Happiness Key (30 page)

Everyone had finished eating. Janya rose to clear the table, and the women all rose to help. This had become a tradition, and one that she was happy to share in, with neighbors who had somehow, while no one was watching, become more than that.

They made short work of what they could, leaving some pans to soak in the sink, because Janya insisted.

“Janya promised to dance for us,” Tracy said.

Janya was embarrassed. “No, better yet, I will teach you. It will work off calories.”

“I’m for that,” Tracy said.

“I don’t know.” Wanda was hesitant, but Alice was smiling.

“I want to learn.”

That settled it. Janya chose one of her favorite songs, which was both pretty and peppy. “This is ‘Kajra Re’ from our movie
Bunty aur Babli
. The man in the song talks about how beautiful a woman’s eyes are, her dark, dark eyes.”

“What’s the movie about?” Wanda asked.

“It’s a little like the American movie
Bonnie and Clyde,
only Bunty and Babli are loveable, if quite silly. But this song is sung at a nightclub. It’s what you call a showstopper, and exciting to dance to.”

“Wait, you have to show us first,” Wanda said. “We
want to see you dance so we’ll know where we’re heading. I mean, if this is belly dancing, I’ve sure got the belly for it, but I don’t know if I want to shake it after all that food.”

The last time Janya had danced in front of anyone, Padmini had been right there taking photos. They had laughed, because Janya had acted far more seductive for the camera than she would have in front of anyone she didn’t trust, and she had paid a price. Now? What did she have to lose? These women were her friends, and they were just interested to see how she interpreted the music. Whatever she did, they would still be her friends.

“Yes,” she said firmly. “I can show you.”

She put on the CD; then, as they watched, she moved into position. The woman’s voice was sweet, and as the song began slowly, Janya moved her hands gracefully and slowly swivelled her hips. Then she kicked off her sandals, and began to move up and down on her toes, rotating her head so her hair fell around her as she moved.

The fun began, and the pace picked up quickly. She moved a hip up and down, closed her eyes and lifted her wrist, letting it fall. Head to shoulders, wrists straight and hands across her closed eyes. Then she turned, thrusting her hips from one side to the other, shifting so they saw her in profile, then turning her back as her hips kept time to the music. Part belly dancing, part classical Indian dance, part folk dance, part salsa. Arms up, one at a time, crossing in front of her, wrists rotating, hands climbing until her arms were over her head. Then she went gracefully to one knee, turning as she performed hand movements that went with the song. On her feet again, her skirts swirling around her as her hips and feet moved fluidly, she lost herself in the song.

She was paying little attention to anything else now,
but she knew her friends were with her. The women seemed mesmerized. Hands over her head, she shook her hips one way, then the other, in rhythm to the song. Palms down, hands drawing sharp lines in rhythm, then fluid once more as the music changed.

By the time she and the song had finished, she was elated. She wanted to dance forever. The music stopped, and the applause began.

“Wow, that was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Tracy said. “Actually,
you
were. Darn you, anyway. It seems so effortless for you, too. You don’t have to do a thing, and you’re drop-dead gorgeous.”

“You think we can shake our hips like that?” Wanda asked.

“I think you can try.” Janya motioned them to their feet.

“Can I do it, too?” Olivia looked at her grandmother. “Am I
old
enough?”

Everybody laughed, but Wanda got up, went over and lifted Janya’s skirt past her ankles. “Okay, the dancing is something else, but look at this, everybody.”

“What did you do to your ankle?” Olivia said. “Is that a tattoo?”

Janya pulled her skirt higher, so they could see. “It’s henna, only temporary. I am trying to learn to do them myself. Just for fun. Do you like it?”

The tattoo was intricate, covering the top of her foot and snaking up her ankle. The pattern looked like strands of lace, with swirls and loops and little bows. She thought she was learning the process quite nicely.

Everybody was fascinated. She stood on one foot and held up the one she had adorned. “You could be models for me. I would like to do a hand, only not my own.”

“Count me in,” Wanda said.

“Me, too,” Tracy agreed. “Except I’ll need somewhere special to go and somebody special to go there with.”

