I’d convinced her that I didn’t need the maangtika, a jeweled bindi hairpiece. Ren and I together had decided I would not get the traditional henna bridal tattooing because it reminded us too much of Phet’s tattoo.
Nervously, I spun around and asked Sarah, “What do you think?”
She put her hand to her mouth and smiled widely. Waving her hands over her eyes so she wouldn’t cry, Sarah said, “I think you look like a princess.”
“That’s very fitting, then,” Nilima said with just a bit of smugness.
I clutched her hand and gazed at Nilima’s and Sarah’s satin gold-draped gowns. “You look beautiful too.”
A soft knock on the door turned out to be Mike, who stepped into the room and offered his arm. Nilima handed me my bouquet. It was a gorgeous arrangement of cream and champagne roses, gardenias, sprigs of white jasmine, and buttermilk tiger lilies with little black streaks that reminded me of Ren’s tiger form. The scent was heavenly. Sarah blew me a kiss as she and Nilima left to take their places.
Mike looked handsome in his father-of-the-bride garb, but he pulled at the high collar of his sherwani coat a bit. I patted his shoulder, flashed him a smile, and said, “Just be happy you’re not wearing five hundred pounds of fabric like I am.”
Grinning sheepishly, he quit fussing and pulled me into a hug. “Thank you for asking me to stand in for your father.”
I felt emotion well behind my eyes and blinked rapidly. I had way too much mascara on my eyelashes to even think of crying. “You’ve been a great dad,” I replied.
Without further ado, we stepped outside onto the smooth stone pavement of the Futami Okitama Jinja Shrine and began our long walk to the spirit gate overlooking the ocean. I hoped that somewhere my parents were able to see me marrying the man I loved.
I also thought of my other father, Mr. Kadam. I wished that he could have been with me. He would have been so proud to walk me down the aisle and give me away to Ren. As Mike walked soberly beside me, I was sure I felt Mr. Kadam’s presence and joy for us.
The sunset was beautiful. Clouds had covered the sky for most of the day, but now the light hit the water, making the dark blue ocean glimmer like sparkling sapphire.
When we turned a corner, I saw the small gathering ahead: my family; Nilima, who was my bridesmaid; Sunil, who stood in as Ren’s best man and whose eyes were fixed on Nilima; my old wushu partner Jennifer, who had been flown in as a surprise and who was already crying; and a handful of carefully selected employees of Rajaram Industries. I’d been sad to learn that Murphy had passed away in the six months we’d been gone.
I had sent invitations to Li and Wes, both of whom sent cards wishing me congratulations. Li still wanted a rematch with Ren when we returned to Oregon and was dating off and on but hadn’t found anyone yet who appreciated game night.
Wes said he’d finally talked with his old girlfriend, and she forgave him for leaving her. She was happily married, and his mother began arranging blind dates for him with every eligible girl in Texas.
Li and Wes were good men, but they didn’t make my heart pound out of control like the man waiting for me at the end of the aisle. Japanese drums beat in rhythm as I headed toward the man I was going to marry.
At that moment, Ren turned his head toward me, and my breath caught. He looked so handsome in a traditional, cream-colored silk sherwani coat and jeweled mojari slippers. His hair curled at the nape of his neck and hung appealingly over one of his eyes. As I came near, he brushed it back, away from his face, and held out his hands. His cobalt blue eyes locked onto mine, and he smiled his special lopsided smile. Everyone else seemed to disappear, and I felt as if I were in a dream.
My fingers tightened on my bouquet as I marveled that this gorgeous Indian prince, born centuries ago, would be my husband. The universe had given me an incredible gift, one more precious than fire power or the Divine Scarf. I had been given this extraordinary man to love.
I handed my bouquet to Nilima, slid my hands into Ren’s, and gazed up into his eyes as we stood beneath the shrine’s spirit gate. A thin Shinto priest stood on a simple wooden box next to us. He was bald and grinning, and he reminded me of Phet.
