“Kelsey!” she mouthed, then took hold of my chin and turned my head. Sure enough, I heard a voice I recognized, and across the street I spotted Kelsey and Kadam at a little restaurant. They were seated outside. Both of them sipping ice water with lemons as they perused their menus.
“I thought you said they were on the ship!” Ana breathily whispered in my ear.
“No. I said I was on the ship. They must have come ashore.”
My eyes were riveted on the table across the street. Kelsey’s shoulders were hunched and Kadam was patting her arm. I realized with a start that this was right after Ren had broken up with her. This was the moment she stopped being Ren’s Kelsey and became mine. My bilauta.
“Well?” I heard Ana say, a clipped tone to her voice.
“Well, what?”
“Are you coming with me or are you going to sit here and wallow for a while?”
“I don’t wallow, Ana.” She gave me an all-too-knowing look. I winced and nodded that we should continue, but stood immobile, staring at Kelsey, knowing each tear she shed was bringing her closer to me. It was the old me, but still.
Ana suddenly shoved past me brusquely and walked down the alley with a stiff back, not even bothering to look back to see if I was coming. “Ana,” I said again. “Wait.” I quickly caught up but her expression was closed off and distant. I touched her shoulder and asked, “What’s wrong?” She didn’t respond and pointedly ignored my outstretched hand, refusing to show any sign of softening.
We ducked down another alley that smelled of old refuse and things best left uncovered and made our way toward a temple. It wasn’t the big temple that the past me would be going to later that night to meet the goddess Durga, or Ana. The idea that we’d really been meeting with the woman at my side was something I still couldn’t wrap my head around.
The temple grounds were packed with people. It was an outdoor type with a pavilion and stone benches. Supplicants wandered up to the statue of the goddess and left offerings at her feet. Others sat quietly, eyes closed, their lips twitching softly as they whispered their secrets to the universe.
I found an empty bench and guided her toward it. She sat down; her mind was quickly distracted from her recent disapproval with me. As her eyes looked from one person to another, her mouth parted and she cocked her head, listening. I sat next to her, waiting, and dug my heel into the dirt. Leaning over, I examined the divot I’d made. Lowering my brows, I deliberately pushed the dirt around until the print vaguely resembled my pugmark. Then I scratched it out and glanced up again. I was shocked to see Ana crying.
Her expression was bleak. “That one.” She pointed. “The woman there. She lost the one she loves. The one on that bench asks me to help the man she married love her. That one, kneeling by the statue, is to be wed next week and she has never met her groom. She asks not for love but kindness. Some of them are young and just wish for a handsome man or a rich man. Others want a deep, abiding love.” After a pause, she asked, “How can I answer these women?”
Ana’s shoulders shook, and I wanted to wipe the tears from her face, but it felt too intimate a gesture. Instead, I patted her back gently and rubbed little circles with my thumbs, kneading her shoulder blades. It seemed to help. She relaxed and sat back. The scarf had slipped down her back, revealing her glorious hair. I tried to shift it up but she slapped lightly at my hands and I gave up.
“Tell me how to help them,” she insisted, turning to me. Her green eyes bored into mine, and for a half a second, I was lost in them. Two men passed by our bench and gave her appreciative looks. Ana didn’t even see them. I furrowed my brows, feeling a growl tickle the back of my throat. Purposefully, I stretched out my arms across the bench and followed their gazes with my eyes until they caught my pointed stare.
When they quickly moved on, I saw she was wrapped up in the prayers she heard once more, her eyes glazed over. Ana’s hair tickled my wrist and I captured a loose section with my fingertips. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
“Hmm,” I said as I played with her hair. “Let’s take care of the easy ones first, shall we? I would suggest that the young girls who want a rich or a handsome man don’t really need help. You don’t need wealth or good looks to be happy.”
“I would agree with that,” she said, eager to discuss our options.
“As for the one whose husband doesn’t appreciate her, perhaps if she is removed from his side for a time, he will come to realize what he has.”
Ana blinked. “You wish me to send her away?”
“Perhaps on an extended vacation or a work trip?” I suggested.
Waving her fingers, Ana murmured a few words and then she said, “It is done. There are several women in the same situation. I have helped them all.”
“How?” I asked.
She bit her lip. “I do not know exactly. The amulet responded when I told it what I wanted.”
Startled, I asked, “How…how many?”
“A great number. I would guess several thousand.”
My mouth fell open.
She went on, “Not all of them live in India. It would appear a man’s lack of appreciation is a common ailment many women must suffer.”
At that moment a woman rose excitedly from a bench and said she’d been selected as one of one hundred women to attend an all-expenses-paid film festival, where she’d get to rub elbows with her favorite Bollywood stars. She quickly ran from the pavilion shouting her news to everyone she passed by. “That must be you,” I said with a laugh.
“What is Bollywood?” she asked.
I grinned. “Remind me to tell you later. Let’s see, who’s next? Ah, yes, the one who has never met her groom. Well, we can’t just assume he won’t be kind.”
“No,” Anamika agreed. “If they are unkind, we will see to that later.”
I nodded. “What’s left?”
“The woman who lost the one she loves. You have experience in that. How do you cope with it?”
“I don’t know,” I answered quietly. “I guess I haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Then what about the one who longs for a deep and abiding love?” She glanced up at me and the air between us shrunk until it was thin and thirsty.
I licked my lips. My fingertips were now tangled in her hair in such a way that I’d have a hard time extricating them. Her thick waves tempted me to delve deeper. Swallowing, I said in a chirping voice, “Have…have you found Nilima yet?”
Anamika was as still as a rabbit hiding in the tall grass, and I wondered if she knew that my thoughts had strayed to her mouth again. “Nilima is the one who seeks this,” she said melodiously.
It was the first time I could remember her voice sounding like it did in the temples, and the power of it shook me to my core. That was a voice I remembered. That was the voice of the goddess. The one I had no power to resist. Her eyes were green pools that beckoned me; they offered me peace and tranquility, and something more. The mouth of the goddess was slightly parted, glistening, a silky invitation. Without thought, I narrowed the distance between us.
Ana’s fist met my jaw with a powerful thud and my head jerked sharply to the side. I shook my head as tiny lights circled my peripheral vision. Ana pulling away, I might have expected. A slap, I might have deserved. But a punch?
It wasn’t a little thing being socked by Anamika. She was strong. Even if you only considered her as a woman and not a goddess, her body was toned and muscular. She was trained in the art of warfare. She was smart and formidable. But I was used to being Ren’s punching bag and that was saying something. I should have been able to take anything she threw at me.