I’m not too far behind. He’s just dismounted his horse as mine scurries into the courtyard.
“You’re getting better by the day,” he says, an appreciative smile on his face. “Once you’ve been to Lhasa and back, who knows, you might even be able to keep up with me.”
I catch my breath and pass up the opportunity to react. Swiftly, I slide off my horse.
“Loser takes care of the horses.” He hands me the reins of his horse and gestures to the back of the house. “Looks like you’re going that way, anyway.”
Over his shoulder I see Father. He’s waiting for me at the pen.
“Yep,” I say and try to hide the feverish excitement of our encounter with a casual nod. Racing home in Karma’s trail, it hit me—he rode out to meet me at the ngakpa’s, ensuring me again that he came here for me, only me. “See you at the house.”
My knees wobble, yet there’s a spring in my step as I stride to the pen, a horse on either side. How I wish I weren’t still so awkward around Karma.
Father’s at the entrance of the pen, facing the last of the warm afternoon sun. He’s looking so much stronger, and at the same time lighter, with bright eyes and a healthy tan. Yes, it was the grief of losing Mother that weighed Father down, but I can’t help but wonder what part Uncle played in Father’s despair as well. I shudder as my mind turns to Uncle and his sinister influence. What this dark magic can do. And the ngakpa wants me to learn these rituals?
I take a deep breath in. I don’t think so!
“All preparations done?” Father says. The gate swings open. The horses bolt in.
“Yes.” I sling the halters over my shoulder. “All is done.” Checking the latch twice, I secure the gate and throw my arms over the beams to admire the horses frolicking in the pen.
“I’m sure the ngakpa gave you excellent advice.” Father glances at me. “Lhasa’s a long journey.”
My ribs tighten. Father’s voice sounds calm, but his eyes breed a restlessness. I catch myself deliberating whether Father knows about my intention to go against the family’s decision or if he’s just worried about my safety. My temples throb. I’m not used to hiding my true intentions. It’s costing me my peace of mind, hollowing me from the inside out.
I lean further in over the beam. Yes, Father’s always been good at assessing people, especially me. He could always tell when I had snuck out as a little girl. I used to visit my little pony in his stables at night—it would have been impossible for him to have seen me climb from my bedroom window.
A smile breaks on my lips as I think of all those times. As well, it could have been the dried grass eternally stuck in my unruly hair or the dried smudges from my pony’s nose on my cheeks that gave it away. With those awry thoughts, I shrug away my doubts and turn to Father.
“He did.” I swallow, the last bit of unease stuck in my throat. “The ngakpa’s divination was favorable, and we did all that was asked for.” I frown as my finger catches a splinter from the rough beam I’m clinching.
Father nods and turns his gaze over to the pen. The group of fierce young stallions releases their energy left after a day of training.
“The horses are in great shape,” Father says. “With one exception.” He lets out a big laugh as my little pony, staunch and stocky, scampers along with the cavorting stallions. His bristly manes sway as the mischief makes his way over to us. He’s always looking for a sweet treat and a firm scratch behind his ears.
“Time to put him in the barn,” Father says. “He’ll cause trouble if I leave him out here at night.” With his round belly and a shiny coat on the pony, it’s clear Father’s taken good care of my childhood friend. “He’s forever on the hunt for something to eat or somebody to annoy.” Father opens the pen and I take the pony by his manes while sneaking him the little tsampa ball left in my pocket.
“Did you know he used to escape after you were gone?” Father says. “I had to get him from the village many times, eating everybody out of home and hearth.” The rascal hops at Father’s friendly slap as we make our way to the barn.
“Tennah suggested keeping the pony in. It calmed him down but never tamed his wild nature,” Father says as he opens the barndoor. “This little scoundrel knows very well when to keep quiet, but his true colors, his tireless curiosity, shows whenever the chance.”
We both laugh as his tiny hoofs trip into the shed, sweeping up the loose hay with a somewhat indignant huff.
“Just like you, my child.” Father closes the door behind him. “I tried to keep you away from horses, but here you are.” He leans back, and the barndoor creaks under his broad frame. “And the way you just came riding in on that stallion, you’re a natural and it shows.” He squeezes my shoulder. The pleasing gleam in his eyes warms my heart.
“Still, Karma beat me.” I shake my head. Father’s right, my true colors are showing as I played myself down just now. I always do.
“Karma’s been in the saddle his whole life.” Father stretches upright. “His life revolves around horses and riding—he’s a wanderer, you know.” His eyes narrow. “Karma’s always on the road. He can’t seem to settle down, no marriage, no children as far as I know of.” He pauses. I shift my weight from left to right, my hands dangling along.