As we waited for him to begin, Ren smiled and I let out a nervous breath. The ocean breeze played with the fabric of my dress, which shifted softly, but at that moment, no power, natural or otherwise, was going to distract us from each other. His hands were warm, and I felt a slight hum of energy cycling between us.
Now I knew that our connection had always been cosmic. Ren and I had been destined to be together. He was always meant to be mine, and I was always meant to be his. Even though we no longer played the roles of the golden goddess and her tiger, our bond remained. I couldn’t read Ren’s thoughts, but I could sense his emotions—a twinge of nerves, sadness at the loss of his brother, and more than anything else, his overwhelming love for me and desire to make me happy.
The priest asked, “Who is responsible for this woman and gives her in marriage?”
Mike stepped forward. “I do.”
“Do you accept this young man and believe he will be a proper husband to her?”
“He has given me his oath that he will care for her as we do.”
The priest and Mike bowed to each other and then Mike stepped aside.
The priest began telling us about his shrine and the two rocks that jutted out of the ocean behind him. One of the rocks was much bigger than the other, and they were connected to each other by a type of rope.
“These rocks are called Meoto Iwa, the wedded rocks. In English, they are Love and The One He Loves. The larger rock is husband to the smaller one. He takes her to be his wife. They are joined by a shimenawa, an enclosed rope. This rope must be strengthened many times in the year.
“As you are entering a marriage you must also strengthen your bond to each other. When the tide is low, the rocks are not separated. But when the waves rise, only this rope attaches them. When troubles crash upon you, stand firm like these rocks and cling to each other through the bond you make this day.”
Then it was time for our vows. I heard sniffling nearby, which was clearly identifiable as Jennifer, but I ignored it, hoping I’d be able to recall everything I wanted to say to Ren.
I began, “Shakespeare said that journeys end in lovers meeting. You once asked me if our story was a comedy or a tragedy. We’ve seen our share of tragedy, and there are empty places here today, but my heart is not empty. My heart overflows. It’s warmed by your kindness, your patience, and most of all your love. You have been a steadfast companion, a supportive friend, a persistent wooer,” he raised an eyebrow, and I smiled, “and you’ve been my warrior angel. Your love has saved me more times than I can number. I hope, in time, that I’ll be able to return the favor.
“I know that each day I get to spend with you is a gift and one that I vow to treasure. I promise to always be yours. I belong with you and from this day forward I belong to you. If the universe had allowed me to fashion a man of my fondest desires, I would have created you.”
When I was finished, Ren squeezed my hands and smiled softly.
“Is it my turn?” Ren asked the priest.
“Yes, young man, you may now speak.”
In his warm voice, Ren promised, “My world was dark and bleak when you first came into my life, and at that time, you offered to me what I thought was the most precious of gifts—hope. It wasn’t long before I realized I needed more from you. I asked you to love me. Not a moment has gone by in the last two years when I wasn’t overwhelmed by my feelings for you.
He stretched out his hand and touched my cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “You are everything to me, Kelsey Hayes. Every moment with you shines brighter than the last.”
I heard the hiss of the ocean as the sun began to sink below the horizon. The warm rays of the setting sun touched Ren’s beautiful face as he softly sealed his vows with a poem.
I PROMISE
I promise to remain faithfully beside you.
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I pledge to conquer faults; perfect my character.
I vow to deserve you.
I declare you’re my dream, my fervent wish fulfilled.
I offer my past wealth and future promises.
I swear to keep your trust.
I commit my soul’s fire and my body’s force.
I profess I am forever bound to your heart.
I proclaim I am yours.
“My heart is caged no longer, iadala, for you have set me free. I walked a very long and lonely road to find you, and I want you to know I’d go through it all again a dozen times over as long as I knew you waited for me at the end.”
My eyes filled with tears, and Ren caught one as it trickled down a lash. His warm smile filled me with happiness. I didn’t think the wedding could have been more perfect. And then Ren cracked open a jewelry box.
