by Alisha Rai
He didn’t know any of those individuals anymore, but he couldn’t tell her that when she’d just criticized him for not keeping in touch with friends.
Tell her why you can’t go to the parade. “I can’t,” was all he said.
Tara collected herself and breathed deep. “You’re killin’ me, Smalls. One of you has to bend, and I can tell you from experience it will not be my father. I refuse to see you disowned over this foolishness.”
He folded his arms over his chest, in an effort to stifle the sharp pain that went through him at the thought of his grandfather cutting him out of the family. “I don’t want to be disowned.”
“Then do what he wants!”
“I can’t!”
A throat cleared, and he and his mom both looked to the doorway. Katrina’s hair was wet and slicked back from her freshly scrubbed face. She’d changed into a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, and she looked far younger than she was. “I’m so sorry to interrupt.”
“It’s okay.” Tara gave Katrina a wry smile. “You must think we only yell in this family. I heard you were present for the blowup yesterday.”
“I was.” Katrina took a step into the kitchen. Doodle wasn’t at her side, which meant her shadow had probably fallen asleep upstairs. The creature sure slept a lot. “I know it was hard on Jas.”
He rubbed his jaw, ill at ease with both the sympathy in Katrina’s eyes and this whole conversation. If they kept talking, he’d have to keep talking, and there were so many things he never wanted to talk about. “We don’t need to have this conversation.”
“Yes, we do,” Tara said firmly. “And we’ll have it tonight, at dinner, together.”
Another family dinner? He groaned. “No. Mom . . .”
“For me, Jasvinder.”
Damn it. He stared down at his feet. The thought of going back to the big house for another meal around that table. Ugh. “Fine.”
“Let’s do it here,” Katrina interjected.
He lifted his head. “Here?”
“We can have everyone come here for dinner. I would be happy to cook.”
Tara clicked her tongue. “Oh no. You’re a guest here, Katrina.”
“Right, and I would love to give you some small repayment for hosting me. Cooking is a pleasure for me, truly.”
Tara’s brow creased. “A pleasure? That I don’t understand.”
“If you’d rather not have it here because of my presence, I’m happy to give your family private time to talk.”
“No,” he said sharply. “Anything we say can be said in front of you.”
Tara looked between them with barely suppressed delight, and he realized immediately he’d made a tactical error. He’d been acutely aware Daisy had been subtly grilling Katrina last night in his mother’s absence. His mom was cool and relaxed and all, but she still wanted her eldest son married off with grandbabies on the horizon. “I mean . . .”
“We had dinner at the big house last night, is all,” Katrina noted. “It might be best to try a reconciliation in a different setting.”
Tara’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes. Without the negative vibes clouding anyone’s auras.”
“Ah.” Katrina cocked her head. “Sure.”
Tara nodded. “Excellent idea. This is so exciting, it’s been so long since we had a meal like this in the little house. I will help you cook, Katrina.”
“You don’t want my mom to help you cook,” Jas muttered, and glared at his mother when she reached up and tugged on his ear. Hard.
“Don’t be disrespectful,” Tara ordered. “I was thinking more along the lines of running any errands, acting the sous-chef. My mean son is right, I’m not the best of cooks.”
“Sure. I’d like that. Let me make you a list.”
Tara smiled sweetly at him. “In the meantime, Jas, why don’t you go get cleaned up? You have dirt all over your back. Those mishaps when you’re making hay can leave you filthy.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
IF JAS HAD been to a more awkward dinner, he couldn’t recall it. Starting with the fact that Jas was almost positive his mom had tricked her father into coming here, because Andrés had shown up in overalls with a tool box, and had seemed pretty surprised to find a full meal laid out in the kitchen. Jas was pretty sure his grandpa would have stomped out if it hadn’t been for Katrina’s presence.
