At the sound of the elevator door opening down the hall, the tension that had been gathering within her since she had seen him step from the taxi on the street below balled itself into a tight, hard knot in the pit of her stomach.

Oh, Kusum. Why does it have to be like this? Why can’t you let it go?

As the key turned in the lock, she forced herself into an icy calm.

He opened the door, saw her, and smiled.

“Bati!” He came over as if to put his arm around her shoulders, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he ran a finger along her cheek. Kolabati willed herself not to shrink from his touch. He spoke in Bengali. “You’re looking better everyday.”

“Where were you all night, Kusum?”

He stiffened. “I was out. Praying. I have learned to pray again. Why do you ask?”

“I was worried. After what happened—”

“Do not fear for me on that account,” he said with a tight smile. “Pity instead the one who tries to steal my necklace.”

“Still I worry.”

“Do not.” He was becoming visibly annoyed now. “As I told you when you first arrived, I have a place I go to read my Gita in peace. I see no reason to change my routines simply because you are here.”

“I wouldn’t expect such a thing. I have my life to lead, you have yours.” She brushed past him and moved toward the door. “I think I’ll go for a walk.”

“Like that?” His eyes were racing up and down her minimally clad body. “With your legs completely exposed and your blouse unbuttoned?”

“This is America.”

“But you are not an American! You are a woman of India! A Brahmin! I forbid it!”

Good—he was getting angry.

“You can’t forbid, Kusum,” she said with a smile. “You no longer tell me what to wear, what to eat, how to think. I am free of you. I’ll make my own decisions today, just as I did last night.”

“Last night? What did you do last night?”

“I had dinner with Jack.” She watched him closely for his reaction. He seemed confused for an instant, and that wasn’t what she expected.

“Jack who?” Then his eyes widened. “You don’t mean—?”

“Yes. Repairman Jack. I owe him something, don’t you think?”

“An American—!”

“Worried about my karma? Well, dear brother, my karma is already polluted, as is yours—especially yours—for reasons we both know too well.” She averted her thoughts from that. “And besides,” she said, tugging on her necklace, “what does karma mean to one who wears this?”

“A karma can be cleansed,” Kusum said in a subdued tone. “I am trying to cleanse mine.”

The sincerity of his words struck her and she grieved for him. Yes, he did want to remake his life; she could see that. But by what means was he going about it? Kusum had never shied away from extremes.

It suddenly occurred to Kolabati that this might be the moment to catch him off guard, but it passed. Besides, better to have him angry. She needed to know where he would be tonight. She did not intend to let him out of her sight.