She stepped away and he followed her gait across the room. Despite the resolve to stay unaffected, the tingling sensation where her fingers grazed him still hummed along his nerve endings. It was a stroke of fire against his skin.
He caught himself still staring after her. He turned back around to find his patient’s speculative gaze on him. Leon gave a dry cough, went toward the edge of the table, and lifted Kapoor’s first leg to begin the motion of bike-pedaling.
After the first round of exercises, he hefted Kapoor onto his stomach and began to knead the backs of his calves.
He worked in silence for a while, focused on the technique he employed to keep up the blood flow. His patient lay still on the table, not reacting to anything he did. Leon hadn’t expected him to. Once the nerves in the body reconnected with each other, he’d be able to respond and do more.
After all, Leon wanted more than anything to make sure this patient of his could move.
“Leon, I’ve got a question to ask you.”
“Yeah, sure.” He finished the massage on the first calf and moved over to the other.
“Do you believe I stole your mother’s money?”
Leon’s fingers contracted on the man’s flesh while a heat wave flowed over his body. It seemed as if Gargi must have said something.
He chose his next words carefully. “You know who I am?”
“I do. It took me a moment to connect the dots, but I do remember your mother, Alma. Nice woman.”
Leon closed his eyes and straightened from his bent-over position. The memory of his mother’s tears as she sat on the porch assaulted him. “I don’t think you want to go there.”
Kapoor’s voice carried. “Obviously, I do.”
How much more did this man think he could take?
“When were you going to tell me about your relationship with Alma?”
“It’s none of your business who I am,” Leon snapped. “Now, I’m going to finish working on your calves and then we’ll start working on the arm exercises we started last week.”
“I didn’t steal your mother’s money, Leon.”
“I suggest you drop the act. I don’t believe you. Nothing you can say is ever going to change my mind. So, shut up.”
“Don’t you dare talk to my brother that way.”
Leon’s head lifted. Gargi’s entire petite frame bristled as she barreled toward him. “I don’t care what you think my brother did to your mother,” she clipped out. “But I will not have you talking down to him.”
Her dark eyes ignited. Leon welcomed the sight. They looked so much more alive.
“Get out of here.” She stabbed a tiny finger in the direction of the door. “You’re not welcome in this house anymore. I’ll call my contact and have them send over a new therapist.”
Leon backed away from the table. Maybe it was for the best. Despite his efforts to keep things on an even keel, being here had made things difficult. Not only due to his resentment towards her brother, but Gargi’s presence disturbed him in a way he had not expected. Mr. Cresswell, the director, may be upset, but at least—
“That’s not necessary, little sister.”
Kapoor’s words stiffened Leon’s back. What did he just say?
He turned toward the man as Gargi squeaked out, “What?”
“He doesn’t need to leave. I want him to stay and continue.”
Leon folded his arms. This was the last thing he’d expected to hear. “Why?”
“Before I answer, will you help me up?”
Leon did as he was asked. Gargi came forward and, with her help, though he didn’t require her assistance, they placed Kapoor back in the wheelchair. “Why?” Leon asked again once Kapoor was settled.
“It’s for a purely selfish reason, Leon.” An ironic look crossed his features. “I have no idea how far-reaching the effects of the scam that ruined my life go. Though you believe I’m guilty of stealing your mother’s money, you’ve helped me.”
A buzzing sound filled Leon’s head. “I’m doing my job.”
“Would anyone else who feels as you do be able to restrain themselves as you have?”
“Look, Kapoor, the only reason I’m here is to do what I can to make you mobile. I don’t pretend to be anything other than that. You stole my mama’s money, an old woman who trusted you with her life savings. Believe me, I’m not trying to make myself some saint. Don’t push your luck.”
Kapoor laughed and Leon’s lip curled. Was the jerk trying to—
“You see why he has to stay, Gargi? With an attitude like that, he’ll be able to get me pushing this wheelchair yet.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Dev, are you sure?”
