Mending the Past

by Avery June Ligon

  Jet opened the window and looked out. Her room was on the fourth floor. She’d examined the front of the building as she had left the rickshaw. There were two windows on the floors above the entrance. Jet hoped these windows each looked in on a different room and that each of these rooms also had a window along the side of the building. This way she could climb only on the walls over the narrow alleys and not above the entrance, which was on a busy street.

  She looked down the side of the building. It was longer than she’d expected. She examined the outside wall. It seemed like painted stucco. She patted the baby and looked up and down the wall. She didn’t see any missing patches of stucco. The rhythm of the baby’s breathing changed and Jet knew he’d fallen asleep. She pulled herself onto the window sill, being careful to keep her movements fluid. She didn’t want to wake the baby. She needed him to stay quiet. Jet held the window frame in her right hand and pounded on the dark red wall with her fist a couple of times. The stucco didn’t crack or rattle. She pasted her left foot onto the red wall and then her left hand. She shifted her weight to the left side of her body and made sure the wall didn’t start to creak. She looked down at the breathing lump of fabric and told the baby she loved him. Then she let go of the window and whispered, “It’s time to see if your daddy’s here.” The baby wiggled.

  Jet climbed along the wall to the next lighted window on the fourth floor. The prospect of spying on people made her uncomfortable. She decided she’d look in with one eye and do it so quickly that she’d only have time to tell if the people inside were Ed or her parents.

  She looked into the first lit window. A television cast different colors across the bed and far wall. She didn’t see anyone.

  Jet traversed the wall to the next room. This time she could hear voices, but couldn’t make out words or even what language was being spoken. She closed one eye and with the open one peeped in. A couple was sitting at a table feeding each other. Jet moved away, and apologized silently to the couple for intruding. She thought of Ed.

  The next couple of rooms were dark. She kept moving across the wall to the final room on the fourth floor. Very little light came through the window. She looked inside with one eye. It was a store room full of cleaning supplies and extra towels.

  Jet looked to the floor below. Lights were on in two adjacent rooms in the middle of the third floor. She climbed diagonally toward them and as she approached she heard someone open a window. Voices drifted out. Her heart seemed to jump. She knew the undertones of those voices. She moved closer to the open window, straining to hear, to be certain.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have strayed from the butter. That worked last time. It opened him to the influence of the Captain. The mushrooms don’t seem to have put him on the right track.”

  Yes. That was the voice that had woken her every morning of her teenage years. She listened for voices she knew. Who’s mom talking to?

  “I think you should try some more butter on him tomorrow,” Maggie said.

  Wait. What’s mom talking about?

  “He won’t let us near his food,” Jet’s father said in a tone that Jet knew meant ‘never’. She’d heard it plenty of times. Her mom kept trying.

  “But the last time worked so well,” Maggie said. “Just give it to him before he comes down.”

  Sam said nothing.

  “Fine. Give the butter to me.”

  Sam was silent. Jet could tell that her mother had began to understand that she wouldn’t be able to persuade her husband. Her mother’s voice had started to sound frantic. Desperate.

  “How are we going to find Jet, if you’re unwilling to coax Butt-Eye to enter Bud?” Maggie said.

  What? I must not be hearing this right. Jet climbed closer.

  “Give it some time, Mag,” her father said. “Last time Little Bud-Eye gave us direction as the effects of the drug were beginning to wear off.”

  Bud? Jet couldn’t decide if she was more confused, concerned, or angry. Were her parents drugging Bud to find her? That was too crazy. Why would anyone think that would work? Was Ed allowing this to happen?

  “And remember Maggie, he didn’t even give us direction. He confirmed Ed’s speculation. Maybe you’re asking too much of Little Bud-Eye. Maybe you should ask him questions that he can answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to.”

