Celtic Sister

by Pentermann, Meira

  “Hmm.” Thankfully, the kind woman didn’t demand more information. “Well she sure ruffled his feathers.” Raksha laughed, her previously acute intuition failing to see the gravity of the idea that a man like Brent could have his feathers ruffled by a name.

  Now was the perfect opportunity to bring up the missing girl, do some research on the computer with Raksha, and get the police involved. Obviously Brent was hiding something. The subject terrified him.

  Speak, Amy pleaded with herself, but the words never came. Brent was gone. Amy felt safe. Emma Foster was her silver cross, the name that kept Brent in the shadows. If Amy came forward now, there would be an investigation. And there would be Brent over and over again – at the police station, in the courtroom, in the newspapers. For just this tiny moment, Amy’s life was quiet, and she longed to keep it that way. The weight of the selfishness made her think of the whiskey under the bed.

  “Are we almost home?”

  Raksha smiled. “Just around the corner. Already feeling like home with us?”

  As a sense of belonging warmed Amy’s spirit, her guilt began to dissipate. “Yes, I guess so.”

  “You certainly settled yourself in that room deep enough. That place stank, if you will forgive me for saying so. I asked Rosa to clean up while we were gone.”

  Amy felt a slight panic. Were the bottles well hidden from view? Surely the housekeeper wouldn’t be on her hands and knees. Then Amy relaxed. This wasn’t a college dorm inspection. Rosa wouldn’t take the bottles even if she saw them.

  When they turned into the parking lot, Amy saw Rosa leaving her room and closing the door. Perfect. Just enough time to have a couple of drinks before joining the Patel family for dinner.

  “See you soon,” Amy called. She waved at Raksha before she slipped into her room.

  It had been a trying day, and social situations made her nervous as far back as she could remember. A few drinks always made her less awkward and more self-confident. That was what her ego tried to rationalize. In reality, she longed to settle the nagging feelings of shame that stabbed at her sleeping conscience, stirring it from slumber. She really should say something about Emma Foster.

  She’s been missing for fifteen years. I need to heal before I can face this. Surely a few more weeks won’t make a difference now.

  Chapter Four

  “Hello,” Amy called. She stood at the check-in counter of the Shanti Motel.

  A man appeared, his dark hair streaked with gray. “May I help you?” His accent was thicker than Raksha’s. He looked at Amy’s clothing and smiled. “Oh. You’re the woman in room 101, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. Raksha invited me to dinner.”

  “Of course, of course. Delightful. I’m Kashi Patel, Raksha’s husband.”

  Amy reached out her hand. “Amy… uh… Martin. So nice to meet you.”

  “Come on back.” He opened the half door that separated the check-in desk from the waiting room and led her into the Patels’ apartment.

  They passed through a sitting room into a kitchen and dining room area. The two nine-year-old boys, Abheek and Ravi, and a handsome gentleman in his early forties were arguing good-naturedly over a board game. Raksha and a beautiful middle school–aged girl were rushing around the kitchen. Periodically, they stirred pots and peeked in the oven. The girl pulled a pile of plates out of the cupboard and proceeded to set the long, well-polished table.

  In one corner of the room, an ornate golden statue of a woman with four arms sat on a colorful tablecloth on a small round table. The woman held a guitar-shaped musical instrument in two of her arms. A book and a string of pearls occupied her other two hands. An ornate headdress covered her delicate head. Amy wandered over to the shrine. Near the feet of the statue lay peacock feathers, silk lotus flowers fashioned into a lei, two yellow candles, and a few pieces of fresh fruit.

  Raksha noticed Amy and rushed over to greet her.

  “I am so delighted you could make it. Thank you, Priya.” She put a hand on Amy’s shoulder and led her to the table. “Please have a seat.” She placed Amy at a chair next to the head of the table. Then she called over to the man and the two boys. “Sahil, boys! Dinner.”

  “I beat you, Chacha,” one of the boys said. He made a little victory dance.

  “That’s enough, Abheek. Sit.”

