BANI'S CHRISTMAS GIFT
Chapter One
Bani Dixit stared in the mirror and was brokenhearted at what she saw. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Her once-clear skin was sprinkled with blotches. Even her face revealed that she had gained twenty five pounds. She was twenty-eight years old, unmarried, and nine months pregnant.
She was amazed that she had made it this far. She would be the first to admit that she was not an especially brave person. Only the encouragement from Pastor Don had carried her through. He was the most remarkable man she had ever met, even kinder and more compassionate than her father.
The radio newscast told her it was time to leave for work. She reached over to the bathroom shelf and switched off the radio. As she hurried through the living room, she grabbed her coat from the back of the sofa and tugged it on. A woman at church had loaned it to her. It was long, bright red and made her feel as big as a fire engine, but she had no choice. She had outgrown most of her own clothes months ago.
Before she turned off the lights and locked the door, she took one last glance through her apartment. She hadn't had the strength to go down to the basement storage area, lug her artificial Christmas tree to the elevator and set it up. The corner where it had sat the last six holidays looked lonely. A few ornaments and plastic Santa Claus figurines were the only signs that Christmas would arrive next week.
The train ride into the city seemed endless. An elderly man had smiled, got up and gave her his seat. He was tall, thin, and had a kind face that was reddened from the cold December winds. He wore a long camel hair overcoat and an old style black homburg hat. When Bani had settled into the seat, a woman across the aisle noticed she wore no wedding ring and gave her a disapproving scowl. Even though Bani had encountered that kind of judgment many times in the past several months, it still hurt.
When she finally got to the office, Bani found her friend Roshni Chopra already at her desk, typing on her computer keyboard so furiously that it sounded like a castanet concert.
"Whoa, Roshni . That can't be work you're doing at that pace," Bani said.
"And good morning to you, too" Roshni said back, doing a little dance with her shoulders. "I'm just shooting another email off to my latest prospect." Roshni, two years younger than Bani, was practically addicted to an online dating service.
"You really think you're going to find somebody worthwhile with that?" Bani was extremely cautious in the city. It was Roshni who had taught her that the same rules didn't apply here in Chicago as the ones in Nebraska. Bani had adapted quickly.
Roshni paused just long enough to toss a reply over her shoulder. "Listen, Bani. The numbers are online. It's all about the numbers, right? I've got a bigger pool of frogs to kiss here, so therefore my odds are better of finding him."
"You want to find a frog?" Bani struggled out of her borrowed coat, hung it on the rack in the corner of the office and returned to her cubicle, about ten feet from Roshni 's.
"I'm thinking a frog wouldn't be so bad, you know? Who wants a prince anyway? I wouldn't have to worry about cooking. Just give him a couple dead flies and he's happy. I'd get to do all the talking, pick what videos we watch, pick where we'd go on vacation" said Roshni.
Bani sat down and booted up her own computer. "Yeah, I can see the two of you walking on the beach now…or you walking and him hopping. Hand in…what? Paw? Flipper? What do frogs even have, anyway?" giggled Bani.
"Bani, did you sleep through high school biology? Don't they dissect frogs out in Nebraska? They have hands. Little teeny-weeny hands" retorted Pia.
"What if, what if when you dissected that frog in high school, it was maybe his Uncle Leo? What if you dissected a relative of your new significant other?" added Bani now almost laughing.
"You have a warped mind, Bani Dixit."
"Duh. Look who I hang around with" said Bani.
"Did you get those cost projections done for Sonali?" Roshni asked. "With the price of natural gas and diesel fuel going up so much, we're going to have to pass that on to our customers eventually."
Bani brought the spreadsheet up on her screen and checked it again before printing it out. "It doesn't look good, that's for sure. How can Midwest Milling keep underbidding our competition? The only thing saving us is that their fuel costs have gone up, too."
Midwest Milling, where Bani and Roshni worked, produced store brand and generic breakfast cereal that tasted the same as the major national brands but sold for less than half because the company did absolutely no advertising. Most of Midwest's customers were grocery wholesalers, but the firm also dealt directly with some of the discount, you-bag-it supermarket chains.
"Well, you better make sure your numbers are solid, Bani. Sonali's been on a rip the past couple weeks. She chewed out Paul yesterday because he was five minutes late getting in. He's supposed to kill himself driving on these icy streets when he gets caught in a traffic jam?"
"Paul should leave home earlier" Bani replied. "Sometimes the holidays can be hard on people. Sonali may have problems we don't know about."
"Her problem is that she and Kevin can't have children and you're ready to deliver any day now. She's jealous of you, kiddo, and she's taking it out on the rest of us."
Roshni finished and sent her email as the clock hit 8 a.m., then settled into her own work. She coordinated projects with freelance designers, oversaw the printing of the paperboard cereal cartons and made sure they and the plastic box liners were delivered to Midwest's plants on schedule.She glanced up from her desk just in time to see Sonali walking toward them in the hall that led to other offices. Roshni coughed twice, a secret signal to Bani that their boss was approaching.
Sonali had come up through the ranks at Midwest Milling and knew every phase of the business. She was tall, stylishly thin, and wore her dark brunette hair in a short, feathery cut. Roshni thought she was in her late thirties but was unsure of her exact age. Lately something had been wearing on her. Sonali's once attractive face was drawn and tight, as if the normal stress of the workplace had gotten the better of her.
"Do you have the cost projections done?" she asked Bani, without bothering to say good morning.
