Romance in Color

by Synithia Williams

  After she got her key, she strode toward the lift. Jeremy waited another moment by the newspapers, nodding to the attendant who gawked at him as he passed on his way to his own room.

  • • •

  “Lalita?”

  Jeremy stood before her, his eyes as wide open as his mouth. Lalita smiled. Glad that after three weeks of seeing each other daily, she could still surprise him.

  “Good morning, Jeremy. Sleep well?”

  He ignored her question. “You look … amazing.”

  Her pulse increased and a wave of feminine pleasure swept through her at his words.

  “You know what they say, ‘when in Rome’,” she replied. She reveled in having knocked Jeremy off his seemingly solid foundation. It was worth the forty minutes it had taken to wrap herself in the endless deep green silk sari fabric. She’d had to resort to calling in one of the housekeepers to get the folds right.

  As she turned to exit the lobby, Jeremy put out his hand, then dropped it to his side. The naked skin of her waist seemed to beckon his touch. She suppressed a smile and in her best business voice said, “Shall we go?”

  Jeremy waited until she was settled in the cab before turning to her. “The sari suits you. You look like a native.”

  “I should. I was born here.”

  “You were born in Mumbai?”

  “Yes. I told you my father opened the office here. Evidently my mother joined him toward the end of her pregnancy and I ended up being born in India.” At least that was the general story.

  “Every time I think I know you, you surprise me again.”

  Warmth raced through her at Jeremy’s words, melting more of her resistance. Each touch of his hands unraveled some of her tightly woven restraints. Each kiss undermined the wall around her heart. Two more days and she’d have achieved her initial goal of not succumbing to his charms. Yet another empty victory.

  Lalita peeked at him through the driver’s rear-view mirror which hung askew from the windscreen. Jeremy returned the scrutiny with unabashed hunger. She glanced down before he saw the same desire in her eyes.

  His hand rested on the seat next to her thigh. One small movement and she could bridge the distance between them. A simple gesture of want, of need. She lifted her hand.

  The sight of an emaciated woman begging on the street sent a tremor through Lalita. Her stomach lurched at the reminder of what she had to do and her hand fell back in her lap.

  “I’ll drop you off at the office and introduce you to the country manager. Then I have a few things to follow up,” Lalita said. Jeremy gazed at her but made no reply.

  Silence in the cab lengthened. In all their travels, she’d never known him to be at a loss for words. Was he engrossed in the sights and sounds of Mumbai or did he have something on his mind?

  A white cow wandered into the roadway, causing the taxi driver to swerve. The abrupt change of lanes was accompanied by a chorus of horns, making Lalita jump.

  • • •

  Jeremy’s mind raced. If she went off on her errand while he gave his presentation then he’d have no way of following her, making sure she was safe. However, her presence wasn’t required. He’d handled the last few meetings without her in the room. At least then he knew she was somewhere in the building.

  The taxi lurched again as it tried to get around a stricken rickshaw, throwing Jeremy against Lalita. She turned and offered a weak smile which didn’t reach her eyes. He resisted the temptation to put his arm around her. She seemed so distant.

  “I was reading in my guide book about some of the various social etiquettes required to do business here in India. I don’t think I understand them all. I would appreciate it if you stayed so I don’t screw up and offend someone.” Jeremy latched onto the only excuse he could think to keep Lalita near him.

  Lalita stared into his eyes, as if trying to figure out how much he knew. “Very well. But after your presentation I do have some personal business to attend to. You can either go back to the hotel or I can ask one of the office staff to give you a personal tour of Mumbai. There are some places it would be a shame to miss before you return to the UK.”

  “I’d rather you showed me around,” Jeremy countered.

  Lalita searched his face for a few moments, as if torn. She said nothing.

  The presentation went off without a hitch. As the office was used to working in English, there wasn’t the language difficulty there had been in many of the previous discussions.

  “Mr. Lakewood, if you would prepare a document detailing our final decisions for distribution it would aid the managers in disseminating the information to their staff.” Lalita stood before the assembled group and thanked them for their attention. The employees filed out of the room, talking among themselves.

  Jeremy packed up his laptop and put a hand on Lalita’s arm when she made to leave the room.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “Jeremy, it’s a personal matter. There is no need for you to come.” Lalita’s voice was calm, although he thought he detected a waiver.

  “I’m coming, Lalita. If it’s a hair or nail appointment, I’ll wait for you. But I don’t think it’s something as mundane as that.”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  Jeremy grabbed her hand.

  “Your heart is racing, your palms sweaty. Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  “No, of course not.” Her words were confident, but her voice wasn’t.

  “Lalita.” Jeremy waited until her eyes met his. They were clouded, anxious.

  “Jeremy … ”

  “I don’t know what it is, or what is troubling you. I do know it’s something you’re not comfortable with yourself. I will never forgive myself if something were to happen to you. I’m coming with you.” Jeremy’s tone was firm, he wouldn’t be swayed.

  “It’s not dangerous, it’s just personal.” Lalita tried to pull away but Jeremy refused to let go of her hand.

