Lucky T (21 page)

"At the top-right corner you make a knot, like this," Dee instructed slowly, his voice at her ear sending a rush of heat straight through her. He tucked one corner through a twist of fabric and tied it, then moved in front of her and stood just inches away, so close she could see the faint line of stubble on his chin.

"What next?" Carrie asked, her voice coming out a near whisper.

"Next you . . . you tuck the knot into your waistband."

Carrie looked down at her jeans and her pulse raced. Dee flushed and smiled, then cleared his throat.

"Here," he said, handing her the knot. "Tuck it right in the middle."

Carrie swal owed hard and did as she was told.

Everything inside her was alert, on edge. She could practically feel Dee's heart pounding as wel , just inches away beneath his thin T-shirt. He stared into her eyes, she stared into his, and for an instant she was certain he was going to kiss her, but he pulled back, breaking the spel .

"Now you wrap it around once," he said, his fingertips brushing her stomach as he grasped the sari again. He stepped behind her once more and his arms encircled her from behind as he swished the fabric around, tickling her ankles with the hem. "And then you pleat it here and pin it to the front of your jeans." He handed the pleats to Carrie and knelt on the ground to rummage through the box, pulling out a few safety pins. As soon as he moved away from her, Carrie took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the excitement in her chest. This time Dee turned and pinned the pleats to her waistband himself.

Carrie had to look away to keep from blushing at the sight of Dee, kneeling in front of her, concentrating on her stomach. But when he was done, he looked up and grinned, which both relaxed Carrie and almost made her swoon at the same time.

He slipped behind her once again and wrapped the sari around her, his palms brushing the small of her back, her waist, her side. By the time he appeared in front of her again to drape the rest of the fabric across her chest and over her shoulder, Carrie could hardly breathe.

"Now you pleat it again," Dee said, gazing into her eyes as he worked. "Lift it and drape it over your shoulder so that the pul ao hangs behind you."

He slid the silky fabric over her shoulder, brushing her neck and sending a shiver down her side. Stepping even closer, he reached under the sari near her clavicle and pinned the fabric to her shirt to hold it in place. Carrie could smel the scent of his breath, still sweet from the icing on her birthday cake.

"How do you know how to do all this?" Carrie asked.

"I grew up with five women in my house," Dee told her, looking down. "None of them ever looked nearly as beautiful as you do right now."

Carrie swal owed hard again and smiled. Between the beautiful colors and the smoothness of the silk and the warmth of his skin so close to her, she felt as if she were about to implode.

"Are you going to kiss me now?" Carrie asked him breathlessly.

Dee looked into her eyes. "Yes," he said.

Carrie's eyes fluttered closed as he undid the clip that was holding her hair up in a bun. She could feel her blond locks fall around her shoulders. Then she felt him place both of his hands on her cheeks and then his mouth covered her own. She felt as if she had been waiting for this kiss her entire life. His lips were perfectly soft, his touch strong and protective, as if he cared about nothing more than holding her close. She wrapped her arms around Dee's back, clinging to him to keep from falling.

It was, without doubt, the most incredible kiss Carrie Fitzgerald had ever experienced.

And she wasn't even wearing her lucky T.

"You're doing it again," Dee said to Carrie as they walked back to CCS that night.

"Doing what?" Carrie asked, letting go of the bracelet's beads and dropping her hands to her sides.

"You were off somewhere else," Dee said, adjusting the box that held her sari under his arm. "Is everything okay?"

Carrie smiled sadly. Everything should have been okay. Everything should have been perfect. Dee had kissed her. On a rooftop. Under a rosy Indian sky. She should have been walking on air right about then. And part of her was. But another part--the part she had been trying to ignore all day--was abysmally sad.

She missed home. She missed her friends. She missed her mother. But most of all she missed her dad. And the realization that she had messed up her one and only chance to get the lucky T back and bring him close to her again made her so angry at herself she could cry.

"Carrie, what is it?" Dee said, pausing on the sidewalk. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Strangers passed by, talking and laughing, on their way home or out with friends. Even though she was here with Dee, all the bustle made Carrie feel lonely and heartsick.

