by Sonali Dev
“How accurate are they?” Emma had asked her.
“I’ve never really seen one bent at quite that angle, but I’m no expert,” Trisha had answered.
“Bloody hell,” Emma had said. “That’s exactly what DJ said.”
As entirely useless information went, that had been good to know.
Trisha wiped her hands one more time, possibly setting a record for the longest time spent wiping hands in a bathroom, when J-Auntie walked in, her tight bun tighter than ever. But she was wearing a salwar kurta instead of her usual slacks and shirt and something about that tilted Trisha’s world a little bit.
“You look lovely, J-Auntie,” Trisha said.
“You think so?” Instead of her usual stiff nod, the older woman smiled and patted the beaded chiffon of the kurta. “Thank you,” she added when Trisha nodded. “You too, beta. As always.”
Trisha had the oddest urge to cry.
“His Highness is looking for you,” she said before disappearing into a stall. “He’s waiting outside.”
Trisha pushed out of the ladies’ room and sure enough, HRH was perched in the pretty alcove outside the restrooms, in all his HRH glory, making the wing chair look like a throne.
“Join me.” His tone was imperious but there was something in his eyes from a very long time ago. Trisha sank down into the chair next to him.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said a bit gruffly.
Wait, were those violins wailing or was that the sound of her head exploding? “Wouldn’t miss it for all the threats in the world, Dad.” No, she didn’t say that. Well, she did, but she left out all the threats in.
He grinned. Actually grinned at her for the first time in years. “Good job with the dinner.”
“I’ll let Nisha know.”
He leaned forward and patted her cheek. She almost passed out from his display of affection. “I heard what you did. You worked with a caterer for Yash.” There was genuine wonder in his voice.
“Have you seen the caterer?” she wanted to say. Instead she met his eyes. “You shouldn’t be surprised, Dad. There’s very little I wouldn’t do for Yash.”
He nodded. “I can see that. And I should never have doubted it.” His eyes were heavy with exhaustion and Trisha’s heart squeezed a little. This truly was the culmination of a lifetime of work for him.
“Yash’s speech was something, wasn’t it?” Her brother had completely outdone himself. He’d opened with the story about their Animal Farm book, making everyone laugh with the moralistic adages that had become woven into their personalities. Then he’d led into all the things that had made him who he was: growing up in the Bay Area with Ma and HRH’s activism and uncompromising standards, walking again after every doctor had deemed it impossible, being with the same woman for twenty years. Then he’d gone there and talked about family values, and what that really meant to him. Was it just having a picture-perfect family that went to church? Or was it loyalty and fidelity and taking care of all the generations of your family, and loving your significant other enough that you respected her wishes to follow her own dreams? To everyone’s dismay, Naina hadn’t flown in for the event. Yash had shown no pain, and he’d spared no punches. What had sealed the deal and driven the crowd insane was his declaration that right and wrong were not nebulous concepts, they weren’t based on political agendas. Right was right and wrong was wrong and he planned to bring that back into governance.
“Nobody who ever hears Yash speak would ever vote for anyone else,” she said.
Her father smiled. “If only it were that easy. But yes, I’m very proud.” The fierceness in his eyes backed up those words. Why had she resented his ambition so much? She believed what he believed, wanted for the country what he wanted. “And not just proud of Yash. I’m proud of all of you.”
“Does that mean I’m not banished anymore?” No, of course, she didn’t say that. She already knew she wasn’t. What she did say was, “Thanks, Dad. Yash wouldn’t be where he is today without you. Actually, none of us would be.”
HRH leaned forward and placed a hand on hers. “Nonetheless, asking you not to do that surgery was going too far.”
Could she text this conversation to all her siblings?
“It was. But you were right to be concerned about Julia being back in town, about her going after my patients. I’m sorry Yash has to pay for my error in judgment forever,” she said, her voice surprisingly firm. “But my biggest mistake was in being so angry with myself, so guilty that I thought only of myself, that I withdrew from my role in the family. It didn’t mean I supported her. I want to be involved now. I want to make sure Yash wins.”
