As Sweet as Honey (29 page)

“Oscar!”

Scrambling to his feet, he turned around. No one.

“Look here.”

A few feet away, sitting against a small sand bank away from the water, was a man with a walking stick. He was white, a tourist most likely.

“Are you lost?” the man asked.

Oscar wasn’t sure whether to reply. The man looked kinder than the headmaster had, but his mother had long ago warned him not to talk to strangers. Asha told him that kids were kidnapped often, and tortured and drugged, although she admitted she didn’t know anyone
personally
to whom that had happened. It was, however, another reason to learn karate. Oscar wondered how karate would help if the kidnapper had a gun. Well, Asha had said, if he has a gun, you are out of luck. Oscar clutched the stone she had given him for protection.

Oscar noticed the man had bare feet, and somehow that was reassuring. It also seemed that the man was slightly transparent. Oscar wondered if he was an angel. Asha told him that when her cousin’s neighbor from Yorkshire was involved in a car accident, he had seen an angel, who kept telling him that it would be all right.

“I just came from the ferry,” the man said, indicating the right with his hand. “I’m going to the town center, if you’re going that way.”

Oscar considered. It would be nice to walk with someone, nice to go home somehow—he didn’t even know his address!—or at least go to the police station. Already he felt glad to get his bearings a bit.

The man smiled, and slowly made his way across the beach, and Oscar, following, was relieved to see some wooden steps leading to the street. Two men selling shell necklaces and straw pinwheels called out to Oscar, but he paid them no mind. He felt safe with this man, although he had already decided to refuse if the man offered him candy, but Oscar didn’t think he would. The man just walked in front of him, leading the way.

“How did you know my name?” he asked the man after they crossed two streets.

“A lucky guess. You look like an Oscar.”

The main road was upon them. His legs hurt and he wished he could take a bus.

The man seemed to understand, for he slowed his pace.

“I’m glad you trusted me. You must always listen to your stomach, Oscar. It will tell you everything.”

“You mean my gut?”

“Yes. If it gives you a queasy feeling about someone, listen to it. But of course, always use your intelligence. Assess any situation carefully.”

“Are you a spy?”

“A spy? No. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. A spy would have to be careful about people, I guess.”

“People are pretty good for the most part.”

By now they were walking at a steady pace and the streets were more crowded than earlier, as people streamed out from work and the restaurants.

The mango stand he’d noticed earlier was a chain, he now realized, but a tailor shop he remembered looking at from the bus when they went to buy art supplies was a landmark. In front of the tailor shop was a family selling young coconuts, which he also now committed to memory, just in case he needed further landmarks. Right next to them was a stand advertising Sanctuary Chai. Of course, people weren’t landmarks, but their businesses could be. Then again, he might never get the chance to go anywhere by himself again.

“So, young man, what would you do if you got lost again?”

“I’d ask a policeman. I’d might not stray off the path again, but how can you have adventures if you don’t take chances?”

“True enough. Still, a good explorer takes precautions. You want a good map, protective gear, a compass, a flashlight, insect spray—”

“But that’s a planned journey, not an adventure!”

“Well, you can always be prepared for an adventure by carrying a compass.”

“But how will that help if you are lost?”

“Well, it’s always good to ask a policeman. But if you had a compass, and you knew the ferry was west—”

“Which it has to be, because we are east of India,” said Oscar, feeling utterly foolish for not figuring that out.

“—you would know you are heading east. You could also look up at the sun.”

“But we aren’t supposed to look at the sun,” said Oscar.

“True enough.”

Oscar wondered if he should tell the man he didn’t know
Great-grandmother’s address. Still, if he was an angel, maybe he would just take him home.

They walked a while in silence.

“Have you had many adventures?” asked the man.

“No. This is probably my first one.” Oscar frowned, and continued, “My mother and father have a lot of rules about where I go.”

“Are they strict?”

“No, not really. I don’t know, they’re all right.” He paused, and then asked,

“Have
you
had lots of adventures?”

“Oh, yes, I’ve traveled a great deal.”

“Have you been to Everest?”

“Well, no.”

“My dad says one day we might trek there together, but it’s a hard trip, and there’s plenty of preparations to make—years and years worth, but we might go on a balloon ride sooner.”

“See the mountains from above, you mean?”

“Well, not Everest, but maybe the Alps—they have climbing classes.”

“I hiked in the Pyrenees one summer. I was nineteen.”

Oscar waited for him to launch into a story. Adults always got a funny look in their eyes when reminiscing, their faces going soft, if not slack.

“It’s a good idea to carry water, even if it seems heavy at first.”

Oscar nodded. His father had told him the same thing last summer.

“And you can always ask for directions. People are usually glad to help, and if they set you off in the wrong direction, well, it’s just another adventure. Good shoes are important.”

Oscar wondered if a story would follow now. On the whole, it seemed grown-ups offered up lots of advice.

“I came to Pi not much older than you. My father brought me and my sister, and the very first day, a monkey stole my cap. Susan shrieked, and I never laughed so hard.”

“They are a bit scary. My aunt’s name is Susan, too.”

“Well, my sister didn’t much care for walks after that. The monkey didn’t snatch it off my head, mind, just grabbed it from the grass and ran off.”

“Did you chase it?”

“No, sometimes you just lose a hat. Life is full of peculiarities.”

“My parents are probably looking for me by now.”

“Not much farther, now.”

“Where are we going?”

“Oscar!”

It was his uncle Ajay, with his father close by. He ran up to them, and his father swung him up off the ground. Nearly breathless, he began to tell his story, and turned to introduce the barefoot man, but the man was gone.

