Tiger's Quest

by Colleen Houck

  “Fighting with you is fun, but making up is better. That’s not what I miss though. I miss having you around as a man all the time. Don’t get me wrong. I love the tiger part of you, but it would be nice to have a normal relationship.”

  He sighed and squeezed my waist. “I don’t know if we’ll ever have a normal relationship.” He was quiet for a minute and then confessed, “As much as I enjoy being a man, there’s a part of me that wants to run free in the forest.”

  I laughed from inside the deep layers of his jacket. “I can just picture the look on the park ranger’s face when hikers say a white tiger was running through the trees.”

  Over the next few weeks, we fell into a routine. By mutual decision, we decided to put wushu on hold, and I had to spend a half hour on the phone consoling Jennifer and encouraging her to keep going without me.

  Ren wanted to be near me all the time, even when he was a tiger. He liked to stretch out along my legs while I sat on the floor and studied.

  In the evenings, he played his mandolin or practiced on the new guitar he’d bought. Sometimes, he sang for me. His voice was quiet and deep with a warm, lilting resonance. His accent was more pronounced when he sang, which I found very hypnotic. His voice alone was potent enough, but when he sang, it put me in a trance. He often joked about the beast soothing the savage girl with music.

  Sometimes, I would do nothing but sit with Ren’s tiger head in my lap and watch him sleep. I stroked his white fur and felt his chest rise and fall. Being a tiger was part of who he was, and I was comfortable with it. But, now that I’d finally accepted that he loved me, I was overcome with a desire to be with him.

  It was frustrating. I wanted to share every moment with him. I wanted to listen to his voice, feel his hand in mine, and lay my cheek against his chest while he read to me. We were together, but we weren’t together. Ren spent most of his human hours at school, which left little time for us to develop our relationship. I was starving for him. I could talk to him, but he couldn’t reply. I quickly became an expert on reading tiger expressions.

  I snuggled with him on the floor every night, and every night he picked me up and put me back in my own bed after I fell asleep. We did homework together, watched movies, finished Othello, and moved on to Hamlet. We also kept in constant contact with Mr. Kadam. When I answered the phone, he spoke to me about school and Nilima and told me not to worry that my test of the four houses research had proven futile. He was polite and asked about my foster family but then he’d always ask for Ren.

  I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop but it was obvious that something was going on when they spoke in hushed tones and sometimes switched to Hindi. Every once in a while, I’d hear strange terms mentioned: Yggdrasil, Naval Stone, and Noe’s Mountain. I’d ask Ren what they were talking about after he hung up but he’d just smile and tell me not to worry or that they’d been discussing business or that they were in a conference call with others who spoke only Hindi. I remembered the e-mail from Mr. Kadam about documents and had suspicions that Ren was hiding something but afterwards he would be so unguarded and genuinely happy about being with me that I eventually forgot my worries, at least until the next phone call.

  Ren started writing little poems and notes and placing them in my bag for me to find during the school day. Some of them were famous poems and some were his own. I pressed them into my journal and kept a copy of my two favorites with me all the time.

  You know you are in love

  when you see the world in her eyes,

  and her eyes everywhere in the world.

  —David Levesque

  If a king owned a pearl without price

  A gem he cherished above all

  Would he hide it away

  Bury it from sight

  Afraid others would take it?

  Or would he display it proudly

  Set it in a ring or crown

  So that all the world could behold its beauty

  And see what richness it brings to his life?

  You are my pearl without price.

  —Ren

  Reading his innermost thoughts and feelings almost made up for our non-tiger time together being limited. Not quite. But almost.

  After art history one day, Ren surprised me by falling into step behind me.

  “How did you know where my class was?”

  “I got out early today and tracked you. Easy as peach pie with whipped cream, which you promised to make for me later.”

  “I remember.” I laughed, and we headed toward the language lab to return a long-forgotten video.

  Behind the language lab desk was Artie.

  “Hey, Artie. Just returning a video.”

  He shoved his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. “Ah, yes. I’d wondered where that video was. It’s very late, Kelsey.”

  “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

  He slipped it into an empty spot that I imagined he’d probably been staring at week after week as it drove him slowly crazy. “I’m glad you had the integrity to return it at least.”

  “Right, I’m full of integrity. See ya around, Artie.”

  “Wait, Kelsey. You haven’t returned my phone calls, so I assume your answering machine is not working. It’s going to be hard to fit you in, but I believe I have next Wednesday available.”

  He picked up his pencil and his planner and was already scribbling my name down. How could he ignore the very large man behind me?

  “Look, Artie, I’m seeing someone else now.”

  “I don’t think you’ve thought this out clearly, Kelsey. The date we had was very special, and I felt a real connection. I’m sure if you reconsidered, you would see that you should be going out with me.” He glanced at Ren briefly. “I am clearly the best option.”

  Exasperated, I said, “Artie!”

  He shoved his glasses up again and stared me down, willing me to give in with his eyes.

