Ms. Vanya, Navya, and Meena explained the celebration of Diwali to Olivia as best they could to someone who had never experienced it. The Festival of Lights spanned five days, not just one. Christian Americans didn’t celebrate a comparable holiday, though as they described the customs of cleaning on the first day, purification and prayers, visiting family and friends, giving gifts, strengthening family bonds, sharing sweets, and setting off fireworks, she thought it sounded rather like Christmas, Halloween, and the Fourth of July all rolled into one holiday.
The day before the holiday arrived and brought with it giggling, rambunctious classes of students. The teachers distributed cleaner and cloth rags and put all the excess energy to good use.
“Clean out your desks,” Olivia instructed, knowing almost nothing was stored in the desks from one class to another. “When we finish, we will light the diyas!”
Squeals preceded a new burst of rigorous scrubbing. Once finished, she returned each student’s clay diya, which she agreed did rather resemble a tiny genie’s lantern with no top on it. She passed out tea lights and allowed them to flip the lights on and enjoy the flickering glow while writing about their favorite Diwali tradition or memory or food or whatever. The assignment was meant to keep them busy, so she didn’t care what they wrote about. After today, they would be home on holiday with their families.
At recess, each student drew a chalk rangoli, truly impressing her with their creativity and artistic talent. Each round work of art was filled with swooping swirls and delicate flower petal designs. She would miss these kids when she left.
After dinner that night, the teachers adjourned into the courtyard and switched on the strands of lights they’d strung. In the dusky haze of the setting sun, they twinkled, absolutely beautiful.
Chris had not exaggerated Ms. Vanya’s ability to create breathtakingly ornate rangoli. Gorgeous red and orange swirls intertwined in her circular patterns. Ms. Vanya stepped outside with oil-filled diyas, placed them around the rangoli, and lit them. Magical. Olivia felt transported to a fairy realm.
“Want to make one?” Chris asked. “It’s fun.”
“I’m no good at art. I hate to spoil the effect.”
“Don’t be silly. We’re all making one and who cares if they’re not the best rangoli ever? Come on.” He retrieved the bags of sand.
Everyone spread out, choosing a spot in the courtyard to draw. She knelt down and breathed deeply, clearing her mind, then reached for a bag of yellow sand. She formed a circle, the base of the other rangoli she’d seen. Ms. Vanya and the children had filled theirs with flower and leaf motifs, swirls and curlicues. But as she stared at her yellow disc, she could think of only one thing she wanted on top of hers.
Tears pricking her eyes, she selected a bag of pastel pink sand and wrote in her best script Lucy. She reached for bag after bag, adding purple curlicues, orange polka dots, and green swirls, giving tribute to the lost life, swiping at the tears she couldn’t control, lest they drip onto her artwork and ruin it.
When she finished, she stared at her handiwork and remembered her sweet little one. A soft moan escaped her lips, rising in pitch until she sobbed, breath rasping in huge, uneven gasps.
Chris knelt beside her and placed a hand on her back, rubbing gently. “Lucy. Your daughter’s name?”
Unable to speak, she sucked in another ragged breath and nodded.
“You’re right. It is beautiful.”
He sat, silent witness to her raw grief, gut-wrenching pain she didn’t know possible. When she doubled over, collapsing under the weight of it, he pulled her into his arms and propped her up. She stayed there, helpless to control her grief while he stroked her back.
“I’m so sorry,” he crooned over and over. “It just isn’t fair.”
She didn’t have enough strength to apologize for the unadulterated anguish, and for once she did not feel compelled to.
Tisha joined them, kneeling and holding her hand. “There you go. Let it all out. Finally.”
Melanie, Delilah, and Aubra left their rangoli and surrounded her in a group hug.
When another set of feet joined them, she recognized Noah’s stupid, red-splattered shoes he must have thought made him look artistic and cool. Great. She didn’t look up but knew her emotional meltdown and personal trauma would be recorded and on display for the entire world to see.
Aubra leapt to her feet. “Get that camera out of here, Noah, before I smash it to the ground! This is personal and has nothing to do with the project. Show some decency.” Then the young woman knelt directly in front of her, shielding her from view.
“Thank you,” she managed, before choking on a fresh wave of sobs. She’d never felt so drained in her life.
Aubra squeezed her hand.
“We’ve got you,” Chris murmured. “We’ve got you.”