The little house didn’t have a dedicated dining room, but Jas had added an extra leaf to the kitchen table so the five of them could sit there. He and his mom and his sullen, silent grandpa had instinctively taken the same seats they’d sat in when he was a kid. Bikram was on one side of Jas, Katrina on the other. Doodle sat at Jas’s feet, head on his leg, mouth open.
He fed the dog a tiny piece of bread, and she gulped it down. Some might say he was bribing his way into her affections, but this was an insurance policy. He’d never cared if any animal liked him before, but they’d never been Katrina’s before either.
Tara cleared her throat. “Katrina, this pizza is divine.”
Katrina smiled. Her skin glowed. She looked the same whenever she cooked for anyone, like she was getting nourishment from nourishing others. “Thank you.”
“What’s the crust made of?” Bikram took a bite of his slice, the crunch loud and satisfying.
“It’s sourdough.”
“Katrina has a starter handed down from her mother,” Tara enthused. “Isn’t that lovely? She said it’s traveled all around the world with her.”
“I’m happy to give you some,” Katrina offered.
“Daisy might like that.” Tara wrinkled her nose. “You know now I’m no chef.”
“You don’t have to be a chef. Baking with sourdough requires some science and some patience, is all. It seems complicated, but using it is more heart and care than talent.”
Tara took a sip of her wine. “Oh, there’s definitely talent in this meal. Right, Dad?”
Jas’s grandfather broke his silence with a grunt and helped himself to another slice of pizza. He’d devoured his salad and soup and his first helping, leaving only crumbs on his plate. He hadn’t looked in Katrina’s direction too much, which told Jas his grandfather might be embarrassed she had witnessed his outburst last night. “The food’s not bad, Katrina.”
Jas’s repressed resentment toward his grandfather needed only a spark to ignite. “She cooked for hours. You can give her a better compliment than that.”
Andrés plopped his slice onto his plate and pointed at his grandson. “Listen up, you little—”
“Nope, we are not doing this.” Tara interrupted her father without raising her voice, and he immediately subsided. “If we cannot speak to each other in civil tones, we will not speak to each other at all.”
Jas sniffed, and he busied himself with his food. His grandfather did the same. A tense silence consumed the room.
His mother finally sighed. “Oh shit. I should have known better than to give you lot the option of not talking at all.”
Andrés finished off his second slice of pizza and reached for a third. Jas bit his tongue to keep from commenting on his grandpa bypassing all the other healthier sides on the table in favor of the pizza. “I don’t have a problem with anyone talking. I do have a problem with us airing our dirty laundry in front of a guest who isn’t family,” his grandpa muttered.
“Katrina is my family,” Jas snapped, and it was only as he said the words that he realized how true they were.
And, when Bikram choked and hid his laugh with a napkin, how telling.
Jas ducked his head and avoided looking at Katrina. They hadn’t defined their relationship privately. It was beyond presumptuous to claim her as his family when—
“I’ve already seen your laundry.” Katrina’s tone was easy. “Last night, when you threatened to disown your grandson.”
Andrés looked down at his plate, but didn’t answer that pointed reminder.
“Would you like my completely unsolicited opinion?” Katrina asked.
“It’s hardly unsolicited if you’re family,” Tara said to Katrina.
Katrina’s cheeks turned red, but she continued. “You all love each other deeply. You have a family anyone would envy.”
“Everything I have ever done in my life has been for my family.”
Jas’s throat closed up at his grandpa’s fervent words. They were true. His grandpa had sacrificed so much for all of them.
Anger and resentment and guilt and love swirled together inside of him, creating the most annoying, overwhelming mix of emotions.
Katrina’s tone was gentle. “You can’t seem to talk to each other is all.”
“That is an absolutely accurate assessment.” His mother’s eyes were wet with unshed tears. “You two are breaking my heart. I want you both to be happy.”
Andrés surprised Jas by speaking. “Whenever I try to talk to him, he doesn’t listen.”
Jas took a sip of his water. “You don’t listen either.”