  Raksha and the girl brought out bowls of food and placed them among the diners. Different dishes made with lentils, rice, chicken, and vegetables covered with a variety of sauces looked simply delicious. A huge plate of flatbread rounds was placed in the center.

  The man sat down at the head of the table next to Amy. “Hello. I’m Sahil.” He reached out his hand and gave Amy a firm shake.

  “Amy.”

  “Nice to meet you, Amy.”

  The family settled into their places. Kashi sat at the other head of the table, Raksha next to him. The boys sat across from one another, and the beautiful girl sat opposite Amy and nodded politely.

  “I’m Nisha Patel.”

  “Amy.”

  Nisha pointed at the boys and explained that Abheek was her brother, and Ravi was Sahil’s son. The boys attended the same elementary school and were the best of friends.

  “Welcome to our crazy family meal,” Nisha said as she pulled her chair closer to the table.

  Amy smiled.

  The Patels and company bowed their heads and became silent for a moment.

  Sahil broke the silence. “Thank you, God, for blessing us every day and thank you for the food my wonderful sister and niece have prepared.”

  As quickly as they had grown reverent, the chatting resumed. Kashi poured a glass of wine for himself and his wife and passed the bottle down the table. Sahil retrieved it and filled Amy’s glass. Then he set it next to his plate and took a sip of water.

  Amy stared at him, but he did not notice her look of contempt. The alcoholic is pouring wine and leaving the bottle at his side. She could not fathom the possibility. Her mother could spot a bottle of anything in the corner of any room and make a beeline for it as soon as she removed her jacket and threw it on a chair. Amy quickly took a large sip of wine and tried to turn her attention away from the puzzling thought. As she looked around the table, her eyes fell upon the shrine in the corner of the room.

  “Don’t Indians believe in many gods?” she blurted. She turned to Sahil. “You addressed one God in your prayer.”

  He chuckled. “I’ve been in America so long, I’ve become used to your monotheism. I figure if I shout out a thanks, one of the gods will hear me.” He winked and picked up a piece of flatbread. “I never take my blessings for granted. My life is whole again, and I must express my gratitude to whoever is listening.” He waved his hand above his head, as if gesturing to the heavens. Then he served himself ample portions of food and passed a bowl to Amy.

  Amy covered her plate with a variety of dishes and dipped her bread into each item, one at a time, savoring the flavors. She didn’t realize how hungry she had become until she began to eat. Sahil refilled her glass at least two times. Kashi retrieved another bottle for his end of the table. When Amy was full, she sat back and felt her protruding stomach. She stifled a groan.

  “I hear you’re looking for a job,” Sahil said.

  Amy glanced up at him. He was speaking to her. “I guess so.”

  Sahil laughed.

  “I’m sorry. Yes, sir—”

  “Sahil.”

  “Yes, Sahil. I do need to find a job. I’m just a little overwhelmed at the moment.”

  “I understand. But it just so happens I am in need of someone who’s willing to clean.”

  “For the motel?” Amy didn’t jump for joy at the prospect of making beds and washing showers, but Sahil was right. It was time to start earning money before she spent her nest egg.

  “No. I’m opening a restaurant. Banhi’s Grill. Indian cuisine… obviously.”

  “Who’s Banhi?”

  “My darling, petite grandmother. Rest her soul
. She taught me everything I know about cooking.”

  Amy smiled. “That’s sweet.”

  “Yes, but here’s the not-so-sweet part. The previous owner left the kitchen a mess. Caked-on grease on counters and floors. I can’t cook there. It’s almost dangerous. It needs a deep, invigorating scrub.”

  “Sounds fun,” Amy said before she could censor herself.

  Sahil laughed. “Can you imagine why I haven’t been able to hire someone who will stick around for more than a couple of days?”

  Amy grinned. Something about this man’s laugh calmed her. “Yes, I guess I can imagine quite well.”

  “Listen,” he said. “I know it’s a tedious job, but I’ve been thinking that if I can find someone dedicated enough to help me, I could train her to wait tables. A job with more potential. A reward.”

