Chapter 29
The wind chimes sounded again, a faint nocturne that penetrated under the skin and took root.
Not a ringtone at all. Never a ringtone.
Fighting back the chilling whisper but unable to stop the cold from spreading through my veins, I said, “I didn’t know about Dr. Rajesh’s brother and parents.”
“He didn’t like to talk about it. How his big family became so small.” Expression somber, Ravi pointed out a particular statue after first putting his hands together in prayer and saying a string of words under his breath.
“That’s the one you need,” he said. “Dr. Sarita’s mother gave it to her before she passed. Don’t take the one beside it, though—Dr. Sarita bought that after baby Ani passed away. It’s for Ani, and Dr. Sarita always said that Ani’s soul is here, where she died.”
“I won’t touch it,” I promised, suddenly not sure I’d ever seen any pictures of Ani in the family home in Lake Tarawera.
It was possible that she’d been in the collection on the piano, but I’d never paid too much attention to that—especially as, most of the time, I’d been trying to be polite and make conversation with Diya’s family while being very aware that they hadn’t yet made up their minds about me.
After partially closing the intricately carved doors of the prayer alcove, Ravi led me down the hallway. “You want an upstairs room?”
“Downstairs is fine. No need to open up anything extra.”
“This room is great for the morning light.” He showed me one that faced the frontage, and all that thriving tropical foliage. “I’ll ask Kushma to put sheets on the bed.” He pointed up. “No air-conditioning here, but you have the fan and the windows. Usually a nice breeze coming from the ocean.”
Able to feel that breeze through the glass louvers as soon as he flipped them open, I said, “This is perfect, thank you”…just as the wind chimes sounded again, louder this time. More real.
Not ghost music, but an actual physical object.
Wanting to kick myself for falling victim to the atmosphere and Ravi’s dramatics, I drew deep of the salt-laced air.
Then I turned to the caretaker. “Ravi, can I ask you about Ani?” I had to take the chance.
“The family doesn’t talk about her and I really can’t ask Diya or Shumi after all this.
I don’t want to put my foot in it by accident. ”
Ravi’s already long face fell. “Yes, such a sad thing. Come with me—I’ll show you the tree Dr. Rajesh planted for baby Ani. Ashes went in flowing water as is proper, but he always said this was Ani’s place, and he put the tree there for her.”
As we walked out into the dark gray of oncoming night, the sky erased of even a touch of the orange-pink I’d seen on my drive, he said, “I don’t know so much about how baby Ani died—everyone just says accident. But Kamal who lives up the road, he was the police who came to handle it. He’ll know.”
“The blue house?” I asked, because that was the only house I’d passed before reaching this one.
Ravi nodded. “Lives with his wife and son and daughter-in-law.” Coming to a stop in front of a large tree with narrow green leaves from which hung countless curving yellow-red fruits, he said, “Dr. Rajesh told me Ani loved mangoes. This tree? It gives the sweetest fruit.” He plucked one off, held it out. “Here, for you to taste.”
“Thank you.” Something had been niggling at me about the mango tree since Ravi first mentioned it, but right then, it was the size of the tree that struck me. A lot of years had passed since Ani’s death, and yet hers was the name Diya had spoken right before she lost the battle with consciousness.
A wind chime silvered by time hung from one of the lower branches.
“Diya beta put that there,” Ravi said, following my gaze. “Just before the family moved to New Zealand. They’d been in Nadi for a few years by then, so Kushma and I were already here as caretakers. Dr. Sarita said Diya found it at the market one day and brought it home for Ani.”
Diya and Ani.
Two girls.
One clinging to life, one long dead.
Forever entwined.
“I think I’ll go talk to Kamal tomorrow,” I said to Ravi, something about the wind chime story disturbing to me.
“Since I’m here…and, well, I don’t think I’ll ever ask Diya.
It’s going to be hard enough for her to wake up and realize that she might’ve lost her entire family. I don’t want to bring this up.”
A sad nod of understanding. “You can go to his place anytime—he’s home all day. Smokes and goes for walks, but never too far. I’ll go ask Kushma to make up your bed now.” He handed over the key. “Just give it back to me before you go. I live in a wooden house to the left, behind the bananas.”
“Is there running water to the property?”
“Yes, from the tank in the trees. Good you reminded me—I’ll go turn on the flow on that end. Only take half a minute. And don’t worry—I don’t let it sit. Plenty of rain around here, easy to keep it refreshed in case the family decides to visit unexpectedly.
“Dr. Rajesh had me put in a filter,” he added. “So it’s safe to drink, but the doctors always said to boil it anyway. Kushma will also put some bottles of water from the shop in your kitchen, in case you don’t want to bother with boiling and cooling.”
After Ravi left to walk to the tank, I turned and went back to the house, the mango in hand.
It felt as if it had gained in weight in the time since Ravi handed it to me, and I suddenly found myself wondering if Ani’s ashes hadn’t been given to water, if she was buried under the tree, her blood and bones part of its veins…
I left the mango on the kitchen counter.