  At that point, Ren stepped between us. Artie reluctantly dragged his eyes away from me and looked at Ren with distaste. The two men were such a contrast that I couldn’t help comparing them. Where Artie was soft, jowly, and paunchy in the middle, Ren was lean and big in the chest and arms. And, having seen his incredible torso without a shirt on, I could also vouch for him having fantastically chiseled abs, as well. He could easily grind Artie into the ground.

  Artie was pasty white and hairy-armed with a red nose and watery eyes. Ren could stop traffic. And had. Literally. He was a golden-bronzed Adonis come to life. I’d frequently seen girls trip over the sidewalk and bump into trees when he walked by. None of these qualities fazed Artie. He was supremely self-confident. He boldly stood his ground and was completely uncowed by Ren’s awesomeness.

  Artie droned nasally, “And who might you be?”

  “I am the man Kelsey’s dating.”

  Artie’s expression was incredulous. He peered down at me around Ren’s shoulder and said snidely, “You would rather date this barbarian than me? Perhaps I’ve misjudged your character. You obviously make questionable choices based purely on lustful impulses. I thought you were of a higher moral caliber, Kelsey.”

  “Really, Art—” I started.

  Ren stuck his face very close to Artie’s and threatened quietly, “Do not insult her again. The young lady has made her position clear. If I ever hear that you are hounding her or any other young woman again, I will come back and make your life very uncomfortable.”

  He stabbed Artie’s day planner with his finger. “Perhaps you’d better write that down so you don’t forget. You should also make a note to yourself that Kelsey will not be available again. Ever.”

  I’d never seen Ren from this perspective before. He was lethal. I would be shaking in my shoes if I were Artie. But, as usual, Artie was oblivious to everything except himself. He didn’t see the dangerous predator lurking behind Ren’s eyes. Ren’s nostrils were flared. His eyes were fixed on his target. His muscles were taut. He was ready to pounce. To mangle. To kill.

  I
put my hand on his arm, and the change was instantaneous. He let out a tense breath, relaxed his stance, and slid a hand on top of mine, covering it with his.

  I squeezed his hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  He opened my car door for me, and after making sure I was buckled in, he leaned in and said, “How about a kiss?”

  “No. You didn’t need to act so jealous. You don’t deserve a kiss after that.”

  “Ah, but you do.” He grinned and kissed me until I changed my mind.

  Ren was quiet on our drive home. “What are you thinking?” I asked.

  “I’m thinking that maybe I should buy a bow tie and a sweater-vest since you seem to like them so much.”

  I laughed and punched him on the arm.

  Later that week, I saw Ren engaged in a serious conversation with a pretty Indian girl. Ren seemed a little perturbed. I was wondering who the girl was when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Jason.

  “Hey, Kelsey.” He joined me on the steps and followed my gaze. “Trouble in paradise, huh?”

  I laughed. “No. So what’s up with you?”

  “Not much,” he replied, digging into his backpack and handing me a theater magazine. “Here’s a copy of that article. The one with your picture in it.”

  On the magazine cover was a picture of Jason and me standing next to the car. My hand was on the old lady’s arm as she thanked me. I looked awful. Like I’d been hit by a car.

  Jason suddenly stood up. “Uh, you can keep it, Kelsey. Catch ya later,” he called over his shoulder as Ren approached.

  Ren stared after Jason. “What was that about?”

  “Funny, I was about to ask you the same question. Who’s the girl?”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “Come on. Let’s talk about it in the car.”

  After he pulled out of the parking lot, I folded my arms across my chest and said, “Well, who is she?”

  He winced at my tone. “Her name is Amara.”

  I waited, but he didn’t add anything else. “And . . . what did she want?”

  “She wanted my parents’ phone number . . . so her parents could call my parents.”

  “What for?”

  “To arrange marriage.”

  My mouth fell open. “Are you serious?”

  Ren grinned. “Are you jealous, Kelsey?”

  “Darn right, I’m jealous. You belong to me!”

  He kissed my fingers. “I like you being jealous. I told her that I’m already taken, so don’t worry, my prema.”

  “That’s just weird, Ren. How can she want to propose marriage when you don’t even know each other?”

  “She didn’t exactly propose marriage; she proposed the idea of marriage. Usually, the parents handle it, but in America, things have changed slightly. Now, it’s more like the parents screen potential mates, and the kids get to pick from their choices.”

  “Well, you’ve been through it once already. I mean, you were engaged to marry Yesubai. Did you want to marry her? Your parents picked her out especially for you, right?”

  He hesitated and spoke carefully. “I . . . accepted the match, and I looked forward to having a wife. I hoped to have a happy marriage like my parents had.”

  “But would you have picked her for a wife?”

  “It wasn’t up to me.” He smiled, trying to appease me. “But, if it makes you feel better, I did pick you, even though I wasn’t really looking for someone.”

  I still didn’t feel like letting this go. “So you would have gone through with it, even though you didn’t know her from . . . Eve?”

  He sighed. “Marriage was and still is different in Indian culture. When you marry, you try to make your family happy with someone who shares your cultural background and who embraces and keeps the traditions and customs important to your family. There are a lot of things to consider, such as education, wealth, caste, religion, and where you come from.”

