Nick looked at her skeptically.
Rachel put her hand on his. “I have. Truly. I realized it was a waste of time to be mad at her, because she never really got to know me. She never gave me a chance—I was this girl who came out of left field and stole her grandson’s heart. But the more time passes, I find myself actually feeling grateful toward her now.”
“Grateful?”
“Think about it, Nick. If your grandmother hadn’t been so resistant to us being together, if she hadn’t supported your mom in all her crazy shenanigans, I would never have found my real father. I would have never met Carlton. Can you imagine what my life would be like if I hadn’t met them?”
Nick softened for a moment at the mention of Rachel’s half brother. “Well, I can imagine what Carlton’s life would be like if he’d never met you—he probably would have wrecked a dozen more sports cars by now.”
“Oh God, don’t even say that! The point I’m trying to make is, I think you need to find some way to forgive your grandmother. Because it’s clearly an issue for you, and it’s going to keep eating you up inside if you don’t. Remember what that radio host Delilah always says? ‘Forgiveness is a gift we give ourselves.’ If you think you’re able to let things go without ever seeing her again, more power to you. I’m not going to force you to get on a plane. But I think you need to see her in person, and I’m guessing she probably really wants to see you too but—like you—she’s too damn proud to admit it.”
Nick looked down at his cup of tea. The saucer was emblazoned with an image of Queen Elizabeth II, and seeing the gold patterning at the edge of the porcelain suddenly took him back to a memory of Tyersall Park, of sitting in the ornate eighteenth-century French pavilion overlooking the lotus pond with his grandmother when he was six years old, being taught how to properly pour a cup of tea for a lady. He could remember how heavy the Longquan celadon teapot felt in his hands, as he carefully lifted it toward the teacup. If the butler doesn’t notice that her cup needs to be refilled, you must do it for her. But never lift the cup away from the saucer when pouring, and be sure the spout is turned away from her, his grandmother had instructed.
Emerging from the memory, Nick said, “We can’t both take off for Singapore at the beginning of the semester.”
“I wasn’t saying we should both go—I think this is a trip you should make on your own. You’re on sabbatical right now, and we both know you haven’t made much progress on that book you were going to write.”
Nick swept his tousled hair off his forehead with both hands with a sigh. “Everything’s so perfect in our life right now, do you really want me to go back to Singapore and open another Pandora’s box?”
Rachel shook her head in exasperation. “Nick, look around you. The box has been opened! It’s been smashed open and gaping at you for the last four years! You need to go back and repair that box. Before it’s too late.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
BOMBAY, INDIA
His nails were like onyx. They were perfectly formed and lightly buffed so that there was just a hint of sheen. Su Yi had never before seen such beautifully manicured nails on a man, and couldn’t help but stare as his fingers counted out rupees for the woman manning a cart piled high with brightly colored candles and strange wax figures, some in the shape of babies, some in the shape of houses, and others resembling arms and legs.
“What are these wax sculptures for?” Su Yi asked.
“People burn them as favors, in the hopes that their prayers will be answered. The babies are for people hoping for a child, the houses are for those that want a new home, and the sick choose a body part that corresponds to their ailment. So if you are looking to heal a broken arm, this is the one you’d get,” he said, holding up a wax form of an arm with a clenched fist. “I bought two candles in pale red and blue—they were the closest colors I could find to represent the British flag.”
“You must tell me what to do,” she said hesitantly.
“It’s very simple. We just place them in the shrine, light them, and say a little prayer.”
As they walked up the hill with the lovely views of the Arabian Sea, Su Yi glanced at the imposing Gothic façade of Mount Mary Church. “Are you sure they’ll allow me to enter? I’m not Catholic.”
“Of course. I’m not Catholic either, but everyone is welcome. If anyone asks us what we’re doing, we can tell them that we’re lighting candles for Singapore. Everyone is aware of what’s happening there right now.”
Stretching out his arm, he gestured gallantly at the arched front doors. Su Yi stepped into the church sanctuary, feeling self-conscious as her high-heeled shoes echoed against the black-and-white marble floor. It was her first time inside a Catholic church, and she stared in fascination at the vibrant frescos on the walls and the words painted in gold script against the majestic arch: All Generations Shall Call Me Blessed. The main altar reminded her of those in a Chinese temple, except that instead of a statue of Buddha, there was a beautiful small wooden one of the Virgin Mary dressed in gold-and-blue robes, holding an even smaller wooden baby Jesus.*
“I didn’t know there were so many Catholics in India,” she whispered to him, noticing the worshippers filling up the first four to five rows of pews, some kneeling in silent prayer.
“Bombay was a Portuguese colony during the sixteenth century, and they converted many Indians. This whole area—Bandra—is the main Catholic neighborhood.”
Su Yi was impressed. “You’ve only been here a few months, but you’ve come to know the city rather well, haven’t you?”
“I like to explore different areas. Mostly I wander around the city out of sheer boredom.”
“Has life been that boring?”
“Before you arrived, everything was boring,” he said, gazing at her face intently.
Su Yi lowered her eyes, feeling her face begin to flush. They walked along the transept until they arrived at a side chapel where hundreds of burning candles flickered. He handed her the red candle and gently guided her hand as she placed its wick onto a flame. The whole ritual seemed strangely romantic.
“There. Now just find an empty slot for your candle. Anywhere you like,” he said in a hushed voice.
She placed hers on the lowest rack, next to one that was almost burned out. As Su Yi watched the flame begin to brighten, she thought of the island she had been forced to flee. She still wished she could have defied her father and stayed on. She knew she should be feeling grateful rather than angry at her father, especially in light of the latest news. The Jurong-Kranji defense line had finally been breached yesterday morning, and invading Japanese soldiers were probably all over Bukit Timah now, swarming her neighborhood as they made their way to the city center. She wondered what was happening at Tyersall Park, if it had sustained any bomb damage, or whether the troops had discovered and pillaged the place.