Then there were several other occasions when she had noticed, or rather, sensed his eyes on her, and felt a mild rush of excitement. She remembered explaining it away as awkwardness and embarrassment. It had been neither; it was sexual attraction and love in its blossoming phase. Never having experienced anything like it before, she had been blind to it.
But now she knew. And she was trapped, ensnared by her own mind, her own heart. Married to one man and trying to hide from him, on the one hand—in love with another man and attempting to run from him, on the other. This situation was even worse than her predicament some weeks ago. Her heart had not been involved then.
Fear engulfed her. And this time the sense of dread was even more powerful than what she’d felt on the night she was to be incinerated. She had the option of fleeing then. Now she was truly trapped. How could she run from her own feelings?
But she had to do something.
Her sister Hema came to mind again. She had to reach Hema and find out if she would be welcome at her home. Maybe Hema’s husband could help her find a job. He owned a prosperous land-development business; perhaps he could find her a position there. Granted she had no skills of any sort, but she was a fast learner. She had already learned quite a bit about using a computer from Kiran. Her typing skills were improving daily. If office work was not available, she could become a nanny, or work in a nursery school. She loved children and could make a good teacher.
But Kiran had pointed out that the police and Amma would be sure to keep an eye on both her sisters’ homes. Megha’s presence would surely be a threat to them and their respective families. And there was also the matter of embarrassing her sisters’ families with a scandal—police arriving at their door and apprehending a fugitive. Both Leela and Hema’s husbands came from prominent families. They couldn’t afford to have their names dragged through the mud.
The phone rang, startling her out of her thoughts. As was her habit, she let the answering machine pick up the call. She picked up the phone only if she heard Kiran’s voice. The familiar click-click of the machine came on after the sixth ring, and she held her breath. When she heard the voice that spoke following the outgoing message, the breath seemed to go out of her lungs.
Amma!
All Megha could do was gape at the phone while the message got recorded. “Kiran, this is Amma speaking. Give me a ring at once. It is very urgent that I talk to you. I tried your office but your secretary said you were in a meeting.”
Unable to support herself on her weakening legs, Megha sank onto the chair.
Chapter 18
After the voice faded away and the answering machine clicked off, Megha sat rooted to her spot. It was not her tortured imagination. It really had been her mother-in-law calling. The blinking light on the answering machine was proof of that. Besides, that fearsome voice was unmistakable. It continued to haunt Megha’s waking and sleeping moments. She’d never forget that voice.
Amma’s message had sounded ominous. Urgent! She had clearly said it was urgent. Sudden panic flooded Megha’s senses once again. Kamala had detected Megha’s presence in the flat after all. Something had given her away. Was it the hot stove and the milk? Or was it the open armoire that had traitorously revealed its contents? Had she inadvertently left her new footwear in the room? To make sure she hadn’t, she peered under the sofa. There were all her sandals, safely tucked away.
She had been extra careful with all her belongings. But while she’d thought she had managed to elude Kamala’s keen eye, she must have grossly miscalculated. The woman wasn’t stupid. She had most likely called Amma right away about her discovery—if not an actual discovery, then at least her suspicions.
Megha knew she was finished. The police were likely to appear at the door any moment. She heard a vehicle come to a stop outside the building, so she raced to the window. It had to be the police! What was she going to do?
Looking outside, she found it was a taxi. A broad, slightly balding man stepped out of it. The driver opened the trunk to pull out a large suitcase and an attaché. The big man paid the driver, then picking up his luggage, headed for the front of the building. A minute later she heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. At the front door she listened with her ear pressed to it. With any luck he would go to the third floor? The footsteps came to a stop right outside Kiran’s door and she sucked her breath in. She heard keys rattling. Good God, exactly how many people had keys to Kiran’s flat? Who was the chubby man? Just as she got ready to bolt to the bedroom again, she heard a door open nearby and then shut with a thud.
It dawned on her after a moment. He was the neighbor—the man who traveled frequently. After being away for several weeks he had come home. Until then she hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. She blew it out and went back to the drawing room.
The neighbor’s return added another wrinkle to her already complicated situation. He would suspect her presence in Kiran’s home. The cooking odors, the sound of running water in the bathroom, and the sound of her voice—they were sure to give her presence away. Chubby man was likely to get nosy.
But what did it matter now, anyway? Amma had found out and Megha’s end was near. She’d be dragged away to her death. Her luck had run out and even Kiran wouldn’t be able to protect her this time.
The phone rang again and the terror ripped through her once more. She walked away from it as if it were on fire. But this time it was Kiran’s voice that came on the recorder, and she dived to pick up the phone. “Kiran! Oh God, Kiran!” she sobbed into the telephone.
“Megha, what’s the matter?”
“It…it’s Amma. She knows I’m here. She called earlier. She’s coming, Kiran! She’s coming to take me—”
“Shhh, stop it, Megha!” When she continued to babble and sob, he ordered, “Stop it! Listen to me. She’s not coming to take you. She tried to call me at the office and when she couldn’t reach me she called the house. After that she rang here again and this time she got me. You know how impatient Amma is when she gets something into her head—she refuses to give up. She’s looking for a lawyer and knows I have a couple of friends who are solicitors. So calm down.”
