The Orphan Keeper

by Camron Wright

  Every month, Taj and Priya talked about telling her family. Every month, it was easier to focus on school, schedules, and strategy, as they planned what their lives together might look like after graduation.

  “We could come at Christmas!” Priya’s father had said when he last called.

  “It’s freezing here, Papa, and there’s no reason to spend the money now,” she’d countered. “School is going well. I’m getting good grades. I’ll be just fine.” And she was. Taj was making sure of it.

  Daughters are experts at persuading their fathers.

  Another semester here, another holiday there. Here a spring, there a winter. Always putting off the inevitable, like a boy not telling his parents that he broke their heirloom crystal vase, as if it might magically piece itself together.

  “I’ll graduate in the spring. Why not wait until then?” Priya wondered.

  Taj wasn’t listening. He was staring out the window at the churning clouds. A storm was blowing their direction.

  When it finally arrived, it was going to be ugly.

  It was early March as Taj lounged on Priya’s couch watching a rerun of Jeopardy. He knew all the answers. Reruns can make anyone a genius.

  Priya was in the bathroom drying her hair. It was movie night at the dollar theater, and they were going to be late if she didn’t pick up the pace.

  The phone rang three times before Priya answered it.

  “Hello?”

  A pause.

  “Oh, hi, Papa,” she said, surprised.

  A longer pause.

  “No, I . . .” Concern peaked in her voice. Taj rose from the couch.

  “You’re what? No, no, you can’t . . .”

  He stepped closer.

  “Papa! You haven’t even . . .”

  Her fingers clenched. Her eyes clenched. Her teeth clenched.

  “That’s not right . . . it’s just . . .”

  Twice her lips almost spit out a word. Twice it was swallowed.

  “But you . . .”

  Within a second, anger thawed into frustration, and frustration melted into tears.

  What happened? Had somebody passed away? Taj sat beside her, pulled her close with one arm while taking her hand in the other.

  “Priya, tell me what’s wrong.”

  When she faced him, it wasn’t worry still glistening in her eyes, it was terror.

  “They’ll be here this weekend,” she muttered.

  “Priya, it will be okay. We’ll sit down and calmly tell them. It will be all right.”

  She was trembling. “You don’t understand.” She reached out and grabbed his leg to steady herself.

  “Father said they’re coming because they’ve found the man I’m going to marry.”

  Chapter 30

  Taj walked into the restaurant first. They’d purposely waited until closing time, so that Daniel would have time to talk.

  “Taj?” Daniel said, surprised to see his friend at such a late hour. “I’m not sure what we have left . . .”

  Priya stepped up behind him.

  “Hey, sister,” Daniel acknowledged with a nod. “Hey, what a surprise, you guys are here at the same time.”

  Observant.

  Taj got right to the point.

  “That’s why we’ve come, Daniel. We have something we need to tell you.” Taj pointed to a booth. “Can we sit?”

  Taj waited for Priya to slide in first and then scooted close beside her. It took Daniel a minute for his brain to register what should have been apparent.

  “Are you two dating?” he finally asked.

  “We are,” Taj confirmed.

  Daniel’s chin rose. “How long?” he snapped, in a tone that caught everyone off guard.

  Priya was next. “A while, Daniel. Look, I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want Mom and Dad to find out. You know how they’d react.”

  “I asked how long?” he growled.

  “Almost two years,” she answered.

  When she dropped her head, he began shaking his. “TWO YEARS? Are you kidding me? You’ve been dating behind my back for two years?”

  Was it anger or disgust filling up the room?

  It was Taj’s turn. “Daniel, we meant no harm.”

  Disdain gurgled deep within Daniel’s throat. “You both must think I’m so stupid! Every time either of you came in, you were laughing at me behind my back. I was your friend, Taj! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  He wasn’t expecting an answer.

  He turned to Priya. “And you, my sister. We’re supposed to share these things, not hide them!”

  His eyes had caught fire. His hands were twitching from the heat.

  Priya tried again. “Daniel, we just . . .”

  He swung his arm across the table, knocking a pitcher of water to the floor. It shattered into pieces, all running for cover.

  Daniel hollered as he stood, his deep voice swaddled in anger and hurt.

  “Get out!” he demanded. “Both of you! Get the hell out NOW!”

  When they pressed the doorbell, the entire house bristled. Daniel answered and silently led Taj and Priya to the entry. The place should have been more welcoming, since rooms once full of folding chairs were now filled with handcrafted furniture, woolen rugs, and family pictures.

  Today, entering guests were barely tolerated.

  “Father’s in the family room,” Daniel grunted to Priya. “I suggest you meet with him alone. If you two saunter in together, he’ll see that as a challenge to his authority—but do what you want. You’re good at that.”

  “Is he still mad?” she asked Daniel.

  “Furious. What did you expect?”

  Priya exhaled the thick air. “Danny, listen to me. I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you—or anyone. I should have told you. Just please forgive me!” She would have dropped to her knees had she thought it would help.

  Daniel turned. Their eyes met. His shoulders slumped. The fatigue in his brow softened.