"They're printing out now."
"Okay. Bring them into my office as soon as they're done." Sonali turned and walked down another short hall to her office.
"Did somebody open a window?" Roshni cracked, once the boss was out of earshot. "Awfully chilly in here."
"Why don't you cut her some slack?" Bani replied, irritation in her voice. She pulled the last page from the printer and headed for Sonali's office.
"Don't say I didn't warn you, Nebraska," Roshni said, using her teasing nickname for Bani. "If you need help, just throw a paperweight through her office window."
Bani walked down the short, carpeted hall to Sonali's office. The director of Midwest Milling's Finance Department, Sonali supervised a staff of ten in the company's headquarters in Chicago, and had a half-dozen other staff members in the factories scattered across the country. She was an efficient, highly intelligent woman who rarely showed any sense of humor. Although she had been fair in the past, Bani sensed that she had some grudge against her now.
Bani didn't want to believe that it was because she was pregnant. She tried to see the best in everyone, an attitude that Roshni found naive.
As usual, Bani rapped on the office door, even though she had an appointment. Sonali told her to come in. Bani laid Sonali's copy of the financial projections on the desk and eased herself into a chair. She sometimes felt as if the baby would make her tip over if she bent the wrong way.
"Let's see what you've got," Sonali said flatly, avoiding any small talk. She picked up her copy of the report and scanned the pages rapidly. Bani had learned to cover herself several ways to prevent a critical lecture. Sometimes it approached paranoia, but she churned inside every time Sonali picked at her work.
"These are projections at best," Bani reminded. "Nobody can predict where some of these costs will go in the coming year."
"I did budget projections long before you came here. Our job is to come as close as possible so there are no surprises."
Bani kept her reply to herself. If she could accurately predict where costs would be a year from now, she'd be earning a hundred times her current salary. Budgeting always entailed an unavoidable degree of guesswork.
"Where'd you get these figures for diesel fuel?" Sonali inquired.
"I have end notes on my sources," Bani replied. "I used this year's figures and added the same rate of inflation as we had this year. I double checked with different surveys, the Department of Energy, and twenty-two diesel wholesalers within one hundred mile radius circles of our plants. Of course, I can't project how the Iran situation might affect prices a year from now, and neither could any of my sources."
Sonali frowned. Bani knew she'd won that one. Nothing to pick apart there.
"I don't like these natural gas figures," Sonali countered. She produced a red pen and made four slashes and question marks at various points on the page. Then she handed the entire report back to Bani. "Do that part over. That's one of our largest production costs. If we lowball that, Miller will nail me to the wall."
Ted Miller, one of the vice presidents, had a reputation for being vengeful. He was not Sonali's boss but could make things difficult for her if costs ran over and dragged profits down.
"When do you need this back?" Bani glanced around but didn't see a calendar anywhere in the office. Sonali would have considered that tacky.
"This afternoon."
Bani's first reaction was to object, but she knew that would do her no good. Sonali was a demanding person to work for and had gotten worse in the past few months.
"I'll get right on it," Bani said, as she struggled out of the chair.
"If you're…in the hospital, life still goes on here," Sonali told her, by way of explanation. "I don't want to turn this over to anyone else, and I don't have time to do it myself."
"Okay. You'll have it before close of business today."
Bani retreated to her desk, feeling a dull headache coming on. Meetings with Sonali often produced some sort of malady.
"She emerges with no visible wounds and a back remarkably free of daggers," Roshni commented. "What's the matter, Bani? She off her game today?"
"No. I have to redo the section on natural gas. She couldn't find anything wrong with the rest of it."
Roshni shook her head. "If I know you, kid, there's nothing wrong with the natural gas section either. She's playing head games with you."
"Yeah, well, she's the boss, so I've got to fix it and get it back to her today. I'll be doing the vending machine thing at lunch."
Roshni frowned. "We were supposed to go out today. Besides, how's little Tanya going to like all those chemicals and preservatives?" Roshni had named the baby Tanya when Bani learned she was carrying a girl.
"Oh, right. Like we would've been going to a health food restaurant for lunch anyway," Bani returned. "Your idea of the four food groups is burgers, fries, cookies and M&Ms."
"Don't forget Haagen-Dasz."
"I've got to get back to work." Bani's subtle hint let Roshni know not to bother her again the rest of the day. Both women returned to their computers and phones.
Just before lunch time, Roshni put on her coat and picked up her small purse. "I'm going out. You want me to bring you anything back?"
"No, thanks anyway. Maybe we can go tomorrow?"
"Sure. See you later."
Despite expanding her source information, Bani was unable to come up with different projections for natural gas costs than she had before. She put in a call to Mildred in the Omaha plant but found that she was out to lunch. Bani left a voice mail message and decided to take a break.
A native of Nebraska, Bani had started her career at Midwest Milling in the Omaha plant, under Mildred's guidance. Mildred had been like a second mother to her, especially after Bani's mother and father had been killed in a traffic accident six years ago. The only photo Bani had on her desk was of Mildred, a plump, constantly laughing dark brown haired woman who had advised her against transferring to the company's headquarters in Chicago.
Bani was a small-town girl, reared on a farm just outside Nebraska, a town of only 4,000 people, about a forty minute drive from Omaha. Mildred had told Bani she wouldn't be happy in Chicago, and in some respects she'd been right. Other than Roshni, Bani had few friends. She had met some kind people at the church but everyone seemed so busy that they never saw each other outside of church activities.
