by Pema Donyo
“I am not afraid.”
Her brother looked skyward, as if the heavens would give him the right words. “No one can be strong all the time.”
So what if she felt a tiny ounce of fear? And what if she was terrified of asking Warren to stay and hearing him reject her? “We agreed to only accompany each other to Lucknow and then part ways. That was the end of our bargain.”
“Dev told me you turned down his marriage proposal earlier today. He sounded disappointed.”
She could hardly call his statement a proposal. No man so fixated on the purity of her blood could offer a happily married life to a woman. “Most men possess an idea of me as half-caste and undesirable. Dev cannot see past my birth.”
“Why do you sound so calm?” Her brother furrowed his brow. “Admitting your half-caste status always seemed such a burden to you. You told me once that it was a source of shame, did you not? That it caused you to suddenly be aware of how different you were from everyone else.”
She remembered that confession. She’d shared the insecurity with her brother years ago, after another woman in the village had told her that she didn’t belong anywhere. Dev had brought up her birth as if she’d no other choice but to marry him. “I used to think no man could look past my heritage. It’s never been a source of pride for me, brother. But now it is no longer a weakness.”
He nodded. “You are right. Dev, maybe. But not all men see you in that way.”
His next unspoken words hung in the air between them. Not all men … not Warren. Raj turned back to the other revolutionaries, leaving Parineeta alone with her thoughts.
Danger. The word had never scared her before. She’d welcomed all types of danger, from lying to her grandmother about where she was to listening in on her brother’s meetings to spying on the (supposed) British general. But one look at Warren set off warning alarms through her mind. One look at him convinced her that danger could be terrifying after all.
She caught Warren’s eye. He stopped talking to Ashfaqulla to meet her gaze, and Ashfaqulla backed away as soon as she began walking forward. The second she reached him, she threw her arms around him without a word. The security she felt in his embrace almost took her breath away each time he held her. All these years she’d spent searching for a place she belonged. That old woman from her past was wrong. Parineeta did belong somewhere. But it was with a person, not a place.
He stepped backward at the sudden force around his waist. “What’s all this for? What did your brother say?”
The urge to ask him to stay tugged at the end of her tongue. She tried to will the question out of her, to finally make itself known. Here was her chance!
“Are you all right?”
She nodded against his arm. Something was lodged in her throat, preventing the query from surfacing. Wrapping her arms around Warren to prevent him from letting her go was one matter, but begging him out loud to stay with her was another. How could she keep him from his own destiny?
“Good. Ashfaqulla told me we could reach Lucknow within the hour if we hurried.”
She held him tighter. “That is wonderful,” she lied.
The hour to Lucknow was the fastest Parineeta had ever experienced. Every step seemed to move more quickly than the one before it, and the minutes blended together until she spotted the winding streets and bustle of the Lucknow market.
The boys finished packaging the money into the safe house while she stood on guard outside. No British soldiers had reached the city yet or at least none that they had seen. She knew if they were lucky, they would be able to escape early tomorrow morning without being noticed.
After the last of the bags were placed inside the house, she went inside to check on the boys. Dev, Ashfaqulla, Bismil, and the others seemed content. Even with the afternoon sun still hanging in the sky, a few had begun napping. Her brother and another boy sat in one corner of the warehouse, polishing their guns next to the money bags while their friends slept.
Yet there was no sign of Warren.
Parineeta tried to ignore the alarm bells ringing in her head. She started in the direction of her brother, her heart weighing heavier with each step she took. “Have you seen Warren?”
Raj shook his head. He said nothing, but his features softened. She didn’t have to be a psychic to know he didn’t expect Warren to return.
His friend next to him pointed to the large wooden door where she had entered. “He left about an hour ago. Didn’t say why, just left. I thought he went out to say something to you.”
She resisted the urge to sink to her knees. Instead, she raced back outside. She scanned the end of the street from both sides. Maybe he’d stayed in the area. She dashed around the corner, checking the next avenue. Still no sign of him.
She sighed. Her sandals dragged against the paved road and through the dizzying maze of alleys. Perhaps if she just kept looking, perhaps he was standing on the next corner…
She shut her eyes against the last rays of the sun. He hadn’t even said goodbye. She swore she would never be her mother; she would never allow herself to love a man who would leave her.
Then why did she feel so abandoned?
• • •
NBCI operative Jerry Albright spun the globe with a single flick of his thumb and forefinger. The world beneath his hand twirled around on its axis, changing direction at his command with a simple tap of his finger.
“You could go anywhere now, Warren.” Jerry’s voice sounded light. He continued to spin the globe in an absentminded manner. The coffee on his oak desk was forgotten at the prospect of new adventures. “God knows I’m dying to get out of here. Moscow was better. I can stand the cold, you know. Humidity? Not so much.”
“This country suited me just fine.” Warren set his jaw and leaned back against the hard-backed chair. “I don’t think I’ll be doing any more traveling.”
The globe stopped spinning. “Can’t change that. They’ll reassign you.”