Gargi gazed at her brother, her mouth a hard, flat line. Leon almost hoped she would override what her brother said. Just end his assignment and they wouldn’t have to live in this eggshell environment anymore.
“I’m sure. The sooner Leon is able to help me move my chair, the sooner you’ll be able to lead your own life again.”
A flurry of foreign language burst from her lips. Leon’s eyebrow arched into his forehead as she stalked closer to her brother, fists balled up. Her arms flailed about as she stood in front of the wheelchair. It didn’t take an interpreter to see she was upset.
Once again, Gargi reminded him of his mother’s dog, Bugsy. Bugsy could get so worked up when he perceived a threat. His whole body shivered like he’d caught a cold. That irritating yap of his could drive a poor soul to cut their ears off to escape.
Gargi’s English had no accent to it at all, so he was surprised she spoke so fluently in another language. The ebb and flow of it as she berated her brother had a certain cadence to it, like music. Why that should fascinate him at a moment when it should be the furthest thing from his mind, he didn’t understand.
Gargi’s long black hair swished as she rolled her head to emphasize whatever point she was making. Her slender brown hand landed on her hip in a universal habit every man in every corner of the earth understood.
Whatever she said made Kapoor’s jaw clench and his eyes narrow. When she paused for a breath, her brother responded, “It doesn’t matter. And let’s not be rude. Speak in English.”
Gargi didn’t miss a beat. “Fine! If you want to allow laal sher, who thinks so little of you, to be here then I’ll let him stay. But remember, dear big brother, you were the one who made that call.”
Leon wished he hadn’t understood her words. The disdain in her voice made him squirm, and he shifted from foot to foot. He had no reason to require her approval. After all, he was the one who had been wronged.
And why did she call him ‘Lyle’ again? It wasn’t as if she didn’t know his name. What was that all about?
“All right, Bugsy.” Leon couldn’t have taken back the name even if he wanted to.
Gargi whirled on him. “What did you call me? Are you calling me a dog?” Radiant heat sparked from her eyes and resembled twin flames. Her black hair settled around her shoulders in a misty cloud. Those tiny nostrils of hers flared while a dull flush highlighted her cheeks. Any other man would have trod lightly. Leon’s heart hammered strangely in his chest.
“Not at all,” he whispered. “Not at all.”
Had something transmitted from him to her? He wasn’t sure, but a bit of her bluster faded away as their gazes locked. Had she somehow picked up on the fact that his use of the term, Bugsy, was a kind of endearment?
She cleared her throat and folded her arms. “You’re only here because Dev says so. Don’t try anything, or you’ll be sorry.”
“How are you going to do that?” He almost added ‘Bugsy,’ but figured it wouldn’t do to have his eyes scratched out. Instead, he taunted, “Jump me like you did last week? Real intimidating stuff there, Gargi.”
“Don’t underestimate me, Leon Reckley,” she warned with an upward lift of her chin. “If you try anything, I’ll have you fired.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Gargi woke up to the
sound of the waves slapping against the beach. She dragged her hair back from her eyes and twisted around to glance at the clock. Six on Thursday.
In three hours, Leon would arrive as he had for the past three weeks.
Last Friday, the prison representative came to evaluate Dev’s progress, although there wasn’t much to report. He was still as motionless as he was the week before. She’d stood by while the woman asked several questions but Gargi could tell her words meant nothing. After all, the non-disclosure statements she and Dev signed afforded the prison every advantage.
Gargi shook her head. In hindsight, she should have listened to Miguel.
“We can’t do anything about it now,” she spoke into the quiet of the early morning. Time enough to think of mistakes later on.
Gargi pushed the covers away and sat up, peering through the slit of the sheer curtains covering the window. A cold, gentle breeze blew through the narrow opening. It caressed the exposed flesh of her arms.