“But he takes good care of the family business, and he’ll take good care of you.” He rubs his chin. “That’s most important to me.”
I take in his words with care and wonder. A wanderer. What does Father mean to say?
“Thank you for letting me go to Lhasa, Father.” I bow my head. He’s made a tough decision and I’m most grateful for it.
“Be honest now, could I have kept you?” He chuckles and starts walking towards the house. “The three of you will go to Kandze tomorrow and join a caravan there. Dendup’s arranged it.”
Kandze, tomorrow. A surge of adrenaline rushes the late afternoon slump out of my body. It’s real, I’m going to Lhasa—with Karma.
“Did they mind?” I say. They must have.
“They didn’t.” Father says. He stops and turns.
No? I stumble. A blush spreads all the way to my neck as I meet Father’s amusing gaze. lips.
“It took little to convince them,” he says. “I guess that’s Karma’s doing.”
I flinch, my eyes to the ground. Of course, Father knows about Karma and me. What did I expect? Father’s not blind. I tug the sleeves of my shirt. Everybody must know by now. It’s me who still hasn’t gotten my head around my attraction to Karma. It’s me who’s still in denial, not knowing what do to with it all.
“I’ve known Karma to be a good man, a responsible man,” Father says. “That’s why he got upset with Sangmo.” My cheeks still burning, I glance up. “But he’s more angry with the man whose child she’s carrying.” Father sighs and shakes his head. “Not taking responsibility, Karma would never do that. He’s a man of his word.”
My body relaxes at Father’s praise for Karma. Father’s always been an excellent judge of character. If he talks about Karma in this way, how can my attraction to Karma be wrong?
“I asked him to make amends with Sangmo,” he says. The last light of the day softens the lines on his face, matching the mellow tone in his voice. “Lhasa’s a long way and with Sangmo pregnant—anything can happen.” His eyes gaze in the distance, a melancholic dark amber drowning in a silken tangerine sky.
My heart goes out to Father. The passage of time has not lessened the weight of his grief, it has just taught him how to carry it better.
“Karma and you.” Father turns to me. “The two of you are very different, yet you seem to be quite a match.”
The blush spreads again.
“I think so.” I meet Father’s eye. “But so much has changed for me. I’m not sure of anything these days.” The blessing cord is a smooth touch under my fingertips as the memory of Karma’s hand enveloping mine lingers in my mind. “I need time. Can’t make a decision like that.”
My mouth dry, I bite the bottom of my lip. I want to be honest with Father. There have already been too many things between us left unsaid for far too long. At the same time, it’s difficult facing my own inner turmoil. I’m allowing my emotions to control me, giving them the upper hand. So much for a trained mind, Dechen would say.
“I see.” His voice quiet, Father puts weight on every word. “When I met your mother, I had every reason not to marry her. She was so young, engaged to my best friend.” He leans in. “Still, my heart knew this girl was my true love and there was no way I could talk myself out of it.” An endearing, almost apologizing smile graces his face as his hands rest on my shoulders. “Be willing to trust your heart when you feel moved, my child, for it is only the heart that knows true love.”
As his words resound in my ears, my mind wanders to that first night at the camp, when I first encountered Karma coming out of the shadows. The flutter in my stomach as those emerald eyes captured me, the tingling shooting up my arm as our hands touched. A sudden chill runs a shiver down my spine. I pull my scarf close. Coming from a place inside of me I never knew before, there was—and still is—something so feral about my feelings for Karma. It scares me, it really does.
“But remember.” Father’s voice is gentle, but his hands squeeze my forearms just enough to give him my undivided attention. “Karma’s loyalty lies with his family duties—no matter what.”
No matter what.
“Sure.” I understand what Father’s telling me. Karma’s bound and blinded by family loyalty. He can’t see it. Every muscle in my body tightens at the thought of Karma’s fate. Lhasa is a good idea.
“Now, get yourself some clean clothes before tomorrow.” Father points at the frayed ends of my sleeves. “You better prepare, as prayer’s good, but it will not keep you warm.”
He laughs as I grimace, a quasi-surprised expression on my face.
My head is light, my mind at ease—how good it feels to have Father back again.
“Will do,” I say, and stride off to the quarters that are now my own.
There’s no fire lit yet. Sangmo must have dozed off. With the sky turning a dusty purple, there’s just enough light left to notice her puffy eyes as I enter the room.
“Want to get some new clothes?” I bounce beside her on the bed. She shoots up, her eyes wide.
“Am I already showing?” Her hands clasp her stomach.
