He sighed. “Marriage was and still is different in Indian culture. When you marry, you try to make your family happy with someone who shares your cultural background and who embraces and keeps the traditions and customs important to your family. There are a lot of things to consider, such as education, wealth, caste, religion, and where you come from.”
“So it’s like screening applications for college? Would I have made the cut?”
He laughed. “It’s hard to say. Some parents believe that dating an outsider taints you forever.”
“So you mean just dating an American girl taints you? What would your parents have said about us?”
“My parents lived in a very different time.”
“Still . . . they wouldn’t approve.”
“Mr. Kadam is like a parent in a way, and he approves of you.”
I groaned. “It’s not the same thing.”
“Kelsey, my father loved my mother, and she wasn’t Indian. They were culturally from different backgrounds and had to merge different traditions, and yet, they were happy. If anyone from that time would have understood us . . . it would have been them. Would your parents have liked me?”
“My mother would have adored you; she would have baked you chocolate peanut butter cookies every week and giggled every time she saw you, like Sarah does. My father never thought any man would be good enough for me. He would’ve had a hard time letting me go, but he would have liked you too.”
We pulled into the garage, and I had a sudden vision of the four of us sitting in my parents’ library talking about favorite books. Yes, they would have heartily approved of Ren.
I smiled for a moment then frowned. “I don’t like the idea that you have other girls chasing after you.”
“Now you know how I felt. Speaking of which, what did Jason have to say?”
“Oh. He gave me this.”
I handed him the article as we walked in the house. Ren sat down and read it quietly while I made us a snack. He came into the kitchen with an expression of worry on his face.
“Kelsey, when was this taken?”
“About a month ago. Why? What’s wrong?”
“Maybe nothing. I need to call Kadam.”
He got on the phone and spoke quickly in Hindi. I sat on the couch and held his hand. He was talking fast, and Ren looked very worried. The last thing he mentioned before he hung up was something about Kishan.
“Ren, tell me. What’s going on?”
“Your name and picture are in this magazine. It’s a pretty obscure publication, so we might get lucky.”
“What are you saying?”
“We’re afraid that Lokesh can trace you back to here.”
I responded, confused, “Oh. But what about my student ID and my driver’s license?”
“We had them all changed. Mr. Kadam has connections. He arranged it so your records don’t match your name with your photo. Did you really think he could arrange a passport in a week for you to go to India last summer?”
“I guess I didn’t think about it.” My mind reeled with the new information, and the vision I had seen in India of the power-hungry wizard flashed back to me. Suddenly worried, I said, “But, Ren, I’m registered at school under my name, and there are records of me in the foster care system that could lead back to Sarah and Mike. What if he finds them?”
“Mr. Kadam changed those too. The state records officially say you were emancipated at fifteen, and this house and all of the bills for it go to a hidden account. Even my driver’s license is a fake, and I’m registered under a different name. Kelsey Hayes officially goes to WOU, but your picture was switched out so he couldn’t find you. We left no records of your name tied to your picture. Those were the documents mentioned in the e-mail you saw on my computer.”
“What about my high school yearbook?”
“Taken care of. We wiped you out of the official records. If somebody contacted an old high school classmate with an old yearbook they could match you up, but the odds of that happening aren’t likely. They would have to check every high school in the country, assuming they knew which country to look in.”
“So, you think this article means—”
“That there is a record he could find you with.”
“Why didn’t you two tell me all this before?”
“We didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily. We wanted you to live as normal a life as possible.”