The Unexpected Son (35 page)

Vinita wondered when Mummy had been told the truth about Vishal.

Now her mother sat in stony silence, her eyes glued to the doorway that led to the surgical area, where her son lay on an operating table. Vinita wasn't all that sure if she worried about Rohit. Mummy had yet to acknowledge him as her grandson.

 

It was nearly noon before a nurse came to inform them that Vishal had recovered from the anesthesia and that he was asking to see his wife. Sayee hurried to his side.

The visit was brief. Sayee came out less than ten minutes later, smiling a little, looking more optimistic than she had earlier in the day. “Vishal is feeling okay,” she announced to the four expectant faces staring at her. “The doctor says he can go home this evening.”

Vinita blew out a silent breath of relief.

“Did they say anything about Rohit?” demanded Mr. Barve, raising a taut face to Sayee.

“I asked…but they didn't give me any information.” Sayee gnawed on her lip. “Maybe they want to discuss it with you first?”

Meenal glanced at her husband. “They told us they had to process the marrow before administering it to Rohit, did they not?”

But Barve rose from his chair anyway, and marched up to the reception desk. Vinita could hear him demanding to know what was going on with his son.

Sayee put a hand on Vinita's arm. “Vishal wants to see you after Mummy has a chance to see him.”

Sarla shot to her feet and was off in the next second. Vinita watched her rushing down the corridor. In a way she felt sorry for her mother. The poor woman had to have known the truth, and been suffering for so many days, knowing what Vishal was about to do. But she'd been good about keeping his secret safe. She had to be applauded for that, if nothing else.

Vinita was anxious to see Vishal, too. There was so much she had to say to him. There were no words to express the depth of her gratitude, but she needed to say something nonetheless.

Hearing the main door to the wing being thrust open with urgency, she turned to see two young men barreling in, panic written on their faces. Immediately her spine went rigid.

She glanced at Sayee and Meenal to gauge their reaction. Meenal's eyes were narrow slits as she watched the men's gazes search the area for a second, locate Shashi Barve at the reception desk, and make a beeline toward him.

Vinita wondered what they wanted with Barve. In the next instant she recognized it—political alarm bells going off. She turned to Sayee. “This doesn't look good,” she whispered. She hoped she was wrong.

Sayee was too busy gawking at the men to respond.

The men and Barve talked for a minute before the two men rushed outside again. Barve slowly made his way back to them. “Bad news,” he announced to the women, looking like he'd just been struck over the head with a heavy object.

“What?” his wife demanded.

He sank into his chair. “Som Kori died a little while ago.”

S
ilence blanketed the group for one second before Meenal clamped a hand over her wide-open mouth. “
Arré Deva!
” Oh God!

“Died?” Vinita murmured. Som couldn't possibly have died. She'd seen him only days ago, full of life, bursting with typical Kori confidence and egotism.

“Hit by a lorry,” Barve replied.

So he'd been killed by a truck. Vinita's gut clenched tighter. How gruesome.

Meenal's lips were trembling. “This was in retaliation for you being hit by a car?”

Barve shrugged. “I don't know. All they said was that he died instantly in an accident when his car was struck by a loaded lorry.”

A sick feeling began to settle inside Vinita's stomach. It wasn't an accident. The timing was too convenient. It was happening again, the same thing that had occurred when her actions had nearly gotten Shashi Barve killed. This time she had really gone and done it—got a man murdered.

Despite her bitter feelings about Som, what she felt now was deep remorse. She didn't believe in wishing death on anyone, no matter how grievous their crimes. Som didn't deserve to die. She wanted him to suffer for his actions, atone for them, but not like this, and most certainly not because of
her
actions.

This was only the beginning. This time the riots in town would be so much worse than last time. The respected leader of the Kannada faction was dead. There would be serious consequences. How many casualties, how much damage to the economy, and for how long? She shuddered at the possibilities.

Sayee's words jolted her out of her terrifying thoughts. “Vini, I'm so sorry.”

“Me too.” Vinita shut her eyes to dispel the image of Som Kori's mangled body lying in a puddle of blood. “He has a wife and three young daughters.”

She thought of Girish and Arya, and her throat felt like something large and prickly was wedged inside it. What if it were Girish who'd been killed in a similar manner? It was unthinkable. That poor woman she'd seen the other day—Som's wife. What must she be going through? Had she even been told about Som yet? And their daughters? They were mere children. Som had mentioned something about the oldest being engaged to be married.

Vinita's mother returned just then and stopped short when she noticed their expressions. “What happened?”

It was Sayee who replied, “Som Kori was killed in a car accident.”

Instantly Sarla's gaze fixed itself on Vinita. She didn't utter a word, but the silent message was hard to miss.

Vinita turned away from her mother's accusing eyes. This time Mummy would never forgive her. The entire town of Palgaum would never forgive her.