“She…doesn’t know about me then?”
“Not a thing. Now stop fretting and I’ll be home in a few minutes.”
“All right.”
“And Megha?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t bother with dinner tonight. I’ll bring home some Chinese food.”
“But I already cooked dinner.”
“We’ll use it up tomorrow. You like Chinese, don’t you?”
A tremulous smile came to her lips. He was trying so hard to make her feel better. He was the sweetest, kindest man she knew. She didn’t deserve his kindness. “I love Chinese food.”
“Good. Now cheer up. I’ll be home in a little while.” His deep masculine voice was so gentle he could have been talking to a baby.
“Kiran, thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He laughed. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
She hung up the phone. Indeed, what would she do without Kiran? Where would she be if it weren’t for him? Dead, she thought.
So, Amma was looking for a solicitor to free her precious son from a doomed marriage, was she? Megha broke into a chuckle. Suresh would get himself a divorce in a year or two. By slow degrees, the chuckle turned into hysterical laughter. Suresh would be free and so would she.
The laughter turned into sobs when reality began to sink in. Free to do what? Live with Kiran? Hardly! He would be the laughing stock of the Rao family and the entire community. Her latching onto him would be disastrous for him. His parents would surely disown him. As a divorced woman Megha would have no status in society, but she couldn’t drag Kiran down with herself.
The ring of the postman’s bicycle bell interrupted her thoughts. A few minutes later she heard the postman’s familiar footsteps on the stairs and then the sound of the mail being pushed through the br
ass slot in the front door of the flat and falling with a thump on the floor-mat in the entry foyer. When she was sure he’d ascended to the third floor, she went to fetch the post. There were several envelopes and a newsletter.
Tossing them on the kitchen counter, she went to wash her tear-stained face and comb her hair. A little after half an hour later Kiran walked in. Besides his packed briefcase he carried a plastic bag that exuded the enticing, distinctive aroma of Chinese food. “Megha,” he called softly after he shut the door. By mutual agreement, they kept their voices down as much as possible to keep the neighbors from hearing them.
She took the bag from him and carried it to the dining table. She was afraid of meeting his eye. The discovery about her feelings for him made her nervous. With her eyes downcast she asked, “So, how was your day?” She pretended to get busy removing the food containers from the bag.
Placing his briefcase on the chair, Kiran approached her. He retrieved a container from her hand and set it down. “Megha, look at me. Are you all right?”
Her slightly reddened eyes met his anxious ones. “I’m not sure. I still believe Amma knows I’m here.”
“She doesn’t.”
“I feel it in my bones. Where Amma’s concerned I have radar.”
“Even if she does suspect something, so what? If she wants to free Suresh so he can marry again, then she’s welcome to. I’ve given her the phone numbers of my lawyer friends.”
“That’s good.” She didn’t know what else to say. She lowered her gaze so he wouldn’t see the deep hurt in her eyes. To be used and discarded like rubbish by one’s husband—correction, to be disposed of as a handful of ashes, was not something to feel good about.
He laid a hand on her arm. “So you think that’s good?”
“Yes. Suresh can be free of me.” She brushed Kiran’s hand away and turned to attend to the dinner table. His touch disturbed her, sent a warm shiver through her body. It was tempting to lean into him, ask him to hold her in his strong, capable arms. Kiran held a certain animal magnetism for her that she’d never felt with Suresh. Right now, with him standing close, she wanted him so badly it was all she could do to keep her emotions under control.
The tension between them at the moment was palpable. A sidelong glance showed his hands clenched into fists by his sides. Did he feel the strange vibes, too? Or was he only being his usual concerned and helpful self? She could have sworn she’d seen a quick flash of something in his eyes a moment ago. Harini’s conjecture came to mind once again.
Abruptly Kiran moved away to get washed and changed before dinner. She sighed in relief. Another minute of him standing inches away from her would have been her undoing.
She quickly set the table. In a few minutes he came out, dressed in black shorts and a bottle-green T-shirt. Late evening stubble had grown on his cheeks and chin. The dark shadow made him look manly and appealing. She felt the urge to reach out and touch his face, feel the roughness against her palm. Everything about him screamed Man—the exact opposite of Suresh.
And that made it more dangerous for her to be around Kiran.
Putting on a cheerful smile she said, “Okay, let’s eat this delicious meal before it gets cold.”
They ate mostly in silence, with a few polite words thrown in. But he kept glancing at her, as if to read her thoughts. “What else is troubling you?” he finally asked.
“Nothing.”
“Come on, Megha,” he urged, “tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s crazy really. That silly cat, Kuppu, begged me for food and affection all the time, but I miss the fat little rascal. I hope they feed him regularly. He was a thin, miserable thing before I started taking care of him.”
“How about if we get a kitten to keep you company?”
“Oh, no, please! Pets are too much trouble anyway.” Besides, she wasn’t planning on staying here forever. A pet would somehow make this weird arrangement seem permanent. She couldn’t risk that.