That her short-lived romance with Jai Walia — and the one time they had had unprotected sex--had been mistakes was the understatement of her life. As soon as Bani told him she was pregnant, he moved without even saying goodbye. She made no attempt to track him down.
In shame and humiliation she told the story to Pastor Don and cried her way through an entire box of tissues in an hour. Before she went to see him, she had already decided that abortion was out of the question. She wanted to give the baby up for adoption. She knew she didn't have the strength to raise a child on her own.
In his calm, fatherly manner, Pastor Don later spoke with the Women's Outreach Group in the church and by the time Bani went to the next meeting, she was met with hugs and unanimous words of support. It still brought tears to her eyes every time she thought of it.
Right now, however, the task at hand was how to explain to Sonali that her first projections on natural gas had been correct and that try as she might, she couldn't make any changes. Bani tried her hardest not to judge people, but Sonali could be unfair at times. he last thing she needed right now was to lose her job. Bani caught herself before she started to cry. Her nerves were as fragile as a Christmas ornament.
Chapter Two
Bani Dixit stood in the break room, indecisive about what to get from the vending machine. All of the candy bars and snacks tasted delicious and all of them, without exception, were bad for her and the baby. The trail mix shouted "healthy" in orange letters at the top of the bag. Unfortunately, it tasted like ground-up pine cones. Bani wished she had asked Roshni to bring a sandwich back for her.
"That stuff'll kill you, you know" a man's voice said from behind her.
She turned. "Oh. Hi, Paul. I know it's bad, but I had to stay in today to finish next year's projections." Paul Young a tall gawky man in his mid-twenties, wore thick glasses and had a full head of unruly, curly blond hair. Even though he was socially inept, he could make a personal computer do anything his co-workers wanted. Roshni had teased Bani that Paul had a crush on her, so Bani was always careful about what she said to him to avoid hurting his feelings. He truly was a sweet, bashful man.
"You can't please her, Bani" said Paul.
"Who? Sonali?" asked Bani.
"Haven't you noticed that she's been in a rotten mood for months? She never used to be that way" remarked Paul.
"I try to give her the benefit of the doubt," Bani answered. "I know she's under a lot of stress."
"I was talking to Kevin at the company picnic last summer and he told me they'd found out that there was no possibility of them ever having children. Apparently they'd tried a lot of different things" said Paul.
"And you think that's why she's been out of sorts?" queried Bani.
Paul shrugged. "Seems like that's about when it started. I feel sorry for her and all, but why does she have to take it out on us? And especially on you."
"Roshni thinks the same thing." Bani didn't want to gossip, so she steered the conversation another way. "I suppose you'll be seeing your family on Christmas, Paul?"
He laughed and a bit of a snort came out. "Yep, the usual stuff-yourself -'til-food-comes-out-your-ears meal, then watching football on TV while half the men conk out in their chairs and snore like a bunch of chainsaws."
"Well, it sounds nice, all the same" added Bani.
"How about you, Bani? You know, you're welcome to come over to my aunt's if you'd like. I know she'd be thrilled to have you. Everybody's real friendly" offered Paul.
Bani gave a slight shake of her head. "To tell you the truth, my due date is right around Christmas, and I think they might be right. I want to stick close to home, so if I go into labor, I can have my regular obstetrician."
Paul pressed a little further. "You sure? 'Cause I'd be happy to pick you up and take you home."
"No, Roshni will probably drop by. And there's a nice couple in my apartment building who've offered to drive me to the hospital whenever this business starts."
Paul looked disappointed. "Well, I better get going. I've got one more Christmas present to buy, and if I'm lucky, I'll be able to get it and be back by one o'clock." He moved toward the door.
"Goodbye, Paul. Thanks for asking" said Bani.
Bani had only three relatives—cousins in Nebraska, but it would be too far to drive there and back, and she was exhausted much of the time anyway. Her aunts and uncles had died several years ago. She didn't look forward to spending Christmas home alone, but she knew she would have felt very out-of-place with Paul and his relatives, and besides, it might give him the wrong signal.
She sat down at one of the formica-topped tables and put her head down on her forearms. She could use a nap right now, and the day was only half over. She would get some coffee soon so the caffeine would keep her alert for the rest of the afternoon.
Bani offered a silent prayer, something she'd been doing more and more lately.
God, I need to hang on for just a few more weeks until the baby is born, but I'm so, so tired. Would you help me get through this day and back home safely?
Please make everything work out right. Forgive me for letting you down. Thank you for Pastor Don and all the women at church who have been so kind to me.
Amen.
When she raised her head, a familiar voice greeted her. "Ah, there's nothing like a refreshing thirty second nap on a hard chair and a plastic tabletop."
"Roshni ! I didn't hear you come in."
"I brought a sandwich back for you kiddo. I just went down to the deli. Roast turkey okay?" She took two waxpaper-wrapped sandwiches out of a brown paper sack and put one down in front of Bani and the other by herself.
"You know roast turkey is my favorite. What do I owe you?" asked Bani.
"Uh, a fiver will cover it." Roshni got up, went to the soda machine and got a diet cola.
"Would you get me a cup of coffee while you're up, please?" requested Bani.
"Sure. Cream and sugar, right?" Roshni laughed. The "cream" consisted of small foil packets of powdered coffee creamer, and Bani used the blue packets of artificial sweetener. Roshni put the drinks on the table, opened her can of soda and poured it into a foam plastic coffee cup. She sat, picked Bani's five dollar bill off the table, and put it in her pocket.
