But Saif seemed flattered at her request, and his delighted smile warmed her. “I’d like nothing better.”
—
There was only one trailer behind craft services, “Chase Taylor” printed on a card above the aluminum door. Saif brushed off the snow on the steps before gesturing for Maryam to climb ahead. She grasped the door handle and entered the trailer.
Inside, on the small couch facing the door, Chase passionately kissed Tenisha. His hand cradled her face, caressing her long hair, her dark brown skin rich and lush beneath the bright lights inside the trailer. “Oh!” Maryam said, shocked. She averted her gaze, aware that Saif had frozen behind her. “I’m sorry, Dadu sent me to pick up his bag, I’ll come back when you’re... um... finished—” she babbled, and urged Saif down the stairs.
In front of the trailer, Maryam and Saif looked at each other, speechless.
“Tell Dadu we’ll grab his bag later, when Josh’s trailer is less... occupied,” Saif said. “Poor Anna. I think she really likes him, and from the way Josh behaved yesterday, he’s encouraging those feelings.”
“Anna isn’t naive,” Maryam said, defending her friend, even though she privately feared the same thing. “Besides, she has a boyfriend waiting for her in Toronto.”Who seems like a bit of a jerk, but that’s none of my business, Maryam silently added.
“Well then, they both know the score,” Saif said smoothly. “That’s always important in a relationship, don’t you think?” Before Maryam could ask what he meant, Saif walked ahead.
They picked up Dadu and the trio set off for the inn. Her grandfather was in an exceptionally good mood as they walked through the snow, Saif clearing the path and Maryam bringingup the rear. They still had to walk single file, but Dadu kept them entertained by sharing amusing anecdotes from the set that morning. Apparently, Josh kept messing up his lines, exasperating both Katrina and Tenisha.
“What would you do when that happened on one of your sets, Dadu?” Maryam asked.
Her grandfather chuckled. “Actors are professionals, so if they keep forgetting their lines, there must be a reason. Perhaps they have something on their mind. Actors often lead colorful lives, you see. Always falling in and out of love.”
“Or trying to keep track of their newfriends, right, Maryam?” Saif called back, his eyes twinkling as he turned to look at her.
Her grandfather noticed the glance but said nothing. “I understood, of course,” Dadu continued. “Some people fall in love again and again, but others only have one true love. It was that way with me and your dadi-ma.”
“Did you have a romantic meet-cute, too?” Saif asked Dadu. He was teasing, but there was genuine curiosity in his voice, too. She smiled to herself; Dadu loved to share his favorite love story—how he met his wife.
“Kulsoom was my neighbors’ cousin, and she lived in the countryside with her family,” Dadu started, his voice clear in the crisp winter air, the words taking on the cadence of a burnished tale. “During summer holidays, her parents would send her into town to visit. All of my friends would look forward to the summer break to escape school, but I would wait all year to see Kulsoom. She was tall, with beautiful clear skin, and the prettiest dark eyes. Everyone thought her sister was the real beauty because her skin was fair, but Kulsoom took my breathaway from the very first. Her hair was thick, tied in a thick plait that hung to her waist, and she always smelled of jasmine flowers.”
“It’s true,” Maryam confirmed. “Jasmine was her favorite Yardley powder, but she also kept the flowers in her hair whenever she could get them. Tell Saif what happened when you asked for Kulsoom’s hand in marriage.”
Her grandfather smiled, delighted to remember his adventurous youth. “I was the mischievous one in the neighborhood, always playing pranks. None of the adults took me seriously. It was my neighbor who was the golden child. Kulsoom’s parents had already arranged a match with him, her own cousin. Marrying your cousin is quite normal, you see, in many parts of the world. Except neither of them really wanted the match, but what to do? The elders had decided.”
“If Kulsoom or your neighbor didn’t want the marriage, why didn’t they just say something?” Saif asked. “Marriage without consent is forbidden in Islam.”
Dadu only laughed and shook his head. “Young people, you always think everything is so simple and clear-cut. It wasn’t like that, not in the 1950s. Anyways, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I convinced her to elope with me.”
Saif’s shock was clear in his voice. “You didn’t!”
“She packed a bag, made her sister promise she wouldn’t say anything until the next morning, and we ran away in the night. Together, we took the train to Mumbai, where we were married in a smallmusallah. Mymehrgift to her was a simple gold bangle my mother gave me. My ammi and her sister were the only ones who knew about our plans.”
“Wasn’t your mother upset?” Saif asked.
“Ammi was a romantic,” Dadu said. “Also, she thought Kulsoom was better off with me. The neighbor boy had a bad temper and was stingy. Still, she knew my father would lose face if it turned out his wife knew all along, so she had to pretend for years that she was shocked about our elopement. When I brought Kulsoom back to visit my parents, Ammi gave her the rest of the gold set: a ring, necklace, and earrings. She wore that gold set every day until she passed, even though over the years I made enough money to shower her with diamonds.”
The crisp air was silent as the trio trudged through the snow, and Maryam thought about the improbable lifetimes her dadu had lived: first as a young dreamer in Hyderabad; then as a new husband, his beloved wife taking the biggest risk of all by leaving her family and trusting in him, even as he forged ahead in a precarious and notoriously closed-off industry; and then, decades later, joining his children in a new country. Today he was in another country yet again, experiencing the type of weather that would have seemed impossible to a young man in southern India. No matter how many times Maryam heard this story, it always made her tear up. Her grandfather’s grand romantic gesture, her sweet-tempered grandmother’s steadfast love, and their willingness to take a chance on each other always felt like a fairy tale—and, after everything that had happened to Maryam, almost impossible.
“So you moved to Mumbai, made your way in the film business, and spent the rest of your life directing love stories,” Saif said, impressed.
“Allah has been generous,” Dadu said. He looked back at hisgranddaughter, and the twinkle in his eye took on a knowing glint. “My Kulsoom and I were young when love found us, but it can strike at any time. You just have to stand ready.”
Walking behind her grandfather, Maryam flushed. Dadu wasn’t being subtle. “Oh, look, we’re at the inn already,” she said. At the front entrance, they stamped their feet and brushed snow from their hats and jackets. Saif lingered in the foyer, while Dadu made a beeline for the giant fireplace.
“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable yesterday,” Saif said, his voice low. Something tightened in Maryam’s stomach. She had avoided this conversation for nearly twenty-four hours, but in such close quarters it was impossible to maintain her silence. She indicated he should follow her outside to the porch, where they could have some privacy. The massive evergreen tree in the yard, branches still burdened with snow, faced her, and she took courage from its resilience. She turned to Saif and looked into his warm, intense eyes. He was so attractive it was almost a distraction. She swept the snow from a bench on the porch and motioned for him to take a seat. This way they were nearly at eye level, which somehow only made things worse. Staring over his shoulder at the tree behind him, Maryam tried to organize her jumbled thoughts.
“You want more from me than I can give right now,” Maryam started, and her words clearly took Saif by surprise. His lips twitched before he schooled his expression back into what she was starting to think of as his “lawyer face”: neutral, unemotional.
“What is it that you think I want?” Saif asked, his voice calm and curious, and it was this tone more than anything else that pushed her over the edge.