The third day of Diwali, the biggest day of celebration, stores closed and schools were not in session. Ms. Vanya had the day off, but the woman came to the school and cooked for her “kids” regardless, treating them to samosas, gulab jamun, and other new and exotic dishes she didn’t know the names of. Olivia ate entirely too much, knowing she’d be eating all day as they walked through town visiting people and exchanging small gifts of food and sweets.
She practiced her deep breathing exercises, hoping to keep control of her emotions. October twenty-eighth. One year ago, she’d labored through childbirth and suffered the most devastating loss imaginable. She remembered how only a few months ago she had expected not to be able to function today. But she didn’t want to miss this holiday. And she didn’t want to push her friends away. Isolating herself, pushing the grief away, and trying to run from the pain turned out not to work. Still, even if things had taken a different turn than expected, she was glad she ran. Looking at all the smiling faces around her, thinking of all the people they’d call on and visit today, she was happy her path led her here. Her heart hurt. She would give anything to change the past and be able to have her daughter live. But nothing could change that. Her daughter was no more, her marriage had crumbled, and she would never be the same. She knew that. She could, however, reassemble the shattered pieces and move on. She could make the best of life. She could feel happy and shouldn’t feel guilty about it. And she knew that if her daughter had lived, that’s exactly what she would have wanted—her mother to be happy. She knew because she wanted her own mother to be happy. She wanted her mother to have the chance to be loved and cherished by someone who valued her. One tear slid down her cheek, but she swiped it away.
Ms. Vanya came through the swinging door again.
“I thought you went home to be with Navya and Jaanvi!” Olivia said.
Then she saw what Ms. Vanya carried in her hands: a little cake, decorated pink, a single candle glowing on top. She looked around the table again, at all the knowing faces. They were all in on it.
“Happy birthday to Lucy,” Tisha said, her voice catching in her throat.
Chris sniffed and seemed a little misty-eyed too. “We couldn’t let today go by without celebrating her life, even if it was far too short.”
Tears blurred her vision, but she smiled through them. “You guys . . .”
“We know it’s a sad day,” Melanie said. “But we couldn’t ignore it. It’s too important.”
“‘I will not say do not weep, for not all tears are evil,’” Delilah said.
“Return of the King,” Chris said. “Finally, a literary quote I recognize.”
Delilah nodded. “It’s true, though. Sometimes you have to cry. And now for my favorite three words—let’s eat cake!”
While they ate yet more sugar, knowing full well there was much more to come, they asked her about the pregnancy, how she’d decorated the nursery, how long she’d been in labor. She described the first time she felt Lucy kick and how active she’d been. She threw wide the door to the secret closet in her mind and allowed everything she’d stuffed inside to come spilling out. She laughed. She cried. She shared it all. And she felt better. Not great. But better.
Chris slid a wrapped package toward her. “It’s from all of us. Not just me. A birthday present for Lucy. And you.”
“You guys shouldn’t have done this!”
“We disagree,” Tisha said.
“In all honesty, it was Chris’s idea,” Aubra said. “But we thought it brilliant.”
She lifted each piece of tape gently, trying not to tear the paper one bit. She would keep it forever. A birthday cake and a birthday gift for Lucy—she never would have considered it. But perhaps every October twenty-eighth she would have a cupcake and remember the brief happy moment of watching her daughter suck in her first breath. She would remember the window of life, when she still believed with her whole heart that her little girl had a chance. And she would remember how these friends came together and helped her through her first October twenty-eighth. She would celebrate the day instead of dread it.
She pulled the wrapping paper away, revealing a wooden box decorated with a peacock and a little girl. “I love it. Thank you so much. It will match my peacock lamp.”
“I thought so too,” Chris said. “But the real gift is inside.”
“Real gift? This is wonderful!” She rocked back the hinged lid and discovered a ring—a gold band set with the pink opal.
“Gold for the sun,” Melanie said.
“And the pink opal for Lucy.” She broke down, tears flowing freely. “Thank you. Thank you, really. It’s the most beautiful mother’s ring ever.”
At the sound of footsteps clomping down the stairs, Olivia wiped away her tears and composed her features. She didn’t want Noah to walk in on her crying again.
Mukesh joined them, though, not Noah. The always-cheerful man seemed even happier today. At their urging, he accepted a slice of cake. “Today is best Diwali ever.”
“It’s my first Diwali, but I agree with you,” she said, unable to take her eyes off the ring.