"Mmmm, this is great," Bani mumbled over a mouthful of sandwich. "I'm so glad you did this."
"Well, actually, there's something I want to talk to you about" said Roshni.
Bani put her sandwich down and looked across her cup as she sipped her coffee.
"This sounds serious" she quipped.
"It is. More serious than any way I've ever fouled up before" agreed Roshni.
"What's wrong?" asked Bani.
"I…I'm not…going to be able to get you a Christmas present this year, Bani" said Roshni.
"Why? We've always exchanged presents" blurted Bani.
"I'm about three steps away from bankruptcy" divulged Roshni.
"What?" said Bani exasperatedly.
"It happened gradually," Roshni confessed, her face reddening. "I don't know how to explain it."
"You know I never repeat anything we talk about," Baniassured her. They were the only two people in the employee break room.
"No, it's not that. I've been stupid. Really stupid" whispered Roshni.
"Don't beat yourself up, Roshni . Tell me what happened" said Bani.
"I got into this buying thing a couple years ago. You know, I've been looking for a decent guy for most of my life. I've been very…unhappy, Bani. Lonely."
"How does that connect with the buying?" asked Bani a bit confused.
"I don't know, maybe it was some way to try to smooth over the hurt, or cheer myself up. I don't know. It seemed to help sometimes, but then I started using it as a way to get myself out of depression, and I got out of control" replied Roshni.
"So you're in debt?" retorted Bani.
"Huh! Something over $12,000" confirmed Roshni.
"Oh, Roshni . What did you buy for that much money?" screamed Bani.
"Lots of small stuff. Clothes. Jewelry. Things for my apartment. Presents for my mom and my brother. Subscriptions to magazines I don't even read, you name it" said Roshni.
"But you make good money here Roshni."
"Not as much as you'd think. I don't know how I got in so deep, Bani. What savings I had are gone. The credit card companies are on my back, I'm getting nasty letters from lawyers. I don't want to declare bankruptcy, but I don't know what else to do."
"Have you tried one of those debt consolidation places? I've heard they can work some sort of deal with your creditors, then get your payments down lower" advised Bani.
Roshni shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. "I just want to get out from under this. I don't know what to do Bani."
"Maybe the company could give you an advance on your salary. Sort of a no interest loan that you could pay off over time" replied Bani.
"I don't want to go to Sonali about this and have her gloat over me. Here I am working in Midwest's finance department and my own finances are messed up beyond repair." Tears were running down Roshni 's cheeks now.
Bani reached across the table and put her hand on her friend's arm. "I don't have a lot saved, but I can loan you some of it. A couple thousand" said Bani.
"No, no, no! That's not why I told you. I'm not asking for a loan, and I won't take anything from you. I just wanted to tell you why I can't buy you a Christmas present this year." Roshni picked up her paper napkin and dabbed at her eyes.
"How much time have you got?" asked Bani.
"I don't know. 'Till after the first of the year, I guess. It's a lot harder to declare bankruptcy, now that they've changed the laws" replied Roshni.
"How about this…?" Bani asked. "How about after the holidays, you go to a lawyer and just see what your options are. They've seen all kinds of situations. He'll be able to approach it with a cool, logical head" suggested Bani.
"That sounds good. Yeah, I'm too close to this thing. Every time I think about it Bani, I start to panic."
"I've got a good lawyer, an older man from my church. Pastor Don recommended him. I'm planning to do a private adoption with the baby, and he'll be handling all the legal aspects. Why don't I ask him—without mentioning your name—and see if he'd want to advise you or if he knows of another lawyer who handles this kind of stuff?" said Bani.
"Okay. Okay, that sounds good. Could you call him this week and see if he'll see me after the holidays?" asked Roshni.
"Sure Roshni. I'll call him this afternoon."
"I'm sorry, Bani. I didn't want to burden you with this. You're the best friend I've got, but I was afraid of what you might think of me."
"Oh, Roshni . You're my friend. I'll stick by you no matter what. And besides, this kind of thing happens to lots of people. I'll make you a deal. If you'll stick by me through the delivery and after the adoption, I'll do whatever I can to help you get through your thing too." Bani reached over and clasped Roshni 's hand.
Then Roshni broke down in quiet sobs. "It's a deal," she managed to say.
Chapter Three
The asphalt parking lot of the Stony Road Baptist Church had been well-cleared of snow and ice, a fact that Bani was grateful for as she checked the ground before getting out of her car. She had learned as a Nebraska teenager that stepping out of a car in the middle of the winter on one foot could be dangerous business. If a person wasn't careful, they could slip on a patch of ice and go right down. Bani had become doubly cautious in the late months of her pregnancy.
The porch light on the parsonage illuminated the sidewalk and steps. Her wristwatch said seven o'clock. She was right on time for her appointment. As she moved slowly toward the house, Bani looked at the colored lights on the spruce trees near the church and smiled. Jesus is coming, she thought. Tonight the church and the pastor's stone cottage next to it looked like a scene from a Thomas Kinkade painting. The house even had a round turret, capped by a steep conical roof.
When Bani rang the bell, she heard a muffled voice from inside, then the noisy clicking of the lock as someone opened the heavy front door. The short, elderly woman who greeted her with a radiant smile always made her feel as if she was her special, only child.