“No, silly.” I chuckle. “Clothes for me on the road. I’m leaving for Kandze tomorrow. I’m sure I can buy some there, but I can’t arrive looking like this.” I spread my arms, the threads dangle from my sleeves.
“Where?” Sparkles light up Sangmo’s eyes. The thought of clothes and pretty things always perks her up.
“The storeroom.” I gesture to the back. “Father’s kept some of my mother’s.”
Sangmo sucks in her cheeks. “You’re fine with that?”
“Why not?” I shrug. “It’s just clothes, and it would be a pity to let them go unused.”
And with that, I leap off the bed. I know where Father keeps the clothes. He tried to hide them from me after Mother’s passing. Told me he had passed them on to less fortunate people around. But I know Father’s far too attached to Mother’s possessions to ever give them away. Mother had an immense wardrobe and by the number of bags Sangmo and I encounter in the storeroom, I guess Father kept all of it.
“Oh my.” Sangmo sifts through the clothes. “Your mother had great taste .”
A pile of colorful, bright fabrics dazzles in front of me. Yes, Mother had great taste. Sifting through, my hands stroke the soft fur trimmings, the rich embroidered brocades, the delicate woven silks, and the intricate knitted wools. My thoughts drift back to my days with Mother. Short days as I was so young, yet happy days as her smile left me.
“You and Karma,” I say. “You’re good?” I raise my eyebrows at Sangmo and hold a turquoise chuba that would suit her, especially with her skin tone.
“I guess,” Sangmo says and shrugs. “He’s letting me stay here until you’re all back. After that, he’ll marry me off.” Her shoulders hunch as she turns away, pretending to inspect the lining of the turquoise gown.
“I’m so sorry.” The slick brocade slides through my hands. With their parents gone, Karma’s the one who decides over Sangmo. He can do as he pleases.
“I don’t want marriage,” Sangmo says. “And certainly not as a second wife.”
Her words pierce tiny holes in the gauzy air that has overtaken the storeroom. Her lips pinch into a thin white line. She spins, and the dress crumples in her hands. As she raises her chin, her eyes flash the darkest shade of burnished brown.
“Marriage. You’ve seen what it’s like cooked up all day with a bunch of children.” She throws her hands in the air. A cloud of turquoise silk floats midway. “Don’t get me wrong, I love children—and I’m sure I’ll love this one when I survive.” She puts her hands on her belly and my mind blanks for a moment at the thought of her passing.
“Don’t!” I grasp. “Don’t even think about it.”
She shrugs and blinks. A teardrop, ever so small, escapes from her brooding dark gaze.
“I need my freedom, sister.” Sangmo sounds hoarse now. “More than anything.” She tosses her head in her neck and stretches her arms.
“This place, with the horses, the mountains, the vast blue sky, this place is perfect.” Her body stiffens, her arms drop to her side. “This is all I want, but I guess it’s not my karma.” With a silent sob, she runs her hands through the pile of clothes.
“You’re so lucky,” she says. “Palden lets you decide for yourself while Karma...” She opens her mouth, but then stops short. Her eyes dart over the pile. “Karma’s the best brother, but he’s too protective.” A purple gown, silky and sleek, catches her attention.
“He’s always on the road, family business he says, but in reality, he does whatever he wants.” She holds a purple dress up to me, her face pinched. “It’s not fair.”
“It’s not.” I take the robe off her hands and put it on the pile. Far too flimsy for the road. “But it’s whatever the family decides, right?”
A bitter taste comes to my mouth. It’s not fair for women to have no say in their destinies, like it’s not fair for Father to have no say in our own brother’s fate. The family has decided. I’m trying hard to steer my mind away from harboring rancorous thoughts as Sangmo interrupts my futile attempt.
“He’s fond of you, you know.” Her hands rush through the pile, her face flushes.
“What?” That look she gives me, that glassy stare. She’s up to something.
“Karma—you can convince him not to marry me off.” She picks up the mauve robe again and hops from one foot to the other. “You’re smart, you can!” A big smirk comes over her face. “Lhasa’s a long way, you’ll have enough time to convince Karma not to marry me off.” Her hands hold up the same purple dress. I shake my head.
“Lhasa’s a long way.” I scoop the thin dress out of her hands again. “And a cold way, so help me and pick something warm and decent, please.” My voice is half-pleading as my hands churn through the pile.
“Only if you try to change Karma’s mind.” Her hands grip mine—strong, decisive.
“I promise, I’ll try.” I give her hands a firm squeeze. “I sure will.”
A small pang of unease stretches across my heart as I’m hiding my truth again.
If only Sangmo knew my plans to change Karma’s mind—and so much more.