  Her parents were silent. Jet didn’t need to look through the window to know that her father had assuaged some of her mother’s impatience with his last suggestion. Maggie was probably searching for a pad of paper and pencil. Jet shifted her weight. She could climb into her parents room, present herself, tell them what she was doing, and that she’d be home soon. She sighed. There was no way her mother would just go home. She would insist on going with Jet, and she’d insist on staying with the baby. Jet couldn’t join their traveling party. At least, not until the emerald linga was safely back in the temple.

  Maggie’s voice came through the window again. “Butt-Eye, are you there? Can you talk? I’m going to ask you a few questions. Can I come over? Or, should I speak to you through the wall?”

  “Argh, that be more than a few questions already,” Bud growled through the wall.

  The baby squirmed against Jet’s body. She realized her mouth was hanging open. She closed it and climbed to the lit window of the adjacent room. A man crouched on the floor. His fingers tapped and glided across the border of the carpet. His hair was a mess and he had a dark blue bandana tied around his head. He raised his face. The bandana hung over one of his eyes. His smile seemed amused, but the look from his eye was one of suspicion. He should be feeling paranoid around my mom, Jet thought. I can’t believe she’d do this. Jet could see that Maggie must have tried talking to Bud through the wall again because he’d turned to glare in that direction.

  Jet knocked on the window. Bud turned and surveyed the room with his eye.

  “Hello?” Maggie said through the wall.

  Bud was too busy searching for the new noise to hear her.

  Jet knocked again. Bud turned in the direction of the window this time. Jet kept knocking.

  “Well, hello there,” Bud said to the noise, and started creeping toward the window.

  “Hi,” Maggie said. “I just want to ask you a few questions.”

  Jet tapped out a friendly little tune on the glass.

  Bud smiled. “Okay, give me a minute,” he said, looking at the window latch.

  “Great,” Maggie said. “Take all of the time you need.”

  Bud unlatched the window, pulled it open and looked out. First he looked down. Nothing. Then his right. Nothing. His left, and there was Jet’s head floating in the night outside his window. It whispered to him, “Bud, are you all right?”

  Bud stared.

  “Bud,” Jet whispered again, “are you okay?”

  He nodded.

  “What about Ed?” Jet asked.

  “He’s been sleeping for three days,” Bud said.

  “What?”

  “We ate a little snack and then he found out his dad is alive. Then he went to sleep.”

  Bud saw the concerned look on Jet’s face. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ve been spooning water into his mouth.”

  “What did he eat?”

  Bud shrugged.

  “Did he eat peanuts?”

  “No.” Bud said and thought. “But I did.”

  “Did you share your food with him?”

  “If you touch the carpet with your fingertips, different colors ripple out.”

  Jet sighed. If Ed had eaten a peanut, three days was about the length of time he’d would sleep for.

  “Ed’s still breathing?” she asked, as Maggie said, “Are you making contact with the other realm?”

  “Of course,” Bud said to Jet’s head, shocked that it would suggest he’d been taking such poor care of his best friend.

  “Ed will wake up soon. Tonight or tomorrow. Feed him rice,” Jet whispered.

  Bud nodded.

  “Bud, why do my pa
rents think you can find me?”

  “Little star bugs went in and out of your mom’s head. I told them to take the worry away. I told them a story about an emerald stolen from India.” Jet tried to keep a look of surprise from her face as Bud continued, “Your mom read Ed’s palm and there, again, was India. Then they said that I told-”

  “That’s enough. Thanks Bud.”

  Bud nodded.

  “Have you made any progress as to Jet’s whereabouts?” Maggie yelled.

  Bud turned and glared at the wall again. “Yes, I’m talking to her head right now.”

  “Hey, Bud,” Jet whispered, “tell them they’ll find me in Khajuraho.”

  Bud just looked at her.

  “Tell them now. While I’m here. I want to hear you say it.”

  Bud turned to the wall. “Jet says you can find her in Khajuraho.”

  “Can you ask her to spell that?” Maggie asked.

  Jet watched Bud’s face change. The look in his eyes transformed from one of bewilderment to one of knowledge.

