Vegas to Varanasi (Fortytude Series Book 1)

by Hickman, Shelly

  “Score a point for Anna!”

  “Yeah, well, the unexceptional had to stick together. Good for him that he no longer needs my services.” I brush some chip crumbs off the couch. Hayden!

  “I didn’t mean to change the subject earlier about you and David. Do you need to talk? Do you want to meet for dinner or something?”

  I shake my head, then realize she can’t see me. “I’m okay. Keep that offer open, though.”

  “Always.”

  Six

  “Good morning, Anna.” Geena Kapur takes a seat in my waiting area. At sixty-nine, she’s one of my patients recovering from a hip replacement, and I can only hope to look as good when I’m her age. She’s one of those older women who knows how to dress her age without wearing pocketless, elastic band jeans and ugly, orthopedic sandals. Her long, straight black hair has little grey and is pulled back into a ponytail, away from her olive-colored skin.

  “Good morning, Geena.” I could use a few pointers from her when the time comes. Come to think of it, I can probably use them now. Shopping for clothes when you’re a woman my age is such a pain in the ass. You want to look stylish, but you have to be careful not to dress too young or you’ll look ridiculous.

  I frequently shop at Kohl’s, simply because there’s one by my house, and they suck me in with the thirty percent off coupons and Kohl’s Cash.

  The cutest, most appealing clothes are always in the juniors section, but the cuts are not made for older women, hence the name juniors. Even though I’m slim, I have pushed out two babies, and juniors clothes tend to accentuate belly pooches and back fat, creating the dreaded muffin top. Therefore, most of the time juniors are not an option.

  In my quest for decent clothing, I’ve roamed the misses department, making my way through Vera Wang, J.Lo, on to Chaps, and then before I know it, I’m horrified to realize I’ve crossed the aisle into the old lady section. That’s right. Dana Buchman and Croft & Barrow. I’m not saying these clothes are hideous. They’re not as bad as the mail order styles you find in coupon flyers, but let’s face it. It’s clothing for older ladies. Maybe it is intended for women my age and I’m just in denial. Whatever the case, I’m not ready to go there.

  I realize my mind has wandered. “Where’s Mr. Kapur today?”

  “He had to fly back to see his mother. She’s not well.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “My son brought me today. He’s parking the car.”

  “Okay.” I hold out my hands to her to help her back up, not that she really needs it. “Let’s get Teresa to start you on your warm-up exercises, and then I’ll meet you at one of the tables. You look well. How’s the hip?”

  “Good,” she says, linking her arm in mine. “Getting stronger every day. No pain at all since the surgery. Best thing I’ve ever done.”

  “Excellent. That’s generally what I hear from patients.” Geena has only been coming to me for three weeks and has already progressed from a walker to a cane.

  My receptionist is on her break, so I return to the counter to check Geena in after she joins Teresa. My eyes are on the computer monitor when someone speaks.

  “Anna?”

  Immediately, I recognize his voice and whip my head around to confirm.

  “Kiran!”

  I walk over to him and he rises from his seat. “How serendipitous!” I’m not sure I’ve ever heard someone use that word before in real life. When we shake hands he encloses mine in both of his. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

  “You, too. I’ve been seeing your mother for a couple weeks now. She told me she had a son, but who would have thought?”

  “Yes, well, I don’t know if she told you, but I’ll be bringing her for her visits while my father is away.”

  “She said that your grandmother is sick. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.”

  We stand there for a few moments, Kiran with his hands in his pockets and me sort of bobbing my head like a doofus. “Well!” I snap out of my stupor. “Why don’t you come back?” I motion to the open therapy area, where Geena and three other patients are doing their exercises in various parts of the room.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to get in the way.”

  “You won’t. It’ll be fine.”

  Over in the corner, Geena is doing her lateral stretches with the elastic band around her ankles.

  “It’s a small, small world,” I say as I approach Geena with Kiran alongside me.

  “And why is that?” she asks.

  Kiran fills her in about how we went to school together and recently met each other at the wedding.

  “My goodness!” she says. I hold her arm to stabilize her while she changes position for her next set. “This is who you were telling me about, the woman you spoke with at the reception?”

  Kiran reddens and clears his throat. “Yes.”

  I don’t get why he appears embarrassed. I guess I just assume someone with his looks interacts with women all the time and wouldn’t feel awkward at our age.

  “Oh, and Kiran told me how awful that Miranda girl was. I feel bad for putting him in that position.”

  “I’m sure Anna doesn’t need to know about every single conversation we’ve had.” He rubs the back of his neck.

  “Well, she wasn’t very nice,” I agree. “She was beautiful, for sure, but your son could do much better.” I give him a friendly smile.

  “Isn’t he handsome, though?” she asks as we walk to one of the treatment tables. “I’m so proud of him. He lost a lot of weight three years ago. Seventy pounds.”

  Before I have the chance to stop myself, my eyes bulge. “You’re kidding!”

  “I’m going to go wait in the car now.” Kiran sounds like he’s joking, but I think he might be ready to bolt for the door.

