“They’re here!” Rachel said, peeking out through a window.
I gulped down the last bite of vada and hurried to the front door.
The Lotus was parked in the driveway—they had arrived!
Vinnie had changed into Mom’s old wedding lehenga. She looked so soft and radiant in the vintage pink and silver. Just as she was stepping out of the car, there was a dramatic crack of thunder and it started to rain—again.
“Umbrellas!” I said, and hurried over to the designated umbrella area—I pulled a soft pastel one with Monet’s water lilies on it for Vinnie and hurried over to cover her before she got a drop of water on Mom’s dress.
“Oh. My. God. Mini,” she said, her eyes shining. “Everything looks amazing!”
Sol was in the car with them, still clicking away. I handed Manish another umbrella to hold over Sol. Those pictures had to turn out good!
“Everyone in the tent, please. Vinnie and Manish have arrived!”
A volunteer group of umbrella ushers had sprung up at the garage door, where most of the traffic was making its way to the tent.
“These are the prettiest umbrellas I’ve ever seen,” said a sweet-faced lady in a hot-pink Kanjivaram.
“You’re just like Megha—same to same,” said Chintu and Mintu Patel’s mom, pinching my cheeks rather painfully. “Carbon copy!”
“Mini!” Ernie Uncle strode over in a bright yellow rain poncho—no flowery umbrella for him. “You want to see this!”
“What…,” I started to ask, and then gasped at the sight of the rental car with Canadian plates—and my Nanaji and Masi’s twin boys, Ari and Avi, wearing matching Camp Halfblood T-shirts, descending from it.
“Nanaji, you made it!”
Masi came tearing out of the tent and wrapped the twins into her arms. She hadn’t said a word when we lost contact with Nanaji at Heathrow Airport, but she must have been crazy worried.
“We took a flight to Montreal from London,” Nanaji explained. “And drove down from there. What did we miss?”
“The ceremony is over, but everyone is here for the reception!” Masi said.
You should have seen Vinnie’s face when Nanaji walked into the tent. You should have seen Nanaji’s face when he saw Vinnie all dressed up in Mom’s old wedding lehenga. Some things just cannot be expressed in words.
There was a line at the buffet table and people were serving themselves and sitting down at tables and chatting and having a good time.
But there was someone missing still.
“Has anyone seen Vir?” I asked Dad.
“No,” he said. “He was there at the temple, though, wasn’t he? He was driving my car!” I backed away quickly before Dad said any more on that subject.
There were people to chat with and food to eat and pictures to pose in, but it didn’t feel complete without Vir. Where was he?
“Vir?” Chintu said. “I think he said he had to pick up a friend from Logan Airport.”
“Is he coming back?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Chintu said.
I guessed I’d have to wait and see.
“Mini,” said a familiar voice. It was Krishna Ji, the priest. “Congratulations!”
“Thanks,” I said. “It was so good of you to perform the ceremony and come for the reception. It’s been crazy.”
“Not at all,” he said. “It is all very auspicious.”
“How is that?” I asked.
“Indradev himself is showering blessings from the heavens,” he said quietly. “What can be better than that?”
Fair point. Indra, God of rain and thunder, was definitely present at this wedding.
“I was very glad to do Vinnie’s wedding,” he said. “It’s been a long time.”
I nodded. “It has.”
“Last time I was in this house your Amma was sick,” he said. “I remember I sat right here and had tea, and you asked me—you remember what you asked me?”
I knew exactly what I’d asked him.
“I asked for a miracle,” I said. “I wanted her to live.”
“And I told you that certainly there will be a miracle.” He shook his head sadly. “My faith, you know? I did not think anyone could refuse the wish of such a small child, not even God. So many years gone, and I still don’t understand it.”
I smiled ruefully—for what was there to say?
“But do you know what your mom asked for that same day?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“She had accepted it then—her fate. She was only worried about you all,” he said. “Especially you, kutti. Your mom said: ‘Krishna Ji, Vinnie is strong and tough, and she’s nearly grown-up—she’ll be sad, but she’ll be okay. But Mini, I just want my Mini to be fine. She’s so little, and so sensitive, and she doesn’t really understand yet—I don’t want her to be damaged by any of this. If only I could know that she will be fine.’”
“What did you say?” I asked.
“I promised her sincerely that you would be,” he said. “My faith, you know?”
I stared at him, at a loss for words.
“I can see now that your mom’s wish came true,” he said. “You are very fine. You are taking care of so many things for your dad, your sister. God may not have heard you, kutti, but he heard your mom. She would be so, so proud of you.”
I had tears in my eyes, but I smiled at him through them.
“Thanks for telling me,” I said. “It means a lot.”
“Hey, Vir, my man!” I could hear Manish from way over in the garage. The garage had turned into the bar because Alan and Richie were pouring drinks for whoever asked. They had a cooler filled with ice for the drinks, because the electricity had gone with the rainstorm—and they were clearly imbibing as much of the stuff as they were dispensing.
Vir was here!
I headed over to the garage, working my way through the crowd.
“I brought some gear,” I heard Vir say. “A generator and amps, an electric guitar, and a PA system. Thought it might come in handy.”
“That’s awesome,” Manish said. “You saved the music, dude. Let’s set it up!”
“Hi, Vir,” I said, having finally caught up to them.
He had changed into jeans and a button-down shirt.
“Mini, I want