  Amy smiled at his use of the word her. Clearly, he was tailoring the conversation in hopes of winning her over. The truth was, she had a little experience waitressing during college before Brent intervened and persuaded her not to work. In retrospect, the brilliance of Brent’s strategy became obvious. A woman who is unemployable would never strike out on her own. What Sahil was proposing was, indeed, a nice opportunity for a beaten woman who had almost no work history.

  “I’ll do it,” she said.

  “Wonderful.” Sahil slapped both hands on the table.

  “Ow, Chacha,” Nisha said. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

  He held up his callused hands. “Maybe my wrists in retrospect.” He raised his eyebrows playfully. Then he returned his attention to Amy. “Can you start on Sunday? Say around eight a.m.?”

  “Of course. It’s not like I have anywhere to be. What day is it?”

  “Friday.”

  Amy drew in a sharp breath. For an hour, the wine and Sahil’s joyful personality made her forget her pain. The miscarriage had been on a Saturday. Raksha had said something about six days when she ransacked her room this morning. Sunday, Monday, Tuesday… Has it really been less than a week? Impossible. She touched her tummy again – now filled with a feast but devoid of life.

  “… and a day of rest before we get started,” Sahil said.

  “Where is the restaurant? Can I take a bus?”

  Sahil gave her a bemused smirk. “I just told you. It’s at the strip mall a couple of blocks from the Shanti. You can walk.”

  “Sorry. My mind was wandering.”

  “No problem. This job does not require good listening skills in the beginning. Just an eye for grease and strong arms.” He sat back in his chair and finished his glass of water. “You’ll have plenty of mind-wandering time before we open for business in about a month. By then you’ll be ready to talk to people and listen.”

  Amy knew he was right. A month to process the situation in the solace of a dirty kitchen actually sounded like exactly what she needed at the moment. She grabbed the bottle of wine, refilled her glass and toasted Uncle Sahil before she realized how tasteless the gesture was.

  “To grease,” she declared.

  Sahil raised his water glass and clinked hers. “To people who cross your path at the precise moment you need them.”

  It was eerie what he said, as if he had read her thoughts. Nevertheless, it couldn’t be truer. The Patel family, Uncle Sahil, and an inexpensive room in the corner of a motel entered her life at a time when she had no one to nurture her back to sanity and nowhere to go.

  ***

  After she helped clear and clean the dishes, Amy retired to her room. Both exhausted and manic, she craved more red wine. She pulled a bottle out from under the bed and searched for a wine opener. Nothing.

  Of course. This isn’t a four star hotel.

  She tried flipping television channels for twenty minutes and eventually retrieved a whiskey bottle. Saturday was her day off. She wouldn’t drink tomorrow night. Tonight she had to celebrate her new job and settle her racing mind.

  Chapter Five

  True to her word, Amy did not drink on Saturday, proving she was nothing like her mother. Now that Amy had plans to move forward with her life, she no longer needed the crutch. She slept most of the day. Unlike alcohol-induced sleep, a clean, healthy rest reinvigorated her exhausted body. She was eager to get to work on Sunday morning.

  The future Banhi’s Grill was located in the strip mall where Amy had purchased all her food and other supplies when she first arrived. Nestled between an American grill and a liquor store, the narrow, one-story restaurant space promised to at least inspire passersby to drop in and check it out. Once inside, they would be impressed by the warm red velvety drapes, yellow accent scarves, and vibrant mural of an Indian goddess resting by an exotic fountain. Although it still smelled of carpet cleaner and grease remover, Amy could close her eyes and imagine the smells she enjoyed in Raksha’s dining room.

  Tedious job was an understatement, but Amy was glad Sahil had not fully explained the situation. Hardened grease that required strong chemicals, thick rubber gloves, steel wool pads, and hours of scrubbing left her exhausted by nightfall.

  On Thursday, she encountered hundreds of mouse droppings at the back of one of the lower cupboards. She screamed so loud and long that Sahil came running. He grabbed a knife and hollered threats before he found Amy on the floor crying. She sniffled, looked up, and started laughing. When she explained the situation to Sahil, he returned the knife to a safe place. Then he helped her get to her feet and made her a strong, sweet cup of chai tea. Amy sat in a cozy leather booth and drank it, relieved to smell something other than grease and chemicals. Sahil settled in across from her with his own mug. He indulged in a long sip, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

  “Nothing like a hot cup of tea to reset the spirit,” he said.

