Chapter 19
Nineteen
At the party, professors and administration folk buzzed around tables of food bursting with savory meat, decadent vegetables, and a plethora of colorful sweets.
I plucked a skewer spiced with coriander, cumin, and turmeric, then piled several gulab jamun—balls filled with milk solids and soaked in rosewater syrup until they swelled—into a tiny pyramid on my plate.
A jubilant, festive mood ran through the party as the musicians played and the guests formed a circle, taking turns dancing through the middle. Others clapped in time to the music.
I recognized a few people and made light conversation but mostly hung back and observed.
Rohan’s uncle Dadabhai reigned over it all, greeting guests and encouraging them to eat as they lined up to pay homage to him.
He looked stately, like a raj from one of the Indian provinces, with his well-oiled beard and vibrant vest beneath his tailored coat.
I spotted Benjamin first, half a head taller than the man who must have been his father, the resemblance uncanny.
Bartholomew, a man in his forties, a touch of gray at his temples, stood before his son, surveying the party, his suit impeccable.
Benjamin had his father’s looks, but both lacked Jacques’s warm charm.
There was a tightness in his father’s mouth, and his dark-blue eyes glinted like ice.
It was like being in a hall of mirrors, the familiar distorted into the unrecognizable.
The ghosts of my previous lives had never shown up like this, and I wondered if Death was playing some ultimate trick on me.
I faded behind a wooden lattice as they passed, taking a place far from the main group.
It was silly to hide. There was no way they could know who I was or recognize me.
Jacques would have had no cause to bring me up.
I would have become a relic from his past. Still, I stayed in place as they stopped on the opposite side of the trellis, clapping along with everyone else.
“How much longer, Father? The food and music are horrible.”
“One day, I hope you’ll get the idea of discretion through that fool head of yours.” Bartholomew glanced about.
Benjamin shrank back as he picked up a gulab jamun and stuffed it in his mouth. Only I was close enough to see him wince before he forced a smile and swallowed it down.
I skirted the pillar and waded through the crowd while searching for Rohan. He was in a circle of friends, holding court and in the middle of a joke. It must have landed, since raucous laughter broke out, and they clapped each other on the back. He caught my eye and excused himself.
“Enjoying the party?” he asked.
“Quite. I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself this much. And you?”
“It’s been difficult.” He smoothed his beautiful fingers along his facial hair.
“Oh?”
“I’m having difficulty focusing when all I can see is you.”
I wanted to enjoy the pleasure his words elicited, but made the mistake of glancing at Bartholomew, whose eyes were on me, wide open as if he’d seen a ghost. He seemed to take an involuntary step toward me, the puzzle evident on his face. I didn’t need my gut to know that the ghost was me.
“Excuse me, Rohan, I need to adjust my dress,” I said, quickly turning on my heel.
“Okay, I—”
I didn’t hear the rest of what he said as I left his side, heading in the opposite direction of Bartholomew, joining the crowd. He wove through the crowd at the same rate. I could see Benjamin not far behind from the corner of my eye.
I was near the door when a sharp tug came at my elbow.
“Who are you?” Bartholomew demanded, his expression dark as his eyes swept my face.
“Excuse me?” I jerked my elbow back. “What business is it of yours?”
“I’ll mind that,” he said as he invaded my space. “Who are you?”
“I’m a university student. And I am a guest here. Who are you?” I backed toward the door. There were too many people staring, too many witnesses for something I could not explain.
His eyes bored into me. “My grandfather kept a miniature of a woman hidden in his desk. As a child, I stared at it constantly. Yet he would never speak of her. You look exactly as she—” He covered his mouth with disbelief. “Exactly as she.”
“Is there a problem here?” Rohan and his uncle cut through the crowd, attempting to calm the situation.
Bartholomew relaxed his face, patching on a smile, transitioning alarmingly from anger to ease.
“Of course not. I merely thought her an acquaintance.” He glanced at me, but darkness lingered there. I moved closer to Rohan.
Rohan’s uncle frowned. “You will not mishandle a guest of mine in my house, sir. Our family and conglomeration only have members of the most upright character!”
Bartholomew blanched. “I’m sorry, sir. All a misunderstanding.” He glanced about; guests stared at us in confusion. “We’ll take our leave. Come on, Benjamin,” he muttered.
They hustled out of the party as the murmurs rose. Thankfully, the musicians played their instruments, filling the silence and restarting the conversation.
“What was all that?” Rohan glanced between me and the Boudreaux family, hastily retreating.
“As he said, it was truly a misunderstanding. Please, you have guests. I must take my leave.”
Rohan’s uncle acknowledged me apologetically before returning to his nephew. “Come, my boy, I have others to introduce you to.”
I felt Rohan’s eyes boring questions at my back as I left, his uncle guiding him deeper into the crowd. Before I started for home, I waited outside to ensure that Benjamin and his father hadn’t lingered. I’d learned long ago the trouble that men worked in the shadows.
Deep into the night, sudden sharp cracks against my window woke me.
I sat up, instantly alert. It had taken me ages to fall asleep, the night’s events replaying in my mind.
I kept seeing Bartholomew’s face as he questioned me—his anger.
Two more objects thwacked the window frame. Had he somehow followed me?
I threw back the covers and carefully drew the curtains to spot the source of the noise. Rohan stood in my courtyard with a small clutch of pebbles, white moonlight casting a halo around him.
