The PuppetMaster (53 page)
“Umm,” I answered, “the only part of that journey I wish to remember.”
“Ach, The food wasn’t bad, the coffee was good, and you did save a lot of people.”
“We saved a lot of people, but I don’t want to think about it. All I want to think about is you lying on top of me just like this.”
She giggled and wriggled and slipped me inside her. “Or like this,” she giggled again.”
We spent July and August in Tonder, but took five excursions to the coast to traipse about an island called Kongsmark. She was our guide to small hotels with quaint eateries. We savored the solitude we had wished for of in India, but found so rarely. What seemed a dream before became more so. In Tonder I fell in love with her parents, both fluent in English, and each evening at the dinner table I learned more about Uli, how she came to be the woman she was. Her father, Lars, was talented in a hundred ways, had a wry sense of humor and a goatee that reminded me more of a Burger than a political cartoonist from Denmark. He didn’t broach the subject of the riots or cartoons until three evenings into my stay. As we dined on broiled trout in mousseline sauce and mustard green salad, he spoke openly of it. There was no shame in the telling, only what he saw as his right to state an opinion through his political sketches. Ingrid, Uli’s mother, concurred. She had the equivalent of a P.H.D. in hydrology and glaciology, and referred to herself as modern, open-minded, but with traditional Danish views in regards to raising daughters. She had sculpted cheeks and blue eyes she had obviously gifted to her eldest daughter. The books of their library fascinated me—four languages were represented, and laid end to end would likely have stretched into Norway. I spent time every morning engrossed in a small primer on the Danish language, and in the evening helped in the kitchen—my specialty was salads. Intellectualism was high on the list in the Hadersen household, and Uli and I were expected to sleep in the same bed as long as we didn’t slack on chores. I loved my chores.
Each day became the opening of another window into Uliana for me.
One night, a week after I had arrived, we sat in a small cafe on the coast. She had driven us across during that morning to hike the hillsides above the shore. That evening, over chardonnay and lager I told her, “I forgot a small, but important, detail. The publications that Devi, C.G. and I published are making money.”
She squinted at me. “Und you are just remembering this detail? Gott, Sahr was right, you could forget your pen is when it is tucked behind your ear. It is gut that I am here to have such a razor sharp memory for you.”
I laughed, “Ya, ya. It is gut that you are here, Ms. Hadersen. Gut that I am, too. Your accent is thicker here, you know. And Sahr might have been right about that pen thing, she usually was. But listen, I had Devamukti set things up for the money to go somewhere special.”
The smile that slid slowly onto on her lips told me she knew. “You are having it sent to Mata and the Haven for widows, the place near Manikarnika?”
I nodded. “The Soma Tarahansa Trust for Widowed Women. I thought it would do more good than in my pocket. Besides,” I smiled, “I have money and I really don’t need it.”
She kissed my thumb. “A perfect name, and it will be like seeds in a rich soil.” She reached for my other hand. “And have you thought about what you will do now?”
I pulled my chair around the arc of the table and slipped my hand into the smoothness at the nape of her neck. “I have thought it all out, and not all of it is related to me. I’ve decided that you should become a famous geologist and live, at least part-time, in California and teach bright young students all about boring old rocks with entire universes inside them. If that suits you and feels good. Then I though you could upgrade from fair premika to stunningly beautiful wife of a slightly famous linguist and Sanskrit dude.”
“Oooh . . . one who does heroic deeds und gives great gifts to the world?”
“Uh huh, the same guy who couldn’t do a thing without you by his side.”
She kissed me for three breaths and said, “In that case, I would be ecstatic to be his stunning wife.”
Uliana made our announcement two days later and we decided upon small ceremonies in two countries. That prompted Ingrid and Jitka to begin planning immediately.
Seventy-Nine
We departed in early September, on an afternoon when the skies were cloudy and a chill mist had settled across the valley. It seemed as if the entire town gathered to wish us safe travels and bid us a quick return.
Jitka made us sandwiches with sausage and olives, strawberry pastries, and mugs of cold beer for our drive to Freisburg. As all of us hugged with promises of our return, I realized that my circles were drawing closed. In twenty hours I would return to San Diego and the arc of my travels would close. I would enter another life in an old setting, and the arc would come back to its origin. Home.
Somewhere over the Atlantic, I read four newspaper articles in different periodicals. They were the beginning of many to come, and the headlines were much more pleasant, more gratifying, than the ones I had read in the airport in New Delhi.
The first came from The Times of India.
Bangalore—New Hope for Diabetic Women. The Women’s Clinic of Ulsoor Tank announced yesterday that it will be providing low cost treatments for women suffering from early onset Type II diabetes. Clinic founder, Saraswati Venkateswar, explained to a meeting of financial supporters yesterday that a series of new treatments has been tested and proven ‘extremely effective’ in a variety of trials. Mrs. Venkateswar added, ‘The costs of the medicines and nerve stimulus treatments will be so minimal as to be offered at almost no cost to our patients.’
Durban, South Africa—Indian Treatment for Diabetes Proves Reliable. Chem-Science Laboratories, C.C. released the results of a two-month trial of treatment for diabetes. The results of the trials show ‘excellent promise for a full cure of this devastating disease,’ said Marcus Rosen, head pathologist for the laboratory and director of the study. ‘The original prescription came out of India, and we are, quite honestly, surprised at the effectiveness of the combination of accu-pressure and common plant ingredients…
Paris, France—Securite Social announced today that it will be providing new programs for diabetic patients under its national health care coverage. The treatments, originating in India, will be fully covered and are designed to provide a complete cure for the disease…
Washington D. C.—The FDA announced this week that it will be delaying the release of its own trial results on a revolutionary new treatment for diabetes. “We need a few more months possibly longer, to properly study the effects of these treatments,’ explained Dr. Thomas Ralston, chairman of the drug code directory committee. ‘We are not about ready to fast track this just because it has been showing promise in other parts of the world. We have a lot of companies lining up to submit applications, hoping to push their version of this product onto markets in the United States, and we are in the process of determining whether these applications need CFR 314.50s or not. We’re certainly not going to be pressured to move too quickly on this.’ Asked whether the results of the recent in-house trials showed any promise for a cure, Mr. Ralston declined comment.
The Santa Ana winds were blowing in from the Mojave when Uli and I landed at Lindbergh Field in San Diego. The air was hot and dry and reminded me that it had been four years, nearly to the day, that Lilia had died. Those memories, and all others in of my life, were welcome; they came without pain, or remorse, or fear. They were now bright threads in my tapestry.
After a week of celebration and festivities with my family and friends, and scores of introductions and tours, Uli and I slipped away on a Sunday morning by ourselves. We drove along the La Jolla coastline and watched diamond-filled waves rise and tumble across the reefs and point breaks. We watched agile surfers perform their magic, and ate a fine breakfast of chili rellenos in the park where Lilia and I were to be married. We played Frisbee—a game where I ran and sweat through every pore of my body chasing Uli’s slightly wild throws. In time, with a few pointers, the tosses evened out in the gentle winds. And then we swam in cool waves and kissed salty moisture from each other’s lips.
“Is this the place?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “I spread her ashes from the rocks at the end of the beach.”
“And you will teach me how to bodysurf here?”
“Of course,” I smiled. “She would have liked that, you know, you riding waves with me. She would have liked you so much.”
“Then I will learn how to do it well.” She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me deeply. “It is all good, Marty. All good.”