Toying with a loose thread on the edge of her cotton night gown, her thoughts returned to Leon. Several times she’d been tempted to call up her contact with the state and request a replacement therapist. Why hadn’t she?
The answer had eluded her until last night. The Kapoor pride. The one element of her make-up that sustained and condemned her at different points in her short life. It was imperative she prove her brother innocent. Nothing else mattered.
She tore the loose thread from her night gown and stared at it as it lay in the center of her hand.
Perhaps that wasn’t entirely the reason why she allowed Leon to stay on in his capacity. Maybe it had to do with something much more basic. What that something was, she couldn’t pinpoint. Each time she tiptoed her way down that mental path, a bout of apprehension gave her pause. She resisted delving into her reasoning for letting Leon stay.
Shaking the thread away, Gargi flopped back down on the bed and fixed her eyes on the nondescript white ceiling.
Life was never supposed to look like this. No longer did she act as Dev’s assistant, hostess, and event planner. She was now the caregiver and sister of a convict. Wrongfully accused but, nevertheless, nothing at this present moment could change it.
Plus, there was something else about Dev’s therapy bothering her.
Shouldn’t the physical therapy be working by now? She didn’t expect Dev to jump up and run a marathon, but there should be some sort of progress since they’d begun this treatment. However, the other day when Leon left, Dev’s demeanor changed. He became listless and quiet. When she asked Dev how he was feeling, he simply said ‘tired.’
What did “tired” mean for someone with Lyme disease? Was it physical exhaustion? Was it the disease at work?
She sat up and reached for the laptop she kept on the nightstand. Logging onto the Lyme community forum she’d become part of, she browsed through the various threads and discussions, stopping on one person’s post.
“This disease always makes me tired. Tired. Although some of my family and friends look at me and think, she’s okay, I’m not. It wipes me out to where I can’t do anything. I want to be able to play with my kids, but I’m wiped out. What can I do?”
Several people responded. Gargi copied and pasted their responses into an ever-growing document on her laptop. The problem she found with Lyme disease was the lack of information. It seemed as if few doctors had knowledge about it. Most of the information she’d uncovered came from those who did their own research, and from their own experiences.
Would this soon be something her brother would have to do?
Gargi blinked and a drop of liquid trailed from the corner of her eye. “Silly girl.” She wiped away the tear with an impatient hand. “Stop acting silly.”
Closing the lid to the computer, she placed it back on top of the night stand and got out of bed. She stuffed her arms into her robe, and headed to the bathroom across the hallway.
“Gargi!”
Dev’s voice stopped her in midstride and she detoured to his room.
A single shaft of light spilled into the room from the window. “What’s going on?” She came around the bed and sat on the edge, pushing the button at the base of the lamp on the night stand. “What do you need?”
His chestnut-brown eyes looked at her from under his thick lashes. “I didn’t need anything,” he whispered. “I just—”
Gargi shifted until she sat cross-legged on the bed. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I’m sorry for everything.”
Her head tilted to the side. The last thing she’d expected to hear was this. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about.”
“You’ve given up everything for me,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard a word she said. “Your job, your home, your life, everything to help me. I didn’t deserve it then, and I don’t deserve it now.”
“Bhaii, what is this?” she scolded gently, but her heart beat faster. Uncanny how his words mirrored her thoughts.
“I guess some part of me took it for granted, you know?” His gaze drifted away from her, to the ceiling. A thoughtful note to his words lent them a melancholy air. “I trusted the wrong people. I should have been more alert, and more aware of things going on around me.”
“Dev, you can’t help you were fooled by those people.” She scooted closer to the head of the bed.
“When you’re in that cell, all you have is time to think. Think. And then think some more. I kept wishing I could go back and warn myself. But I can’t. We have to live with our mistakes.” He sighed, a mournful thing twisting her insides. “I didn’t have any checks and balances in place. If I had, maybe I would have seen things a bit clearer.”
Gargi pushed back a lock of his hair. “Mujhe pata hai.”