Bikram rested his arm on the back of their mother’s seat. “The funny thing is, you two are each other’s Kryptonite, and you can’t even see it. You both interact like adults with other people. It’s only when you’re together that everything falls apart.”
That wasn’t entirely true. Jas wasn’t exactly forthcoming with everyone else.
He slid a surreptitious glance at his grandfather’s stubborn jaw. His immediate instinct was to stick his chin out, too.
Okay, there might be some truth to Bikram’s observation.
“Dad, you cannot seriously consider never speaking to Jas again over something so foolish as him not attending the parade. You can’t possibly be that angry.”
Andrés’s eyes glinted. “I’m not angry, I’m disappointed.”
Tara scowled. “It’s not only disappointment.”
“So what? I’m allowed to be angry my flesh and blood turned their back on everything I worked for.”
Bikram cleared his throat. “If I may, Grandpa: Mom didn’t want the farm, either, but you’re not mad at her for picking a different career path.”
Tara sighed. “Because I’m a girl, my love.”
“That’s sexist.” It was rare for Bikram to rebuke their grandfather.
“I’m not sexist. If she’d wanted the farm, I would have encouraged her,” Andrés growled.
“You didn’t expect it of her, though.”
“Because daughters go off and start their own families. Sons stay with you. They build with you.” His grandpa jabbed his thumb at Jas. “I built all this for my boy. And he threw it all away.”
“Grandpa.” Bikram shook his head. “He chose to enlist. You can’t be mad at him forever for picking a different profession.”
“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about after he was done.”
Jas stirred, weary of being discussed like he wasn’t in the room. “What about after I was done with the military?”
“You were injured. You should have come home and let us take care of you, let this land take care of you. Instead, you chose to go live with a man who was of no relation to any of us. Blood is thicker than water, but you chose Hardeep Arora over me. The family of the man that abandoned my father? You abandoned me and this land to go live with him?”
The tense silence returned, but only for a moment. “You know, that saying is misused in modern times,” Katrina said, her calm, reasonable voice a much-needed break.
Andrés shook his head. “What?”
“The whole phrase goes, the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. People shorten it to mean that kin is stronger than all else, but the original meaning is that the bond between nonfamily members can actually be stronger than family.”
“What on earth does that have to do with anything?”
Katrina grimaced. “Sorry. It seemed relevant.”
Andres exhaled in a great rush. “I think it’s time I go. This is useless.” His shoulders drooped. “Jasvinder, you can do whatever you want. Of course, I’ll never disown you. Come to the parade, don’t come to the parade. I’ll love you, even though you don’t want me.”
Jas clutched his glass. “I can’t.”
“Yeah, yeah. Like I said, if you don’t want to, fine.”
Jas couldn’t take this anymore. “I didn’t say I don’t want to come. I said, I can’t.”
Everyone turned to him.
“What does that mean? Why can’t you?” Andres asked.
“I can’t . . .” The rest of the words stuck there, as they always did.
I can’t because I am physically incapable of doing this thing you ask.
I can’t because I’m not the man you used to know.
I can’t because even though I look mostly the same, my brain is different now, and this thing you’re asking of me, this simple, tiny thing that anyone else could do, will hurt me.
He swallowed, and tasted his self-disgust.
“Jas, it’s okay,” Katrina finally said, her voice soft.
It wasn’t okay. Jas placed his napkin over his empty plate. He considered leaving, which was the safest option, but his mom, his brother, his grandfather. Katrina. All of them were looking at him with concern, even his grandpa. Jas touched the scarred wooden table. His great-grandfather had built it.
Jas had run away from this place, but deep down, he’d always been secure in the knowledge he could return someday. Except, if he didn’t talk now, he might not get to come back, never feel this place that was heart-wrenchingly his. The place where his roots ran deep, even though he had no desire to farm.
Tell them. He forced the words out past the constriction in his throat. They came in a rush. “I can’t come to the parade because big crowds and loud places are difficult for me since I was in Iraq. If there are fireworks or a car backfires, I think they’re gunshots. If I get too hot, I feel like I’m in the desert. I . . . I can’t.”
