music, but there was no one around. Nandita moved to the couch.
“Do I call you Ravi, or do I call you Praveen?”
He crossed toward her, but didn’t sit down. Instead, he put his hands in his pockets, removed them, crossed them over his chest, and put them back in his pockets.
“It's always been Ravi,” he said. “No one has ever called me Praveen, except you.”
“I’ve never called you Praveen.” She shook her head. Her voice was soft, but he could hear an edge to it. He had some explaining to do.
“In your letters.” He moved to the small table piled with empty bouquet boxes and reached for the bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of ice. Satish had been thinking ahead. “Would you like a glass of champagne?”
She nodded, and he handed her a flute. “My letters?”
He poured himself a glass. “Please tell me you remember our letters.”
She nodded, smiling. “Ah, those letters, from before. Yes, I remember. We were young.”
“Yes, we were.”
“What are you doing here, Ravi?” she asked. The champagne quivered in her glass, and he watched carefully, hoping she wouldn’t spill it on her stunning dress. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her all night. She was as beautiful as ever, but that dress made her ethereal.
“May I sit down?” he asked carefully, taking a step backward so she didn’t feel threatened. She shifted toward the far end of the couch and nodded at the space where three of him would have fit. He sat.
“I brought your mother,” he said.
Her face crinkled in confusion. “You brought my mother? Why?”
“Satish asked me to. He wanted her at the wedding—for Claire’s sake and his, but mostly for yours. He had a feeling you needed her.”
Her tears began to flow quietly, and he leaned toward the table and grabbed a cocktail napkin. It would have to do; he handed it to her.
“I did need her—I do need her. I can’t believe she’s here, but it still doesn’t make sense. Why would he send you? Why would you go?”
“I let you down, Nandita.” She watched him quietly without touching her drink. He turned on the couch to face her directly—he needed her full attention. “Remember that day on our picnic when I told you I’d been in love once with a girl who’d broken my heart?” He hesitated. “That girl was you.” She sucked in a breath and crunched the cocktail napkin in her hand, but then she changed her mind, laid it on her dress, and started to smooth out the creases with great concentration. She wouldn’t look at him. “I fell in love with you when we were children, mostly because of who you were in your letters, partly because of that photograph you sent me, and partly because of my parents.”
She looked up at him quickly, then, a frown dividing her eyebrows with a deep, vertical line. “Your parents?”
He nodded. “They told me we would eventually get married—they told me I would fall in love with you. Back then, I did everything my parents said. I did everything they said for a long time.”
“Was it your parents who told you to work for my father? Did they tell you to make a fool of me?” She was crying again now, and his insides hurt. “Did they tell you to get me back to India, so my father could make a fool of me?”
He couldn’t stand it, and he moved closer to her. She didn’t pull away, but held up a hand in the universal
sign for “no.”
He shook his head and placed a hand over his heart. “Nandita, no.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled it back. “Please believe that I would never, ever hurt you. No one told me to work for your father—he tricked me into thinking he had information that would ruin my parents, and I was terrified. It was wrong, and I shouldn’t have done it. I never would've taken your father’s call, had I understood what a monster he was. I met him, you know.”
Nandita looked up quickly. “When?”
“In India. Satish sent word ahead that I would be coming to bring your mother back for the wedding, and he was waiting for me.” His hand moved to hers where it rested on his thigh. “I’m so sorry, Nandita, that you had to grow up in a home with that kind of man. He was angry that I had failed him, angry at you, angry that Satish had sent me, and most of all, angry at your mother for agreeing to leave. The way he spoke to her, the level of disrespect, and the threat of violence, I…” He rubbed his hand hard across his features. He didn’t want memories of that terrible man to infect their time here together. “It ripped at my soul when I understood what you'd been through, growing up. You’ll never have to see him again.”
Her hand moved up to cup his cheek, and her touch released him. He needed—no, wanted—her to know everything. It was the only way forward for them. Ravi said the things he should have said weeks ago.
“Nandita, I kept that photo of you because you are my only true love and always have been. I kept the photo because, even though you broke my heart when I was a teenager, I couldn’t give up the dream that, one day, I would find someone I felt as close to as you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this earlier. I didn’t tell you everything because I didn’t want you to doubt my intentions. Yes, I started this assignment because I was forced into it, I was so angry with you for breaking my heart, and the thought of meeting you now, even after all these years, made my heart pound with excitement and expectation. I thought I could keep my distance, emotionally and physically, somehow persuade you to go back to India, and protect my parents' reputation. Nothing worked out the way I had intended, though, because I fell in love with you. I’m in love with the real you—not just the you on paper I loved all those years ago. All I want is for us to be together. Will you forgive me for not being truthful with you? Will you stay with me forever?
Uncharted (Jersey Girls Book 3) Page 22