  “What are you going to tell Father?” he asked.

  “The truth. I’ll tell him that I love Taj, that he loves me, that I can’t marry a stranger, that we’re in the United States, not India.”

  “He’s a man of tradition, old and set in his ways. He won’t take it well. He’ll tell you that going against him will disgrace the family, that an arranged marriage worked for me, for your sister, that it will work for you also.”

  Daniel’s wife rounded the corner from the hall. “Your father is calling. I think he’s ready to speak with Priya.”

  Daniel nodded. “Tell him she’ll be right there.”

  He turned back and spoke to both Priya and Taj. “Do you two love each other enough to turn your back on family, on tradition?”

  Taj answered first. “Daniel, we’re sorry for not telling you. As for family tradition, all I can tell you is that I’ve never met anyone like her. Whenever we’re apart, she’s all I think about. I can’t imagine life without her—and she feels the same.”

  Priya reached out for Daniel’s hand. “That sounds like the start of a pretty great tradition to me.”

  Daniel didn’t argue. “I know this feels all Ek Duuje Ke Liye, but remember how it ends?”

  Priya translated for Taj. “They’re an Indian Romeo and Juliet.” She turned back to Daniel.

  “I don’t pretend to know the future, our challenges, but I do know that I’ve made my decision and it’s right.”

  “Then it’s done.” He gestured toward the family room. “He’s waiting.”

  She was a step away when he reached forward and grabbed her arm.

  “Priya, since I see you’re set on this, that you’ve made up your mind, . . . there’s something you should know.”

  “What is it, Danny?”

  �
�It’s Father and Mother . . .” The words cowered behind his teeth, afraid to come out. “Priya, theirs was also a love marriage.”

  Priya gasped. Her head rocked back. “What, that’s not . . .”

  Daniel brushed away her doubt. “They’ve kept it a secret, didn’t want us to know. Considering all this, it might help.”

  The news was like unearthed gold. It couldn’t be true! But she could see it glisten in his eyes. “How do you know this?”

  “It’s not important. I just do.”

  Priya’s cheeks dimpled. It was her first genuine smile of the morning. “Thank you. I love you, Danny.”

  “Had you trusted me, I would have kept your secret,” he replied.

  “I know.” She held his hand and squeezed.

  “But being angry is exhausting,” he added. “I’d much rather cook.”

  She let go of his fingers, leaned toward Taj, and kissed him. Then marched toward the living room to meet her father.

  Priya’s talk with her father was short—a surprise to both.

  He told her that Taj was likely from a lower caste and that marrying someone from a lower caste would bring ridicule to the family. He described how arranged marriages were an Indian tradition, how parents know better than their children in such matters. He preached that obedience was critical and that arranged marriages were far more apt to last than marriages of passion. He said that the color of Taj’s skin was too dark, that it would be easier for her children if she married a boy whose skin was lighter and closer to her own.

  After he finished, Priya explained in a soft yet determined tone that she loved her father but she was going to marry Taj no matter what he said. She told him she was grateful he understood, from his own experience, what it was like to be able to marry the person you loved. When his eyebrows furrowed, it was hard to tell, even for a daughter, if he was shocked or outraged that she knew the truth.

  “How did you . . .”

  She wasn’t about to let this escalate. She couldn’t take the chance. There was an easy way to stop it cold.

  “Papa,” she said, interrupting. “Did you know that Taj was adopted from an orphanage in India?”

  He tipped toward her. He clenched his determined teeth. “Priya, this is what I’m telling you! As such, we don’t know his caste and never will. We don’t know if you are marrying down. That is the reason why . . .”

  “Papa, he was adopted from the Lincoln Home in Madukkarai.”

  If it was anger bubbling over before, it traded places with confusion and shock.

  “How is that . . . ?”

  “His name was Chellamuthu. He would have been seven or eight. Do you remember him?”

  Her father’s eyes darted, as if the news were too hot to set down. Air seemed to race into his lungs, turn around and race out—and then, for a moment, his eyes glanced heavenward. Priya couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like a name.

  He looked forward, past her. “Eli?”

  “Father?”

  It was as if she weren’t there. “Dad? Are you all right? Is there anything else?”

  His ghost-chased words were so dazed he could barely get them out.

  “No. No. You can go. Just go.”

  Chapter 31

  Three days later, when Maneesh Durai opened the door at Daniel’s house, he found Fred and Linda Rowland standing on his doorstep, both wearing traditional Indian dress. Taj stood behind them in a vibrant blue-and-purple sarong.

  The family was invited inside, where Fred and Linda presented the Durais with an engraved silver engagement plate, filled with coconuts, flowers, turmeric, and beetlenuts. With Priya directing, Taj’s parents recommended to the Durais that the families come to an arrangement concerning the marriage of their children.

  With little said, the parents agreed, a date was set, the engagement was considered official, and wedding preparations were begun in earnest.

  The reception held in their honor on a beautiful May evening in the rotunda at the City and County Building was an interesting intermingling of Indian tradition and western culture. Sadly, Air Supply music was not invited.