  Amy nodded.

  “I’m sorry about the mouse droppings, Amy. If I had noticed that, I would have swept them out before you got there. I just called Ravi—”

  “Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”

  “It won’t even faze him.”

  “Still, I signed up for an onerous cleaning job. It comes with the territory.”

  He scrunched up his nose. “Call me old-fashioned, but I think females are exempt from anything related to rodents.”

  Amy laughed. “Fair enough. I appreciate it.”

  “Just leave that cupboard alone and check out the ovens. I’ll have Ravi at least pre-clean that area and hunt for any other surprises on the floor level.”

  “Okay, thanks. I finished the dishwashing area and the tabletops and floors in the prep area.”

  “You’ve been working very hard. Made much more progress than I expected in five days, that’s for sure. There is a lot of stubborn grease in there. I downplayed it to get you in here. I was really hoping you’d stay. Shows a lot of character to take on a lousy job like this and stick with it.”

  Amy looked into her tea. It was nice to be acknowledged. “Thank you.”

  “Not used to being complimented?” he asked.

  She looked into Sahil’s eyes. A very perceptive man, he seemed to be aware of her emotions. It unnerved her. She didn’t know what to say.

  “Abuse leaves subtle scars,” he explained.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Forgive me if I’m wrong.”

  “Did Raksha talk to you?”

  “She said you needed to lay low for a while. That can mean a lot of things.”

  “Really? That’s all she said? She didn’t tell you I’m hiding from my husband? That he beat me up?”

  “Raksha is not a gossip, Amy. She lets people tell their own stories.”

  It’s his story. He can tell you in his own time. That was what Raksha had said about Sahil. But she’d also told her about his alcohol problem.

  “She told me you were a drunk.”

  Sahil raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Did she now? Good for her.”

  Amy snorted. “You’re weird.”

  “No, really, I’m happy. It’s a God thing.”

  “Whic
h god?”

  “Never mind. I just mean along the lines of meant to be. God wills it. That bit.” He placed his hands on the table. “So now we have an abusive husband, a runaway, and if she told you I’m a drunk there must be an alcoholic lurking in this story. Fascinating. Do tell.”

  Amy threw her hands up in the air. “What the hell, Sahil? Is this a joke to you?”

  His face fell. “No. Of course not. I’m sorry.”

  Amy fought the tears. If he was telling the truth about Raksha keeping secrets, he would have no idea about the miscarriage. Perhaps he saw her as a damsel who pulled herself out of distress. He did not seem like the kind of man that would relish someone else’s pain. The compassionate look in his eyes indicated quite the opposite. He really did want to hear her story, and he was naïve enough to think she was ready to share.

  “Alcoholic mother. Abusive husband. Girl who made all the wrong choices.” That was all she was willing to divulge.

  He reached his hand across and touched hers. “It’s okay. When you are ready to tell your story, know that I am here to listen. Or Raksha if you prefer. It is healing to let the details flow into the ears of others. Especially the bit about wrong choices.”

  Amy nodded but did not look up at him.

  He continued. “My wrong choices hurt not only me, but my family and my friends as well. In fact, I nearly destroyed everything I touched.”

  Amy took a sip of her tea, relieved to have switched places in the confessional.

  “My lovely sister is right. I am a drunk. I almost killed my wife.”

  Amy glared at him. This confession was a little over the top. “I think I should get back to work now.”

  Sahil nodded. “I will pray for your mother,” he said as Amy slipped out of the booth.

  “Sure,” Amy mumbled.

  “You can take tomorrow and Saturday off,” he called after her. “I like to start the week on Sunday when everyone is sleepy and quiet. Sunday through Thursday again next week okay?”

  “That’s good. Thanks.”

  “I may need to switch it up a little the following week. I’m meeting a potential supplier. I’ll keep you posted.”