side of her neck. She whirled around and slapped him, even as he was releasing her. They stared at each other across a sizzling span of anger and amazement. “Don’t make threats you can’t keep,” he said, but seemed more upset than stern.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she replied.
Kash had never felt so emotionally drained. Standing in Rebecca’s room, waiting for her to open the small felt bag she’d gotten from the hotel safe, he hardly cared about the mysterious proof of her father’s story. He kept thinking of the bitter words he’d spoken to her when she’d mentioned
love
as if she expected to fall in love with him, as if a woman like her could. He kept remembering the shattered look in her eyes as she’d listened to him cut the idea to shreds.
To be loved by someone like her was a fantasy he’d never allowed himself to consider. The kind of love she meant—the lifetime commitment, the bonding, the sharing that went beyond sex and companionship to a merging of innermost dreams—seemed impossible for him. His furious reaction had come from the pain of self-denial and brutal experience.
Kash scowled as he watched her untie the delicate strings that held the bag shut. Her hands were smooth and strong, callused on the right thumb and forefinger from what he assumed were countless hours spent gripping paintbrushes and drawing pens. The nails were short and pearly clean at the tips, with a coat of clear polish. Even dressed in the revealing cotton pants and shirt, with her bare feet grimy and her hair a disheveled, mink-brown jumble, she had an air of nourishing niceness.
“I have a piece of jewelry that belonged to Mayura’s mother,” Rebecca said in a dull voice. “I had two pieces—a necklace and an earring—but those men at the brothel stole the necklace.”
Kash willed his haunting thoughts away. “Your father gave them to you?”
“Yes. They were gifts to Mayura’s mother, and after she died, he kept them. But one of the earrings was taken when the Vatans stole the baby. They took as many of her dead mother’s personal belongings as they could find.”
She slid the earring onto her palm and watched it shimmer in the light of the lamp on the dresser. It had three dangling pieces of sterling, the tiniest no longer than a pea, the largest as big as a penny. Each was inset with an oval of jade, and around the jade was intricate engraving.
When she placed the earring in Kash’s hand, he looked closely and saw endless swirls of flowers, so tiny that only the most skilled hand could have etched them.
“Turn it over,” Rebecca said wearily. “Read the back.”
The largest section was engraved in English with letters so small Kash had to squint to read.
To my beautiful wife, Nuan
. Mayura’s mother. And there was a date: 1960.
“Not long before he died, my father gave me that and told me the other earring says ‘From your loving husband, Michael.’
Kash closed his hand around the delicate piece of jewelry. “Why didn’t you show this to me before?”
“I was hoping to save it for my meeting with Mayura.” She looked despondent. “It was something very personal, something I hoped she’d recognize.”
“After over thirty years, do you really expect to find the mate to this? It was probably lost when Mayura’s mother died.”
Rebecca raised startled eyes to his. “Do you mean you believe it’s real? You believe me?”
“I believe you, but not your father. I’m sorry.”
She turned away, her shoulders sagging, and hugged herself. “What now?” she asked in a voice hoarse with defeat.
“I’ll show this to the Vatans and listen to their comments.”
“They’ll only say it’s a fraud.”
“Do you know any reason why your father would make up the story he told you?” Kash asked gruffly. He was tired of hurting her. Her pain radiated through him.
She pivoted and met his gaze with a cold, rebuking stare. “The story is true,” she said flatly.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she replied.
Kash had never felt so emotionally drained. Standing in Rebecca’s room, waiting for her to open the small felt bag she’d gotten from the hotel safe, he hardly cared about the mysterious proof of her father’s story. He kept thinking of the bitter words he’d spoken to her when she’d mentioned
love
as if she expected to fall in love with him, as if a woman like her could. He kept remembering the shattered look in her eyes as she’d listened to him cut the idea to shreds.
To be loved by someone like her was a fantasy he’d never allowed himself to consider. The kind of love she meant—the lifetime commitment, the bonding, the sharing that went beyond sex and companionship to a merging of innermost dreams—seemed impossible for him. His furious reaction had come from the pain of self-denial and brutal experience.
Kash scowled as he watched her untie the delicate strings that held the bag shut. Her hands were smooth and strong, callused on the right thumb and forefinger from what he assumed were countless hours spent gripping paintbrushes and drawing pens. The nails were short and pearly clean at the tips, with a coat of clear polish. Even dressed in the revealing cotton pants and shirt, with her bare feet grimy and her hair a disheveled, mink-brown jumble, she had an air of nourishing niceness.
“I have a piece of jewelry that belonged to Mayura’s mother,” Rebecca said in a dull voice. “I had two pieces—a necklace and an earring—but those men at the brothel stole the necklace.”
Kash willed his haunting thoughts away. “Your father gave them to you?”
“Yes. They were gifts to Mayura’s mother, and after she died, he kept them. But one of the earrings was taken when the Vatans stole the baby. They took as many of her dead mother’s personal belongings as they could find.”
She slid the earring onto her palm and watched it shimmer in the light of the lamp on the dresser. It had three dangling pieces of sterling, the tiniest no longer than a pea, the largest as big as a penny. Each was inset with an oval of jade, and around the jade was intricate engraving.
When she placed the earring in Kash’s hand, he looked closely and saw endless swirls of flowers, so tiny that only the most skilled hand could have etched them.
“Turn it over,” Rebecca said wearily. “Read the back.”
The largest section was engraved in English with letters so small Kash had to squint to read.
To my beautiful wife, Nuan
. Mayura’s mother. And there was a date: 1960.
“Not long before he died, my father gave me that and told me the other earring says ‘From your loving husband, Michael.’
Kash closed his hand around the delicate piece of jewelry. “Why didn’t you show this to me before?”
“I was hoping to save it for my meeting with Mayura.” She looked despondent. “It was something very personal, something I hoped she’d recognize.”
“After over thirty years, do you really expect to find the mate to this? It was probably lost when Mayura’s mother died.”
Rebecca raised startled eyes to his. “Do you mean you believe it’s real? You believe me?”
“I believe you, but not your father. I’m sorry.”
She turned away, her shoulders sagging, and hugged herself. “What now?” she asked in a voice hoarse with defeat.
“I’ll show this to the Vatans and listen to their comments.”
“They’ll only say it’s a fraud.”
“Do you know any reason why your father would make up the story he told you?” Kash asked gruffly. He was tired of hurting her. Her pain radiated through him.
She pivoted and met his gaze with a cold, rebuking stare. “The story is true,” she said flatly.
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