Girl Gone Viral (Modern Love #2)(56)

“Ah,” she said, because she wasn’t sure what to say. Hardeep had never spoken about Jas’s family with anything but fondness, but now that she thought about it, he’d mostly talked about Jas’s mother. He’d told Katrina he and Tara had been close friends in their youth, though they’d drifted apart as he made fewer visits to this part of the world, and he considered Jas one of his nephews.

It was a little weird when she thought of the fact she’d been married to someone who was of Jas’s mother’s generation, but her relationship with Hardeep had been a special case.

“That still upsets you, that he left? Enough that you resent his grandson?”

“That’s not exactly why I don’t like Hardeep.”

“Oh?”

Much to her dismay, he didn’t elaborate on Hardeep. “Yes, I do carry some bitterness over Arora leaving my father. Farming life can be lonely, and it was lonelier then. My father couldn’t even own the land he farmed. Some of his friends put their land in the names of their citizen children, but my father felt the possibility of a family was out of reach for him.”

“Why?”

Andrés gave her a measuring look. “Do you know about the Immigration Act of 1917? It was also called the Asiatic Barred Zone Act.”

“I’ve heard of it.”

“Not many have.”

“My mother was Thai. She didn’t care much for history, but I like to learn. It’s my history.”

Andrés rocked back on his heels, clearly at home in professor mode. “Well, then you know that the law barred immigration from most of Asia for decades. The majority of South Asians who came to America before that were men, and California’s laws made marrying outside one’s race difficult.”

“He did have a family, though, eventually.”

“Aha, yes. As I mentioned, theoretically California didn’t permit mixing between the races. Theoretically.” Andrés offered her his hand, and drew her along the case. “My father was older and resigned to being alone when he met my mother at a party. She always said it was love at first sight. She was Mexican, and they feared they wouldn’t be able to marry. They took a risk, went to the courthouse, and to their great relief, all the clerk did was assess whether they were both brown.” He pointed to an ornate frame in the case. “I have their wedding photo enlarged in the dining room as well.”

A little ball of emotion caught in her throat. The stern-faced man from the previous photo was no more. He was looking down at the petite woman next to him with complete adoration. She was beautiful, in a simple white dress and lace veil, her heart-shaped face lit up with possibilities. “Your parents are beautiful.”

“They were.” His smile was tinged with sadness. “She passed away when I was young, in childbirth with my sister.”

“I’m so sorry,” Katrina murmured. “My mother also passed when I was young.”

Andrés patted her hand in sympathy. “It’s tragic. I was happy to have the time I did with her, and so was my father. They were an excellent example of compromise and love. My mama went to the Gurdwara. My dad went to church. Every Saturday we’d go to this restaurant in town owned by another Mexican-Punjabi family and have their signature dish, a roti quesadilla. After she died, my father took me to all those places on his own, tried to keep her spirit alive for me.”

She smiled, wistfulness twining around her heart. Imagine, having a father like that. “Sounds like they built a good life.”

“They did,” he said simply, and jerked his chin at another wedding portrait on the other wall. This one was of a much younger Andrés and a beautiful Punjabi woman. She was dressed in bright red. Their brown skin glowed. “They were the example I followed when I married. That’s my late Mata. We were childhood sweethearts.”

Katrina didn’t know how much more her tender, romantic heart could take. “She’s lovely. Your family is lucky to have so many wonderful examples of love and marriages.”

“You didn’t have such examples?”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “No. My mother met my dad when she was in grad school, and they got married quick. It lasted about a year, didn’t work out.” Which was a massive understatement. Since her parents had split before she was born, she didn’t know how bad it must have been, but knowing her dad . . . well. A nightmare, probably, for her mom.

Andrés gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was for the best.” Thanks to that divorce, the first nine years of her life had been peaceful.

She rarely got so personal with someone she’d just met, but it was remarkably easy to talk to Jas’s grandfather. He’d looked so forbidding when he’d thundered into the yard of the little house, but really he was a pussycat. Especially when it came to his family.

So why is he so mad at Jas?

Such a puzzle. “Thank you for giving me this history lesson.”

“Perhaps at some point, I can take you to the museum. I know the curator well, we’ll go after hours. My family, the other families around here, we’ve all contributed to it.”

She softened at his thoughtfulness in subtly assuring her the place would be empty. “Sounds like you have a good community.”