  “I promise to protect your privacy. I won’t say a word and anything I see will never be spoken of.” Jeremy wished he knew what he was getting himself into. The one thing he was certain of was that he was going with Lalita. Seeing her with the nefarious man last night had spurred on his determination.

  Lalita seemed to hesitate, searching his face.

  “It’s not only my personal business. It also affects my parents. I don’t want any shame or gossip to come upon them.”

  “Is that what you think of me? That I’d gossip about your family?”

  “No … it’s just … oh, Jeremy. I’m going to see my birth mother.”

  Jeremy didn’t allow the shock of her words to show on his face. “I’m coming with you, Lalita.”

  • • •

  Lalita let out a long breath and closed her eyes. It was no point arguing, she knew there was nothing she could say that would change his mind. She could try and lose him, return to the hotel and sneak out later, but she had a feeling that would be futile as well.

  “If I let you come, you promise you’ll never say a word?”

  “I promise. I would never do anything to harm you, or your family. You have to know that.” Jeremy raised her face to his. He lowered his head, his lips touching hers with the lightest pressure. Lalita opened her mouth and white heat flashed through her brain. Her hand reached up and pulled him closer, kissing him with all the pent-up passion within her. It was only when her phone began to vibrate on the table she remembered they were still in the office. One day Jeremy would kiss her somewhere more private. Then she’d be lost.

  She released him and stepped back, appraising him. Hoping he didn’t see the hunger in her eyes.

  “First, we have to get you properly dressed. You look too western. At least with your dark hair you can pass at first glance for a local.”


  “You’re not going to put me in a sari, are you?”

  “No. Just something more Indian. I hope we can find something in your size, most men here are shorter than you.”

  “If you want to get me out of my trousers, you just have to ask.”

  Two hours later, Jeremy stood beside Lalita, outfitted in new clothes. To a casual observer they appeared like two locals, searching for a lost relative. Lalita spoke to a shop keeper who directed her to a shanty town at the end of the street.

  As they approached the slum dwellings, Lalita was relieved to have Jeremy’s strong arm around her waist. If he hadn’t been there for her, she would have chickened out. She stepped carefully, lifting the hem of her sari. The smell of garbage and unwashed bodies was overpowering.

  A young boy in bare feet and tattered clothes approached and asked them for some money.

  “He says he knows the woman but claims she doesn’t speak Marathi. He’s offered to take us there and translate. His name is Pradesh.” Lalita explained to Jeremy after a long exchange with the child.

  “Do you trust him?” Jeremy eyed the young lad.

  “Not entirely, but I don’t see any other options.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Lalita? You have a family that loves you. What point is there in raising questions now?”

  “I need to know.”

  “Then that’s all I need to know. Come on, I can’t wait to get back to the hotel and have a shower. I think something just crawled up my leg.”

  Lalita took his hand and gave it a squeeze then hurried to follow the boy. He led them through a warren of passages until Lalita was sure they had gone in circles at least twice. She had seen Jeremy taking careful notice of their surroundings and making discreet marks on some of the corrugated metal walls as they passed.

  At last the boy indicated a small shed and called out the name Lalita had been given. A woman’s voice answered and the boy disappeared inside. A minute later, he reappeared and motioned for Lalita and Jeremy to enter.

  Lalita stooped to pass through the doorway, bending almost double to get inside. As soon as she entered, she wished she hadn’t. The only place to sit was on the mud floor and the roof was too low to stand upright. A gnarled old woman lay on a filthy mattress not even bothering to shoo away the flies that buzzed about her unwashed body.

  Jeremy stuck his head inside. Lalita motioned for him to wait outside, which he seemed grateful to do.

  “Please tell her that I’ve come to ask about a baby that was born twenty-eight years ago,” Lalita said to Pradesh. The boy repeated the question in the old woman’s language.

  The woman got on her knees and crawled over to where Lalita crouched as close to the door as possible. Wanting to vomit from the stench emanating from the woman, Lalita held her breath. The filthy creature put a deformed hand up to her cheek. They searched each other’s eyes in the dim light. Before answering the boy, the hag crawled back to the mattress.

  “She says you are her daughter. She doesn’t remember who the father is. She sold you to a rich, white couple when you were a few days old. She wants some money.”

  Nausea welled up into Lalita’s throat. How could this woman be her mother? Glancing around the tiny room which could have been her home, she tried to disguise the dry heaves behind a cough. She took a deep breath through her mouth, however, she could taste the rank air.

  “I don’t believe her. Does she have any proof?” Lalita managed to get out. This couldn’t be true. Why had she even wanted to find her real mother? The one she had in England was loving and kind, why had she felt a need to find a different one? Especially one that sold babies?

  Pradesh translated Lalita’s question. The old woman laughed so hard a wet stain appeared on the mattress around her thighs. She spoke again.

  “She says the paperwork must be in her other house,” Pradesh said. “She wants money.”

  “There is no money,” Lalita stated. She had to leave. Before Pradesh even translated the sentence the woman moved like a cockroach when the light turns on and grabbed Lalita’s wrist in an iron grip. Lalita cried out.