Janya smiled at Alice and Olivia, to encourage them, as well; then she realized this was not something she would ever be able to do for them. Because a henna tattoo would be so much proof they had been to her house, and she was sure Olivia’s father would be furious.

“All right,” she said quickly. “Let’s dance.”

Twenty minutes later, everyone was panting and laughing as Janya turned off the music. Wanda had already collapsed on the sofa. Tracy was still swiveling her hips, trying to move them more fluidly. But Alice was the winner. She didn’t move as quickly as the others, but there was an innate grace in every movement she made, an eternal youthfulness. She was by far the best of the lot, a natural dancer.

Wanda fanned herself with her hand. “This has been an afternoon of new experiences.”

“I have not…had so much fun…” Alice didn’t finish, but she didn’t need to.

“I like Bollywood dancing,” Olivia said.

“You’ll need to use those moves carefully, kiddo,” Wanda said. “Or you’ll have more boys flocking around you than you know what to do with.”

Tracy flopped into a chair on the other side of the room. She glanced at the table beside her, then lifted something from it. “Janya, what’s this?”

Janya fanned herself, too. “A bracelet for my brother.”

“Your brother wears a bracelet?” Olivia asked. “Is he sick?”

“I don’t think it’s a medical bracelet.” Tracy held it up so the others could see. Olivia went to look at it.

Janya explained. “It’s made with silk thread, and gold and silver beads. I may put a photo in the center. In India,
we have a special day called
Raksha Bandhan.
A sister makes a bracelet for her brother and ties it on his wrist, to show how much she loves him. In turn, a brother must then protect his sister. The bracelet is stronger than silk thread, because it binds us together.”

“And you’re making one for your brother?” Olivia asked.

“Yes. Yash is younger than me, very handsome. I miss him. I will send him this, but for the first time, I won’t be there to tie it on him this year. He will have to do that alone. Some brothers wear their
rakhi
until it falls off. But Yash will take it off sooner and keep it safe. He has kept all the ones I made for him.” Janya just hoped her mother did not intercept this one first.

“Well, you people do know how to have a good time,” Wanda said, checking her watch. “But even though this is more fun than I’ve had in a coon’s age, I’ve got to run. Janya, I can’t thank you enough.”

“Oh, my, Olivia and I must leave.” Alice got to her feet. “We stayed too long.”

Janya understood. “Let me see you to the door.” But no farther. She understood that, as well.

Everyone left almost at the same time in a flurry of thank-yous, although when Tracy started to follow the others, Janya held her back.

Janya waited until the others were out of earshot. “I worry about Alice. This is not good, the way we must sneak her here, sneak her there.”

“I don’t know what else to do, but she had fun today.”

“And the whole time she was afraid Mr. Symington might come home to stop it.”

“I know…. You won’t find me defending him anymore, not after the way he refused to let Alice come back to the rec center.”

“Then you’re worried, too?”

“A little. I think he’s just overprotective, but I’ll tell you what, I’ll go over there this evening, make nice with Lee, so he still feels like he has connections here. You know what they say, you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.” Tracy gave a small wave and headed down the path.

Janya thought this was just another strange thing about her new country. Why would Tracy want to catch flies with anything?

Tracy spent the late afternoon grouting tile in the bedroom. Finally the floor was finished, except for the bathroom and for applying a sealant to the grout. Laying the tile had been like putting together a huge jigsaw puzzle, only she’d had to cut some of the pieces to fit. She supposed the best part was the way she felt about herself. The woman who had watched her life fall apart had, at the least, proved she could fix this floor.

The cottage would never be the subject of a photo spread, but now it had a quirky kind of charm, with the jute-and-seagrass rug in front of the sofa, the brass vases scattered throughout the room, filled with driftwood and dried weeds, a few green plants Janya had selected from Herb’s collection. Here and there she had a memento of her former life. A seascape of the Pacific crashing against seal-studded rocks. A trio of hand-carved wooden bowls. Twin tapestries she had bought from an artist in San Diego. CJ had liked none of these finds, so they were not things she had displayed in their home—which was the only reason she was comfortable seeing them here.