  “Maybe we should change the subject, Geena. I think we’re making Kiran uncomfortable.” I stand next to her as she slowly hoists herself onto the table. Then I turn to Kiran. “But in all seriousness, that is quite an accomplishment. You should be very proud.”

  “Thank you.”

  If Kiran has been overweight nearly his whole life, I’m beginning to understand why he’s so reserved. Maybe he’s not used to the attention he surely attracts on a constant basis.

  “Okay, Geena, just relax while I slowly press your knee toward your chest. As always, let me know if there’s any pain.” She nods in acknowledgment.

  I decide to move on to a new topic to discuss with Kiran. “I remember now your mother told me you’re a dermatologist. Think maybe you could hook me up with some botox? I’ve got this deep crease in my brow right here that makes me look like I’m always scowling.”

  He gazes at me intently and hesitates before answering. “You don’t need it.”

  Gulp. Now who’s the one uncomfortable?

  Geena is oblivious as my eyes fix on his a little longer than they should. Is it getting hot in here?

  I look away and push my hair behind my ear. “So, Geena, where did your husband have to go to see his mother?”

  “India.”

  “I’ve always wanted to visit India, among a dozen other places. Did your family live there before coming here?”

  “We moved to India for a few years after my junior year,” Kiran explains. “My father joined a colleague’s practice there.”

  “That explains why I don’t remember seeing you after that.” I give Geena my hand to help her into a sitting position so that she can get down from the table. “Well, that’s it for today, lovely lady. We will see you next time.”

  “Thank you, Anna.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Kiran says, those green eyes penetrating mine.

  Seven

  At the end of a long Friday, I pull into the garage, looking forward to a glass of wine and some reading. The kids are out tonight, and David will surely be holed up in the office. As I put the key in the door, I consider calling Julia to see if she wants to meet for dinner and a drink. I need to t
alk. Kiran has been creeping into my head and residing there, and I’m not sure I like it.

  When I enter the kitchen, David is sitting at the table, which is set for the two of us, and something in the oven smells divine. I set my purse and keys on the counter. “What’s all this?”

  David pours a glass of Cabernet and brings it to me. “It’s an apology.” Then he kisses me. A slow, tender kiss.

  A smile spreads across my face. “I’ve missed those.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry.” He kisses me again, deeply, and his hand roams underneath my shirt. “I’ve got plans for you later.”

  “Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.” I say it playfully, but deep down...

  My remark stops him and he caresses my jaw with his thumb. He looks as if he will say something in response, but instead he leads me to the kitchen table. We sit and he takes my hands. “I’ve been kind of a mess lately. I see that now. It’s time for me to take a break from the book. Step back for a while.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I know how important that part of your life is to you.” What the hell am I saying? “It’s just... I need to be a part of your life, too. That’s all.”

  He kisses my hand before walking to the stove. “Well, it’s time I got my head out of my ass.” He opens the oven to check on a dish.

  “What’s cooking in there?”

  “Beef Wellington,” he says proudly.

  “It smells fantastic. What can I do?”

  “Absolutely nothing. Just sit there, drink your wine, and look pretty.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “I think I can handle that. At least the drinking part.” This is the David I fell in love with. Relaxed, happy, in the moment. As he works at the stove, I come up behind him and put my arms around his waist. “Thank you. This was very sweet. And a welcome surprise at the end of the week.”

  “We’ll see how good of a surprise it is after you taste it. I’ve never made this before.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be delicious. How did your day go?”

  “Fine.” He smiles, tight-lipped. “How about you?”

  “Oh, you’re not gonna believe this.” I return to my drink and take off my Crocs. “Remember that guy I told you about at the reception? The one I went to high school with?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s the son of one of my patients. Came with her on her visit today.”

  “You’re kidding. Guess it is a small world sometimes, eh?”

  “Yeah... small world.”

  David slices up the Wellington and places a piece on each of our plates, along with some steamed carrots. I’ve never had the dish before, but the beef looks really, really rare. I can eat a steak when it’s kind of red, but not bleeding. This meat looks like it was freshly sliced off the cow. And the pastry around it? It’s all soggy.

  We sit in silence for a bit, and I take a bite of the carrots and smile at him. “The carrots are very tasty!”

  Ugh, I do not want to eat that Wellington.

  David cuts off a small piece to sample the beef, making the red juices gush from inside it. He drops his fork on his plate and laughs. “I can’t do it. This is repulsive.”

  Thank you, Lord!

  “It looks like it was pretty complicated to make,” I say to make him feel better. I would suggest sticking it back in the oven, but don’t think there will be any saving the pastry.

  “Should we just order some pizza?”

  “Please.”

  ***

  David plops a slice of supreme pizza onto his paper plate and licks his fingers. “I think I need to give up on this pipe dream of writing a book.”

  I’m just about to take a bite of my pizza, but his sudden admission makes me freeze with the piece halfway to my mouth. “Why?”

  “Because it’s impossible. I don’t know whatever made me think I could write a thriller. Or write anything for that matter.”

  I’ll be honest. My first impulse is to completely encourage this line of thinking. Living with a David who doesn’t spend hours upon hours locked up in a room typing sounds quite appealing. But to sway him to give up his dream and chuck it all because he’s a little disheartened? Don’t think that would be very big of me.

