A Pilgrim's Heart

Chapter 5

The sun is not at her highest yet when the three of us halt on the hill. My stallion scrapes his hoofs on the barren rock, eager to boot down, but I need a moment to take it all in. My fingers clench the reins, and in my throat swells. There beneath, nestled in the barren frames of the trees, lay the stables, the home I left so many moons ago, when the tidings were still lush and fresh with green. Thin shrills of white and gray curl up from the yard; they’re expecting us today.

Sonam turns his stallion away—he has to go. We already said our goodbyes this morning when we saddled up together for the last time, but he insisted on riding with us to the gate. Another day and his family will welcome him. His horse gallops away with a short wave of goodbye.

“You ready, sister?” Dendup bares his teeth and grins.

“Ready as can be,” I say and spur on my horse. My horse’s hoofs clatter in synch with the drumming in my chest. I know Father will wait at the gate, without a doubt, and I hope Sangmo too.

I’m not disappointed. We’re greeted by the two of them with a swirl of white khatas from Father, and a tear of welcome on Sangmo’s face.

“You’ve been gone too long.” Sangmo hugs me, her rounded belly sticking between us. I cradle her face in my hands. She’s beautiful and glowing. Being with child does her good.

Father holds me without a word of welcome, and I too am too choked up to utter a word. He draws me in, and I bury my face into the folds of his chuba. All is good. I’ve come home.

“Tell me the tea always tastes better at home.” Steam gleams Sangmo’s face as she pours me another cup of her milky brew. My nose wrinkles.

“I missed you too,” I say, and we both laugh, as that’s what she meant to say. My eyes glide around the kitchen. The tight plaster on the white-washed walls, the shine on the new timber shelves, the perfect arrangement of polished kettles, the bunches of herbs hung to dry along the wall. This place looks amazing. She sees me and shrugs.

“I hope you don’t mind. I changed a few things,” she says, and I clasp her hand.

“Mind?” I try not to laugh, but the curling tips of my mouth betray me. “I’m delighted you’re choosing housekeeping over horse keeping.” I pinch her fingers. “It suits you, now that you’re becoming a mother and all.”

She chuckles. “I know.” Her hand rubs her protruding stomach. “I’ve gotten so big!” And I can’t deny it, she has. “But I still ride, and I will until the very last day.” And that too, I can’t deny, for she probably will.

Together we sit, eat and talk, and Dendup agrees with Sangmo—there’s no better tea like home. Father pours Dendup another cup with a few drops from his own flask. And after all the pleasantries are exchanged, the tea has made place for chang with the men, and the sun is throwing her afternoon rays through the windows. It’s time for the inevitable to be addressed.

Dendup skips his usual ornate tales and gives Father and Sangmo the bare bones of our adventure. Uncle’s in care of the nuns, and Khandro disappeared, that’s the result. And how it came to be? Dendup shrugs.

“Well, probably a candle that got tossed over in the struggle,” he says and chews his moustache. “The place was on fire in no time, there was nothing we could do.” His flimsy gaze darts over to me and I shrug too.

“I wasn’t there,” I say, softly, and I avert my eyes to Father’s scrutinizing glare.

“That’s the story that reached us, alright.” Sangmo’s fingers pick a dried peach. “But it’s good to hear it from you all in person.” She pops the shriveled fruit into her mouth. “You know how people are.” Her face becomes a grimace. “Spreading stories around.” All four of us nod, and the silence becomes palpable, as we haven’t spoken about the one missing yet. Karma.

“Did you hear from him?” Dendup’s the brave one to bring it up. He spreads his fingers on the table and looks around. Father shakes his head and Sangmo gets up to rumble around the stove. The clatter of copper crashes through the kitchen.

“We were told he went to look for his kinfolk,” Father says. “And the family gave his permission.” The brownest of Father’s eyes meets me in a velvety glare.

He went back to ask permission. My mind boggles. Why then did he leave so soon?

“Wé are his kinfolk!” Sangmo’s voice resounds a raw plea, and a kettle bangs on the stove. A sob follows, and my heart hurts for her heart, as broken as mine. For the brother she lost, the brother she needs now more than ever, the brother she might never see again.

I close my eyes and draw a deep breath. How we humans hurt each other without ever wanting to. My hand seeks my string of beads, and my mind searches for the two I gave away. Where are you, my love? And most of all, are you safe?

We retreat to our rooms early, as the blood-red sun sets behind the hills. All is well here, and even better than that. Father’s a changed man—his posture upright again, his eyes bright and clear. He’s looking better than ever, and he attributes his renewed zest for life at Sangmo’s presence and constant push to step into his role again—the horse master of a renowned stable, a force to be reckoned with.

“She makes me do the work,” he said, his voice full of wit. “Ordering me around like that.” He snaps his fingers, and of course, Dendup is all too eager to agree.

“That’s what they do, these women of us.” Dendup roared his cheerful laugh. “You should have known this by now.” Sangmo even hit them with the raggedy cloth in her hand. Yes, Father and Sangmo in this place, they’re doing well.