She showered, and changed into denim shorts and a filmy print blouse with ruffles crisscrossing her breasts; then she pulled her hair off her face with a headband of
tiny braided crystals. Today she walked through a cloud of 2007’s Stella Sheer. The updated version would have to wait until Happiness Key belonged to somebody else.

She wasn’t setting out to seduce Lee, just to remind him that she was still here and interested in what went on in Alice’s cottage. The trick was to stay in his good graces, but not too far in. To provide an excuse for her appearance on his doorstep, she printed out an Internet article she had read the night before about the way Florida real-estate prices were now on the upswing.

As far as she could tell, the article was a load of hooey from an infomercial king who was trying to convince down-on-their-luck investors to buy foreclosures and make a killing. Still, Tracy thought it was probably interesting enough to provide the in she needed with Lee.

Along the path to Alice’s, she could hear the crashing of waves. Sunset was still hours away, but the sky was rapidly growing dark, and far off in the distance she could hear the rumbling of thunder.

She wondered what it would be like to watch one of these fabulous Florida storms sweeping in from Marsh’s porch. Of course, Marsh’s house looked as if it had sprouted from the swamp over the last century or more, like some indigenous mushroom. The architecture had none of the class or style she was used to, and no trilling interior decorator had ever rhapsodized about the magical incandescence of pink with hints of Fudgsicle-brown. The house had a shabby-around-the-edges feel to it. The porch was probably home to ravenous insects and snakes, but she still thought sitting there, watching a storm come in, might be pretty wonderful. It might not even be such a terrible thing to have Marsh there watching it with her.

She had only seen him to talk to twice since the night of their canoe trip. Once when he picked up Bay after
youth camp and they chatted about the program. Once when he stopped by the cottage after work to give her a packet of papers. Wild Florida had finally put something on the table, and he brought it directly to her, since he despised Maribel. She had scanned the top two sheets and handed the packet back without a word.

“You’re clairvoyant? You can already tell you’re not interested?” he’d asked.

“Marsh, what you want to pay isn’t anywhere near what I’m asking, what I
need.
”

“Just out of curiosity, say some developer is dumb enough to buy this for anywhere near what you want, believing he can bribe his way through all the regulatory agencies without tipping us off. So you pay all the taxes, quit your job at the center—”

“I’m only a sub. I don’t have to
quit
anything. The job ends in the fall, when the permanent supervisor comes back.”

He shook his head in disgust. “So you pay all the taxes, tell Gladys and Woody you don’t want the job, and you hightail it out of here. Where’ll you go and what’ll you do? Will even
that
amount be enough money to make things right in California? Can you buy back your old friends?”

She didn’t know what to say. Choked by anger and a suspicion he might have a point, she was mute.

“Tracy…take this.” He shoved the packet back into her hands. “Get your priorities straight, how ’bout it?” Then he’d turned and sauntered back to his car. And she’d let him.

Now she wondered if there were normal men anywhere on the planet. And even if she happened to find one, would she be attracted to him? Or would he just seem like some kind of freak?

Alice’s stoop had not been swept this afternoon. Even the oncoming storm couldn’t account for all the sand that had blown across it. But Tracy knew where Alice had been. Most likely she was tired after Janya’s celebration.

She knocked and heard footsteps. Olivia let her in, but the girl wasn’t smiling.

“S’up, Olivia?” Tracy asked, extending her hand palm out for a hand slap.

Olivia complied, but without force or enthusiasm.

She moved closer and lowered her voice. “Nana’s not feeling well.”

“Is your dad here?”

Olivia shook her head.

“Maybe I’d better see if she’s okay.”

Olivia put her hand on Tracy’s arm to stop her. “She’s not okay. She’s—”

But Tracy didn’t need additional explanations. On the table, just in front of her, was a tangled pile of crochet thread. And Tracy was afraid she knew exactly what it was, or at least what it had been.

For a moment she simply stood there and stared. She was looking at months of effort and dreams, of memories of another tablecloth and beloved hands extended across generations all the way to Olivia. Alice had already lost so much, and now Tracy was very afraid she might have lost her mind, as well.