“But he was right behind me—he helped me find the way back!” said Oscar, as his uncle raised his eyebrows and his father frowned.

“I’ll go get us some juice,” said Uncle Ajay, heading toward another of those mango stands.

“What did your friend look like, Oscar?” asked his father.

“He was barefoot, Daddy, but he had on a funny white suit—and a pink tie! I suppose you’re thinking I’m fibbing, but I’m not.”

“Oscar, let’s not tell your mum about your friend.”

“Why not?”

“Well, first of all, she doesn’t know you were lost, and second, she’ll be upset you tagged along with a stranger.”

Uncle Ajay gave him a cup with a straw.

Listening to Oscar’s adventure, they began to walk home.

“Not a word of this to your mother, or she’ll be livid.”

Oscar noted the street name once again.

As it was, his mother was livid anyway, having found out the truth.

52

I
had let the cat out of bag, so to speak. Coming home from the beach, I’d asked Nalani if Oscar had returned, not realizing my aunt was steps away.

“Why would you think I would not want to know?” shouted Aunt Meterling.

“You’d worry needlessly—and look, he’s home, safe and sound.”

“Simon, what if you hadn’t found him? Was I just supposed to be twiddling my thumbs while you act the hero?”

“I was hardly acting the hero. We went out to search for him, that’s all, and we found him.”

“And I was headed in the right direction,” muttered Oscar, who looked as if he knew he should probably slip away, since the attention was no longer on his having left home without permission.

“You! I expected more of you, Oscar! You know better than to go anywhere by yourself!” she said.

“But Mum, I had help from this man—”

“What man?”

“He was so nice—he was even wearing this clean white suit
and—” Oscar frowned—“and a pink tie, like he was dressed up for something special.”

Meterling seemed to weave on her feet.

“Mum! He showed me the way to get home! He
helped
me!”

“He helped you? He spoke to you?”

“Did you know about this?” she asked Simon.

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Why do you keep repeating this? I worry. I’m a mother. For godsakes, Simon!”

“C’mon, Meterling, he’s just a boy, that’s what boys do, they explore,” said Simon.

“But he saw Archer!”

We all stared at her.

Now Meterling did sit down in a chair, and Ajay went to get her some water.

“Mum, who’s Archer?”

“Oscar, sit down a minute,” said Simon.

We should have all left the room, I suppose, but it didn’t occur to us. We remained rooted.

“Oscar, your mother was once married to my cousin, a wonderful man named Archer. Archer Forster,” said Simon.

Meterling drank the water gratefully.

“The Craywick house actually belonged to Archer, and he left it to your mum. Archer was your—biological dad, but he died before you were even born. I met your mother just before you arrived, and we got married.”

Oscar thought a minute.

“Am I a bastard, then?” he asked.

“No!” we all said in unison.

“And how do you know such a word anyway?”

“That’s what Asha’s dad calls her puppy because they don’t know who his father was.”

“Well, Archer was your father.”

“Okay.” Oscar sighed. “But why are you mad about the man on the beach? Because I’m not supposed to talk to strangers? But I had to, or I would have stayed lost.”

“When your father died, he was wearing a suit and tie just like you described. I think it was him.”

“Cool!”

“Well, be that as it may, it still gives me a start. He shouldn’t be here—he should have long gone! He wasn’t supposed to ever return.”

“You’ve seen him, too, Mum? You’ve seen the ghost of—Archer?”

Meterling looked miserable. She seemed to recollect herself in a moment.

“You are too little to go wandering off on your own. Anything could have happened!”

“Not so little,” Oscar muttered, almost involuntarily.

At which Sanjay ushered Oscar out of the room, out of harm’s way, since Meterling began to look as if she were going to say more on the subject.

We were all silent now. The secret had been let out, and Oscar seemed to take it well. But this news about Archer’s ghost was exciting. What did it mean? What did the ghost want? And would we see it too?

The wind blew warm air, ruffling the palm fronds. The moon was in first quarter, a thick crescent in the sky.

“It looks farther away tonight,” said Rasi.

“We could go up on the roof.”

“Do you get the feeling Meterling thinks this ghost is going to snatch Oscar away?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really believe in it, anyway,” said Rasi.

“I do. There are always spooky things going on, Rasi, a lot more than we know.”

“Science fiction. C’mon, let’s go to the roof.”

To cool down, Meterling went to pick lemons. There was a tree located at the far end of the garden. She still felt shaken at the idea Oscar had so casually sneaked out of the compound. And Archer—what was he doing back, after all those years? Why did he pick this time to return? A ghost who desired what he couldn’t have: his boy. Would he dare try to take him away from her? Taking him would only mean that Oscar had to—no, she wouldn’t think such thoughts. She plucked some fruit; she would slice it open, grate some ginger, and make some tea. She’d eaten some hot bajis at lunchtime with small cut green chilies, and her stomach felt a little queasy. The lemon felt good in her hand.

And there he was, up in the branches in his white suit and pink tie.

“I came back to Pi,” he said, though it was redundant to say so.

Meterling said nothing.

“I’d forgotten how cold England could be,” he continued.

“You can feel the temperature?”

“I can smell it.” He shivered.

“Why did you come back? Why are you here now?”

“You mean since that Diwali party?”

“Yes. Why on earth have you returned?”

“This is my home, Meterling, or at least it was. I’m better off on the whole where I began, and now that I’ve gratified some of my longing, I can finally reincarnate.”

“Gratified? Reincarnate?”

“I can’t hope for union with Ishvara just yet.”

“Archer—”

“Don’t be annoyed. I just wanted to see you one more time, make sure you were being looked after, make sure that idiot Simon loved you enough.”