Tiger's Quest - By Colleen Houck Page 0,180

to bury my wet face in Kishan’s chest, sobbing. I knew it wasn’t fair to seek comfort from Kishan and cry over his brother, but I couldn’t help myself.

He put his arm under my knees and picked me up. Cradling me close, he carried me up the stairs. After he laid me on my bed, he went to the bathroom, came back with a box of tissues, and set it on the nightstand. Kishan murmured a few words in Hindi, smoothed the hair back from my face, pressed a kiss on my brow, and left me alone.

Late that afternoon, Nilima came to see me.

I was sitting in my room in the white chair, clutching my stuffed tiger. I’d spent the morning crying and sleeping. She hugged me and sat down on the couch.

“He doesn’t know me,” I whispered.

“You must give him time. Here, I’ve brought you a snack.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You didn’t eat your breakfast either.”

I looked at her with watery eyes. “I just don’t think I can eat.”

“Alright.”

She went into my bathroom and returned with my hairbrush.

“Everything will be fine, Miss Kelsey. He’s back with us, and he will remember you.”

She unbraided my hair and began brushing it out in long, smooth strokes. It comforted me and reminded me of my mother.

“You really think he will?”

“Yes. Even if he doesn’t get his memory back, he is bound to fall for you again. My mother has a saying: a deep well never runs dry. His feelings for you are too deep to ever disappear completely, even in a dry season, such as this.”

I laughed wetly. “I’d like to meet your mom sometime.”

“Perhaps you shall.”

She left me alone after that, and, feeling better, I headed slowly downstairs.

Kishan was pacing in the kitchen. He stopped when I entered and helped me hobble in. I wrapped the dishes of uneaten food that Nilima had brought me, placing them in the refrigerator.

“Your ankle looks better,” he said after a brief inspection.

“Mr. Kadam had me ice it and elevate it all morning.”

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. It’s not the reunion I’d hoped for, but it’s better than finding him dead.”

“I’ll help you. We can work with him together.”

It must have killed him to say that. I knew he would, though. He wanted me to be happy, and if helping me reunite with Ren would make me happy, he’d do it.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

I took a step closer and almost fell. He caught me and drew me hesitantly into his arms. He expected me to push him away like I had a habit of doing lately, but I put my arms around him instead and hugged him.

He stroked my back, sighed, and kissed my forehead. Right then, Ren walked into the kitchen. I stiffened as he looked at us, expecting him to react to Kishan touching me, but he dismissed us completely, grabbed a bottle of water, and left without saying a word.

Kishan lifted my chin with his finger. “He’ll come around, Kells.”

“Right.”

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

“That sounds good.”

“Okay. But something with action. None of your musical stuff.”

I laughed. “Action, huh? Something tells me you’d like Indiana Jones.”

He put an arm around my waist and helped me over to the indoor theater.

I didn’t see Ren again until late that evening. He was sitting on the veranda watching the moon. I paused, wondering if he wanted to be alone; then decided if he did, he could always ask me to leave.

When I slid open the door and stepped outside, he tilted his head but didn’t move.

“Am I bothering you?” I asked.

“No. Would you like to sit down?”

“Okay.”

He rose and politely helped me sit down across from him. I studied Ren’s face. His bruises were almost gone, and his hair had been washed and cut. He was dressed in casual designer clothes, but his feet were bare. I gasped when I saw them. They were still purple and distended, which meant they’d been terribly hurt.

“What did he do to your feet?”

His eyes followed my gaze and he shrugged. “He broke them over and over until they felt like swollen bean bags.”

“Oh,” I said uneasily. “May I see your hands?”

He held out his hands, and I took them gently in mine and studied them carefully. His golden skin was unmarred, and his fingers were long and straight. Nails that had been torn and bloodied earlier were now healthy and filled in. I turned his hands over and looked at the palms. Except for a

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