In all her life, Trisha didn’t think she’d seen her father cry. Not even when Yash had his accident. He’d held Nisha, Ashna, and her. Kept Vansh on his lap the entire time they waited outside surgery. But he’d stayed dry-eyed, strong and immovable, the way they’d needed him to be. Now there was the slightest sheen of moisture in his eyes. “We’ll find you a way to be involved that doesn’t make you want to poke your—or my—eyes out.”
She smiled. “Good thing you never back down from a challenge.” Yes, she did say that out loud and he smiled and stood.
They walked back to the ballroom together, where Ma brightened as soon as she saw them. She’d obviously been waiting for them.
“How’s my most brilliant child doing?” Ma said, linking arms with her.
“I think he’s done pretty well today,” Trisha said with a grin.
Her mother gave her the original Glare of Elegance.
HRH dropped a kiss on her head and walked away. Seriously, she would never be able to speak again. Ever.
“Your sisters and I are having a drink at the bar,” Ma said, her eyes following HRH with the smug devotion that had been the cornerstone of Trisha’s life and her heart did another needless tug in the direction of the kitchen. “We were missing our world traveler. Join us?”
She followed her mother.
Most of the guests had left. A congressman and the mayor were at a corner table talking to Yash, Neel, and Vansh—their baby brother had flown home with her. HRH joined them. It was like the old days when the men retired to their cigars and cognac, except there were no cigars or cognac, just really expensive scotch.
Every party Trisha had ever been to ended like this, with the men and the women separating out, as though there was only so much of each other’s conversation they could take. This was actually her favorite part of any party, the winding down with just her sisters and her mother. Her brothers would join them soon enough.
Nisha kissed her cheek. “You look so gorgeous, Shasha!”
“You did a good job on her, Nisha,” Ma said.
Nisha had “worked her like a canvas,” getting someone to “define her curls,” which just meant she felt like she was carrying around a bouquet of flowers atop her head. “Yes, thank you for making me gorgeous.” Trisha picked up a glass of wine and lifted it at Nisha, then at Ma. “Well, both of you, I guess.”
Ashna smiled from behind the bar, leaned over to take the glass from her, and handed her another. “This is the one you want.”
Trisha took a sip. Woah! This was definitely the one she wanted. It was rich and filled her entire mouth then settled like warmth deep into her taste buds, reminding her of the dinner.
No, don’t think about his food.
Ashi threw her the Look. “The chef recommended this one for after that saffron crème brûlée.”
Her mother beckoned for the glass and took a sip, studying her.
Trisha smiled for her.
“Nisha didn’t have to make you beautiful. You’re already beautiful, beta, and you’re my most brilliant one, too.” She tried to push one curl behind Trisha’s ear, but it bounced right back.
“I should go away more often,” Trisha said.
Ma gave her a sad smile. “I know I should tell you the good things more. Sometimes when I try to remember your childhoods, only all the mistake
s I ever made come back.”
Ma was in a pensive mood, which was not good at all for the lump that seemed permanently lodged in Trisha’s throat these days. HRH had already not helped with that.
“There were no mistakes, Ma,” Nisha said, because she was the one who always knew what to say to Ma.
“Well, no big ones, I hope.” This time Ma tucked a lock of hair behind Nisha’s ear and it responded as hair was supposed to and stayed there. Then she pulled Ashi across the bar and kissed her forehead. “Look at how you all turned out. I’m not saying that wasn’t some amazing parenting.”
Both Nisha and Ashi rolled their eyes without losing any of their worshipfulness. Another one of their many good-daughter skills.
Trisha sat down close to Ma and snuggled up to her. “But there were so many little slips. Like when I yelled at you when you got a bad grade in that art class instead of sympathizing with how hard it must have been. You loved art class so much.”