  Yet, what if he truly sucks? He’s never let me lay eyes on a single page of his work, and what if it’s awful? I don’t think that’s very likely, given what an avid reader he is. Someone who reads that much should be able to tell if their own writing at least has promise, shouldn’t they?

  I take the bite of my pizza, then set the slice down. “David, this is part of your problem.” I turn and sit cross-legged on the sofa to face him. “You’re a person of extremes, and you’ve let this consume you. Does it have to be that way? I mean, I thought you write because it makes you happy. If it’s not making you happy, then ease up some. Take a break like you said, but don’t just give up altogether.”

  He stares at me and purses his lips. Setting his plate next to mine on the table, the corners of his mouth curve up.

  “Wha-a-a-a-t are you thinking about?” I ask slowly.

  He creeps over to me like some kind of wild animal about to pounce. “I’m thinking I need to do everything in my power to rock your world tonight,” he says before stretching out on top of me.

  I chuckle at his method of seduction. David’s way to my heart has always been to make me laugh.

  He tries to kiss me, but I put my finger over his mouth. “First, I want you to agree to something for me.”

  “Whum?” he mumbles.

  “Can I please, please read some of your book? Even just a little?” I have to know if he’s wasting his time, or if he truly has talent. Plus, it kind of hurts my feelings that he’s never been willing to let me read any of it.

  A pained, apprehensive expression is his first response. “I don’t know, Anna...”

  “Please? For me?” I bat my eyelashes at him.

  “Agh, fine!”

  “Yay!” I try to clap my hands, but it’s kind of hard the way he has me pinned underneath him.

  He stops smiling and gazes down at me. “You know, I am so thankful for that fucked up knee of mine, otherwise I never would have met you.”

  Eight

  Julia and I are checking out the new model homes that have just opened in the neighborhood. We’re both HGTV addicts and love to inspect the models for decorating ideas. Of course, the ideas we find are always way out of our budget.

  “I like how they’ve made the carpeting look like a rug in the center of the wood flooring here, but then again, it kinda limits furniture arrangement,” I say.

  “You got a point,” Julia says as she wanders through an archway. “Oh my God, Anna! Get in here!” I follow her to the kitchen to find her drooling over a Tuscan stove recessed within a stone worked arch. “Do you not love this?”

  “It’s... It’s beautiful!” I place my hand over my heart before taking out my cell phone to snap a picture. “Not that I could afford it, and my kitchen can’t accommodate one, but you could totally get one installed in yours.”

  “Are you kidding? Derek would have a cow if I suggested spending money on something like this. Especially after all we just spent on the wedding.” She lightly runs her fingers over the stove, followed by the stonework. “Oh my, but you are lovely, aren’t you?”

  “Shall I leave you two alone?”

  “No, but I do want to hear about your time alone with David last night.” She grins and wiggles her eyebrows.

  No one else is in the house with us, which is why we’re conversing as if we’re in our own home.

  “All I can say is, after nearly a month of no boinking, it was quite... explosive.”

  We continue down the hallway to admire the bedrooms. “He makes you a gourmet dinner—”

  “Attempted gourmet dinner. God love ’em.”

  “... Followed by explosive boinking. Sounds like a night to remem—”

  We round a corner and stand face to face with a young
couple and their little boy.

  Julia’s mouth drops open. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry,” she whispers. I step backward out of view and stand against the wall with my eyes closed, trying to keep from laughing.

  “It’s, uh, it’s okay,” I hear the man say.

  “Daddy, what’s explosive boinking?” the boy asks.

  “Never mind!”

  The family passes me in the hallway and the woman gives me a Thanks a lot! glare.

  “Sorry.” I keep my eyes lowered.

  Julia waits until we hear the front door close. “Oh my hell.”

  “Gah! Way to use your inside voice.”

  “What?” We enter a master closet the size of my bedroom. “I wasn’t the only one who thought we were alone. These houses are so cavernous, there’s no evidence anyone’s in here until you’re right up on them.”

  “Clearly.”

  We gaze in awe at the number of racks, built-ins, and shelves made of cherry wood. “Can you even imagine having enough clothes to fill a closet like this?” Julia asks.

  My latest Kohl’s excursion comes to mind. “No.”

  “And you’re a Skinny Minnie. Picture what it’s like for someone like me to find clothes.” Julia is a plus size gal, but like Geena, knows how to purchase clothing that most flatters her. Some people just have a knack. Or maybe it’s because I know what a lovely person she is, so all I see when I look at Julia is an open heart and rosy complexion.

  “It would be nice to have a closet like this,” I say. “But you know what comes to mind when I see all this dark wood?”

  She raises her eyebrows.

  “Dust. Dust collecting on all these shelves. Unless a housekeeper comes with them, forget it.”

  “I hear ya, sister.”

  Julia and I return to the bedroom, and she disappears down the hallway before quickly coming back.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Checking to make sure the coast is clear.” She sits on the edge of the bed and pats the spot next to her.

  I look uncertainly around the room before sitting down. “You’re weirding me out. You don’t have some fantasy involving girl on girl action in a model home, do you?”