“Who’s ‘they’?”
“The FBI. NBCI underwent some changes last year. Less focus on anarchists, more focus on investigation back home.”
“There won’t be any more reassigning for me, I’m afraid. I’m staying in India.”
“Just because your identity was discovered doesn’t mean the FBI no longer wants you.” Jerry shrugged. “All that matters is that you made it out alive. Identity exposure happens to all of us at some point.”
Warren took a long sip from his coffee. He’d once looked at that globe in the same way Jerry did. At the single mention of a reassignment, he’d be all packed and in some new place by the end of the month. He would explore new cities, try new measurement collection techniques, and speak different languages. The thrill of the job always caused him to accept whatever reassignment he was given. Several months, several years—each location had a time limit. When his time was up, he left with no questions asked.
But then he’d never had any reason to stay in a certain place, either.
“I’m not working with the NBCI, FBI, whatever it is anymore.” His gaze drifted from the globe to his former fellow operative. “I belong here. Please tell the agency about my resignation.”
Jerry laughed. “You have to be joking! Why would you stay behind?”
It began with the robbery, the feelings of independence and hope that had coursed through him. The fight for freedom had become his fight as well. “I’ve found a reason to stay.”
The other agent clasped his hands together. He propped his elbows on his desk, the starched cuffs folded up before his wrists with neat precision. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
“I was assigned this job in India. This was always going to be my last assignment.”
Jerry furrowed his brow. “You always knew this was going to be it? What, this whole thing was planned out?”
“No. I definitely didn’t plan my last few weeks here.” The corner of Warren’s mouth quirked upward as the flashing eyes of a tanned beauty entered his thought
s. “But this is what I’ve decided. I’m staying.”
“I will relay back to the bureau your information about how Raj Singh is not an anarchist threat.” The man sitting opposite him sighed. “I hope you’re making the right choice, my friend.”
He’d never been so sure of a decision. Warren stood from his chair and walked away from the table. As he opened the door to leave, the other agent called something out to him. Warren glanced over his shoulder.
Jerry leaned back in his chair with his feet propped up on his desk and his hands tucked behind his head. He repeated the words to Warren again as he saluted him.
“You’ll be missed, Agent Warren Khan!”
He smiled. It had been a while since someone had called him by his real name.
Chapter Ten
The moon hung high over the quiet streets of Lucknow. Crickets chirped, and a few dogs barked. But no roaring motorcycles sped down the streets, and no marching British soldiers interrupted her sleep.
Not that sleep had been easy to find.
Parineeta pulled her knees against her chest and smoothed out the skirt of her sari over her legs. She pushed back her veil as she tilted her head up to look at the sky. She’d often imagined shapes in the stars, catching memories and scenes with nothing more than the string of a few lights. But there were so few stars visible over the city that she could barely count them, much less make shapes out of them. Maybe that was how drowsiness would find her for the night.
She squeezed her eyes shut then opened them again. The effort was useless. Counting stars would not help her find peace of mind any more than attempting to stop the thoughts of Warren from entering her head.
Focus on the money. After the boys woke up, she and her brother’s friends had spent all afternoon counting how much cash they’d stolen: more than 10,000 rupees. If that didn’t create public attention, nothing would. The boys talked about splitting up, going into different directions to avoid capture for a few months and then meeting again later once more men in the HRA had been trained.
Her brother was returning to work in the general’s house since he’d heard a new general moved in. A few of the other freedom fighters were headed to the west to meet with more members of the Hindustan Republican Association and continue plotting. He didn’t believe the police would find them, but it was better for everyone to go their own separate ways until the next plan was made. Dev even offered his proposal of marriage a second time. She cringed at the thought of accepting him. To think that only a few weeks ago she would have accepted his criticism of her as fact. She had been so sure all men would never see past her race.
Not all men. Not Warren.
She shut her eyes again, pressing her lashes against her skin as hard as she could. If only there was a way to erase all feelings for him. She opened her eyes and groaned. A mirage that looked just like Warren walked up the street toward her.
Of course. She was even imagining him!
Her imagination conjured him up to look nearly the same as she’d last seen him: blood-stained kameez, beige sandals, and a smile lighting up his aristocratic features. The only difference was that the dust that had settled over his face had been cleaned up, as if he’d used someone’s washing bin. His dark hair swept back from the wind, contrasting his olive skin.
Her imagination willed him closer and closer. That’s odd. She blinked again, trying to push the dream away. Surely she could control her own visions.
The mirage of Warren stopped in front of her. “Parineeta, what’s wrong?”
The dream even spoke!
“No, you can’t be real,” she muttered. She resisted the urge to poke him in the leg to test his existence. He couldn’t be there. The real Warren left hours ago.
He sat down next to her. “Why wouldn’t I be real?”
The deep baritone of his voice sent a rush up her spine. He sounded real. He reached for her hand and interlaced her fingers with his. She squeezed his palm, and he squeezed back.