  Priya was glowing. Taj was giddy. The stunning couple exchanged vows and ate cake. They circled a pretend fire and drank coconut milk. Curry danced recklessly with the fruit punch, while chocolate cake snuggled up to the sharbat.

  Hundreds were invited. Hundreds attended.

  Typical of Indian weddings, there was food everywhere. It was catered by Bombay House, naturally, and Daniel had promised the cuisine would be talked about for years to come.

  Taj was dancing with Priya when Kelly and her husband entered. She was hard to miss—the woman was visibly pregnant. She and Taj hugged as best they could, swapped congratulations, then had as thrilling a conversation as anyone could have while being thronged by hundreds of happy dancing Indians.

  She promised to call and catch up once Taj and Priya returned from their honeymoon. And then, as the festivities continued, Taj lost track of Kelly in the celebrating crowd.

  An hour later, when he slipped out to move his car to thwart any sibling notions that shaving cream and tied-on cans would be funny, he found Kelly waiting for Jason, who had gone to get their car.

  “You’re leaving?” Taj asked.

  “Truly, if I eat any more curry, it could kill the baby.”

  “Or give him excellent taste.”

  “Yeah, well, I can’t chance it.”

  “It’s so great to see you—pregnant, no less.”

  “Had you said fat, I’d have bludgeoned you with my stomach.”

  “You know, I’d almost like to see that.”

  Kelly’s smile straightened. “On a serious note, how’s that dream coming along?”

  “To which dream are you referring?”

  “I think you know. It involves a large continent and a certain map.”

  Taj rested against a pillar. “If I’m being honest, it’s probably not going to happen.”

  “Why?”

  “Take a good look. I’m married, barely finishing school. We’re waist-deep in student loans. I’ll be an old man before I get to India.”

  Kelly nudged him with her foot. “Come on, no one is asking you to walk to India. It doesn’t cost that much to fly.”

  “Are you kidding? By the time we save any money, Priya will be pregnant—not that I have anything against pregnant women, mind you. I’m just saying that I have to face reality. Kelly, I’ve read this story and already know how it ends. It’s a comedic tragedy. Trust me.”

  “Okay, drama boy.”

  “I’m not being dramatic, I’m being realistic. There’s a time in life when you harbor hope and chase crazy dreams, and there’s a time where you have to let it all go.”

  He noticed her jaw clench. It was a look he’d seen before.

  “Do you have something more?” he asked.

  Jason was pulling up the car. Kelly motioned that she’d be right there.

  When her words marched out, they were swinging swords. “Two lessons that you need to get through your head. First, never make a pregnant woman mad, especially when she’s eaten too much curry.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Second, never give up hope. Plans change—I get that—but that doesn’t mean we quit trying, that we sit down and whimper. Look, do you remember how I told you I met Jason?”

  “Sure.”

  “Life is like that. It has a way of pushing, pulling, sometimes kicking us to where we need to be.”

  Taj must have sighed. He didn’t think it was so obvious.

  “You can sigh all you want, Taj, but there’s goodness and purpose and reason out there. Believe it, embrace it, trust it. Life will always be hard, but if we do our best, if we persist, we can make a difference—and good will win out over evil, love will conquer
hate, and butterflies and kittens will play together in the sunshine . . . That last line about kittens . . . it may be the curry talking.”

  Taj stooped to her side and yelled to Jason behind the wheel. “I’m going to kiss your very pregnant wife now!”

  When Jason nodded his blessing, Taj planted a kiss on her cheek followed by a parting hug. “Knowing you has always been an adventure.”

  “I’m serious, Taj. Don’t give up on your dream. Promise? It’s time you discover who you really are!”

  His was a forced smile. “Promise.”

  “Good. Now I’m off to Bedfordshire.”

  “Where?”

  “Taj, Taj, Taj. Did you learn nothing in London? It’s slang for bed. Oh, the innocence of a child.”

  “You, my friend,” Taj duly noted, “are completely off your trolley.”

  Kelly climbed inside the car, blew a kiss good-bye, and drove away into the night.

  Chapter 32

  “I’m glad we’ve come to an agreement. It will be a pleasure to have you on board as part of our team. If it works for you, you can start on the first of next month. That should give HR adequate time to finish the paperwork.”

  When the man wearing the gray pinstriped suit extended his hand, Taj shook it with confidence. He looked him in the eyes. “I’m thrilled, Jerry, for the opportunity. It’ll be great working with you.”

  On the outside, Taj was calm and assured. Inside, he wanted to throw his arms into the air and race around their office giggling like a three-year-old.

  The telecommunications company was a short thirty-minute commute. He’d have a private office, an assistant, superb benefits, and decent pay. He’d be analyzing the company’s departments, looking for ways they could streamline their operations. It was a dream job.

  Priya was at the kitchen table when he waltzed into the room bearing the news. She was punching numbers into a calculator like an accountant on tax day.

  “You, my dear,” Taj announced, “are looking at the newest member of iLink’s operational management team.”

  “That’s so great!” Priya jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I knew you’d land it. I’m so proud of you.” She wore excited eyes but carried cumbered words.