Two strands of tiny beads wound around each other in gold and blue. Small diamond and sapphire flowers ran down the length of the chain and in the center hung a diamond lotus flower with a ruby center. I pressed trembling fingertips to my lips as I recognized Kishan’s ring reworked into a new form.
Ren turned me around and then his warm fingers brushed my neck as he secured the clasp and explained, “This necklace is called a Mangalsutra. The tradition of a groom giving this token to his bride on their wedding day goes back centuries. In ancient times, it was a simple bracelet that indicated to invaders that this woman belonged to another and was, therefore, under a man’s protection. Later, the necklace became a sign that a man and woman were committed to each other, much like an engagement ring. It’s a sign of an inseparable bond between a man and his wife.”
I turned back to him, and as he touched the beads along the edge, he spoke quietly, “Gold and blue tiger’s eye to remember what was found.” His finger trailed down to the lotus ruby in the center. “A diamond lotus and red ruby to remember what was lost.” He slid two fingers up the length of the chain over the dozens of tiny blue flowers. “And sapphire flowers that symbolize what will be.”
Ren took my hands and stepped closer. “Today, I give this precious token to the person most precious to me as a sign of my devotion and love. You are my mere jaan, my life, Kelsey Hayes.”
A few thin tears trickled down my cheek, but Ren gently brushed them away, his touch as light as the breeze. Then he nodded to the priest, who said, “As these two young people have pledged their lives and love to each other, with all of you as witnesses, we will now make their union official.”
He chanted in a singsong voice accompanied by the drums and pipes until the music abruptly stopped. With a toothy smile, he looked up at us and said, “This torri gate represents a crossing from the earthly plane into the spiritual. As you take your bride’s hand and step through to the other side, you begin your new life together. Before you were two and now you will be one, forever connected with an unbreakable bond.”
Confidently, Ren gripped my hands. “Are you ready?”
I leaned toward him with a smile and whispered, “What would you do if I said no?”
He ducked his head near my ear. “I have a remedy prepared should you prove to be a reluctant bride.” With a playful glint in his eye, he quickly bent over and before I could mutter a word of protest, he swept me into his arms, five-hundred-pound dress and all.
Laughing softly, I brushed his hair from his eyes and wrapped my arms around his neck while our audience cheered.
“Can I kiss you now?” he asked.
“I think you’d better, tiger,” I replied.
With a lingering kiss, Ren carried me through the torri gate and spun us in a circle to the accompaniment of enthusiastic Japanese musicians. He set me down and slid his hands down my arms. He was about to whisper something else when Sunil slapped him on the back, and well wishers surrounded us.
After animated congratulations from our family and friends and taking a few pictures before the sun was completely gone, Nilima bustled about, getting everyone moving along to the reception.
Ren kissed me thoroughly until I protested, “You’re ruining my makeup.”
He narrowed his eyes playfully. “That sounds like a challenge.”
I lifted my voluminous skirt and darted toward the waiting limousine. Over my shoulder I called out, “You’ll have to catch me first, tiger! Perhaps you’d rather be chasing monkeys.”
I squealed when I heard a growl right behind me and was suddenly lifted off my feet. After he bundled me into the limo, Ren pressed his cheek to mine.
“I’ve caught your scent, Mrs. Rajaram, and you’ll never escape my clutches again.”
“I sincerely hope not.” I giggled as Ren swept me into a passionate kiss that, despite my protests about my hair and makeup, didn’t end until we were halfway to the reception.
“I started off with a tiger and ended up with a husband,” I said as Ren wrapped me in his arms.
He kissed my nose. “And I started off with nothing and ended up with everything. I love you, Kelsey Hayes Rajaram.”
I smiled, loving every syllable of those three little words.
EPILOGUE
rising generation
Ren drove the McLaren roadster, my birthday present from Mr. Kadam, along the tree-lined road to the pretty South Salem duplex we had lived in so many months ago. Ren had shipped the car and bought up a significant amount of property in the surrounding forested hills with the intention of building us a home on what we both thought of as our mountain. We were finally starting our new life together, and in some ways, returning to our old one in Oregon.