But she had sucked at it.
Ma smiled another wistful smile and took another sip of Trisha’s wine. “Or like when I asked Nisha how she could have done something as stupid as run a stop sign when I should have asked her how she was after she totaled that car her junior year. But she was calling me. Of course I knew she was okay. I can always tell from your voices, you know.”
She wrapped her arm around Trisha’s shoulders and rubbed. “Especially this one. Her voice gets dry and raspy as though in trying to hide her sadness she strips it of everything.”
Warmth prickled beneath Trisha’s eyelids and that dry raspiness scraped along her throat.
“And Ashi chatters. It’s the only time the girl chatters. All that silence and then when she’s afraid or lost, she tries to drown out the sound of her panic with her words.” Ashi handed Trisha another glass.
“And me, Ma?” Nisha said needily, and they all laughed, because yay, Nisha being normal!
“You get mean.”
“I do not!”
“You do,” Ma said calmly. “You forget to be poised and patient when you’re really upset. Like you’re angry that your poise didn’t keep the bad thing from happening. The opposite of this one, who gets poised when she’s upset.” Ma turned to Trisha again.
“Who knew you were such a therapist,” Nisha said. “And this is me being mean, because I am upset right now.”
Ashi popped the cork off another bottle of wine without any of her chef’s finesse and topped everyone up, except Nisha, of course. Nisha had told the Farm about the baby, and they were all dealing with it using the ostrich theory and pretending that there was absolutely nothing to be afraid of. “To Ma!”
“To Ma,” they all said and Ma downed half her wineglass just as Yash strolled over, showing not a trace of the exhaustion Trisha was feeling just thinking about him having spoken to two hundred people today.
“To my oldest baby,” Ma said and took another sip.
“I think your youngest baby needs you right now to hold him back a little bit,” Yash said, throwing a look over his shoulder at Vansh who was grinning at HRH and three other men who looked like they were going to have joint coronaries.
“Is Vansh being Vansh?” Ashi said.
“Yup, he’s making a case for giving California back to Mexico.”
They all groaned, and Ma took another long sip and then went off to save the day.
A silent something passed between Yash, Ashi, and Nisha. They had been treating her like someone on the verge of a breakdown all evening. “I’m fine,” she wanted to scream, but she just took another sip of her wine.
“I think we’re all squared away,” a voice said behind her, a voice she did not need to hear right now, not with this particular audience watching.
All three of them made a show of looking over her and around her at the man whose presence she could suddenly feel with every part of her being. It had been thirteen days, five hours, and some fourteen minutes since she’d laid eyes on him.
Do not close your eyes.
All three of them grinned widely at him.
“Fabulous dinner.” “Exquisite.” “That chicken makhani was the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” “And those corn papad crisps. I thought I was going to die.”
Trisha’s ears felt like there was a tornado swirling between them. Her entire body felt like it was going to melt outward. She felt color rise across her skin. Never in her life had she experienced such mortification.
DJ cleared his throat. “Hullo, Trisher,” his deep vibrating voice said and everyone fell silent. “May I have a word, please? Alone. If you don’t mind.”
Don’t shake. Don’t cry. Don’t do anything but turn around. Turn around!
Two siblings jumped off their barstools in tandem and one cousin sprang up straight. God, could she make them disappear? Please.
Yash placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her around.
“Hi.” Fabulously. Articulate.
DJ smiled and her limbs loosened. But it was a tentative smile, filled with questions.
“Can we step outside for a moment?” He gestured to the French doors that led to the terrace.
Someone pushed her from behind and she started walking.
DJ WATCHED TRISHA standing on the balcony beneath a cloudless star-sprinkled sky and a sense of déjà vu rolled over him. He’d seen her standing like this on this very terrace just about a month ago. How on earth had he gotten her so wrong?