"I'm sorry. Don't get me wrong, I had an amazing birthday and it was all thanks to you," Carrie said. "I just-"

"You're coming down from your birthday high and you're missing home," Dee said.

Carrie blinked, surprised. "How did you know?"

"Happens to me every year," Dee replied, walking again. "My birthday is in November, so I'm always at school. I party with my friends, we go out for a big dinner, and everything is fine, but the moment I'm in bed with the lights out, all I want is to be here."

Carrie looked at Dee incredulously. He really did understand. Suddenly she knew he wouldn't laugh if she told him the whole backstory about the lucky T. Dee cared about her. In that moment she felt an overwhelming certainty that she could tell him anything.

"There's something else," she said, taking a deep breath as they crossed a street. "The T-shirt isn't just lucky. It was a present from my dad. He gave it to me right after he and my mom got divorced. I hardly ever see him anymore, and it may sound kind of stupid, but whenever I wear it, I sort of feel like he's with me. Like he's watching over me from wherever the heck he is just then." Carrie swal owed hard and glanced up at Dee. "I don't know, but . . . not having it now . . . it's like lately I've been missing him even more than usual."

"Wow," Dee said.

"I know. I'm a loser," Carrie replied, quickly swiping a tear that had irritatingly sprung up.

"No. I was just thinking . . . that's a real reason to want to find a T-shirt," he said.

"Real y?" Carrie said, surprised.

Dee smiled slowly and Carrie had to quel another urge to pounce on him. He stopped walking, reached out and ran his fingertips along her temple, then tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. For a moment his hand lingered against her cheek and Dee looked deep into her eyes.

"Does your father know that you traveled halfway across the world to search for this piece of him?" Dee asked.

"No," Carrie said softly.

"You should tell him," Dee said simply. "People like to be told how much they matter. I'm sure it would mean a lot to him to know the lengths you've gone."

Carrie looked down as they started walking again, overwhelmed by a flood of conflicting emotions. She wouldn't mind a little il ustration of that from her father once in a while. Why didn't he show her how much she mattered?

But you acted like you didn't care that he wasn't coming to visit, she reminded herself. How's he supposed to know how much it hurts unless you tell him?

Carrie wrapped her arms around herself and hung on. What if she called her father and told him she really needed to talk? Could they work all this out, or would he be too busy even to take the time to hear her?

"God, I'm so confused," Carrie said with a sad little laugh.

Dee smiled. "Confusion ultimately leads to a deeper understanding."

"You know, sometimes you sound like a fortune cookie," Carrie teased.

"My mother always tell s me that," Dee replied, tugging her arm so that she would sidestep a puddle.

They laughed and Dee cleared his throat. "You are a contradiction, Carrie Fitzgerald."

"How do you figure?" she asked.

"On one hand, you have no fear. You came all the way to India to chase something that is special to you," he said. "That's very brave."

Carrie warmed under the intensity of his admiration. "And on the other hand?"

"On the other hand, you fear all these things that don't really exist," he said. "Breaks in the sidewalk, cracked mirrors, knocking wood. Why the superstitions?"

Carrie shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just--I started believing in good luck when I got my T-shirt and then it was like I couldn't not believe in bad luck as wel ."

Dee shook his head. "You're too smart for that," he said. "You should start living in the real world."

"I don't think that's really possible," Carrie said, trying to envision herself willingly walking under a ladder or not holding her breath while driving by a cemetery. The very idea made her shudder.

"Just try it. I promise you if you let one thing go, the sky will not fall down," he told her.

"Okay, fine. How about this?" Carrie said. "You break one rule--one real rule--and I'll give up one of my superstitions. I mean, you're telling me to live a little, but you aren't exactly living life to the fullest yourself."

"I think you can live within the rules and still live life," Dee said.

"Not if you've never felt what it's like to do something bad. That total rush," Carrie said, spreading her fingers. "I'm not saying you should knock over a liquor store or anything, just ... do something you wouldn't normally do under your own strict guidelines. See how it feels."

"Okay ... so what rule should I break?" Dee asked, his brow furrowed.

