The Bracelet: When Love Accomplished Itself

By Sushmita Jamwal

The book describes the story of two strangers who develop unfading love toward each other in a very short time. They suffer because of developing love of a conventional nature in a world that refuses to understand the depth and sentiments. The story conveys how certain emotions refuse to die when treated recklessly and also the magic of the product of true love whether it is a person or an object. It describes the inevitable price one has to pay for not following ones heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Jan 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543701937

Sushmita Jamwal

The author is a keen reader and follows her hobby of writing fiction. In the journey of writing short stories, poems and historical fiction, The Bracelet came out to be the first complete work that reached the shelves. The author considers love as important as freedom itself and firmly believes that a heart full of love though, usually tender and vulnerable is still the most powerful attribute of the Universe. It brings out the extra-ordinary in the most common people.

Book preview

Copyright © 2018 by Sushmita Jamwal.

ISBN:                   Hardcover           978-1-5437-0195-1

                           Softcover             978-1-5437-0194-4

                           eBook                  978-1-5437-0193-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

www.partridgepublishing.com/india

Contents

1   Visit to Cadillac

2   The Diamond Bracelet

3   Love Untouched

4   The Change of Characters

5   The Brainwork

6   The Stand, a Year Later

7   First Hang-Out

8   The Forbidden Kiss

9   The Secret of the Meetings

10 The Love Affair

11 The Poorest Man on the Planet

12 When Love Accomplished Itself

Dedicated to Shri Aman Wazir and Professor A.C.Bose

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1

Visit to Cadillac

I t was the last noon of October in the office chambers of Aver, the Wyatts’ company. Despite the sounds of bustling machines, telephones ringing, papers rubbing against each other, Xerox machines and printers vomiting papers ceaselessly, a lull always prevailed in the junior Wyatt’s room. In the calm air of his less-cluttered office, Cedric Wyatt, a splendid man of twenty-six, scribbled continuously. He looked around at some papers and returned to jot some more. Eventually, he took a deep breath and was reaching out for another folder when his mobile rang.

‘Mum?’ he said, picking up.

‘Sam! How are you?’ The loving voice soothed him, bringing a smile to his mirthless face.

Dropping his pen on the papers, he said, ‘I’m fine, Mum. How’re you? I’m sorry I couldn’t call.’

‘Oh yes, I know, son. You’re busy. Soon you’ll become your father,’ his mother said, a tinge of the British accent in her tone.

‘Don’t say that,’ he said, feeling unpleasant. ‘I’ll come soon.’ He was reassuring her, but his dark eyes were seeing more work now.

‘Sure, I only need to have another sickness for that.’

Rebuke—he got it.

‘Mum,’ he spoke quite helplessly, ‘you can spare me the taunting.’

‘I’m joking, Sam. I’m perfect.’

‘I love you, Mum. I’m sorry for all this.’ He paused. ‘I know it’s been a while.’ His voice quavered.

‘Oh, Sam … I love you too, my son,’ she said, her voice shaky due to emotions.

There was a hiatus on both sides.

‘I don’t mean to make you sad. I only wanted a nice chat with my son. Sam, cheer up now and take care of the old man’s business, okay? I’ll call you in the evening. Is that okay?’

‘Of course, Mum,’ he said.

‘I mean, you won’t be busy then, will you?’ she said in a teasing tone.

‘No.’

‘Okay, bye then.’

‘Take care, Mum.’

‘Of course. Bye.’

‘Bye,’ he said, engrossed with thoughts even before putting down the phone.

He looked at all the work waiting for him on his desk. Most of his time went to examining and signing papers in his big office. He looked to his right, at his mother’s beautiful picture, and shut his eyes, followed by a heavy exhalation.

I have to go to her, he thought, very determined. He returned to his computer, only to shut everything down. He was about to leave his chair when a knock at the door made him settle back.

‘Yes,’ he said, looking at the hazy glass door, where a silhouette in blue skirt was visible.

‘Excuse me, sir,’ a blonde woman came straight to his desk, holding a pile of folders in her left hand. She started shuffling through them and took out a file.

‘Mr Wyatt wants you to go through these and then see him in his office,’ she said and watched him keenly, feeling something unusual about his expressions.

‘Thanks, Miss Hamilton,’ he said.

She easily understood the command in his tone, so she went off.

He read the first page and became very disappointed. Too crossed to read further, he threw the file on his desk and rubbed his forehead against his hand, feeling as helpless as he had been a few minutes back.

He stood up and went to the glass windows on his left, stood there for a minute, and walked towards the table nearby, where his teapot was kept. He sat on the couch, thinking. He threw a look of disgust at his desk and the chair behind it. Suddenly, that plaque having the title of vice president made him fume. He contemplated if he was really on the same path as his father’s. He picked up the file from his desk and walked out of the office.

