“It’s not only us. Samantha grew up without a father. She didn’t have you in her life as a grandfather. She deserved to have all of that.” The bourbon burned as Sam downed it. He poured another as the familiar anger built again.
“Maya did the best she could. Samantha is feisty and intelligent. And you’re in her life now. I don’t see Maya standing in your way.”
Sam grunted.True.
His father set down his empty glass and stretched out. “Can’t choose who you fall in love with, sometimes. Your mom and I have been through a lot. If we made it through Arjun’s death, we can make it through just about anything. I just need a few days to sort through things.”
“Stay as long as you like. Ben will take the sofa.” Sam concentrated on the bottom of his glass, as if the answers to his questions were actually somewhere in there. How was his dad even able to consider forgiving his mother?
“Did you really tell your mother she couldn’t see Samantha?”
“I was pissed.” He looked up at his father. “But I wouldn’t do that to Samantha.”
“She’s probably the best thing that has happened to your mother in a long time.” John leaned toward his son, his elbows on his knees. “Your mother carried around a lot of anger over Arjun’s death. To some extent, she still does.” He paused, his mouth set in a grim line. “But it was that anger that fueled her to hand that check to Maya—it was that need to control that which she could not. You’re more like your mother than you think. Don’t let your anger over the fact you missed Samantha’s childhood rule the rest of your life.”
Sam leaned forward on his knees, staring at his hands. “It’s just that every time I see her, I’m reminded of what I missed.”
“Are you talking about raising Samantha, or your missed life with Maya?”
Sam looked up into his father’s eyes and exhaled. “Yes.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
MAYA
New York, 2013
ASSHECLEANEDup the shop at the end of the day, Maya glanced out the window and was stunned to see Hema-auntie approaching. Maya stiffened, just as she did all those years ago when Hema-auntie had come to her uncle’s house. Her stomach fluttered as she waited for the door to open, but it did not. When she peeked outside, she saw Hema-auntie walking away from the coffee shop, back the way she had come. Curiosity overruled her butterflies, and Maya dropped her rag and rushed to open the door.
“Auntie?”
Hema-auntie stopped and turned toward her.
“Auntie,” Maya started again, “why don’t you come in?”
Hema-auntie took a couple tentative steps toward Maya. “I, um. Well, I don’t really know.” She stopped. “It was foolish of me to come here. I have no right...”
“At least warm up with a cup of coffee or chai. I insist.”
Hema-auntie looked at Maya with a grateful smile. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
Maya held the door open for Sam’s mother, and then led her back into the bakery kitchen. “Here, have a seat while I make chai.”
“Oh, don’t go to any trouble. Coffee is fine.”
“It’s no trouble. Please, sit.” Maya motioned to a small table she had set up in the back for when she needed a quick break. “Maybe a bit more spice, since it’s so cold?”
Hema-auntie nodded and removed her coat and sat while Maya filled a small pot just about halfway with water to boil. She added her homemade chai masala, enhancing it with a bit of grated fresh ginger. She put in loose tea leaves, more than a pinch, less than a handful, and turned to face Hema-auntie while she waited for the mixture to come to a soft boil.
Hema-auntie watched Maya carefully before finally speaking. “Maya, what I did, I did for my son.” No one could accuse Hema Hutcherson of not getting to the point. “At the time, I believed what I was doing was right.” She raised her chin and made eye contact with Maya.
The chai simmered, but Maya could not bring herself to break eye contact with this woman who had terrified her all those years ago. Tears shimmered in Hema-auntie’s eyes, even as she set her lips in a firm line.
“After Arjun was taken from me, I shut down. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Sam—how could onenotlove Sam?” She paused to smile at something Maya couldn’t see. Her smile withered into a frown when she began speaking again. “But I was never the same, and I knew that Sam suffered for that. My way of loving Sam was to push him...to push him to fulfill his brother’s dreams. Because, you see, that way I could have them both.” She smiled again, but it wasn’t a happy thing. “Selfish, I know. And saying it out loud, it sounds ridiculous—even to myself. Imagine knowing you should love your child more, but not knowing how to do it.” She stopped for a moment, staring at Maya. One lone tear escaped. Hema-auntie did nothing to stop its trail down her face.
Maya’s body tensed, her mind and heart at war. Young Sam had craved his mother’s love, and the only way she could give it was to push him to be like Arjun. Yet how could she judge this woman, who had lost a child? The thought of losing Samantha made her feel like all the blood had been drained from her body—no parent should have to navigate such black waters.
“I know that what I did was wrong—and that I hurt so many people. Especially you and Sam.” She swallowed hard. “And Samantha.” More tears rolled down her face. She reached a shaky finger to wipe them.