  Jeremy ducked into the room and pulled the old woman’s hand from Lalita’s. The woman scurried back onto the mattress. Jeremy placed himself between the woman and Lalita.

  “Are you okay?” He took Lalita’s wrist and ran his fingers up her arm. The gentle caress erased the feel of the old woman’s gnarled fingers, replacing it with a warm tingle. Lalita gazed into Jeremy’s compassionate eyes.

  “I’m fine. There is nothing for me here. Let’s go.” She blinked rapidly, desperate to hold back her tears.

  She started to crawl out of the hovel when the old woman called out something to her. Lalita paused for a second then kept going. Jeremy followed and Lalita leaned into him as soon as he stood upright. His arms came around her and he pulled her tight against him. She wanted so desperately to melt into him.

  Pradesh emerged, a wide grin splitting his face. “If you want to get back to the road it will cost you double,” he advised Lalita in Marathi.

  She moved out of Jeremy’s arms but grabbed his hand for support. She glared at her young translator come guide and replied, “If you want to be paid at all, you will return us immediately. And not the long way we came.” The smile disappeared from Pradesh’s face.

  • • •

  Jeremy frowned, not able to follow their conversation, yet somehow sensing that the deal was shifting. Lalita’s hand trembled in his. She looked calm, although there was a sheen in her eyes. Unshed tears?

  They followed the boy and within five minutes were on the main road. Lalita produced a few notes and passed them to the boy who ran off without even saying farewell.

  Jeremy flagged down a rickshaw and managed to make the driver understand that they wanted to go to central Mumbai. He figured he could get further directions to the hotel once they were nearer. He put his arm around Lalita and held her close, resting his head on her hair. The sweet smell of her shampoo cleansed his nostrils of the slum stench.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Lalita told him the gist of the conversation. Despite the oppressive heat, her face was a frozen mask.

  “Are you sure that was what she said and not just what the boy made up?” Jeremy searched Lalita’s eyes. They were distant, troubled.

  “Yes, her dialect was close enough to Hindi that I could understand most of what she said, even without Pradesh translating.”

  “What did she say as you left?”

  “She said that if I wanted a baby, she could get me one, cheap. She said that if you were to be the father, she would even carry the baby for no charge.”

  Jeremy shuddered. “I cannot believe for the life of me that that woman is your mother. There is no way on this earth that she gave birth to you.”

  “Thank you, Jeremy.

  “We are going back to the hotel. And after a long shower, you are going to tell me how you managed to arrive at the conclusion that that thing who sells babies like handicrafts could possibly have born you.”

  Chapter 7

  Jeremy read through the documents the private investigator had given Lalita the previous evening. He stared at the photos, trying to find some trace of resemblance between the haggard woman in the picture and the luscious creature that sat opposite him. There was none.

  A white-gloved waiter poured them each a cup of tea then placed a tiered serving tray with a selection of mini cakes and sandwiches on the table. If it wasn’t for the accents of the serving staff, they could be sitting in the Palm Court at the Ritz in London. Instead, they were over four thousand miles away, in a country where palaces and slums stood side by side and baby girls could be bought for a tuppence.

  “None of this proves anything, you know,” Jeremy said. He reached across the t
able and held her hand as it trembled in his. She appeared drained, all her vivacious energy gone. A confident Lalita was eminently sexy. A vulnerable Lalita was devastating.

  She had changed into a cotton summer dress in a cream color. Her tanned skin shone as if she’d scrubbed the top layer off, trying to rid herself of any relationship to the woman she’d just met.

  “I know. It only says a baby girl was born to her on the same day I was allegedly born. I don’t even know if my own birth certificate is legitimate.”

  “What has made you even question your parentage?” The subject had been bugging him since she mentioned her quest. Lalita didn’t resemble her mother or sisters but perhaps she took after someone on her father’s side of the family.

  “I always feel out of place, like I don’t belong. I mean my parents are John and Julia, my sisters Jane and Jessica. Your name starts with J, you fit into my family better than I do.”

  “You’re basing this hypothesis on the fact that your name doesn’t start with the same letter as the rest of your siblings?”

  She pulled her hand out of his and stared over his left shoulder. “No, it’s more than that. It’s hard to explain. I just sense that somehow I’m different. And rather than fade with the years, it has gotten stronger.” Her gaze flicked back to him before settling on her tea cup.

  “Have you ever spoken to your parents about it?”

  “When I was young, I used to ask my mother why my hair wasn’t blonde like hers, or why my skin was darker than everyone else’s. She would say ‘that’s the way God made me’ or ‘I was more like Daddy than her’.”

  Jeremy chose his words with care. Lalita was upset enough he didn’t want to make light of her issues. “It is quite a reasonable explanation. Genetics is an amazing science. Genes can lay dormant for generations then resurface, making a child look entirely different from the parents. There have even been a few cases of twins having completely different colored skin, as one receives the gene for darker skin and the other a gene for a lighter tone.”