But Ram did not want to go. He did not want to be comforted; his solace would be a betrayal of Padma’s suffering. He finished his breakfast and rose to begin the day. The newly planted cotton field needed thinning. There would be a week of hard work ahead. He wanted to begin.

Jivan did not mention the gurdwara again until two weeks later. Ram was helping him clear out silt from the delivery ditch. The family would all go now, for the annual celebration of Guru Gobind Singh’s birthday. All the Hindustanees would flock there, whether they were Sikh or Muslim or Hindu. “Everyone will come,” Jivan said.

Ram thought that Jivan had selected this time to raise the issue so that they would not have to look at each other. The shoveling, the silt, the glare of the summer sun would provide a distraction. “But I will stay, bhai-ji,” Ram said respectfully.

“Come, Ram. It will be good for you. Old friends will be there.”

Ram forced himself to be cheerful. “You go, bhai-ji,” he said. “Take everyone else.”

“You must forget this sadness. Within two years you will once again be with your wife.”

“You are right,” Ram said vaguely, not wanting to argue. He was puzzled at his own inability to rouse himself from the sadness. Had he wanted to stay in California after all, without going back? Had he wanted Padma to live here permanently, like Kishen did? “It does not matter so much that Padma could not come,” he lied. “Only two years. But I prefer to stay on the farm next week. And no one else need look after the farm and animals.”

“Ram,” Jivan said. He had stopped working and was leaning against the handle of his spade. The man did not like to be thwarted.

“Bhai-ji,” Ram said, bending to clear the silt from his shovel. He could feel the weight of Jivan’s gaze. But he knew that Jivan realized he would not be moved.

Ram drove the others to the train depot in Karak’s car. It would be Rosa’s first time at the gurdwara. Other men had married now, and would bring their wives and young children: Mexicans, Anglos, Negroes. Leela held Federico’s small hand as he climbed aboard the train. Long after the adults had settled themselves in their seats, she leaned out the window and waved at Ram, her long hair pulled back in a braid, her eyes bright with excitement about the train ride. He felt a pang of regret. She had asked him, over and over, why he would not come.

THE NEXT MORNING, Ram heard the rattling of wooden wheels, and when he stepped around to the front of Jivan’s home he saw Alejandro driving his wagon up the dirt path of the Eggenberger farm. Adela was sitting next to him with a basket on her lap. He watched her climb down, carrying the basket, and knock on the door. When there was no answer, she opened it and leaned her head inside. Ram was too far away to hear, but he saw Adela look back at Alejandro, heard her call out. He drove off without her. Adela went inside. It was not his house, Ram thought; it was not his concern.