Contracts of the Heart

Chapter 1: Petty Cash

The rain drummed against the pavement.

Ned stood in the shelter of his doorway. He watched the water puddles growing.

The porch would be a pool at this rate. He'd called a plumber and a carpenter and he tried to get some boards to do it himself.

He stood there mindlessly until a movement caught his eye. A figure at the bottom of his steps, soaked through, clothes clinging to a frame that looked far too thin.

-Hello, sir, the woman said, her voice trembling. I have not eaten since morning. I will do any work you give if you give me food and shelter. Will you help me?

Ned looked at her. Her large brown eyes held a mixture of fear and exhaustion. She hugged herself, trying to stop the shivering. There were a lot of hustlers out there.

And yet.

-Yes, he said, stepping back and holding the door open. You don't have to do anything. You can stay here as long as you want, and eat anything that's here.

There were people in need too. Cute ones sometimes. But the hustlers were too.

The woman blinked, water dripping from her eyelashes. Her stomach growled.

-Thank you so much, kind sir! She stepped onto the dry porch, looking around nervously. I promise I won't cause trouble.

-Oh, sure, Ned said. Don't make promises you can't keep, but make yourself at home.

-I have to go to sleep, he said. It was only eight but it was dark and raining and bad things happened as the night dragged on. But there's a petty cash box in that drawer, he added, pointing at a cabinet in the corner. If you need to buy anything before you go to sleep, or tomorrow before I wake up, you're welcome to it.

He walked over to the cabinet and peeked inside the drawer. Her eyes widened. The metal box was unlocked and filled with bills.

-Oh, thank you kindly, sir. You're too generous. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the cash. This is enough to last me weeks. I'll only take a little. Enough for some basic necessities, she said, before rattling off, like soap, toothpaste, and maybe a change of clothes? I don't mean to impose further, she added.

-It's a petty cash box, Ned replied calmly. You can take as much as you need. But only when you need it. The streets are dangerous. I don't want you robbed.

Or to say you were robbed.

She nodded and took a few bills, folding them into her pocket carefully.

-I understand, sir. I appreciate your generosity and concern. I'm sure these will suffice until I find honest work again. She looked at him, her tired eyes filled with gratitude.

-I have a guest room upstairs, Ned added. You can stay there. There are clean sheets and a warm blanket.

The woman looked up the stairs as if looking at a palace.

-A guest room? I haven't slept in a real bed so long.

-My name is Ned.

-I'm Meerka, she whispered. Nice to meet you. Ned.

-The bathroom is to the left, Ned said. Goodnight, Meerka.

He walked up the stairs, leaving her alone in the dark, quiet, warm hallway. Meekra clutched the money in her pocket. The sound of the rain was outside, and she was inside.

Chapter 2: Letting Go

The morning light hit his bed sheets and the dust danced in the beams. The room was warm and it smelled vaguely of herbs, maybe a neighbor cooking.

Sometimes it's ok to lose everything. He'd get downstairs and everything would be gone and it would be fine. He could get a new living room, anything down there, with no problem. Imagine being attached to things when you can replace them. That was the whole point of money. To be able to avoid the attachment. Maybe everything would be gone.

He lingered in bed before going downstairs. The smells were coming from inside the house. Herbs, oil, some kind of fragrant meat.

Meerka was at the stove. She moved with a quick, nervous energy. She froze when she saw him.

-Good morning, Ned, she said.

-You're up early, he answered. Nothing was missing. Instead there was something new, he thought as he looked at her in her clean t-shit, clearly new, and loose trousers.

-I couldn't sleep past dawn. I went to the corner market. With the cash. She gestured to the pan. I hope you don't mind. I wanted to cook. To say thank you.

Ned walked to the table and sat down.

-It smells good.

-Just eggs, she said, sliding a plate over. With cilantro, green chili, and some spices I found that you had.

She stood back, hands clasped, watching him like he was a judge at a tribunal, or like she was.

Ned took a bite. He sniffed. He wasn't used to eating at home. An aggressive flavor. Cilantro, chili, she said that. Spicy. He ate another bite. Then another.

He looked at Meerka. She was trembling slightly.

-Hey, this is really good, Ned said.

Meerka blinked. A small smile touched her lips.

-I used to help my mother. Before.

-You could sell this, Ned said. Sure, everyone loves eggs, with some flavor. You could work in a kitchen. A real one.

-A restaurant? She looked at her hands. That's a nice thought. But I don't have references. Or papers.

-Well, a kitchen. Start small, Ned said. He leaned back in his chair. Do you want to be my cook?

