The Henna Artist(87)
I looked out the window. Outside, sunlight was peeking through the clouds. Scarlet minivets bathed in the garden fountain, with nervous little movements of their heads, a furtive splash of feathers.
I watched Kanta and Manu as they sat on a bench in the Lady Bradley garden, a wool blanket covering their knees. Kanta had her head on her husband’s shoulder. Her eyes were closed.
Kanta had wanted to be a mother so desperately. And she would have been such a wonderful one. She was good-natured, funny, generous. She had Manu, her mother-in-law and Baju to help her at home. And she could afford to hire an ayah for the baby. If only she could take Radha’s baby home. She would love that little boy as if it were hers.
I felt my pulse quicken.
She and Manu had the means, the time and the energy to give the baby a good home.
It was absurd to think such a thing! I had signed a contract.
Unless...
Sweat beaded along my hairline.
“Radha,” I whispered. If I said it, I could never take it back.
I turned to face her.
I told myself that I knew what I was doing. If I went ahead with this and the royal family discovered the truth, I risked a legal breach of contract, hefty fines and even imprisonment.
She must have seen the excitement in my face. “Yes?”
I was giving up thirty thousand rupees and a secure future for Radha! But the baby would have a far more loving home.
I pointed at the window with my chin. Kanta and Manu had risen from the bench. They were walking to the far side of the hospital, where the nursery was.
“Kanta never got to hold her baby. That’s why she loves going to the nursery to hold yours.”
Radha lifted her eyebrows and looked out the window.
“She sings to him. He seems to like it,” I said.
Radha smiled. “She made up all kinds of silly songs when the babies were in our bellies. Just like Pitaji used to.”
“If Kanta were raising your baby...” I looked at Radha. My heart beat fast in my ribs. “Would she read Shakespeare or the Tales of Krishna to him?”
Her eyes flickered.
I took her hands in mine. “Would she feed him sweets or savories?”
Radha’s lips parted. “She loves my laddus.” Her voice was a whisper.
“Would her saas feed him rose milk, too?”
Her eyes were full of wonder and hope. “Till he turned pink.”
I smiled and touched my forehead to hers. “Wouldn’t Kanta just love him to pieces?”
My choti behen nodded slowly. She gripped my hands. “But, Jiji, what about the family who wanted to adopt the baby?”
“Leave that to me.”
* * *
Kanta was looking at some point beyond me, as if I’d become transparent. I wondered, for a moment, if she’d heard me. Then she said, “But, Lakshmi, what about the contract with the pala—”
“I’ll handle it.” Radha still didn’t know that the palace was the adoptive party. Now, I would never tell her.
I watched the struggle on Kanta’s face: she wanted it to be true, but should she believe her luck?
Manu, looking dazed, said to Radha, “Are you sure?”
“You’ll treat him as your own.” Radha meant it. Only I noticed how her hands clutched the bedsheets, how white her knuckles were. Until this moment, others had made choices for her; now she had made one of her own, the hardest decision of her young life.
“You were right, Auntie. I can’t take care of him—not in Jaipur, not in Ajar, not in Shimla. But you can, Auntie. You can, Uncle.”
In their excitement, Kanta and Manu couldn’t conceal their joy; they answered at the same time, speaking over one another. I clasped my hands in front of my lips, happy for them.
“We will take the best care—”
“—already, he’s one of the family—”
“—I know he favors salted cashews—”
“Of course, we’ll wait until he has teeth...”
If I had known what Kanta was going to say next, I would have stopped her, told her that it was rash—the sort of gesture made by the heart, not the head. But Radha nodded excitedly, accepting the offer: Radha wouldn’t be going back to school. She would stay with Kanta to be the baby’s ayah.
Kanta and Manu rushed to embrace Radha, the three of them laughing and crying at the same time, wiping the tears from each other’s cheeks.
* * *
Dr. Kumar was seated at his desk, pen in hand, when I walked into his office.
“I’ve thought about your offer. I will consult with you on a professional basis, Doctor.”
He dropped his pen and tried, unsuccessfully, to keep from looking overjoyed. “That’s smashing! Absolutely...”
“But there’s been a change in plans.”
“Change?”
I braced myself for his reaction. “Mr. and Mrs. Agarwal will adopt Radha’s baby.”
Now he looked confused. “I—I don’t understand. The palace—”
“I was hoping you could... The papers you’re submitting to them...”
He put both hands to his temples and looked down at his desk. “Mrs. Shastri? May I ask, what are you—”
“I need to know reasons why the palace would reject the baby. Medical reasons.” I knew the contract by heart, but he would know the proper terminology.