He walked through the cabins of his employees, so many young men and women. His tall stature and straight posture added awe to his pace. As he moved, many heads turned. His clear complexion, dark-brown hair, and sharp features made him irresistibly attractive. He had recently completed his studies in London to join business. Being a newcomer himself, he had had very less time to mingle and had made a couple of close associations, one of whom, called Oliver, was his friend from school. He could listen to the customary mumbling that followed whenever he passed through the work area.

‘Good day, sir!’ Chelsea, from the nearest desk, greeted him. He simply nodded with a light smile, which was a reply to everyone.

‘Suit! Such a waste of that body,’ a new girl said to Chelsea.

He pretended to have missed it, already occupied heavily with emotions, and took to the elevator.

He reached the door of Jonathan Wyatt’s office, the president of the company—the office of his father. He entered and saw him already taken by some paperwork. That was what he did; he would be busy telephoning, videoconferencing, or signing papers and cracking deals.

‘Hello, son!’ the man in his fifties with grey hair and a rather pleasant voice said. He was a smart middle-aged man who looked well engaged in work.

Cedric walked towards him, and before he could sit, he was asked whether he had read the sent papers or not. He settled in his chair and said, ‘Yes, Dad. Um … I was thinking of visiting Mum this week for a couple of days.’ He mentioned the days to ensure his visit.

‘Well, of course, you should. I talked to your mum’s doctor in Denver. He said that she’s doing very well,’ Jonathan said, leaving his paperwork and getting out of his desk to talk to his son. He was properly dressed as always with grey hair, which could only add charm to the notion of ageing.

He sat on his couch and resumed the talk. ‘Sam, this conference in Michigan is really important for our company. It will take much less time than the previous one,’ he said, looking hopefully at him as he walked towards him. ‘You can spend the whole week with your mum then. No need to return to New York. Take a direct flight to Denver.’

Cedric looked up at him in surprise.

‘I also wanted to see Samara. It’s been more than five months. I think I will see you there,’ Jonathan said, taking the file from Cedric’s hand.

His father’s confidence in that little speech and the ease with which it apparently was going to happen lifted Cedric’s mood. He was delighted mainly in imagining his mother’s happiness upon meeting him and his father. She hadn’t seen both of them for long.

She couldn’t see her family frequently, as she had been living in Denver for the past seven years for the treatment of severe respiratory ailments. Jonathan had provided her half a dozen of nurses and doctors and servants to take care of her. Earlier, in summer, she had become sick, and that was when Cedric visited her last and stayed with her for three days. But Jonathan still couldn’t manage to visit to see her due to his demanding schedule.

Samara never seemed to complain to her husband, or maybe she was done complaining. But Cedric always found his mother more plaintive of him rather than his father.

‘Is that okay?’ his father asked him.

‘Yes, Dad,’ he said and took the file from Jonathan.

Jonathan looked at him as he was about to leave.

‘Sam?’ he said. ‘Are you seeing anybody?’

Cedric scowled, feeling a little vague about what he was asking.

‘I mean, are you seeing a girl?’

‘No. Why?’ Cedric asked.

‘Good. I was wondering if a girl might be keeping you from stepping out.’

‘Nothing like that, Dad,’ he said, amused a little.

‘Oh! No calls from London anymore?’ he asked his son again.

‘Haven’t heard from my friends for some time now. They’re all busy, just like I am,’ he replied to Jonathan.

‘Better get going then. You’ve got to board the plane at eight.’ Jonathan looked quite happy to know that his son was unengaged.

Sam had never been in a relationship and hardly ever fell into some prolonged female company after college. He avoided having a secretary as most of the girls kept ogling him during the interviews.

Cedric rushed to his office, feeling bittersweet about his trip to Denver; he wanted to go there earlier.

The car dropped him in the porch. He entered the huge mansion and rushed upstairs. The servants saw him only when he was climbing the stairs. His room was a large one, remarkably clean, and had all the luxuries one could ask for in a bedroom. The dim lamps in the corners were pouring a crimson shade on the walls. He switched the lights on, and everything became white. He rushed to take some clothes out of the wardrobe; two maids came and, without asking, brought the suitcase and folded his clothes. Used to his hurried gestures as a sign to leave shortly for another business trip, they came to lend a hand without being asked.

It was half past seven already. He took his coat and was about to leave when he saw the phone. He returned to sit on his bed. He was reminded of his mother’s call at eight.

She must be waiting, he thought and quickly dialled. Samara picked up the phone when it had barely rung twice. He felt glad for calling, as it seemed that she had been sitting near it for some time. Often, a servant would pick up first, but he heard her voice.

‘Hello!’ she said.

‘Hi, Mum,’ he said.

‘Sam! I’ve been waiting, darling. Are you home?’