Meerka stared at him.

-Your cook?

-I eat takeout. It's expensive and it's garbage. This is better.

He tapped the table.

-I'll pay you. Whatever's the going rate for a live-in chef. Can't be hard to find, we can call a hotel. Or search online. Plus the room, right?

Meerka's mouth opened slightly.

-What a hotel pays? She asked. And a room. Ned, that's too much. A room is good. Until I can get my footing again.

-Don't sell yourself short, Ned said. That's how people stay on the street. You work.

He stood up and carried his plate to the sink.

-If you're good, you get paid. That's the deal. He turned back to her. Deal?

She looked at the empty plate then out the window.

It had started raining again and she watched it spit against the window.

-Okay, yes, she said. Deal.

Chapter 3: Work

Ned stayed at the table. He pulled out his phone. The world was full of numbers. You just had to find the right one to make a problem go away.

He searched for live-in private chef salary. The number was high. Higher than he expected. But he had it. He had plenty of it.

-I found the rate, Ned said. He turned the screen so she could see. Meerka looked at the number. Her eyes widened.

-That is per month?

-That is the standard, Ned said. I'll add ten percent.

Meerka looked up from the screen.

-Ten percent?

-Sure, you always pay a little extra, for that temptation to skim the grocery money, you know? Pawn silver.

Meerka straightened her back. She wiped her hands on her trousers.

-I don't steal, Ned.

-Obviously not, he said, taking a look over to the living room from the kitchen. But everybody steals a little bit. Especially when you get hungry.

Meerka looked at the stove. The heat was still rising from the burner.

-Keep the ten percent, she said.

Ned paused. He lowered the phone.

-I want the standard rate. No favors. But I want terms, she added, pausing again. Permission.

-Permission?

-To use the kitchen. After your meals are done.

-To do what?

-To cook extra. I can make portions. I can take them to the market. Sell them.

Ned looked at her. Not bad, a hustler after all.

-You want to run a business out of my house, Ned said.

-I'll pay for the extra ingredients myself, she said quickly. Out of my wages.

Ned kept looking at her.

-I won't use your gas during peak hours.

He laughed and snorted.

-Okay, sure. Standard rate. You get full use of the kitchen when I'm not eating. What you sell is yours, for now. If it grows, I might want a cut, he said, laughing as an after thought.

Meerka smiled but it was a real smile.

-Thank you, Ned.

-Don't thank me, he said, standing up. Make it work. He walked toward the hall.

-We're going out, he said.

-Out?

-You can't cook in those clothes. And you can't sell food looking like a street rat.

He grabbed the keys by the door.

-Let's go spend some of that salary you just made.

Chapter 4: Green Velvet

The town square was very noisy.

Merchants shouted. Carts rattled.

Meerka walked close to Ned. She kept her head down, shrinking inside the oversized clothes she had worn from the house.

-Stand up, Ned said.

She flinched.

-I am trying not to be noticed.

-You are noticed because you look like a victim, Ned said. People smell blood.

He offered her his arm.

-Take it.

She hesitated, then slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow. Her grip was light, tentative.

-Walk like you own the pavement, Ned told her. No one knows who you are. They only know what you show them.

They stopped at a textile stall. Bolts of silk and velvet were stacked like colorful logs.

Meerka ran her hand over a rough cotton tunic. Practical. Cheap.

-No, Ned said.

He pointed to a bolt of fabric near the back. Deep, rich green. The color of expensive jade.

-That one.

-Velvet? Meerka whispered. Ned, that is not for cooking. That is for... for ladies.

-Are you not a lady?

-I am a cook.

-All the time?

He paid the merchant. He haggled but not so much. He wanted to see her face when she held the package.

She took the wrapped fabric like it was a bomb. Or a baby.

-Why?

-Because you need to remember what it feels like to have something to lose, Ned said.

He turned toward the next aisle.

-Now, the shoes. And then, something sharper.

Chapter 5: Steel and Silver

The next stall had black velvet cloth, with knives laid out, in all shapes, sizes and for all intents and purposes.

Ned stopped. He pointed at a small, black handle.

-That one, he said to the merchant.

Meerka stepped back.

-A knife? Ned, I don't need a knife. I have knives in the kitchen.

-This isn't for cilantro.

He paid the man and took the blade. He walked Meerka to a quiet corner between two tents.

-Hold it.

She took it. It was heavy.

-Press the button.

She pressed it. Snap. The blade shot out. She nearly dropped it.