  Bud thought about the word Khajuraho and his memory opened up. He remembered the details of the emerald theft story that Steward had told to him and Ed, so many years before. “Argh,” he growled at the wall. “Butt-Eye be as good a speller as yer daughter. Besides, me knows the way to Khajuraho. It be the heart of the heart of the captain’s India. It be the place of the emerald theft.”

  How did Bud know about the emerald? She looked back in at Bud.

  “It be the place me dear wife threatened to return the emerald...”

  Bud was engrossed by his conversation with Maggie. His yelling was starting to wake the baby. What Jet needed to do was done. Her parents had direction and would, she hoped, leave Bud be. They’d leave before her and in their shadow no one would notice her traveling with the baby and Steward. She wished she could see Ed. He’d been through too much, and she wanted to help him. In a couple of days, she told herself.

  Chapter 37 Wanted Dead

  Steward knocked on the door to Jet’s room the next morning. Jet thought he looked tired and maybe a little sad.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  “A little disappointed, but that’s a small point. I think Eileen might send someone after us. To try to take back the emerald. She can’t let it go. I don’t understand. She really feels that it’s hers because, well, because she wants it to be.”

  “Oh great,” Jet said. “That woman already wants me dead.”

  “Well, she doesn’t like you very much. We can agree there, but dead seems like an exaggeration.”

  Jet shook her head. “I’ve had this conversation with Ed before. I already know you won’t believe me and that you can’t convince me otherwise, so let’s just stop.”

  Steward nodded. “How’ve you been?” He turned his head to the baby in Jet’s arms and reached for him. Jet handed the baby to Steward who asked him, “And you, how are you?” The baby smiled and cooed.

  Jet told him about finding her parents, and about their drugging Bud, and about Ed having been asleep for three days.

  “I bet he ate a peanut,” Jet and Steward said in unison.

  They both smiled and Jet told Steward, “Oh, and so I told Bud that they should head to Khajuraho when Ed woke up. I hope that’s okay. My mom needed some answers and I’d like to keep Ed nearby.” Jet was surprised by how worried her voice sounded. After a pause she said, “Bud knew where Khajuraho was. He said it was the site of an emerald theft.”

  “Wow, he has a memory like a vise. It has been at least twenty five years since I told him the story of the emerald,” Steward said. “I suppose I told that story more than any other. Both of the boys would ask to hear it when Bud spent the night.”

  “Ed told me you used to tell him good stories. You know, he doesn’t just think you’re dead. He thinks your ghost changes what sits on a shelf outside of his bedroom.”

  “I’m glad he noticed. I was trying to tell him that I was alive and near. Though– I wasn’t trying to haunt him. I missed him. Still do.” Steward turned to baby. “He’s like a son to me. I think.”

  “Why did you go away?”

  “Eileen told me to.”

  “Why did you listen to her.”

  Steward cocked his head to the side. “I love her.”

  “What?”

  Steward laughed. “I’ve been in love with her since we were in college.”

  Jet examined Steward. “You must love being punished,” she said, shaking her head, “or hate being turned down.”

  Steward laughed. “I suppose this is a fine time to mention that she probably wants to kill me?”

  “I hope you aren’t expecting me to be surprised by that. I didn’t do a thing to make her mad, and she wants me dead. You took a jewel out of her room. Really, I’m not surprised.”

  “Worse still. She came to Rome and tried to take the linga back. She thought she took it back, and celebrated by seducing me-”

  “Enough. Enough. There’s a baby in the room, and love who you want, but you’re giving me the creeps. You need to rethink the trajectory of your life. You’re a good looking, smart guy. You don’t need to sleep with potential killers.”

  “Well, you’re right about the good looking bit.”

  “So, do our plans change now that we have a crazy, angry lady after us?”

