“Karma’s back!” Sangmo jumps from her seat near the stove, and despite her protruding belly, she’s mighty quick. A wide smile creases on her face from eye to eye, and my heart lifts in my chest.
My dear Sangmo, how distraught she was yesterday when Dendup and I returned from Lhasa without Karma. Even though they’re not related by blood, her brother is everything to her.
“Come, sit.” She fusses over Father. A hearty thukpa releases its rich, meaty flavor and my stomach grumbles in anticipation as if I denied it breakfast this morning.
Father ignores Sangmo’s plea. “Where’s Karma?” He scouts around the otherwise empty kitchen.
“At the horses—where else?” Sangmo hauls the cauldron to serve, but Father boots out to the corridor.
I sag in my seat. I know what Father’s up to, and I do