-Good, Ned said. Now listen. If someone grabs you, you don't wave it around. You don't threaten.

He stepped close to her. He tapped her stomach.

-You stick it in, hard. Then you lift up.

Meerka looked at the blade, then at him. Her face was pale.

-Up?

-The blade gets stuck if you go sideways, Ned said. You go in, you pull up.

He took the knife back, folded it, and slipped it into her new pocket.

-Hopefully, you never use it. But, now you have it, so you can.

They kept walking. Meerka was quiet. She was fidgeting with the knife in her pocket.

They passed a jewelry cart. Silver bangles glittered in the sun. Meerka slowed down.

She looked at a thick, engraved bracelet.

-That's beautiful, she said.

-It's shiny.

The merchant saw them. He smiled.

-Pure silver, he insisted. For the beautiful lady. Special price today.

Meerka looked at Ned.

-Can I? With my money?

Ned looked at the bangle, then at the merchant. But the merchant just smiled.

-Wait here, Ned said.

He walked to a junk peddler three stalls down. He came back ten seconds later holding a small, dirty horseshoe magnet.

He walked up to the jewelry cart. The merchant's smile faltered.

Ned didn't say a word. He held the magnet over the bangle. It jumped up and stuck to the magnet. Ned looked at the merchant again.

-You sell steel as silver to my staff? Ned asked.

He reached across the cart, grabbing the merchant by the collar and pulling him halfway over the table. Trays of rings clattered to the ground.

-Ned! Meerka gasped. Please!

Ned ignored her. He stared at the merchant.

-That is fraud. I should call the constable. Or break your wrist.

-No! The merchant squeaked. A mistake! A supplier error! Please, sir!

Ned looked at the display case. He pointed to a small pendant. A single white pearl on a gold chain.

-That one, Ned said.

-The pearl? That is real, that is expensive!

-That's fine, Ned said. A fine.

He let go of the collar. The merchant, terrified, fumbled for the pendant and handed it over.

Ned took it, tossing the cheap magnet onto the table.

-Let's go, he said to Meerka.

They walked away. Meerka was trembling, looking down on the ground again.

He stopped and handed her the pearl.

-Here.

-I can't take this, she said. You stole it.

-I took it, Ned said. Now it's yours.

He put the pearl in her hand and closed her fingers over it.

-The world is full of monsters, Meerka. You have to be bigger. Or swim in one's shadow.

Chapter 6: Notes

The rain came back in the evenings. The days were dry, mostly, but the nights were wet and heavy.

The days turned into a routine. Meerka cooked. Ned ate. The house was clean.

But the nights were bad.

Ned heard her through the wall. Small sounds. Whimpers. The sound of someone running in their sleep.

He waited for a Tuesday. Tuesday was a good day for business.

He sat at the kitchen table. Meerka was chopping onions. She was crying.

-Stop chopping, Ned said.

She stopped.

-Sit down.

She sat. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

-I am sorry, Ned. The onions.

-It isn't the onions.

He put a notepad on the table. Yellow paper. Blue lines.

-Who put you out in the rain? Ned asked.

Meerka looked at the paper. She looked at the wall.

-My husband, she whispered. He took the dowry. He took my identity. He left me.

-And?

-My sister. Reshma. He... he knows where she is.

Ned clicked a pen. He slid it to her.

-Names, he said.

-Ned, he is a dangerous man.

-Me too, Ned said. Most dangerous men are just crooks. Write the names.

She picked up the pen. Her hand shook. She wrote a name. Then an address. Then another name. Reshma.

She pushed the pad back.

-What will you do?

-Paperwork, Ned said.

A knock came at the door. Meerka jumped.

-It is the police!

-I know, Ned said. I called.

He walked to the foyer and opened the door. A man in uniform stood there, looking like he was waiting for a beer.

-Evening, Ned.

-Constable.

Ned tore the page off the notepad. He handed it to the officer.

-I need a location on the girl, right?

-And the man? the Constable asked, reading the name.

-Locate him, Ned said. Don't arrest him. Just bring him.

-Alive?

-Breathing, yes.

The Constable nodded. He pocketed the paper.

-Give me two days.

He left.

Ned turned back to the kitchen. Meerka was standing by the stove, clutching the towel.

-He works for you?

-He works for safety, right?

He picked up the half-chopped onion and tossed it to her.

-Finish the soup, Meerka.

Chapter 7: Zara

They returned to the town square the next day and stopped at a food stall near the edge.

The girl behind the counter was young. She moved fast, wrapping samosas, counting change, shouting orders.

