By Maureen Rampertab

The mirror on the wall knew the answer.Shamita drew the curtains open a little and light, she had exiled, streamed into the little house. She would today cook something special for the children, who would stop by in the afternoon-their visits something she now look forward to.
A scratching on the door and a soft bark announced Crystal’s arrival and opening the door she saw the children’s father standing at the gate.
He raised his hand, greeting her as she let the terrier in but she just nodded her head a little, a nod so slight anyone could have missed it but he didn’t. It was something that gave him hopes for that little response rekindled in his heart, feelings burnt to ashes by grief, an ember that glowed still, just waiting for the right one.
Rajiv stood looking at the closed door for a little while thinking, “I wonder when I would get to cross the gate.”
She watched him from behind the curtains as he left trying to stop her mind and trying not to think of him. A heart betrayed and deeply hurt, but a soft touch generated warmth from the coldness.
“How do I love again?”
A question laden with tears and pain; a question she had no answer for-not now.
Aashi brought for her a picture she had drawn in class and as the child enjoyed the special chicken dish, Shamita noticed her paleness.
“Are you feeling okay, Aashi?”
The child shook her head, “Not too good.”
Shamita checked her temperature and realised it was above normal.
“I think you’re developing a fever, you need rest and medication.”
The child stretched her arms out to Shamita, resting her head on her stomach.
“Can I stay with you please?”
“Yes, you can but I think your dad would need you home to take care of you.”
She watched the children walk home, sorry she could not go with them, hoping Aashi’s mild fever did not get any worse and the next day she waited anxiously on word of the child.
Aiden stopped by before he went to school to inform her on Aashi’s condition. “Her fever got a little higher so dad is taking her to the doctor. She should be fine soon.”
But two days passed and the child still had not recovered from the fever in spite of the doctor’s medication. Shamita made a healthy vegetable soup for her and gave it to Aiden.
“This was made from my grandmother’s recipe. It’s very good for her.”
The boy took the soup but hesitated for a moment then asked,
“Why don’t you come to see her?”
Shamita pulled the hair over one side of her face and said, “I can’t go out looking like this.”
“My dad can take you in his car,” he offered.
A glimmer of fear flashed in her eyes and the boy asked, “Why are you so scared of him?”
She did not answer for a long moment-not sure how to explain to the child, searching her mind for the right answer that she hoped he would accept.
“The accident that happened to me,” she told him “Was caused by a man so it has left me scared of all men.”
The boy looked at her, at the deep scars on her face, a look of understanding in his eyes and he hugged her, “I’m sorry that a bad thing happened to you.”
At the door he turned and said, “My dad is a nice guy. He never hurt my mom.”
Shamita watched him go, a feeling of regret in her hear that she couldn’t go to see the sick child. She laid in bed that night, sleepless. The boy’s words replaying in her mind, “My dad is a nice guy…”
She got up and sat down, writing in her diary for sleep was somewhere far and close to midnight there was a rapping at the door. The sound startled her, the pen falling from her fingers and for a moment she froze, wondering who could be at the door at that hour, when she heard the children’s father’s voice.
“Can I speak to you, please?”
She opened the window close to the verandah and answered, “Yes?”
“I’m sorry to come to your house and disturb you so late but Aashi’s temperature has risen and she is becoming delirious. She’s calling for you. I don’t know what to do.”
The quiver in his voice and a pang of fear for the child that struck her heart broke down the barriers around her and she said without hesitation, “Just give me a moment.”
She hurriedly changed her clothes, wrapped a shawl over her head, so it partially covered her face and opened the door to go with him to his home.
It was the first time since the attack she had stood close to a strange man, but her deep concern for the child made her forget that fear.
The child was running a high fever and Shamita checked the medication the doctor prescribed asking the father without looking at him,
“Did you give her the medication as instructed?”
“Yes,” he answered, with a deep worry in his voice, “I don’t understand why she’s not feeling better.”
Shamita put a damp towel on the child’s forehead and caressing her face gently and spoke to her softly, “Aashi, I’m here with you.”
The child mumbled her name weakly and Shamita continued talking to her,
“I miss you, your chatting and laughter and remember we were supposed to bake chocolate chip cookies.”
A little smile played at the corners of the child’s mouth and Shamita turned to look at the father who was standing by the door. There were tears in his eyes and he walked to the child’s bedside, looking at Shamita who had turned and lowered her head and he said, “Now I understand, she doesn’t need medication, she needs you. Can you stay with her for tonight at least?”
Shamita did not answer for a short moment then she nodded her head. She could not say no, not to a man who had lost his wife at a young age and who was so worried for his little daughter. She did not sleep at all that night, closely attending to the child and by 2 o’clock in the morning, her high temperature had dropped. Only then did Shamita’s mind relax and sitting in a chair by the child’s bedside she fell asleep.