Definitely real.
“I thought you had already left.”
He frowned. “Why would I leave?”
She pulled her hand away from his. “The reason you came to Lucknow was to speak to another agent, you said.”
“Yes. I met with another operative earlier today.”
“Are you here to say goodbye now?” Parineeta clasped her hands together. She brought her knees closer to her chest and spread out her sari over her ankles. But she felt ridiculous, covering a piece of skin he had already seen before. “Do you leave tomorrow morning?”
“No.”
“No?” She leaned forward. Had she misheard him?
Warren cleared his throat. He leaned back, extending his arms behind him and laying his palms flat against the dirt. “Listen, there’s something I need to tell you. My real name is not, as you know, Warren Carton.”
She pursed her lips. “Clearly. So?”
“My real name is Warren Khan.”
Her eyes widened. All this time and she’d had no idea. “You must be joking. You look…you look…”
“My mother was white. My father was half-Indian.” He picked up her hand again, and this time she didn’t let her palm slip from his grasp. He stroked the top of her fingers with his thumb as he spoke. “I was born here in India. I grew up in my father’s village.”
“Why did you move away?”
She saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down before he continued. “My mother’s father never approved of her marriage. After my parents died, he sent me away to America. I was still a child when my parents passed away.”
Parineeta considered his words for a minute. He had seemed eager to join Raj’s friends for the robbery. “So you joined this mission to become a freedom fighter?”
He chuckled. “No, I did not. I was assigned my location. Over time, I noticed the effects of the independence movement.”
“I had no idea you were part Indian.” Sure, he was more tanned than most of the other British soldiers and his hair was darker, but his American accent had established him as a foreigner. She would have never guessed he had been born here.
“I’ve never let my race define my identity.” Warmth spread from the tops of her knuckles, up through her wrist, and along her arms until her whole body felt alight with the glow of his touch. “But I know what it’s like to grow up feeling like you don’t belong anywhere.”
“I always felt alone when I was growing up.” The words tumbled out of Parineeta’s mouth before she could stop them. “I’ve never known anyone else who belonged to two different worlds before. Everyone else knew what family they belonged to and what traditions to believe.”
“And what do you believe?”
“I believe in the Indian independence movement.” She grabbed Warren’s hand with her other palm and looked up into his eyes. She believed that he did, too. “Where do you think you belong?”
“That’s easy. Alongside you, in the fight for independence.”
Her arm dropped to her side. She scanned his expression, checking for any signs of deception or teasing.
But his tone remained serious. “When I was running with all of you and chanting, I’ve never had that feeling before. That feeling of complete belonging was foreign to me.”
“Until today?”
“Yes. I want to keep fighting for independence and against injustice. I’ve witnessed—and commanded—some of the racial injustice firsthand during my time here. It’s high time I fought against it.”
Parineeta leaned forward and clutched his arm. “This fight is dangerous. The independence movement could take many years to succeed.”
“Does it scare you?” The gleam in Warren’s eyes convinced her that he already knew her answer.
“Nothing scares me.”
“That’s because you’re crazy. Pagal ladki.”
“Crazy? You’re calling me crazy?” She lifted up her forearm as if to strike him. He laughed and held up his hand to block her blow. With gentle pressure, he
lowered her arm.
“Maybe you are.” The corner of his mouth turned upward. “But this former general wouldn’t want his revolutionary any other way.”
She sighed. “I have dedicated myself to the independence movement. There will be no more village life for me.” She stared up at the luminescent moon above them. Somehow even the stars shined brighter all of a sudden. “We will be leaving Lucknow tomorrow. My brother believes the authorities will not find us if we split up for the time being.”
“Where will you go?”
“In Cawnpore, there will be an annual session of the Indian National Congress.” Parineeta rested her head against the space between his shoulder and the nape of his neck. “I want to be involved with the politics as well.”
“And may I accompany you?”
She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her features. “Perhaps.”
“Whatever we do, we will do together.” He kissed the top of her forehead then pointed to the sky. “See those stars?”
She nodded.
“They always keep moving across the night sky—during the night, during the week, during the month. They don’t settle down because they’ve found no reason to stay in one place for long.”
“What about them?”
Warren leaned closer and closer to her, until a slight turn of his head would land her lips on his. “That is who we used to be. But now we’ve found something here.”
“We’ve found our purpose.”
She pressed her lips against his. The tenderness swept her away, carrying her past the stars and into his warm embrace.
She knew they’d found more than their purpose. They’d found each other.
More from This Author
(From One Last Letter by Pema Donyo)
Dearest Eve,
I hope this letter finds you. I’m praying you write back to this one, Eve, because Lord knows I’ve been spending way too much time writing to you and not enough time helping your father out. Spelling’s improved, though. I can say that much. You taught me well.
Do you remember that, Eve? When the sun was down and I’d sneak out to your front porch and you would meet me there? Back when your dad didn’t have that big old guard dog, back when you taught me how to read and write by lantern behind your house?