"Oh, it's so good to see you, Bani." Hilda Duncan said, warmly taking her hands and squeezing them lightly. "Come in and let me take your coat." She eased the red coat off Bani's shoulders, put it on a hanger, and hooked it on the oak hall tree in the corner. From down the hall, the luxurious smell of baking cookies filled the air.
Hilda, Pastor Don's wife, had been born in Sweden. Barely over four feet tall, she had a plain, honest face and hair that had turned from blonde to white decades ago. Bani guessed Hilda to be in her mid seventies.
"Oh, you know Don always insists that I bake cookies for the holidays, even though both of us shouldn't be eating them," she explained tilting her head toward the kitchen. "But if that's our biggest indulgence, I guess God's not going to fuss over that."
"If they'd had cookies in his day, I have a feeling Jesus would have eaten more than his share," Bani replied, smiling too.
"Don told me that same thing! He must be brain washing you, Bani. Go on into the study. He's waiting for you. I'll bring warm cookies and some cocoa in a few minutes."
Bani gave a sharp rap on the study's open door before she entered. Don Duncan, seated at his oversized oak desk, stopped writing on a pad and got up to meet her.
The pastor of Stony Road Baptist Church was one of the strangest looking men Bani had ever seen. He was only a few inches taller than his diminutive wife, and was bent at the waist in an odd angle. His head was large, capped by a shock of coarse gray hair. The most riveting thing about him, though, was his eyes. They were deep set under his brow, a light brown color, and betrayed a kindness and gentleness that few human beings ever attain.
Don Duncan had been pastor at the church for more than 30 years. When Bani joined, one of the women told her his story. His father had been an American businessman in Sweden before World War II. Both of Don's parents were killed by the Nazis, and Don, barely a teenager, was taken prisoner. The Nazi doctors, butchers, really—had performed cruel, unspeakable experiments on him, leaving him bent and misshapen for the rest of his life. After the War, he had been adopted by a Swedish couple, and in the university there, he met Hilda, and they were married.
Bani suspected that this sweet, Christlike man, who had known such pain and misery in his early years, had made it his life's mission to ease hurt and suffering however he could. Even now, as she shook his warm, gnarled hands, Bani had to hold back tears at the love and respect she felt for him.
"It's so good to see you," he said. "Please sit." He eased back into his desk chair. "We haven't met for a few weeks. Your baby is due soon, yes?"
"Any time now," Bani said with a smile.
"What an honor for her if she is a Christmas baby, just like our Lord," Pastor Don said. The lamp on the desk made his eyes seem to twinkle.
"It's very possible, Pastor. If it's not wrong to admit it, I think I'll be relieved when it's all over."
Sadness traced his face for a moment. "I'm afraid it won't be that easy," he said softly. "She will be a part of you—somewhere—for as long as you live. You're still sure, you're absolutely positive that you don't want to raise her yourself?"
"I just can't." Bani gave a slight shake of her head and looked down at her rounded abdomen. "I don't feel any different than I did when I decided months ago. In fact, I'm nearly at the point of physical and mental exhaustion. I know that I'll recover my energy after she's born, but I just can't raise her by myself. I believe I'm doing the wise thing."
"You are" he said. "I just wanted to make sure. To be certain you didn't have any doubts."
"Cookies and cocoa!" Hilda announced from the doorway of the study, letting her husband know that she was entering the room and to stop any confidential conversation. She was every bit as wise as him.
After she set the silver tray on the desk, Hilda disappeared as quickly as she had come. Bani and Don each took a mug of hot cocoa and munched the chocolate chip cookies, still warm from the oven.
"I wish that I could stop thinking about him," Bani said, putting her hot mug on a coaster.
"Jai?" asked Pastor Don.
"Yes. It's not that I'm still in love with him. I don't know if I really was. I realized that, too late. I know that I'm not innocent in all of this. I was a willing participant too" said Bani.
Pastor Don wiped his mouth with a napkin and did his best to look stern. "I thought we had settled that. You have asked God for forgiveness, he has forgiven you, and he remembers the sin no more. Do I have to get my Bible and show you the verse again, Bani?"
"No. I guess…I guess I've still got a lot of anger toward Jai. Hate, really, and I'm ashamed that I feel that way. He left me at a time when I needed him the most, because he said he was not ready for anything serious at that time. It did not take him long to hook up with my best friend and leave for good after he showed me the door."
"I would be very surprised if you didn't hate him. That's something else that you must hand over to Jesus. Healing of such a wound will take a long, long time" pacified Pastor Don.
Then Bani blushed, ashamed. If anyone knew about hate, it was this innocent man who had endured so much. When it came to healing, Pastor Don knew the subject firsthand.
"Something weird has been happening the past few months," Bani said. "I've been thinking about Rajeev a lot."
"Your friend in Nebraska?"
"Yes. We dated for sometime. I keep comparing Rajeev to Jai. Rajeev had so many fine, admirable qualities" said Bani.
"Please remind an old man why you and this Rajeev split up."
"I took the job offer in Chicago. I transferred from Midwest Milling's Omaha office to company headquarters. For a lot more money, I thought, and a better chance of advancement. Actually it was more due to the fact that I heard that Jai had hooked up with some rich socialite and there were chances that he would come back to Nebraska in relation to the business he had started. So I just wanted to be away, never wanted to ever see him again. Rajeev was working at an agricultural supplies company. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to live in the city or the suburbs. He said he liked living in a small town" replied Bani.