Sangmo’s made a fabulous home for herself in Uncle’s old quarters and is longing for me to join her, sharing snacks and stories until deep in the night. This evening I must pass. I crawl into bed in my tiny old room at the back of the house—the room I used to sneak out of as a child, and the room I now seek comfort in as I dread the night to come again.

Tiredness has set in my bones, and all the stories we had to recall have made my mind is weak. I close my eyes and clutch my beads tight. Om Tare. Let darkness fall soon.

My prayers are heard.

***I don’t need to open my eyes, for I know he’s here, and it’s not a dream. The scent of sweet earth, of blooming mountain meadows, and of the warmth of the sun in summer floats along. A quiet calm has come to the room.

I let my eyes adjust to the dim dawn not quite shining through yet, and to his silhouette sitting on the side of my bed.

“You’re here,” I say. I take a deep breath. My heart surges in my chest.

“I am,” he says. His face is a shadow, but the green in his eyes shines so clear. His hand moves near, stroking the strands of my hair strewn overnight on the pillow.

I sit up, still dazed, but as his fingers slide into mine, the haze in my mind lifts.

“I needed to come,” he says, and his lips caress the tips of my fingers, leaving them balmy with the warmth of his breath.

“But you’ll go again.” My voice is so small, for I don’t want to say it. I want his hands to draw me close and explore my bare skin again, and for his hungry lips to follow in their trail.

“I am.” He unfolds our hands and presses a kiss in the palm of mine.

Take me with you. My heart whispers, but my lips stay unmoved. Instead, my mind speaks.

“I know you have to,” I say, and my words tear right through the tender core of my being.

“I do.” His lips linger on my hand, and he hesitates to let go. “That’s what you showed me, that night.” His eyes turn a moist green and lock me in. “That incredible night.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I wronged you again, my love.” A sorrow slides across his face

“What do you mean?” My hands reach out, I so want him near. My fingers rest on the raffles of his sleeve.

“You gave me a choice, and I left,” he says. “And again, I denied you yours, for I didn’t ask you to come.”

My breath stalls. His words hit my chest. My hands tremble and I clench them into fists.

“No, you didn’t,” I say. “And I never expected you to.” I swallow my own bitter truth. I never expected him to, and maybe that’s why he left.

He shakes his head, and his eyes search me again, and I see a flicker of doubt, a hint of fear shining through.

“You see, my love.” He unclasps my hands and rests his on my forearms. His pulse rushes through his veins. “I grew up in a place that never felt like home, so I’ve grown comfortable being on my own.” Slowly, he leans back and sighs.

“I made the mountains my home and being alone became my second skin.” His fingers stroke the inside of my wrist, and my eyes are drawn to his mouth.

I shiver, his words so honest, his insight so clear. How I long for his touch, and for his heart to be mine.

“And then you came, and I knew we were bound.” He raises his hands and cradles my face. “But I carried my aloneness with you. And when you let me hear my mother’s call, I left, not wanting to burden you with my past and thinking I could go back to before, to being alone.” His fingers spread on my cheeks, so feverish they burn.

“But something happened within me and I can’t go back to how I was before—it feels lonely—as I’ve never felt lonely before.” He closes his eyes and his forehead touches mine, the earthy scent on his salty skin so near.

“You happened within me, my love.” His voice is hoarse now, and his lips search mine. “You shared my dreams, and you showed me I am not meant to be alone, for I am now, and I don’t want to be.”

And as his breath meets mine, I sob, and my hands reach out to dig my nails into the strong of his wrists.

“Then ask me.” My lips leave a tiny trail on his chin. “Ask me, even though you know my answer.”

For a moment, his muscles tighten, and he draws back. His hands slide in my lap.

“Come with me.” His eyes shine a dark gleam. “In the understanding that I will fail you, but that I’ll try to do better, again and again.” His hand slides behind my neck and his fingers tangle in my long locks.

“Come with me, my love.” His voice urges now, and his other hand strokes the edge of my jaw. “Come on the road with me, the one I’ve never gone before, and be my home so I can be yours.” His words stall on his breath, the same way I hold mine.

I don’t need to speak, he already knows, and his eyes flare with the most brilliant of emerald green. I bury my face into the crook of his neck as his hands draw me near, to the call of the mountains, and the warmth of the sun on the last summer’s day.

And as he lays his body next to mine, again, I’m amazed. Who would have thought I’d be going once more, with this man, now my love, now so near?

Not me, but I should have known, really. I already made my choice—a long time ago—to care for all beings and do whatever it takes. I just didn’t know if I could.

As the early dawn breaks in golden and orange, the sun rolls her rays through the tiny window and warms our skin. A soft, yet nippy breeze follows through, carrying Palmo’s truth on her whisper. Courage, my child, you must have courage. My heart quivers ever so slightly. Her words have never resounded so clear.

I’ve opened my heart to the world without armor. I’ve laid myself down to care for all—raw and exposed. And when time calls, I won’t hesitate; I’ll do it all again, no matter what. I have what it takes to stand in my truth—I have a warrior heart.