I unlatched the window, letting in the cool evening breeze. “What are you doing here?”
“I knocked, but no one answered,” he said sheepishly, his face endearing under the soft glow. “Forgive me for this forwardness. I don’t know what has come over me.”
“It’s after midnight.” As bewildered as I was by his visit, I had to admit a part of me was thrilled.
“I wanted to check on you after the party. I’ve only managed to slip away. I thought I’d see if you were up.”
“By damaging the side of my house?”
He ducked his head. “If it makes a difference, I chose the smallest pebbles.”
“You shouldn’t be here, Rohan.” As I spoke the words, I smiled.
“You are all I can think about.”
But for how long? Letting someone into my heart—again—felt like a fool’s errand.
Who would see me, who would think of me beyond Death?
What could I offer, except a few good years?
Rohan was a family man. Jacques had been one, too.
He’d wanted me to carry his children. Having faced his descendant, I was glad it had never been a choice.
And yet, Jacques had carried his memory of me, over generations, despite our distance.
Maybe I didn’t need crowds of people to know me.
Maybe I just needed one.
“Come up, you’ll catch a chill. I’ll put on the kettle.” I shrugged on a thin silk robe and hurried down the stairs to open the door. Rohan was still dressed in his party clothes, a little timid and unsure, but there nonetheless.
We settled into my receiving room, him sitting on one couch and I on the other, the air thick and electric. I lit a lamp, aware I was in my nightclothes and of the precise distance he sat across from me.
“I appreciate the concern, Rohan, but I’m fine. There was no harm done.”
“Oh, but there was. I’d thought you’d like to know the result of your encounter and your keen observation.”
I put the kettle on and brought him a cup of tea. “It isn’t chai, but I hope it’ll do.”
He tipped his head in appreciation and blew on the hot liquid before taking a sip.
He set the cup down. “After the scene Boudreaux caused, I told my uncle of your misgivings, and what you’d overheard.
No sooner had we discussed it than another investor approached my uncle and told him of a double deal the Boudreaux family planned.
They meant to nullify the land deal, which would undercut all our shares and cause their price to fall.
They would bet on the short, thereby raking in the funds.
That would have left us in ruins, and the land in foreign hands. ”
I gasped. I hadn’t imagined the scale of the betrayal. “Could they do that to you?”
“Lesser men have tried greater.” He reached out for my hand. “The point is, because of you, my uncle believed what he was told. We were able to pull out of the agreement before it was signed, thanks to you.”
“Based on what you said, it would’ve been discovered eventually.”
“Your modesty is heartwarming. But maybe, just maybe, I’m giving you the credit you deserve.”
Our thumbs brushed together for a moment before he drew away. “I am glad your family’s business is safe.”
“I have something for you—a gift. In thanks.”
I hadn’t noticed he’d brought in a small bundle.
He offered it to me and I was too eager to open it, revealing a glorious dupatta—a long red shawl stitched with golden thread depicting birds, vines, and flowers, with intricate beading along the edge.
The whisper-soft fabric rippled in the breeze from the open window, swirling around us.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, clutching it against my heart.
“Not as beautiful as you.”
“You are too charming.” I playfully poked his chest, tempted to linger. I shook my head to dispel the snap of desire. “It’s the middle of the night. Where did you buy this?”
“I got it on Brick Lane, just after our dinner there. I had been saving it. Then I thought, ‘Why wait?’ I felt drawn to it, as it appears I feel drawn to you.”
“Rohan,” I said gently. “You are so kind, but does . . . does your uncle know that you’re here?”
He pressed his lips together, his expression rueful. The answer was clear. I stood, and he followed, slowing as we reached the door. I held it for him.
“Thank you for the gift. I hope you have a good night.”
He closed the distance between us. “You were brave enough to tell me the truth about the Boudreaux family, now I must do the same. The truth is, being with you is the first thing I have ever wanted for myself, outside of my family duties. When I saw you across the lecture hall, something came alive in here.” He gripped the place over his heart.
“I believe it to be love. I am no longer consumed solely by my duty and responsibility. Instead, I think of my brief moments with you, and the simplicity of, well, being, and I imagine I could have thousands of those moments with you.”
“Rohan,” I pleaded. Thank goodness for my solid door. I had something sturdy to keep me upright.
“Please, Arden, let me finish. I know of my uncle’s plans. But when I’m with you, I think of more.”
I told myself to return to bed, but instead I reached for him. He wrapped his arms around me, his heart thundering through the thin fabric of his shirt. The dupatta tangled between us.
“I can’t promise you anything.” Especially forever, I thought darkly. No one can ever stay long enough for that.
“All I’m asking of you is your company.”
The honesty of his words lay between us. He wanted time free of duty, and I wanted time to be known, fully known, by someone existing on this earth. Would it be so terrible if we were to comfort each other for a little while?
I said slowly, “Could we do simply that, then? Enjoy time together? Without promises or expectations?”
“You wouldn’t think me callous?”
“I’d think you are brave enough to ask for what you want and strong enough to share your feelings with me.” I traced the fine stitching on his chest with my fingertip. “You are also one of the most brilliant minds I have ever known.”
I shut the door behind him, then led him upstairs. That night we did more than lie together, enjoying each other’s warmth and company—forgetting our duty to the world and focusing on only each other.