Hopping out of the car in the driveway, I smiled, enjoying the pine and rain scent I loved so much. I’d just pulled a bag from the backseat when Ren nudged it off my shoulder and scooped me into his arms.
“You weren’t going to deny me the opportunity to carry you over the threshold, were you?” Ren said, kissing me softly.
I stroked the hair at the nape of his neck and grinned. “Despite what you think, I’m not in the habit of denying your requests.”
“I think you may be in denial about your denials, Mrs. Rajaram.”
As Ren strode to the front door of our duplex, he listed all the things I’d denied in the time we’d known each other, stopping only when I pressed my lips against his.
He murmured finally, “I like the way you change the subject. Feel free to stop all our disagreements in the same fashion.”
I laughed and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I’ll keep that in mind. You know, you really don’t have to carry me. Your super-strength is gone now, and I don’t want to be the cause of my husband’s back problems.”
He narrowed his eyes playfully. “There is nothing wrong with my back, hridaya patni, and though I may not have the strength of a tiger any longer, I still have the ability to seize willful women who cross my path.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Yes.”
Ren unlocked the door, stepped inside, and kicked it closed. Then he proceeded to make good on his promise. I protested briefly that our bags were still outside but his fingers had already unwound my braids and after another minute I no longer cared about our bags.
We broke apart when the doorbell rang. Outside on the front steps stood a mail carrier with a package.
“Can I help you?” Ren asked.
“Delivery for you, sir,” the man said and handed off the package.
With a nod and a smile of farewell, Ren closed the door and tore open the mysterious package. Inside it lay a heavy, wooden box.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” Ren said as he clicked open the lock. He lifted the polished lid to reveal a scroll perfectly encased in glass.
“It’s the Scroll of Wisdom,” I whispered. “The ocean teacher said we weren’t to read it until after the fifth sacrifice had been made. How did it get here?”
“I don’t know. I thought it was in the safe.”
I picked up the packaging. “Ren,
there’s no shipping label.”
We made eye contact and I jumped up and ran to the front door, throwing it wide. The postal worker was walking slowly down the hill.
“Wait!” I shouted.
Ren and I ran outside, coming to an abrupt halt as the man stopped and turned. The courier smiled. Then he pressed his hands together and inclined his head. The air swirled around him, and his hat vanished to show a balding head and a crown of wiry gray hair. His blue uniform and boots transformed into a roughly woven wrap and sandals.
I gasped and took a step forward. “Phet?” I asked earnestly.
The man smiled. A tear slipped down his cheek, and the magic that swirled around him intensified, obscuring him from view.
“Phet!” I reached for him, but his body faded until he was gone completely.
Once again, my mind reeled. If that was Phet and he had come all this way to give us a message, I definitely wanted to know what was so important.
“I didn’t imagine it, did I? That was Phet, wasn’t it?” I asked, already walking back up the driveway to the house.
“Yes,” Ren confirmed, trailing along behind me.
Even though he stopped by the car to retrieve my grandmother’s quilt and our bags, he quickly caught up to me at the front door, and we both rushed back into the house, straight to the Scroll.
The glass tube seemed to have been blown around the document inside. There was no way to open it.
“I’ll have to break it,” Ren said. “Stand back a little.”
I moved back a step or two as he gripped the cylinder. There was a snap and the tinkling of broken glass, and then Ren had the Scroll in his hand. A heavy wax insignia sealed it shut.
Ren trailed his fingers over the imprint. “It’s my family seal—the house of Rajaram . . .” he said excitedly.
Carefully, Ren broke the seal and spread the ancient pages on the kitchen counter. The sheets of thick Sanskrit-covered parchment quickly began to yellow around the edges.
I smoothed the paper flat for Ren as he ran his fingertip lightly over the words.
“Kelsey, this is a letter from Kishan.”