in faded coral and pearly gray, and hailed by dull pitter-patters on the mud floor and flattened roof. I draw near the stove in the company of sweet Jomo and wrap my hands around a cup of steaming brew. A faint cold dwells in my bones.
“So, he came.” Palmo sits beside me, her slender hand on my arm.
“He did,” I say, and stare at my tea.
“But all’s not finished,” she says, “For you would not be so quiet if it was.” Her fingers slide over her beads.
I shake my head. I want to tell her all is well, but I would be lying. My eyes burn and I turn away.
Jomo closes the door on her way out. The wind lashes out at the rain, its drum a rapid beat against the earthen walls.
“What is it that still rests on you?” Palmo’s voice probes the depth inside of me. And as I face her, my words rise and I tell her all about his beautiful mind, his crystal-clear insight, and his desire to stay with me. Her gaze deepens, the warm amber a trusting glow. And then I tell her about his wild dreams and the voice calling out, the one only I hear. And how it scares me the way my own dreams did.
The beads slow their pace as Palmo nods and shifts her weight. Her silence urges me on.
“It will leave him restless,” I say. “It won’t let him settle, and certainly not with me.” My voice chokes. “For I’ve awakened his dreams. It’s through me they come alive.” I clench my hands, and Palmo’s beads halt.
“Why does it happen? And why doesn’t he hear it?” I sob and push my fist in front of my mouth, my face burning with shame. I shouldn’t let myself go like this, but I can’t hide it. Her eyes see right through me. Silence is still upon her, but it pervades as a gentle smile draws around her lips.
“Because, my child.” She leans in and her beads slide across my lap. “When we open the gateways of our heart and truly let love in, it can unearth the deepest of things inside of us.” Her hands are a cool touch to mine. “As much as love lavishes us in its warmth, its passionate embrace, it can also reveal the deepest of our wounds and our insecurities, unleashing all those demons we never knew that were within.” I blink and let my thoughts unwrap her words in my mind. In the distance, the rumble of thunder resounds.
“And that is what is shown to you,” she says. “That is what you see, and what you hear.” My eyes widen as the meaning of it all stares me right in my face. Of course, he doesn’t hear the voice. It’s the memory of her, and it’s too painful for him, so as little boys do, he turns away. So the voice seeks me, the only one who he has let in.
“I know he doesn’t listen when I speak of it.” I turn to Palmo. “So how can I still make him hear?”
Her eyes twinkle. “You want him to hear what’s calling him?” she says, and I nod. “Then do as he does and lay your heart close to his ear.” Her hands draw me in. “And reveal your inmost truth to him, the one your body whispers, but your mind refuses to hear.”
I duck my head and flinch at her truth. My entire face flushes with shame. She laughs and lightning flashes across the room. The tide has turned, the storm has come in.
Murky puddles latch their scourings onto my soft leather boots as my feet fly over the sodden gravel of the main street. A fierce gale pushes through the darkest of violet sky. Warm rain soaks my silken and fur coat, but nothing can hold me now. My heart flutters like a wild bird caught in a cage, ready to flight as I arrive at the doorstep of the inn.
“He’s in the kitchen,” the matron says, as she opens the door with her smile. I rush in, but he’s not there, and I stare into the eyes of a bewildered Dendup.
“Sister,” he says, and rises from his seat. “I…” He hesitates, I bow my head, and a little rain drips down. The stove crackles in the quiet collision between us.
“I’m sorry, but…” I look up and hold my breath. He nods and points to the hallway.
“He’s either at the horses or in the room.” Dendup sinks back in his seat, a puzzling smile across his face.
“Thank you,” I say, and my feet find the hallway. My eyes burn but lead me right to the back. I lay my head against the thick timber, and my nails catch a splinter as I run my fingers down the door. He’s in.
My hands tremble as I push the door open. It resists with a creak, but there’s nothing in my way. He’s there, his shirt open, his hair hanging loose, and he looks at me and I look at him.
“My love,” he says, and his eyes widen with the most brilliant of green. He knows why I’ve come. There’s no need to tell. The door shuts behind me and I move towards him.
“I…” He wants to speak, but this time it’s me who silences him as my fingertips linger in his heaving breath.
