“Ah,” Paulina said as if it were nothing, “that’s easy. You bring me much joy. If you’re having a good time, just know I’m having a much better time.” She winked and left Amala alone for the night, contemplating how it might be to make India more a part of her life, even though she’d chosen to always make England her home.

* * * *

Amala loved the distractions of her days with Paulina; it was only at night when she was completely alone that she had trouble not thinking of Henry. She couldn’t go to sleep without some measure of tears overcoming her, but Paulina had kept her so busy that she was usually too exhausted to cry for long. It occurred to her more than once that perhaps that was part of Paulina’s motive in keeping Amala involved in one activity after another. Whatever her reasoning, Amala felt grateful, and she often told Paulina so. Every day Paulina would ask Amala how she was doing in regard to Henry, and Amala would generally give her simple answers to indicate that she was adjusting and she felt confident that with time she would heal and find peace. But they didn’t talk about him any more than a few minutes a day, as if they were on a quest to allow Amala to put some distance—both in miles and time—from the source of her broken heart.

Amala wrote home every few days, and Miles gladly posted the letters for her. Since they were traveling, she asked that the family not attempt to write back yet, but as soon as they were settled in Paulina’s home in the south of France, she would let them know and she would look forward to hearing from them.

While in Paris they went back to the Indian restaurant a few more times, and one night they stayed very late, until after all of the other customers had left, and they had a wonderful visit with the owners. Amala loved their story of how they had sacrificed a great deal to leave India behind and come here to bring their love of their own food to Europe. She asked questions about the spices they used, loving the sound of the words they spoke that mingled with childhood memories.