Dev looked back at her. “Papa told me you wouldn’t allow him to find a husband for you. I think you should let him do it.”
“What?” She straightened. “Come again?”
“You don’t need to keep taking care of me anymore. This life isn’t the one you were meant to have.”
Gargi gave a shaky laugh. “You’re talking silly, Dev. Although I told Papa no, it didn’t stop him from bringing Aadvik to the house two weeks ago.”
“The guy seemed nice enough.”
A long, exasperated sigh escaped her. “Aadvik had the voice of a bird. Do you really think I’d want to listen to that for the rest of my life?”
Dev’s lips tilted upward. “I did notice, chhotee bahan.”
“Further, he was so skinny,” she went on as her mind picked at the corners of Aadvik’s image and assessed it “Bony, long, and skinny.”
“We can’t all be wrestlers.”
Gargi rolled her eyes, but stiffened when Dev said, “Papa and I want to make sure you’re taken care of, that’s all.”
She cupped the caps of her knees. “I’ve been taking care of myself for some time now. I’m not helpless.”
“If it wasn’t for me, you’d have been married to Rahul by now.”
Unhooking her legs, she leapt from the bed and over to the window to pull aside the curtains. “I don’t want to talk about Rahul.”
“Gargi, you never discuss it. Three years and you won’t breathe a word of it. It was my fault he decided not to marry you and—”
“Chup, Dev.” Her throat constricted around her plea. Unexpected, unwelcomed, useless tears swelled in her eyes. Gargi willed them back to their ducts.
She whispered, “Let’s not. It hurts too much to talk about. Let it go.”
“Chhotee bahan, let Papa find a match for you. Let him make up for my mistake.”
She stared out the window, to the vast bay before her. Lively pink rays brightened the horizon and scattered dawn’s light everywhere. In spite of the beauty of another day, the warmth couldn’t penetrate the coldness in her heart.
“If I were free, and able to move, I’d find a match for you myself. I’d find a good Indian man to love and take care of you. I wouldn’t be as selfish a
s I was four years ago. I’d give him my blessing to make you happy.” His voice rose with fervor. “It’s my fault we’re in this mess. I see that now. Don’t let my mistakes keep you here.”
Dev’s words brought up Rahul’s image against her will. A man of a rare, masculine beauty. From the dark, roasted-coffee-bean tone of his skin to the lithe and muscled physique of his body. Her fingertips tingled in memory of caressing the satiny black hair—
No, she wouldn’t, couldn’t go back to that place. With staunch determination, she slammed the lid on Rahul and blanked her mind.
Turning from the window, she pasted on a smile. “What do you want for breakfast?”
“Gargi—”
“That’s quite enough, Dev. Enough.”
From his expression of defeat she knew she’d gotten through to him. Maybe this wasn’t the life she’d chosen for herself, but it was the one she was given. If she had to spend the rest of her days on earth taking care of her brother, then she would. It was the least she could do. God’s will in all things.
Dev had been right in one aspect: Leon didn’t give up on him. His motivation for not giving up had to do with seeing Dev back in jail. Even so, the man worked tirelessly.
Yesterday, toward the end of the session, Leon had begun to massage her brother’s inert limbs again. Without being conscious of it, she found herself transfixed by the way the muscles in his upper arms bunched.
Dark reddish hair dusted Leon’s arms and fingers. Sometimes the tiny hairs caught the light in an odd fashion, and caused them to resemble minute threads of red-gold.
Laal sher.
When she glanced up from watching the play of muscles on Leon’s frame, her brother’s dark gleam had been on her. She’d flushed like she’d done a bad thing, and made herself busy by washing clothes.
“Gargi?”
She blinked to refocus and saw her brother’s eyes on her. Exhaling, she straightened her back. “Well, let’s get you washed and dressed. Then I’ll make you breakfast.”
Time to Say Goodbye (Michigan Sweet Romance) Page 8