"Ah, yes. I remember now. Why don't you call this Rajeev, Bani? Why don't you pick up the phone some time and see what's become of him?"
Bani looked terrified. "It's been years. Besides, I ran out on him. He wanted to get married and I chose my career instead. He probably has a wife and four kids by now."
"So you've lost touch with your hometown and all your contacts there?" sighed Pastor Don.
"I only have a few cousins left in Nebraska, but I lost him, Pastor. I didn't know what I had" whispered Bani.
Bani looked up and found an odd smile on Pastor Don's face. He dipped his head a bit then changed the subject.
"You've been having all your tests, seeing your OB-GYN on schedule?" he inquired.
"Yes, yes. He says everything looks good. Everything looks normal, the way it's supposed to. He says I'm his model patient" quipped Bani.
"And in a few months you will again look like a model" retorted the Pastor.
Bani erupted into laughter. "On my best day—in high school—I never looked like a model. Where'd you ever get that idea?" she asked the Pastor.
"Those models! They wish they were as beautiful as you, Bani Dixit."
The remark was so sincere, so genuine that it hit the overweight, insecure woman right in the heart. She couldn't help crying.
Later, driving home, Bani reflected on what Pastor Don had said about Rajeev. But it was too late. Too much time had passed. She put the memories of him out of her mind.
Chapter Four
In a very real sense, Bani Dixit felt that her entire life was on hold until the baby came. She didn't expect anything to change after that, but she had put off decisions and plans until the first of the year. A new year, a new life, she told herself. She sat down at her kitchen table, although she wasn't hungry. After the cookies and cocoa at the parsonage, she was eating now out of habit. She toyed with a carton of yogurt, stirring the blueberries off the bottom and blending them through it with her spoon.
Glancing over at the calendar, she saw a reminder she had written on the 28th to mail in her rent check. She liked her two bedroom apartment, but everything in the suburbs was much more expensive than she had expected when she moved to Wheaton six years ago. Bani knew, too, that there were cheaper places to live, but she felt safe here and Roshni wasn't too far away, in Lombard.
She frowned when she thought of Roshni's confession about her debts. From the time she had left home to attend the University of Nebraska at Omaha, Bani had been very conservative with her money. Even today, she still paid in cash whenever possible. Something about watching those twenty-dollar bills disappear from her wallet provided a realness that was absent with credit or debit cards.
Bani couldn't judge Roshni , though. Roshni was her best friend, and even though Roshni was younger, she had taken Bani under her wing, helped her furnish her apartment, settled her in at work, and looked out for her in more ways than Bani could count. So it surprised Bani that Roshni had been able to dig herself in so deeply without even hinting at it before.Roshni had more responsibility and seniority and made more money than she did at Midwest Milling. Although they had never exchanged salary information, Bani knew that Roshni also got a bonus whenever she filled in for Sonali during vacations.
For years Bani had known that Roshni was desperately unhappy over being single. Roshni 's forays into online dating had produced no marriageable prospects so far. Bani had suggested that Roshni switch to a Christian dating site, but Roshni repeatedly ignored that advice. Roshni had never attended church. Despite Bani's open invitation, Roshni would not go to church with her or see Pastor Don. Every time Bani had tried to say something to her, Roshni had politely but quickly shut her out.
Bani was baffled how anyone could make it through life without a strong relationship with God. One disappointment after another could build a core of bitterness that turned everyday life into monotonous drudgery. Roshni had not reached that point yet, but Bani saw signs that her friend was approaching it. Roshni had turned cynical over the past year. Except for her online dating addiction, Roshni saw little hope in anything else.
Dutifully, knowing that the calcium was good for the baby, Bani finished the yogurt then retreated to the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, washed, and pulled on a soft flannel nightgown. In the medicine cabinet mirror, she caught a glimpse of her distended belly before the nightgown slid down over it. She wondered what her mother and father would have thought.
Almost automatically, Bani set out her clothes for the next day. She methodically found a skirt and maternity blouse, underwear and shoes and put them on a chair. As a child she had learned that it saved much time and tension in the morning by getting everything ready the night before. A smile danced briefly across her face. She wondered what a new husband would think of her eccentric little routines. Finally, she turned down the comforter and sheet, then sat on the edge of the bed. She found it too difficult to kneel to say her nighttime prayers, as she usually did. As she reached for her Bible from the nightstand, it slipped out of her hand, opened, and fell on the carpet. When she bent to pick it up, she saw a faded photograph of Rajeev Khandelwal smiling up at her. She had stuck the photo between the pages of the Bible shortly after she got it and hadn't come across it in years.
Bani picked up the snapshot and stared at it. She had taken it on a daylong fishing trip he had dragged her along on, insisting that she would enjoy herself. All she caught was a severe sunburn, but he had filled a stringer full of large bass in a few hours. In the photo, he held the fish up proudly. He had short, dark brown hair, big black eyes, and an awesomely stylish chin and to die for physique. It was the crooked smile that she remembered best about him. How she had loved to see that smile. The last time she had seen him, when she was getting ready to accompany the moving van from her parents' house to her apartment in Wheaton, harsh words were spoken, mainly by him because he could not understand why she took the decision to move away. Even at the time, she couldn't blame him. In the time they had dated, it was the first time she'd seen him lose his temper. She recalled seeing him in her rearview mirror, his lips pursed, jaw set, staring at the ground and shaking his head in anger and disbelief. She cried half the way to her new home.