She did not know when the child’s father came into the room to check on her and stood looking at her for a long moment. She had taken off the shawl and just one side of her face was covered by her hair.
“Still pretty,” he said quietly, her name on his lips, soft flames of a love that had lain beneath the ashes, ignited, burning slowly in his heart.
He wanted so much to push her hair back from her face to look at her but she still had a long road of recovering trust to be free to love again and he left the room quietly.
Shamita felt a soft touch on her face and opened her eyes. Aashi was standing in front of her, hair tussled from sleep and her face bright and smiling.
“Hey,” Shamita smiled, with deep relief, “How are you?”
“You came to see me,” the child said happiness echoing in her voice.
“Yes, I was worried about you and your dad was even more worried.”
“I wanted you to be with me,” the child said, hugging her.
“I’m here now.” Shamita said, smoothing the tussled hair and kissing her on the forehead, deeply touched by the child’s affection, “No need to worry, anymore.”
Her father and brother came into the room a few minutes later and the boy exclaimed joyfully, “Aashi, you’re okay!”
He hugged his little sister and the father lifted her in her arms, tears of relief in his eyes, “Do you know what a scare you gave me?”
“Sorry Daddy,” Aashi said sweetly, hugging her father.
The scene of love and happiness between a young father and his little children, cherished moments as they shared each other’s lives, in the absence of a mother brought more tears to Shamita’s eyes.
Rajiv wiped his eyes and tried to compose himself before speaking to her,
“Thank you so much. It’s magical-your care and compassion.”
Shamita smiled just a little, not sure what to say. “It’s okay. I’m happy for the child.”
Aashi wanted her to stay but Rajiv came to her assistance, explaining to the child:
“Your ‘angel’ did not sleep well last night,” he told the little girl, “I think she needs some rest and she’ll come back later.”
He took Shamita home and before she closed the door, he asked, “Will you come back later?”
“I guess I have to until she’s fully recovered.”
He hesitated a little, pushing back the hair that fell over his forehead, an action somewhat irresistible and he said, “Thanks,” before leaving.
She closed the door slowly, leaning her head against it for a moment, to keep her thoughts in control, not wanting to feel attracted to him but in her heart, a warmth trickled like spring water.
He came for her late in the afternoon and she spent time with the child, combing her hair, playing with her and reading to her, until it was bedtime. As she kissed the child ‘good night’ she held on to her hand and said, “I don’t want you to leave, please stay with us.”
Shamita did not answer for a moment, not wanting to upset the child with a wrong answer, then with a warm smile she said, “I will spend time with you Aashi but I can’t stay for now.”
“Are you scared of my dad?”
“No.”
“He’s handsome with great hair,” the child said, hoping to interest her.
Shamita couldn’t help laughing a little, quietly, “I can see that.”
“Do you like him?”
Rajiv coming into the room at that moment, heard the question and Shamita glanced at him but did not answer, kissing the child ‘good night’.
“I would love to hear that answer,” he said in his mind, as he took her home, “One day, hopefully soon I will.”
Aashi recovered fully but still wanted Shamita to spend time at their home, something Shamita’s mother was very pleased with. The daughter she had lost emotionally was on her way back, expressing interest now to do this plastic surgery.
The scattered pieces of her life she was gathering as the days went by and she felt now in her mind not the scorching heat of the desert but a cool, gentle rain.
One night after he had taken her home, as she was saying ‘good night’ he gently pulled the shawl from her head and said, “You don’t need to wear this anymore because the scars I cannot see, I can only see your beauty from within.” His words and the look in his eyes held her mesmerised for one moment and he kissed her lightly on the cheek.
The pattern designed by fate to bring them together was nearing its completion, banishing the shadows and loneliness.
The night before she had to leave for the surgery, she had stood on the verandah of his home after talking to the children, waiting now to speak to him. She was wearing a simple white dress, the cool wind ruffling her hair as she looked pass the farmlands, wondering about her life with a new face.
“Shamita,” she turned as he called her name and the look in his eyes dispelled the worry in her mind.
He pushed back the hair from her face and looking in her eyes he said in a low tone, “I had never thought I could love again but you have ignited that fire within me.”
“Rajiv,” she said his name for the first time softly, the spring water now a rushing stream in her heart.
“The answer to Aashi’s question is…yes but how do I love again?”
“I will show you,” he said, his lips touching hers. “One day at a time, until a flame burns in you to love me.”
Softly, he kissed her. A kiss that parted the clouds to let the sunshine in her life: The Kiss of Dawn.