  “Not really, but I think we should get moving. Eileen knows I’m coming to India, and she knows what time I left and from what airport. I’m sure she can figure out what flight I took. Delhi is a big city, but the list of hotels that auto-rickshaw drivers get commission on when they bring in business isn’t that long, and the hotels that give the best commission is pretty short. I mean, it isn’t exactly an act of providence that we ended up in the same hotel as your parents. Eileen’ll be able to find us here, so we should get going. We should also follow my earlier advice and try not to stand out too much.”

  “That shouldn’t be too difficult,” Jet said. “We’ll travel in the shadow of my parents and Bud.”

  Chapter 38 Anger and a Hit Woman

  When Steward walked out the door, Eileen crawled back under the covers to think. She could smell him on the sheets and pillow. She’d tried wrestling the emerald from him. That hadn’t worked. He already loved her, and that hadn’t made him give her the jewel. Eileen let out an angry little grunt and rolled, pulling the covers around her. “How can I marry a man who wants to take our fortune and turn it to faux...” she searched for a word, but only “foe” presented itself, so she yelled it. She growled in the direction of Steward’s desk chair. Why can’t he just be reasonable? That emerald sits on the desk of each Mrs. Mae. Nobody’s missing it but me. All I needed was to be a little stronger and I could have forced it from him. Eileen turned her eyes toward the phone by Steward’s bed and she felt herself relax. Steward would be stuck on a plane. She’d be able to find him.

  Eileen showered and pulled a black pair of pants and shirt from her suitcase. She’d made calls to determine Steward’s arrival city, and booked a seat on the next flight. Then she’d called the Mae Shipping office that she had the most contact with. The one in which Ed had met Jet. She’d been given the name and phone number for the office manager in Delhi. She finished buttoning her shirt, and picked the phone back up. She introduced herself, and demanded the secretary put the manager on the phone without delay.

  “Hello?” He cleared his throat.

  “I have reason to believe that there’s someone in your warehouse who’s falsifying receipts and selling Mae Shipping goods for their own profit.”

  The manager gulped.

  “I’ll be there late tomorrow afternoon. Before I arrive I want you to identify the most likely people and call them to a meeting. Please don’t tell them why you need them. I don’t want a single one to flee.”

  The manager made his promises and went to work. Eileen closed her suitcase and began counting down the hours until her flight.

  * * * * *

  When
Eileen arrived, the manager handed her a file and led her to a room with a table, chairs, and a linoleum floor. Except for a calendar, the walls were bare. Eileen sat and began flipping through the file. It contained the names of five people and the information that put them on the list: four men and a woman, petty thefts, citations, one arrest. The manager asked if Eileen wanted to talk with all five people at once, or one at a time. She decided on one at a time, hoping she could get a better feel for how useful each person might be to her.

  The first person brought to Eileen was a sweating man, reluctant to talk. Either he feels guilty, she thought, or he really needs his job. He makes me uncomfortable. She scratched him from the list.

  The next man wore a Gandhi cap, and was a jolly and exuberant talker. Mrs. Mae looked his file over. A history of defaulting on loans had put him on the list. Needs money, she thought, perfect. She circled his name, Arjun. The next man didn’t speak any English and although the manager offered to translate, Mrs. Mae dismissed him, and crossed his name from the list.

  The manager wondered how Mrs. Mae knew she was looking for someone who spoke English, as he brought the next man. He was quiet and looked at the floor a lot. His answers to all of her questions were fine, but she decided to see the final person on the list before making a decision. The woman entered. She was quiet, but Mrs. Mae thought that the man in the Gandhi cap could more than make up for that. Mrs. Mae looked the woman in the eyes. “Men,” she said, “are full of misconceptions and bad ideas.”

  The woman wobbled her head, chin side to side like the thoughtful pendulum of a clock. Mrs. Mae took this as a sign of agreement. She checked her file for the woman’s name. “Sometimes, Puja, they need to be watched and reminded of what’s right. Of what they should be doing.” The woman wobbled her head again, and Mrs. Mae assumed they had an understanding. This was enough. She circled Puja.