"I don't know," Carrie said. "Why don't you ... do something different at CCS without asking Mr. Banarjee first or something?"

"I can't do that!" Dee said. "He's my boss."

"Well, it's not like he's in the mafia and will whack you," Carrie said. "Next up is breaking a rule."

"And if I do that. If I defy my boss ..."

"I'll do something crazy," Carrie said.

"Like open an umbrella inside?" Dee asked, his eyes bright.

"Like open an umbrella inside," Carrie said with a laugh.

"It's a deal," Dee said, opening up his arm to her. Surprised but touched by the gesture, Carrie slid over and leaned into his side as they walked. Dee wrapped his arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. As the CCS building loomed into view, Carrie started to feel a confidence welling up inside her.

Maybe her life could be okay without her lucky T. After all , right then she was walking along the streets of an exotic city with an amazing birthday present tucked under her arm. She was cuddled up next to a thoughtful, intel igent, intriguing, beautiful guy. And her T-shirt was nowhere in sight.

At that moment anything seemed possible.

The next day was beautiful and sunny and warm, and Carrie woke up with a new outlook. Just deciding to talk to her father made her feel more at ease than she had in weeks. Plus there had been all that blissful daydreaming about Dee she had done the moment she woke up. Everything was going to be fine. Great, even. Carrie could feel it.

To celebrate her giddiness, Carrie decided to take Dash, Akhtar, Manisha, Trina, and Asha out for a walk. After convincing one of the teachers, Miss Ruma, to sit with the younger kids, her little band of hikers set out, headed for a nice, lush, wide-walked neighborhood Carrie had found on one of her many T-shirt hunts. It was the perfect place to sightsee and get a little exercise away from the crowds and the noise.

"Wow! Look at that one!" Akhtar said, rushing up to the gates of an impressive brick mansion. Al the kids grabbed on to the iron bars and pressed their faces up to the openings. "I bet a prince lives there!"

"And the princess is kept in that room at the top," Asha said, pointing to a high window. "Just like in all the stories."

"Maybe it's a princess's house and she keeps the prince up there," Manisha said huffily.

Carrie laughed and patted Manisha's head. "I like the way you think."

Manisha beamed and they continued on their walk. Trina and Asha stuck to Carrie's sides like a pair of handbags, while Dash and Akhtar walked a few paces ahead, talking and laughing in that mischievous way boys of their age often did. Manisha brought up the rear, pausing every so often to study another of the amazing houses.

"A basketball man lives here," Asha announced suddenly, pausing at the end of one of the wide driveways.

"What do you mean, a basketball man?" Carrie asked.

"He plays for the Olympic team," Dash told her. "Thinks he's all that."

"He is all that," Akhtar said. "He has the honor of representing our country."

"Wealthy git is what he is," Dash replied, spitting on the ground.

The house was huge and made of white stucco with a red, Spanish-tiled roof like the houses in Carmel back home. Beautiful flowers burst from the window boxes, and the drive was lined with hundreds and hundreds of bright yellow marigolds. The flower beds ran all the way out, past the gate and along the sidewalk in front of Carrie.

"How do you guys know he lives here?" Carrie asked.

"Everyone knows," Manisha said with a shrug. She leaned back against one of the pil ars that held the gate. "He's famous."

Asha bent down, plucked one of the marigolds from the flower bed, and held it under her nose.

"Asha! Don't do that!" Trina scolded.

"Why? I like them," Asha said, bending to pick another.

"Asha, Trina's right. They don't belong to us," Carrie said.

"So what? Let her have them. He has enough of them," Dash said, leaning down and plucking a few more. He handed them to Asha, whose entire face lit up at the size of her new bouquet.

"Can I put them by my bed, Miss Carrie?" Asha asked.

"Okay, sure," Carrie said, glancing up at the house and half expecting to see an angry face staring out at them. "Let's get going."

"Wait! I want some too," Manisha said, bending to pluck a few flowers for herself. Dash knelt down to help her and in about five seconds had cleared a space about one foot square.

"Dash! What are you doing?" Carrie hissed, dropping to her knees.