Still, she couldn't throw the photo away. She returned it to the recesses of her Bible, where she was unlikely to run across it ever again.
Bani turned ahead to the 91st Psalm, and read through it slowly, silently. It told of a God who promised shelter and protection, a God who could be trusted, a fatherly being who would not desert his children, no matter what. Then, as was her habit every night before going to sleep, she prayed aloud. Pastor Don had taught her that the simple exercise of saying the words out loud would keep her mind from wandering, and he'd been right. In all the years she had known him, Pastor Don had always been right.
For a moment, she wondered if he had also been right about calling Rajeev. Just as quickly, she dismissed the idea. Too much time had passed. She had coldly cut Rajeev out of her life when she moved. Even as loving, kind and sweet as Rajeev was, she knew he couldn't forgive her for that.
"Jesus," she began slowly, softly, "A lot of things have been happening in the past couple days that I don't understand. I know that you understand them, but I don't. Roshni isn't a believer, but I want her to be. I want her to know you and love you the way I do. I want her to be saved, so we can both enjoy her presence in heaven. She's in a terrible situation with her money. Can you show her what to do, or show me, so I can help her? She's a good person, she really is. Will you please help her get through this?
"You know I'm getting by, but just barely. I'm so tired all the time. Will you give me more strength and energy to do all the things I have to do? I'm so sorry that I failed you. I know you've forgiven me, but will you help me accept that?
Will you help me find a loving, godly home for this baby? My bravery is just about gone. Will you give me a fresh supply for tomorrow? I can only make it one day at a time, and then only with your help."
"Thank you for sending Pastor Don and Hilda and the women at church into my life. I know that you're working through them to help me. Please keep them all healthy and safe and bless them with happiness and peace."
"Jesus, I don't feel much like celebrating your birthday this year. I know I'm supposed to be joyful and happy, but I'm having such a hard time. Thank you for the sacrifice you made for me. Thank you for this little baby within me who's going to make some good couple so happy. Thank you for my job and all my material blessings. Please tell Mama and Dad that I love them and miss them so much. Amen."
She double-checked the setting on her clock radio, switched off the lamp, eased into bed, and tugged the covers up under her chin. Her mind skipped to Sonali and the budget projections. She had not been able to find any new data on natural gas, so she had turned in the report again, unaltered, but with more footnotes and sources. Sonali had been in a meeting and was still absent from her office at quitting time, so Bani laid the report on the center of her desk with a Post-It on top explaining that she had an appointment that evening with her pastor and didn't want to be late. She promised in the note to go over the figures with Sonali first thing in the morning.
Bani used all of her willpower to push worries about work out of her mind. A fleeting image of Rajeev's smiling face flitted through her thoughts before she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Five
Bani always enjoyed seeing miniature Christmas villages in store windows. Except this year. As she surveyed the little ceramic houses and stores, the ice skating figurines, the snow-crusted pine trees and the electric train traveling along its oval track on the outskirts of the tiny town, it reminded her too much of her hometown.
Small towns possessed an out-of-time quaintness, like this Christmas village that seemed frozen in the past, a three-dimensional photograph of happier, more innocent days. She missed seeing people on the street that she knew, and having store owners and mechanics call her by name. At 55,000 people, Wheaton was too big. Other than people from church and a few acquaintances she had made over the years, no one there knew her name. Like many of the suburbs, it tried to masquerade as a small town, but so many of its picturesque buildings were only a few years old, clever counterfeits from a simpler America.
After her parents' funerals and she sold their house, Bani never went back. In a way, there was too much pain for her back there, so many places they had gone together. If she went back, she knew she'd be able to see her mother waiting on a downtown street corner, watching for their rusty green pickup truck to pick her up—an old, round-fendered model just like the one in this twinkling, snow covered village.
Bani turned slowly from the store window, then put her gloved hand on the brick wall to steady herself. She was so tired. Her life had not turned out the way she expected. Next to her parents' accidental deaths, this pregnancy and her getting dumped by the father was the worst thing that had ever happened to her.
She still struggled with guilt, although she knew in her heart that Jesus had forgiven her and loved her as much as before. Chicago, even Midwest Milling's headquarters, was very different from the Omaha factory where she had started. People were more like family there. They laughed more, the plant's supervisors weren't so pretentious, and people looked out for each other. As she walked toward the building where Midwest's offices were housed on the eighth floor, she gave one last glance back to the decorated store window.
That was me, she thought, of her life in Nebraska. The real me, not the me I am today. Maybe some day I'll work up the courage to do something about it.
"Earth to Bani!" someone shouted.
Bani looked to her right to see Roshni approaching the building door from the other direction.
"Where were you just now?" Roshni asked, smiling. "You looked like you were really gone somewhere. Nebraska, even."
"Hi. Oh, I've just been feeling kind of down the past couple weeks. Too much forced holiday jolliness I think."
"Boy, are you right about that. Every year it gets worse. All these parties they show on TV. Who's going to all these parties anyway, besides a bunch of sitcom actors?"
"I like Christmas," Bani asserted, almost embarrassed because she had told the truth about being depressed. "It's just this particular Christmas I'm not looking forward to."
"I know the feeling," Roshni said, suddenly grim. She held the door open for her friend and they both hurried across the lobby and found a spot in the crowded elevator. Roshni 's cheeks were pink from the cold. Bani had forgotten how pretty her friend was. Now Roshni was wearing stylish black glasses instead of her usual contacts.