The ocean breeze made springy locks of hair bounce around her face and fall across her cheeks like stray ribbons of confetti left floating around after a celebration. She used the backs of her wrists to shove them off her face. He could almost hear her mentally cursing whoever had decided to do this to her hair.
Their eyes met and her cheeks colored. For all the complexity of her brain, there was such a simplicity to her. And he’d missed it, no matter how much it had smacked him in the face.
He walked toward her, and she pressed a fist into her belly, trying to affect calm with that straightening of her spine and squaring of her shoulders that he had mistaken for uptightness. “Thanks for agreeing to speak to me,” he said.
Her eyes brightened then dimmed in quick succession. Hope and tentativeness. Had she always laid down her armor around him like this? And he had returned it with pushing her away. Insulted her so much the fact that she was standing here with him felt like a miracle.
“Is it Emma?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Emma’s fine. Healing fast. Can I thank you again for everything you did for her?”
She nodded fiercely, those curls they had teased out of her usually softer waves running amok around her head. “DJ, please. Don’t thank me for doing my job.”
He reached for the hand she was pressing into her belly and she started at his touch. But then she pushed into it. “It wasn’t your job to find Jane. To give me chance after chance when I didn’t heed your warnings about Julia.” He took her hand and loosened her fingers, unwrapping her fist. “I was an arse.”
A smile sprang to her lips. The vulnerability in her eyes made the oddest contrast with it. “I was the one who was the arse,” she said, swallowing. “I was awful. I was all the things you accused me of being.”
“Only at first. But once you’d hurt my ego, I stopped seeing you, I stopped being fair.” The more unfair he’d been, the more fair she’d become. “You fought your dad. You were willing to give up your family to treat Emma.”
She made a choking sound and his heart twisted painfully. “It wasn’t for Emma.”
He searched her eyes. She let his hand go, her fingers trailing from his grip. He felt the loss everywhere.
“I want to say it was for you. It was, a little bit. I wanted to not be the person you thought I was. But, really, Dad was out of line. To be fair I was out of line for bringing him to that point. It doesn’t matter, I would have done the surgery no matter who told me not to. No matter who the patient was.”
And that summed her up and s
ummed up why he would do anything for her to give him another chance.
“Not a single thing I said to you that day at Tangent was true,” DJ said. “I am so incredibly sorry. Will you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive. You . . . you were right about everything. You changed my life.”
“Am I allowed to say you changed mine? I was so blind, Trisha.”
She swallowed and reached for his hand again, the tips of their fingers touching, stroking. “DJ, are you trying to tell me something? Because there are all sorts of conclusions I want to jump to right now. But we’ve done too much of that already and I don’t want to be an arse again.” She smiled but there it was again, that painful tentativeness marring her need to fly forward.
“I am. I am trying to say something.” He took a step closer to her and her eyes dilated into huge pools of hope. She had the most beautiful eyes, the most beautiful lips, the most beautiful face. She swayed closer and tilted her head back, her lips parting in a way that nearly made him forget what he’d been meaning to say.
But he had to say it. “There are things we have to talk about first.”
She stayed like that for a moment, leaning toward him as though the world had suddenly tilted in his direction. He could feel her wanting to argue, but then she talked herself into pulling back and letting him have his say. “Okay.”
“You asked me that day what Julia was holding over my head and I lied. It wasn’t the money.”
“I know,” her lips said, but her face said obviously and he almost leaned over and kissed her at that.
“Julia threatened to go to the press with something that could harm Yash’s campaign if I didn’t sign the release. And I knew what that would do to you, so I signed.”
A strange look crossed her face, as though she wanted to throw herself at him and pluck Julia’s head off at the same time. “I’m so sorry she did that to you.” Then a hint of an impish smile slipped through. “Good thing I know medical law better than the two of you.”
He had to smile at that. “But it’s not just about signing the release. What she’s dug up could be a problem,” he said softly. “It’s important to me that you know before we can get to the conversation we stopped earlier.”