“Aren't you supposed to see Vishal?” Sayee reminded Vinita gently.

“Oh yes…of course.” Vinita shook herself out of her trance and dragged her feet toward the recovery room. Minutes ago she'd been anxious to see her brother, but now she was reluctant to face him. He'd have to be told about Som's death. Vishal would naturally blame her for the mess. And he had every right to.

She wasn't quite prepared to see her brother looking disheveled and confined to a bed. Big, strong Vishal wasn't supposed to look weak. And yet here he was, looking vulnerable as he lay on a cot in the recovery room with his eyes shut. Nonetheless he looked peaceful, resting for a change.

Her heart squeezed painfully as a sudden rush of affection for Vishal seized her. He'd always been her stalwart pillar of support, her protector. Most of her life she'd been too blind to recognize it. And she'd had the audacity to call herself smart.

“Vishal,” she called to him, approaching the cot.

He opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times, as though the light was too bright. “Vini,” he murmured.

“How are you feeling?”

“Groggy, but otherwise okay.” He sounded raspy, like he had sawdust in his throat.

Putting on a brave front for his little sister, she reflected. “Are you in pain?”

“Not at the moment, but they tell me I'll have some soreness in my hip and back for a few days.”

She gazed at him for a long time before asking, “Why, Vishal?”

“Why what?” He frowned.

“Why did you decide to donate your marrow to Rohit?”

He closed his eyes. “It was the only solution.”

“You didn't have to, and yet you did,” she said gently. “I can't even
begin
to thank you for what you did for my son,” she said.

“It was the simplest and most practical answer to the problem.” He opened his eyes. “I'm his uncle, and likely to be a decent match.” He gave her a moment to ponder. “You're a bright woman. Why didn't
you
think of it?”

“I didn't want to.” She hesitated. “I just couldn't bring myself to ask you. I had already forced you to do too much for me…despite your feelings about the family's loss of face.”

“Huh?” He appeared confused.

“Becoming a donor would mean the whole town would discover Rohit's heritage. Imagine the scandal. Mummy would hate me even more for it.” She'd already faced enough of her mother's contempt and wrath.

“Mummy doesn't hate you,” he retorted.

“Regardless, it was too huge a favor to ask, after all you and Sayee have done for me. I couldn't ruin what little was left of your reputation.”

He gave her a cool look. “But this was a matter of saving Rohit's life.”

“Very logical.” What a good pretender, she thought, a spark of anger mixing in with her other highly charged emotions. Why couldn't he let his heart show for one single moment? Was it so hard to admit he was human?

Her tears were close to the surface and would start to flow any moment. “Damn it, Vishal!” She lashed out at him, annoyance winning the first round amidst her warring sentiments. “Why do you have to be so manly all the time? Why can't you just admit you love Rohit and that you've always loved him?”

Vishal merely pressed his lips together.

“Is it so hard for you to admit you're human, that you have softer feelings? Papa was of a different generation.”

“What's Papa got to do with it?” he growled.

“Everything. You try so hard to be just like him. But men of your generation are allowed to show emotion. It's acceptable for grown men to be sentimental. Even our American presidents these days hug people and shed tears in public.”

He gave her a bland look. “In India, men don't go around hugging and talking about love.”

She reached down and patted his hand. “That's okay. You don't have to say a word. Your actions gave you away.” She smiled through her tears. “It'll be our secret. And I'll always be in your debt.”

“Don't patronize me, Vini,” he hurled back. “You owe me nothing. All this crying and thanking is unnecessary. I happened to be here, healthy and ready to donate. Not much to it.”

“Whatever you say, Vishal,” she said in an indulgent tone. But the tears were coming fast and furious now. Her flimsy cotton square of a handkerchief was getting soaked.

“Now stop sniveling and tell me how Rohit is doing. No one is telling me anything,” he fumed.

“Shashi-saheb was inquiring about Rohit, but before he could get any information…” She wasn't sure if this was the right time to tell him about the latest tragedy.

Vishal's brows snapped together. “Did something go wrong with the transfusion?”

“It's too early to know anything yet.” She shifted her feet. “Something else happened while Shashi-saheb was at the nurse's desk asking questions.”

“What?” Vishal demanded, sounding like his usual arrogant self.

“There's been an incident,” she said after a moment of wavering. Vishal would find out sooner or later. “Som Kori was…killed in an accident today.”

Vishal became still for a long moment. “I'm not surprised,” he said finally.

She frowned at him. “Really?”

“You don't know the volatility of the politics in this town. It's like a tinderbox, waiting to ignite. I didn't think Shashi Barve's attack was going to go unpunished.”

“You don't believe it's an accident?”

“Accident?” he scoffed. “You're an intelligent woman, Vini. Figure it out.”

“I did. And you're right.” She tossed him a resigned look. “Go ahead, tell me I'm to blame for this. I'll feel a lot better if you say it aloud, unlike Mummy's subtle accusations.”