Her dark hair was cut in a perky bob, and she had a quick, natural smile that everyone liked. Why Roshni had not been married yet was a constant mystery to Bani. They got off the elevator and entered Midwest's suite of offices through double glass doors. The company occupied nearly the entire eighth floor, with the exception of a small suite that housed an orthodontist and his staff.
One of the secretaries was already clattering away on her keyboard. Bani double-checked the wall clock. It was still fifteen minutes before starting time.
"You're getting at it early, Lucy," Roshni said.
That was something Bani liked about Roshni . She treated everyone with equal respect.
"Morning, ladies. Well you know, Roshni , we got a two-dayer coming up, so I'm getting as much done ahead of time as I can. I don't plan to come back here wiped out from partying and have a big ol' honkin' desk full of work staring me in the face."
"That, Lucy, is an excellent bit of strategy," Bani said, giving her a quick wink as she and Roshni headed back through the labyrinth of cubicles to their own desks. After they hung up their coats and returned to their desks, both women checked their telephone voice mail while they waited for their computers to boot up.
Bani glanced over and noticed that Roshni was making a call already, without istening to the rest of her messages. That was unusual. Bani assumed it must be something urgent. Five minutes later, a visibly shaken Roshni walked briskly down the hall to the women's restroom. Bani got up and followed. When she pushed through the door, she found the room empty except for Roshni holding on to a sink, gasping in breaths.
"Roshni ! What's the matter? Are you all right?" asked a worried Bani.
She shook her head, still fighting for breath. Bani got behind her, and put her hands on Roshni's shoulders. "You're hyperventilating. Try to relax, slow your breathing."
It didn't work. Bani yanked a handful of brown paper towels from the dispenser and rapidly formed them into a sort of small tent. She put it up to Roshni 's mouth and nose, got her to move her hands up and hold it in place herself.
"Okay. Breath into here. Slowly, steady. Through your nose. We want to get more carbon dioxide in your blood. Okay, that's about a dozen breaths. Take the towels away for a minute."
Roshni nodded. Her breath had slowly considerably and was calmer. Within a minute her breathing had returned to normal.
"What happened?" Bani asked. "What was that phone call about?"
"It was Dave from the California plant. They're scheduled to make Krunchy Krowns today, but the cartons didn't come in."
"Why not? Was there a problem with the printer?"
"I…I forgot to order them," Roshni blurted out.
Bani studied her friend for a moment. "It's only six o'clock in California. What did Dave say?"
"He was pretty angry. We've been using just-in-time inventory until they get that warehouse addition finished in L.A. Since they don't have enough storage space yet, the printer delivers the cartons and we get the box liners a day or two before we need them."
Bani thought a moment. "Why didn't he call you a day or two ago when the cartons didn't show up on time?"
"I don't know," Roshni said, suddenly wondering herself. "You're right. That's weird. Doesn't he have any other cartons on hand?"
"Well, he should. We've got enough storage room for boxes for some of our brands, but not all of them."
"How about Cinnamon Poppers?"
"Yeah. Yeah, he should have enough box stock there to work for a couple days." Bani, who had worked in the Omaha plant and was more knowledgeable about the manufacturing processes, began to see what was happening.
"It's Dave's responsibility to make sure he's got the boxes on hand. He's not without blame in this, Roshni . He should have called you a couple days ago instead of waiting on this. He dropped the ball too."
"Please don't tell Sonali about this, Bani. Please don't. I could get fired."
Bani was shocked. "Roshni , I'm not going to hurt you. You're my friend."
Roshni looked at the floor. "I know you…you always believe in telling the truth."
"Listen, Roshni, Sonali doesn't need to know about this. You can be darn sure that Dave isn't going to call her, because he'd get in trouble himself for not calling you when he should have."
"I don't know what to do."
"Here's what you do. You call the printer, get the Krunchy Krowns boxes ordered. Then you call Dave back. He knows he's not clean on this, so don't let him intimidate you. Tell him to make Cinnamon Poppers until the Krunchy Krowns cartons get there. The shapes of those two products are different so he'll have to change the dies, but the gun-puffing process and ingredients are exactly the same, except for cinnamon, so he'll have ingredients on hand. He'll store the finished Cinnamon Poppers where he had the empty Poppers boxes, and the rest in empty trailers. We keep rotating production on all our products, so when Poppers are up again, he can add that product to the next run. He'll have to juggle his production schedule a little, but I'm sure he'll be more than happy to do it to cover his own mistake."
Roshni's hands were trembling. "I..I've been so worried about my debts that I completely dropped the ball on this, Bani. I've got all my deadlines written on my calendar and I have my computer set up to prompt me on them too. I just don't know what happened."
"Try to calm down, Roshni. It's going to be all right. You think Sonali never made a mistake in all her years at Midwest? After this is all over and California's scheduling is back where it should be, you can tell her what happened and how you solved it, if you want, but if no harm is done, I don't see any reason why you need to."
"I don't know what I'd do without you, Bani."
"You're a lot stronger and smarter than you give yourself credit for, Roshni," she replied, hugging her and gently patting her back. "Ready to get back to work?"
"Sure. I've got a call to make."
Roshni left the restroom first, then Bani followed a few feet behind. In the hall, they met Sonali. From the stern expression on her supervisor's face, Bani knew that something was wrong.
"Bani. In my office. Now!" Sonali snapped.
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