Abruptly aware of how sticky my skin felt, I decided to have a shower in the large bathroom down the hall from my room.
There was no soap stocked inside, but the water was ice-cold and pure, the droplets that fell from the old-fashioned showerhead fat and round.
Though I’d shivered when it first fell on me, I found myself lingering, letting the water soothe me, wash away all the pain and stress for a short window of time.
When I finally got out, I realized I’d forgotten to bring my duffel in with me. No towel, no fresh clothes.
And Ravi’s wife was meant to be making up the bed for me.
I opened the door a crack and said, “Hello? Anyone in here?”
Silence, the ripple of a curtain in the distance.
I called out again, just in case, but if the mysterious Kushma was inside the house, she wasn’t answering.
Hoping I wasn’t about to scandalize the caretaker’s wife, but loath to put on my sweaty, dusty clothes—oh, how Susanne would’ve laughed at my predicament—I kept an ear open as I walked naked down the hall.
But when I peeked into the bedroom, it was to see the bed neatly made up. On the end sat a stack of towels, beside that a small basket that held soap and other toiletries. She’d clearly been intending to stock up the bathroom for me before realizing it was already occupied.
Grateful for her and Ravi’s help, I used one of the towels to dry off, then hitched it around my hips and walked to fully open one of the larger windows.
The air was cool against my body. This, I thought, would be the most comfortable time of the day to hang around outside.
Could be Kamal would be happy to have a visitor at this time, but all at once, my bones ached from exhaustion.
It wasn’t about the amount of time that had passed since the fire, but the sheer weight of the stress I’d been under. Tonight at least, I could sleep, free from the threat of Ackerson swooping down on my head—or the media discovering the identity of Diya Prasad’s American fiancé.
My hands squeezed the window ledge.
—
I’d expected to spend the night tossing and turning despite my tiredness, but I slept for nine straight hours, as if my body just shut down.
No dreams. No haunting wind chimes. No fear.
Maybe it was the invisible but efficient Kushma’s cooking—she’d sent dinner over with her eldest son, who’d told me to leave the dishes on the porch table outside where I’d eaten.
Those dishes were gone when I walked outside into the comfortable morning air, and when I stepped down to stand on the grass, I could almost feel the thunder of the surf in the distance. I considered walking to it, watching the ocean under the morning light…but it felt like a betrayal to Diya.
“I can’t wait to show you Fiji!” Kisses pressed to my jaw that made me grin. “I’ll be Mrs. Tavish Advani to the whole world by then! We’ll walk hand in hand to the beach. It’s so beautiful, Tavi, better than any Caribbean resort, trust me.”
My fingers curling into my palm, I headed back inside to do a workout using my own body weight; I’d started exercising as a kid in order to burn off the rage I couldn’t acknowledge. Not then. Now I just liked it.
As for the rage…I’d dealt with it.
I’d just walked back outside after a quick shower to freshen up when Ravi appeared with a tray.
“Bula! I thought you’d be awake. Breakfast for you.
I know Diya beta likes bread, but we didn’t have any fresh, so Kushma made you roti, and eggs from our chickens—she made them with onions and chili, but she said she can do an overseas-style omelet for you if you want. ”
My heart twisted—Diya had made eggs for me that way, taught me how to roll them up in the flatbread called roti, so that it became a savory wrap. “It sounds delicious, thank you.”
Ravi put down the tray but didn’t stay to chat, saying he had to get his boys to school. “It’s a long drive every day, but education, you know.”
When I took the lace cloth cover off the tray, I discovered coffee and a plate of sliced papaya and what I thought might be guava, as well as the roti and eggs.
I was glad for the absence of mango. Though the coffee was instant, it still provided the necessary caffeine hit, but I slammed into a roadblock when I tried to eat the eggs.
Diya’s laughter in the kitchen of my condo, the way she’d told me to watch as she flipped the egg “like a maestro”—only to splatter it all over the floor.
We’d laughed like lunatics while cleaning it up, just two people who were stupid in love.
My wife had been so different back then, so full of a radiant light.
Coming home to New Zealand, I realized with the gift of distance, had stolen a piece of that light from her, replacing it with shadows black and ominous.
Why?
Was it the same reason she’d spoken Ani’s name when she thought she was dying?
Was it why her parents were dead? Because official confirmation or not, I knew the senior Prasads had to be dead. What other reason could there be for two respected doctors to vanish off the face of the planet on the same day their home burned to the ground?
Head chaotic with questions to which I had no answers, I ate the fruit and roti, then buried the eggs in the backyard, so as not to insult my hosts. I made a note to drop the mango under the tree, too, just another fallen fruit.
“What’ll we find if we dig up your metaphorical backyard?” Callum Baxter’s hard green eyes drilling into me in that tiny interrogation room where he’d held me for far too many hours. “How many women have you scammed?”
Dropping broken foliage over the small area I’d dug up to make it blend in with everything else, I went inside to wash my hands…and only realized I was gritting my teeth when I looked in the mirror. “Fuck you, Baxter, you piece of shit.”
He hadn’t won then, and he wouldn’t win now, not even in my head.