Ned watched her, the food, the money.

-She is quite pretty, isn't she? Ned asked Meerka.

Meerka looked at the girl. She was sweating, her hair messy, but she had bright, intelligent eyes.

-She is very efficient, Meerka said.

-She is both, Ned said. Go talk to her. Ask her how she manages the cash flow.

Meerka hesitated, then stepped forward. She asked her questions. The girl, Zara, answered between customers. She was sharp.

-What are you, trying to take over the business? Zara asked, looking up at Meerka

-There's lots of room to hock food, Ned offered.

He stepped up beside Meerka and leaned against the counter. He smiled.

-You should come for supper, Ned said to Zara. Meerka is cooking lamb. You can tell us if someone would buy it.

Zara paused. She wiped her hands on her apron. She looked from Meerka to Ned.

Her gaze lingered on him.

-I might, she said, a small smile playing on her lips. How could I refuse such charming company?

Ned scribbled his address on a scrap of paper. He slid it across the counter.

-We eat at eight.

Chapter 8: Dinner Guest

Now, the clock on the wall said eight-thirty.

Meerka was humming in the kitchen, but it was a nervous sound. The table was set for three.

-She got lost, Meerka said, adjusting a fork for the third time.

Ned sat at the head of the table. He was drinking wine from a glass that caught the candlelight. He didn't look at the door.

-She isn't coming, Ned said.

-She seemed interested. She smiled at you.

-She smiled at a rich man, it happens a lot, Ned said.

He poured a second glass of wine. He pushed it toward Meerka's seat.

-Sit.

-But the extra chair?

-Just another empty one.

Meerka sat. She looked at the third plate.

-I wanted to ask her more about the suppliers.

-Suppliers are easy. You need to make more money than you spend.

He reached over and took the wine glass from the empty setting and poured it into his own.

He gestured to the lamb.

-Eat, Meerka. It's just us.

Meerka took a sip of her wine. She looked at Ned. She didn't think he looked upset or heartbroken that the pretty girl hadn't shown up. He was just eating dinner.

-You aren't disappointed? she asked.

-About what? he asked absent-mindedly. I'm here, you're here. Everything's still here.

Chapter 9: Reunion

The knock came two nights later.

Ned was reading. Meerka was cleaning the counters.

The Constable let himself in. He looked wet. He looked tired.

-I have the address, he said.

He handed Ned a slip of paper.

-She is in Go---. With a family. She is safe.

Meerka stopped cleaning. She stared at the paper in Ned's hand.

-Reshma? she whispered.

-Alive and well, the Constable said. The family says she is working. She is healthy.

Ned nodded. He put the paper on the table.

-And the rest?

The Constable whistled.

Two other men walked in from the rain, dragging something between them.

It was heavy and wrapped in a blue tarp. It groaned.

They dropped it on the rug and the Constable pulled back the tarp.

A man. Mouth taped up. Bound with zip ties. His face was swollen.

Meerka dropped the plate she was holding.

She knew him.

The man on the floor looked up. His eyes went wide when he saw her. He tried to scream against the tape. Muffled panic.

-Is that him? Ned asked, pointing at him while looking at Meerka, still sitting at the table with his book.

She shook in place, and nodded.

-Good, Ned said. Great.

He stood up and closed his book.

-Take him downstairs, he told the men. Please.

The Constable nodded to his deputies. They grabbed the man by the feet and dragged him toward the cellar door. His fingernails scraped against the hardwood.

Ned looked at the Constable.

-Drink?

-I'm on duty, the Constable said. I'll take the bottle.

-Hey, one glass, Ned said, handing him the wine from the shelf and a corkscrew

-Next time, the Constable said, putting the corkscrew down, tipping his hat and walking out into the rain.

The house was quiet again. Except for the muffled thumping from the basement.

Ned looked at Meerka. She was picking up the shards of the broken plate while her eyes darted to the basement door.

-Leave it, Ned said. We have work to do.

Chapter 10: Basement Tape

The basement wasn't finished, not really.

Ned flipped a switch. A single strip of fluorescent light hummed to life.

The man was strapped to a table in the center of the room. It was a stainless steel table, the kind used in professional kitchens or morgues.

There was a drain in the floor directly beneath it.

The man was thrashing. His eyes were bulging, fixed on Meerka. He was making noises behind the tape on his mouth. Begging noises.

Ned walked over and checked the straps. They were tight.

-This room was built for pigs, Ned said. The previous owner, he made his own sausages. Isn't that incredible?

He looked at the drain.