Tara inhaled, and Katrina shifted closer to him. She placed her hand over his.
His heart pounded, so loud it hurt his ears. “You have no idea—” His voice cracked. Don’t think about it. Put it back. Bury it deep. Only it was out now, and he couldn’t. “You only know what happened in the trial. You think that was the only terrible thing I saw there? You think I walked away fine?”
Andres dashed the back of his hand over his eyes. “You didn’t tell us. How could we know what you don’t tell us?”
Jas’s inherent sense of fairness strangled his resentment back. He hadn’t told his family anything. He hadn’t wanted to tell anyone anything. No civilian could truly understand.
“You could have come back here, after. We would have taken care of you.”
“I couldn’t come back here, to this place that had stayed the same, when I wasn’t the same person anymore. It hurts, to see all the stuff that was familiar. It hurts to see the things that have changed, the things I wasn’t around for.” The words were falling faster out of his mouth, like a wound had been lanced. This was a high, to have this drained out of him. He’d come down off this high later, but for now, he’d take this. The euphoria of unburdening himself numbed the pain of recalling it.
Jas raked his hand through his hair. “Hardeep heard what happened through the grapevine. He offered me a job out of pity, so I could escape. It’s not that I hate this farm or what you built. I love it. It’s just not for me to claim. It wasn’t then, but it especially isn’t now.”
Tara didn’t bother to hide her tears. “Hardeep was always very good at helping people in need,” she said.
Katrina visibly swallowed. “Yes.”
Andrés’s shoulders drooped. “You rejected the business. It felt like you were rejecting me, like I had built all this for nothing.”
Jas shot a glance at his silent stepbrother, who gave him a warning look, which he ignored. “You didn’t build it for nothing, though. It’s not like you don’t have an heir who’s eager and willing to take over the whole thing.”
“Jas,” Bikram hissed.
Andrés scowled and turned to his other grandson. “Well, of course I do. But what man doesn’t want two heirs? Hell, it’s only because I have Bikram that I’m still able to run this place. It’s not a one-man job.”
Wait, what?
“Two heirs?” Bikram sat back in his chair.
“Yes.” Andrés’s fearsome scowl grew. “You think Bikram won’t inherit half this farm? What kind of a monster do you all think I am? Bikram is as much my grandson as Jas is. Tara adopted him, he was raised here, he works his ass off for this place. Of course my will is drawn up so you both get equal shares.”
Bikram appeared dazed. “I had no idea. I thought . . . I thought I was just your employee.”
“The hell you are. You should have asked me. You and Jas, together.”
Jas shook his head. “I don’t want any part of the operation. I have this house, and it’s enough. Give the entire farm to Bikram.”
Andrés made a sound like a wounded bear.
“Why does that upset you so?” Katrina asked Andrés.
“I am the farm.”
“No, you’re not,” Jas said, with some exasperation. “You’re a person. The farm is a place. I know your whole identity is tied up in here, but my rejecting the farm is not a rejection of you. I don’t want to be a farmer. I will always want to be your grandson.”
Andrés huffed. “I can’t help how I feel.”
“You can if it means not seeing Jas again. Don’t you think he’d come here more often, stay longer, if he wasn’t terrified you hated him because of his life choices?” Tara snapped.
Andrés’s shoulders lowered. “I . . . is that true, Jas? We’d see you more if I stopped pressuring you?”
The hope in his grandfather’s eyes made Jas feel like a monster. “Yes.” This trip had taught him that the familiarity and happiness of the little house had outweighed the pangs of hurt.
He brushed his leg against Katrina’s under the table and let it rest there. He wouldn’t have come if it hadn’t been for her. This would never have happened without her.
“If I can make accommodations for you, will you consider coming to the ceremony?” his grandfather asked, more humble than Jas had ever seen him.