“I have message from my wife. She saw me on TV and in newspaper. She asked if I have girlfriend.”
“A girlfriend? You still call her your wife,” Tisha said.
He placed a hand over his heart. “She is my only girl. I told her I never had another girlfriend, and I never will. She asked to come home.”
They erupted in cheers as her eyes pooled with tears yet again. Too much emotion today. She expected to be an emotional wreck, but this was proving to be too much. At least some of her tears were happy.
They cleared the dishes with Ms. Vanya, met up with the film crew, and started for town. But Ms. Vanya redirected them to the shop.
“But it’s holiday,” Aubra said.
“The girls cannot work today,” she insisted.
“No work. Surprise,” Ms. Vanya told them, eyes shining with the secret.
Five women waited for them—Navya, Meena, Aditi’s aunt Rajani, and two women she didn’t recognize.
“New recruits?”
Meena nodded. “We are halfway there.”
“This is a wonderful surprise! You’ll be fully staffed in no time.”
“Surprise inside,” Navya said. Jaanvi pitched forward, reaching for Olivia—with both arms.
“Her arm! She can use it? The doctor fixed it?”
Navya passed the toddler to her. “He fixed it.”
“All better!” Ms. Vanya cried and hugged her.
“This is wonderful! Still not the surprise?”
Navya led her into the building and held out a blue package.
“Did you . . . design your wrapper?” She took in the sky-blue plastic with puffy white clouds. She turned it around so she could see the front panel. A yellow sun shone from one corner. The name Lucy shimmered across the sky in script, as if taking flight in a bid for freedom.
She pressed her empty hand to her eyes, fighting to stay in control and not have a meltdown. Not again. Not with Noah and Jack pointing cameras at her face. “This is beautiful.”
The other teachers admired it as well and praised the women for their resourcefulness.
“Now even after you leave, your footprint will be here,” Mukesh said.
“Just like Lucy’s,” Tisha added.
Finally, they headed into town, waving, chatting, stopping by homes for cups of chai and gulab jamun. Along the way, throughout the afternoon, young women met her gaze and gave her a knowing smile. The customer base was growing. One woman mimicked Navya from her presentation, spinning in a circle and declaring, “It is my time.” Noah caught it all. He would get his happy ending.
At dusk, lights emerged all over town. Diyas flickered, light strands twinkled. And then the fireworks began. Children twirled sparklers as larger displays exploded in the air, shimmering cascades of vivid sparks above them.
In the center of town, near the edge of the market where she first met Mukesh, a crowd gathered, releasing sky lanterns. The thin paper lanterns, once lit, filled like miniature hot-air balloons, glowed softly yellow-orange, and floated into the sky. One after another, people lit them and sent them gliding into the air until a cluster of them lit the sky like a glowing cloud. Each light shone forth, dotting the sky with extra stars as they drifted away.
Chris opened a bag he’d been carrying and passed a lantern to each of them to light and release, to join the growing cluster of glowing yellow orbs already filling the sky above them. He saved Olivia for last.
“I made a slight modification to yours.” He lifted it from the bag, and she saw that he had colored “Lucy” onto the lantern in pastel, along with beautiful scrolls and flowers—all shades of pink. Her eyes brimmed with tears.
“It’s beautiful.”
Someone tugged at her hand and she turned to discover Aditi at her side.
“Hello, Ms. Montag!”
She squatted and hugged the girl. Her father stood off to the side, staring at the growing cloud of lights hovering above them. He nodded to her. She beamed in return and waved to his wife and to Rajani, both holding Aditi’s sisters.
He came closer. “You think Aditi can be doctor?”
“Absolutely. Your daughter is incredibly smart. If you would let her go to school, her future could be . . .” She turned and gestured to the sky. “Her future could be as bright as the sky. As infinite as the stars. She can do anything.”
He nodded once more and seemed to consider her words, before he tipped his head and returned to his family. Aditi waved and skipped to rejoin them.
Tisha moved closer to her and admired her Lucy lamp. “Seems a shame to let it go when it’s so beautiful. But I think maybe you ought to take your own advice.”
Chris retrieved a lighter from the bag and each teacher sent a glowing lantern rising into the air. She watched them go, one after another, then sparked the lighter Chris handed her, lit the fuse, and watched the Lucy lamp fill with air and take flight, soaring into the sky.
Goodbye, little girl. I love you forever.