  “So it’s like screening applications for college? Would I have made the cut?”

  He laughed. “It’s hard to say. Some parents believe that dating an outsider taints you forever.”

  “So you mean just dating an American girl taints you? What would your parents have said about us?”

  “My parents lived in a very different time.”

  “Still . . . they wouldn’t approve.”

  “Mr. Kadam is like a parent in a way, and he approves of you.”

  I groaned. “It’s not the same thing.”

  “Kelsey, my father loved my mother, and she wasn’t Indian. They were culturally from different backgrounds and had to merge different traditions, and yet, they were happy. If anyone from that time would have understood us . . . it would have been them. Would your parents have liked me?”

  “My mother would have adored you; she would have baked you chocolate peanut butter cookies every week and giggled every time she saw you, like Sarah does. My father never thought any man would be good enough for me. He would’ve had a hard time letting me go, but he would have liked you too.”

  We pulled into the garage, and I had a sudden vision of the four of us sitting in my parents’ library talking about favorite books. Yes, they would have heartily approved of Ren.

  I smiled for a moment then frowned. “I don’t like the idea that you have other girls chasing after you.”

  “Now you know how I felt. Speaking of which, what did Jason have to say?”

  “Oh. He gave me this.”

  I handed him the article as we walked in the house. Ren sat down and read it quietly while I made us a snack. He came into the kitchen with an expression of worry on his face.

  “Kelsey, when was this taken?”

  “About a month ago. Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Maybe nothing. I need to call Kadam.”

  He got on the phone and spoke quickly in Hindi. I sat on the couch and held his hand. He was talking fast, and Ren looked very worried. The last thing he mentioned before he hung up was something about Kishan.

  “Ren, tell me. What’s going on?”

  “Your name and picture are in this magazine. It’s a pretty obscure publication, so we might get lucky.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “We’re afraid that Lokesh can trace you back to here.”

  I responded, confused, “Oh. But what about my student ID and my driver’s license?”

  “We had them all changed. Mr. Kadam has connections. He arranged it so your records don’t match your name with your photo. Did you really think he could arrange a passport in a week for you to go to India last summer?”

  “I guess I didn’t think about it.” My mind reeled with the new information, and the vision I had seen in India of the power-hungry wizard flashed back to me. Suddenly worried, I said, “But, Ren, I’m registered at school under my name, and there are records of me in the foster care system that could lead back to Sarah and Mike. What if he finds them?”

  “Mr. Kadam changed those too. The state records officially say you were emancipated at fifteen, and this house and all of the bills for it go to a hidden account. Even my driver’s license is a fake, and I’m registered under a different name. Kelsey Hayes officially goes to WOU, but your picture was switched out so he couldn’t find you. We left no records of your name tied to your picture. Those were the documents mentioned in the e-mail you saw on my computer.”

  “What about my high school yearbook?”

  “Taken care of. We wiped you out of the official records. If somebody contacted an old high school classmate with an old yearbook they could match you up, but the odds of that happening aren’t likely. They would have to check every high school in the country, assuming they knew which country to look in.”

  “So, you think this article means—”

  “That there is a record he could find you with.”

  “Why didn’t you two tell me all this before?”

  “We didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily. We wanted you to live as normal a life as possible.”
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  “So, what are we going to do now?”

  “Hopefully, finish out the term, but, just in case, I’ve sent for Kishan.”

  “Kishan’s coming here?”

  “He’s a good hunter and can help me keep watch on things. He’d also be less distracted than I am.”

  “Oh.”

  Ren pulled me close and rubbed my back. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

  “But what if something happens to you? What can I do about it?”

  “Kishan will watch my back so I can watch yours.”

  9

  Kishan

  With no word of Lokesh, and thankfully, nothing out of the ordinary happening, I loosened up enough to enjoy the annual Valentine’s dance. The night would be fun, and all the proceeds would go toward funding the Jensen Arctic Museum.

  Ren pulled a garment bag out of my closet and hung it on the bathroom door.

  “What’s this, Tiger? You think you can choose what I’m going to wear now, huh?”

  “I like you in anything you wear.” He pulled me into a tight hug. “But, I’ve wanted to see you in this dress. Will you wear it tonight?”

  I snorted. “You probably want me to wear it because I haven’t worn it on a date with anyone else. You can’t stand the peach dress now because you say it smells like Li even after it’s been dry-cleaned.”

  “The peach dress is lovely on you, and I picked it out especially for you. But, you’re right. It reminds me of Li, and I want tonight to be only about us.” He kissed my cheek. “I’ll pick you up for dinner in two hours. Don’t make me wait too long.”

  “I won’t.”

  He touched his forehead to mine and added softly, “I hate to be apart from you.”

  After he left, I took a hot shower, wrapped a towel around my head and a robe around my body. Unzipping the garment bag, I found a claret-red chiffon dress with a trumpet skirt and double flutter sleeves. It was a wrap-dress style that tied at the side of my waist. A box on the floor contained strappy red shoes.

  I sighed. What is the obsession that men have with strappy shoes?