a follower of Christ. Since the day I heard of your love for the God without form, Jai, I do not cease to pray for you, and to desire that ye might be filled with the knowledge of His will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding.”
The solemnity of their parting took Laine’s breath away. Their demeanor suggested nothing more than respect. Yet she ached at the sight of them. Something about them touched the fringes of her mind—memories. A moonlit beach in Madras...cool, satin sand beneath her feet...and Adam asking her to be his wife.
“Laine,” Maurice said through clenched teeth. “Now, if you please.”
She veered from Jai and Eshana and, like a blind man, walked through the door into the painful sunshine that shut off her memories.
Masses of people pushed and shoved, exacerbated by those searching for them. Over the shouts of venders came that of Hindu devotees. She kept the collar of the railroad shirt turned up, and pulled the end of the turban across the lower half of her face. The reek of coal and oil filled her nose as she took steps toward the far end of the goods train. Steam billowed from beneath flanged wheels. Three more steps and she’d reach the vestibule of the last carriage.
A shout issued from behind, and her hand froze on the railing. But whoever shouted had run down the platform, mistaking someone else for her or Eshana. Up the two steps and she entered the carriage. She stared out the window and counted each of Eshana’s footsteps as she followed.
A minute later Maurice rolled out the cart with the crate, and Eshana rushed to help him lift it into the carriage. Whistles blew and steam rose, obscuring the crowded platform as Maurice climbed into the carriage and slammed the door shut. With a jerk the train began to pull away from the station.
Laine remained by the window and caught a glimpse of Jai strolling out of the station. With only one glance at their carriage he hunched his shoulders in an attempt to blend in with the crowd. But people would recognize his tall frame and dark blue turban. Many would know him as Dr. Kaur Jr. Her insides twisted at the danger they’d left this good doctor in. As for themselves, were they running away from danger or running smack into it?
SEVEN
Dun-colored plains opened up as the train trundled southwest toward Bombay. Since the war ended Laine had grown used to these khaki-colored sands. Northern India’s monsoons had ended in July, but the south’s second set of steaming rains usually started at the end of October. She’d probably run into the south’s pounding showers as soon as she arrived in the Madras Presidency with its lush jungles, white coasts, and emerald lagoons.
For now, warm air blew through the steel bars and mesh screens on the windows. A small electric fan whirled above their heads. Hardly first class, but it would do.
It had taken a few hours for Laine’s nerves to stop jangling. Yet all had gone peacefully when their train chuffed into the next station, and the stations after that. No police with a contingent of Hindus waited for them like bees disturbed from their hive. Maurice had just left to go to the restaurant and bring them back some food.
Eshana held a cup of water to Chandra’s lips. Thanks to the lucky stars—if there were any such thing—their patient’s sutures looked good, and she’d been sitting up the past hour, chatting with Eshana. Her eyes glistened, no longer with fear but excitement. The excitement of a child. Poor little thing had never been on a train before. She’d probably never seen much but that hovel on the street behind the temple.
Maurice returned with a tray of chapattis, a dish of curried rice, and one of plain rice for their patient, as well as a container of hot tea and boiled water. “It’s safe enough out there.” He thrust his chin toward Eshana. “Next time she can get the food.”
Laine sent him the scathing look she gave her nursing subordinates when their work wasn’t up to snuff. “Her name is Eshana, and she is not a servant. I’ll get our food at the next station if you’re so adverse.” She flicked a glance out the window. “Are you sure people aren’t looking for us?”
“Relax, Laine, old thing. I checked with the telegraph office, and there’s nothing to suggest anyone outside of Amritsar cares. After all, we’re talking about the abduction of one little Indian chit, not the wife of the bleedin’ viceroy.” He swept a hand through his hair, but a greasy strand drooped over his brow. “Where did you say you’re making this new start in your life, old thing? Bombay? Or farther south?”
Eshana’s gaze bored into Laine’s. Eshana didn’t need to send her that silent warning. Laine had no desire to have Maurice looking her up. Though she couldn’t afford to alienate him at this point. Bombay lay nine-hundred miles off, and the Madras Presidency another seven hundred from there. She summoned the sugary tone she’d used on him earlier, not liking the gleam in his eye. “I’m not sure where I’ll hammer in the tent pegs, Maurice, old bean.”
Though she must look anything but alluring, smudged and disheveled, he still advanced. “Come, Laine, don’t play the tease. My but you’re a stunner. Always were.”
“Matron,” Eshana’s voice carried the exact note of concern Laine needed to extricate herself. “Our patient’s sutures are not looking good.”
Laine pushed past Maurice to Chandra. The girl’s frightened eyes carried the knowledge of what went on between men and women behind closed doors. So disheartening to see in a child this age. A moment later Maurice left the carriage with a barely suppressed huff. The train left the station, and Laine could only assume he’d gone to another section of the goods train to plaster salve on his wounded pride.
Both Eshana and Chandra gave her a bemused look as the girl ate half a bowl of rice with Eshana’s help. When Chandra had taken in all she could, Laine helped the patient to lie down. The girl dropped off to sleep almost as soon as she closed her eyes.
Together she and Eshana sat at the table by the window and watched the plains slip by. For the first time since this day had begun they had blessed silence to collect their thoughts. Soon the day softened to its short green twilight, and darkness came like the snuffing out of a lamp.
Eshana stood to switch on the electric light. “We have not yet spoken of where we will each be going once this train reaches Bombay. Will you be coming with me to the Ramabai Mukti Mission?” Eshana’s tone held a wistfulness that Laine wasn’t used to from her.
“No, I think it best you go on alone to the mission with Chandra.”
“You are not coming with me?”
“I’m expected as soon as possible at this new position. Anyway, you won’t need me, Eshana. By the time we get to Bombay, Chandra will be able to walk. I’ll be buying your tickets to Poona of course. After that I hope you’ll follow me to the Madras district.”
They were entering the outskirts of a village, its cooking fires twinkling like fireflies, and the tang of wood smoke in the air. It took a moment to realize Eshana had not answered.
“What is it?” She turned to look into the young Indian woman’s face. “You need somewhere to go till things simmer down, and this cholera research sounds interesting—”
“I cannot be going to the Madras Presidency.” Panic poked through Eshana’s voice.
“Oh come now. You can’t return to Amritsar. Really, Eshana, do be sensible.”
“I am sorry. I cannot be joining you there. As soon as Chandra is established at the Ramabai