“I don’t need a promise,” I say. My voice is a delicate whisper. “I only want you to come home to me for one night.”
My icy hands seek the warmth under his shirt, and I shiver with fever. My hair soaks the thin cotton stretched over his chest.
His cheeks brush the wet strands of hair from my face, and his hands search for me with desire. My coat falls, a damp thud to the ground.
The night envelops us in a smooth velvet indigo as he caresses me in all those places only his mind has been. And as he comes to me, I let the thunder roll in the bluest of skies and the eagles soar over the wide-open planes, and the wind cries of a mother calling her son home.
I know it, even before I open my eyes to the break of the new day. It’s not the heat radiating from his skin that’s missing, or the gentle crook of his neck where I rested my head for so long. It’s the absence of the warm earth and churned meadows, of mountains and sun, and the last day of summer that rips through the hollow inside of me.
I curl my broken body at the memory of the night I knew would end, but now wished it never did. I open my eyes to the knowing he’s gone, and traces of salt mark the sadness down my cheeks, on my lips. Om Tare. How it hurts.
My feet find the floor, and I open the window. The dawn comes blazing in on a haze of bronze and burnished orange, carrying the sweet scent of ripe berries and the airy tune of a serin finch. It’s so still inside of me, yet something has awakened my senses. I’ve opened to love, and although it aches, it’s an enlivening kind of pain.
My hands run across my breasts, still tender from his touch, and I am amazed again. How well he knew my body—so much better than I ever have. I close my eyes and swallow the last taste of the night. I made my choice—I loved a wild soul and set him free.
I hesitate, but make my way to the kitchen. The matron’s wide arms draw me to sit next to the fired-up stove.
“Tea’s ready in a moment.” Her gaze carries a twinge of sympathy. Of course, she already knows. Dendup sits opposite me. His moustache holds the crumbs of yesterday’s bread.
“I’m sorry, sister.” His fist slams the table between us. “The idiot.” His heavy sigh breaths across the stink of chang, but his eyes are clear and spitting fire. “I don’t know what got into him.”
I know, but how can I tell him? I showed Karma what called him, and his only choice was to go. I shrug and the fresh tea cleans my palate from the tinge of resentment I harbor.
My teeth sink into the fried fritters, the chewy pork a welcome distraction from my empty thoughts.
“Me too,” I say, and the tears behind my eyelids burn again. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused you, brother.” I put down my cup. “I will explain and try to make amends with the family.” He waves his hand.
“I should have known, for he’s a loner and his flings always have a bad ending,” Dendup says, and I cringe at his words. “But I never expected him to leave like this.”
I did, but I’m not going to tell.
“Listen, sister.” He leans in and puts a fatherly hand on my arm. “Whatever happened between the two of you, and with Tennah…” He pauses, and it looks like he’s about to chew off his moustache, but he’s not. “Your grandmother raised you well, and you did what you were taught to do.” A dry smile comes through and he draws his hands across the table.
“Even though we don’t always see eye to eye on these things, she has my deepest respect.” He leans back and sinks his eyes into his empty cup. “I guess I’ve got some explaining to do when we get home.”
I nod, and my mind draws the curtains, wanting to go back to the night.
“I’ll come with you,” I hear myself say, and his dark look blurs from under his furry eyebrows.
“You better.” His gloom twinkles a faint wink. “We’ll leave in a few days.” The brisk trudge of boots resounds through the hallway, and he points his chin over my shoulder. “Sonam and I will wrap things up as soon as we can.” A broad hand rests on my shoulder, and my body sags as a steady arm pulls me in.
“Let me bring you to Palmo’s,” Sonam’s voice sounds in the distance. Cold sweat beads on my forehead and remains of fritter and fat fight their way up my throat. I jump up and stumble through the kitchen. I’m just in time to make it to the back of the yard.
“Oh, Nordun.” Sonam scoops me in his wide arms.
I fight my tears but lose the battle. If this is what I wanted, then why does it hurt so much?
Relief washes over me as I find only Jomo in the kitchen. Her smile usually does wonders, but this time I sneak to the back, to my room. My body shivers under the blankets, my mind searches for the end. I thought all was finished, yet I’ve got one thing left to do.
Lanying. I’ll have to see her tomorrow, and not only to say goodbye.