He rubbed at his temple, like he was fighting a headache. “It's not your fault.”

“How could it not be my fault? Since the day I set foot in this town, I've caused nothing but problems—for you, for your wife and kids, for Mummy. Since I was eighteen years old I've been a menace to the Shelke family. Now I've caused Som's death and become a hazard to the Kori family.” She bit down hard on her trembling lip. “Hell, I'm single-handedly ruining an entire town.”

He stunned her with a mocking laugh. “Don't overestimate your influence, Vini. The way things stood between Kori and Barve, they were both asking for trouble. They have been at each other's throats for years.”

“But my revealing to Barve that Som was Rohit's biological father was what led to this,” she insisted. “It could affect you. Your office in town could be torn to pieces.”

“Your revelation may have hastened the process a bit, but not by much,” he assured her. “Don't worry; I have insurance for my office. Every businessman in Palgaum has to have adequate protection in this environment.”

Sayee walked in just then and interrupted them with some news. “They just told us that the transfusion went without any complications. Rohit is okay for now.”

“Thank God!” The relief in learning that at least something was going right was incredible. Vinita started weeping in earnest.

Sayee put an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “He will be all right, Vini.”

“I—I hope so,” Vinita cried. “Especially after Vishal went through all this.”
And Som died.
There wasn't another thing she could take at the moment. Every one of her nerves was in tiny shreds.

With whispered words Sayee soothed her until the tears subsided. “Come on, I'll drive you and Mummy home. I'll come back later and pick up Vishal after he is officially discharged.”

“All right.” She turned to Vishal. “Thank you…for everything.”

He shooed her away. “Go home and rest. They won't let you see Rohit, anyway. He'll be in isolation for several days.”

With some reluctance Vinita let Sayee nudge her toward the door. “I'll see you at home, then.” She waved at Vishal.

A little later, after saying good-bye to Shashi and Meenal Barve, who appeared to be in a more positive mood, Vinita climbed into the car with her mother and Sayee. She sat in the front passenger seat while Mummy sat in the back, where Vinita couldn't see her expression. She didn't want to face her mother at the moment if she could help it.

At the house, Sayee made chutney and tomato sandwiches and ginger-flavored tea for all of them, then insisted that Vinita and her mother rest a little before Vishal came home. “No one got any sleep last night, so you two should take a nap.”

“What about you?” asked Vinita. “You ought to be exhausted, too.”

Shaking her head, Sayee picked up several tote bags set aside for grocery shopping. “I'd better go and get some provisions before the stores shut down completely. God knows what the mob will do to the shops in town.”

“Oh dear, I hadn't thought of that.” Vinita glanced at the bags. “Why don't I go with you? You'll have too much to carry.”

“No need, the shop has
hamaals
—porters—to load the car,” Sayee assured Vinita.

“You're sure?” Vinita felt guilty about Sayee doing all this work alone while she was being urged to take a nap.

“Yes. Now get some sleep.” Sayee was already halfway out the door. She appeared to have regained her cheerful energy. Seeing Vishal recovering from his ordeal, and hearing Rohit was holding his own were probably what had put the pep back into her. “Don't worry about anything. I'll pick up Vishal later and drive him home.”

Turning around, Vinita found her mother gazing at her. “I know what you're thinking,” Vinita said to her. “If the town is falling apart and Vishal is in pain, it's entirely my fault.” She sank into the nearest chair. “You're right. I have no defense against that.”

“I didn't say that,” murmured her mother.

“But your expression says it all. Since the day I arrived here, you've been accusing me with your eyes.” Vinita shrugged. “All I can say is, I'm very, very sorry.”

Her mother shook her head. “Being sorry is not going to heal the wounds of an entire town damaged by riots, and it's not going to take away the stain on our family's honor.” She paused. “But I'm beginning to understand why you did what you did. I hope Rohit recovers soon.”

“You don't hate Rohit, then?” Vinita rose to her feet, stunned.

“I could never hate my grandchild,” Mummy said quietly. Then she left the room and headed for the stairs. A minute later Vinita heard her mother's bedroom door shut.

Exhausted, Vinita went up to her own room. Changing into a comfortable caftan, she lay down on her bed. Sleep wouldn't come. Her mother had a way of pushing the right buttons to trigger remorse, resentment, and wretchedness, all at the same time. At least she had admitted she didn't abhor Rohit. Vinita had to be content with that for now. Expecting her mother to love him was asking for a miracle.

And she couldn't stop thinking about Som. It was impossible to think of him as gone forever. What a needless tragedy. She sent up a prayer for his scarred soul.

Sayee and Mummy were right. Riots were probably brewing in town right now. It was almost like the townsfolk were holding their breath, waiting for something to happen. Vinita could feel the tremors, too—the approaching storm.