After dinner, Megha cleared the table, put the leftovers away in the refrigerator, and washed the dishes while Kiran picked up the day’s post and took it to the drawing room. He settled down on the couch to read it like he did every evening. Several minutes later, when she emerged from the kitchen, she saw him frowning over an envelope. “Something wrong?” she asked him.
He merely continued to examine the envelope. “Strange,” he said, his brows still pulled in a knot.
“What’s strange?”
“This envelope. It’s addressed to you.”
Instant terror leapt into her throat. “It can’t be!”
He held it up. “Here, take a look.”
She gulped hard. Someone had located her whereabouts and written her a letter! “No…no…you open it,” she said, trying to keep her hands from shaking. It had to be from Amma. Megha found it hard to move, but dragged herself towards Kiran.
He grasped her by the wrist and forced her to sit beside him. “It’s yours, Megha.” He thrust the envelope in her hand.
She continued to stare at it for a long time.
“Come on, Megha, you have to open it some time.” His voice was stern, almost paternal.
His words shook her out of her trance. She tore open the envelope, sure that something evil was going to jump out at her. She had read bizarre stories about exotic poisons, tiny bombs and even killer spiders sent to destroy people through harmless-looking letters.
Her hands trembled so much she thought the envelope would fall out of her grip, but it didn’t. She gingerly lifted the flap and looked in. All she saw was folded paper, so she pulled out the sheets and unfolded them. Something fell into her lap, making her flinch. She picked up the rectangular piece of paper, afraid to look at it but drawn to it anyway. Gazing at it for a moment, she looked up at Kiran. “It’s a check,” she whispered, “made out to me.”
“Really?”
“Uh…for a hundred—” Her head was reeling. “Oh God…hundred thousand rupees!”
“One lakh rupees!” He looked stunned. “Read the letter.”
“I wasn’t expecting a letter or a check.” She set the check in the space between them and glanced at the two-page letter, her eyes traveling at once to the end for the author’s name. Her jaw fell. Appaji! It was quite lengthy, too. Had he somehow discovered her hideaway? And if so, why had he not made a phone call? Was he the one who told Kamala and Amma about her? There was only one way to find out.
It was written in a small, neat hand on two sheets of ruled notepaper.
My dear Megha,
I know you will be surprised to hear from me and probably shocked that I have sent the letter to you at Kiran’s address. If my guess is correct, you are probably somewhere within his reach. Please do not worry. I will not reveal this to anyone. I have suspected for some time that Kiran cares about you. I could only guess that when you ran away, you perhaps went to him for help. I do not condemn you for it. In fact, I sincerely hope you did exactly that. He is a good man and I am sure he will help you.
In case you are wondering about this letter and the reason for the check, let me explain. I have been a useless father-in-law to you. I never had the courage to stand up to Chandramma and protect you from her. There is no excuse for my cowardly behavior. I should have done more for you. My wife and son have treated you badly. I want you to know I never wanted a dowry from your father. I always thought that you were much too good for our family.
I had no idea about Chandramma’s evil plans until after you disappeared. I suspected that she was planning something, but never anything so horrid. It was only later that I realized what had been going on. I was shocked, but as a husband and father, I had to do my duty. I am not asking you to forgive any of us. What we have done to you is unforgivable.
I have been keeping a savings account of my own for some years. No one in my family knows about it. The money was meant mostly for Shanti. But since you are like a daughter to me, I feel you deserve some of it. Please consider it a gift. Pe
rhaps it will be a small dowry for you in the future if you remarry. And in some marginal way I will have atoned for my sins. Chandramma is trying to get a lawyer to file for Suresh’s divorce. I believe it is for the best. I sincerely hope you have a second chance in life.
As for me, I may not have too much time left. My doctor suspects lung cancer. Again, I have kept this from Chandramma and the children. I have refused medical treatment because I have neither the will nor the strength to fight. God has blessed me with more than I had hoped for. You were a brief and positive influence in our home and brought me much joy. Please do not try to return the money. I want you to use it for whatever you wish. My blessings will always be with you.
Appaji.
Megha read and reread the letter, then handed it to Kiran. Quickly scanning it, Kiran frowned. “I had no idea my uncle could write this well.”
They both puzzled over the letter a while longer. Megha put it down and settled back against the cushion without uttering a word. When the shock began to wear off she turned to Kiran. “Can you believe that? Quiet little Appaji has been keeping so many secrets all these years. A bank account and lung problems? But then I always thought he was secretive.”
“He seems to care about you. Look what he’s done for you, Megha.”
“He was the only person in that house who showed me any kindness.” She glanced at the letter and sighed. “I can’t keep his check though—I’m going to return it.”
“Don’t do that, Megha. You’ll hurt his feelings. Maybe you can invest the money in something useful.”
She sent him a cynical glance. “What do I know about investing?”
“I can show you how to make your money grow.”
“I’ve never had one rupee to call my own in my entire life. Now I have one lakh. I don’t even know how it feels to handle that much money.”
The Dowry Bride Page 21