He got a little upset that he did not have time to talk to her. ‘Yeah, I’m home, Mum. How’re you doing? Had tea?’ he asked her.

‘Yes, sir. I had my tea, medicines, everything,’ she said.

Suddenly, there was a knock at his door. ‘Just a second, Mum,’ he said and opened the door to see an old man.

‘The car’s ready,’ the tall and slim old man said.

‘I’ll just come, Mr Grint,’ he said, and the driver nodded. He quickly returned to the telephone on his bed.

‘Yes, Mum, so … uh …’

‘You’re going somewhere again, Sam?’ she asked glumly.

He sighed, succumbing. ‘Yes, Mum. I’m leaving for Michigan,’ he said.

‘At this hour? Well, who cares about your rest anyway? Go,’ she said like she would put the receiver down right then.

‘Mum! I’ll be visiting you very soon. Dad said he’s visiting you as well’ he said, trying to cheer her up.

‘Okay, I’ll wait—again,’ she said.

‘Don’t be sad, Mum. I bet I’ll surprise you when I come,’ he said.

‘Yeah, fine.’ She chuckled a little. ‘Go now. Enjoy Michigan like your mother did.’

‘You sure?’ he asked. ‘You realise I can’t wear archaic jewellery, Mum.’

‘You can give it rest, son. I might have shopped once or twice maybe. And the jewellery isn’t archaic. It just reminds me of my home.’

Cedric gave out a hearty laughter. ‘Home? That Douglas man is virtually wedded to you, Mum. He sends a piece every year like an ideal husband.’

‘You can stop joshing about the old man.’

But Sam continued laughing. The maids looked exceptionally delighted to see him that way.

‘Has he sent this year’s gift, or should I go to Cadillac and spare the old man the trouble of delivering jewellery?’

‘You will be punished, boy,’ Samara said loudly, while Cedric felt very good. ‘I’ve got it, and I’ve also sent the cheque. But you should go to Cadillac and bring your mother something good now. Your punishment.’

‘Whoa!’ he exclaimed, jumping from his bed. ‘So that makes me right all along.’ He got excited as if winning a tournament.

‘Say everything you want to,’ she spoke.

Cedric settled again, worried if his mother was serious; that would only delay his visit to Denver. ‘No, Mum, please. I’ll be in Detroit. Sorry, I won’t do it again,’ he wailed.

‘No use, Sam,’ Samara teased.

‘Oh, Mum, it’s some long, long distance,’ he continued, wailing.

‘Aha! Who’s keeping you from travelling, boy? If you don’t have a girlfriend, all you should do is travel long, long distances,’ she went on.

‘Okay! I told you both I’m seeing no one, but you won’t believe. Fine, I’ll go to Cadillac, all right?’

‘Aww, boy. See? You should not argue with your mother after all.’

‘Yes, Mother, I have learnt the lesson,’ he said in British.

‘A few years in London can’t make you British,’ she said again, trying to overpower him. Cedric enjoyed the taunt.

‘Now go. You must be running late. And you don’t need to go to Cadillac. I was only kidding with my boy,’ she said, getting all solemn again.

‘Bye, Mum,’ he said, becoming rather less exuberant. That was what he was doing all the time—keeping her happy and cheerful, while at his own front he was becoming frustrated day after day since he could not be near her.

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In the first class of the plane, he met four employees who were going to be his colleagues for the next two days at least.

He repeatedly imagined surprising his mother. All the way to Michigan, he kept thinking about his forthcoming stay in Denver, which would delight his mother a lot.

He reached his hotel at ten and, in the hall, asked his colleagues to be ready in the morning with their presentations.

‘Goodnight, gentlemen,’ he said and walked towards his suite with his friend turned colleague Oliver Bridge.

‘You look rather fresh for the night,’ Oliver asked.

‘Really?’ Cedric asked, and Oliver nodded. ‘I don’t know. Talked to Mum in the evening.’

‘Well, goodnight,’ Oliver said, turning to his suite, which was nearest to Cedric’s.

He had food and got to work on his laptop till midnight.

The next day was tiring; he didn’t get a chance to have lunch but only tea, one cup after another. By nightfall, he was too tired to be awake, and he retired to his lodging soon after entering the hotel with his colleagues. He wanted to call his mother but couldn’t; neither could he eat.

But suddenly his father called, waking him up, at ten.

‘Hello, Dad,’ he said, sitting in bed.

‘How was your day, son?’ he asked.

‘Good.’

‘How’s the meeting?’ he asked.

‘Almost done,’ he replied, still very sleepy.

‘I think you’ll be done by tomorrow evening, yeah?’ Jonathan asked.

‘Positively,’ he replied.

‘That’s good. I called your mother. Everything’s fine there. Don’t you worry about anything, boy,’ he said to Cedric in high spirits.

The next day was hectic till afternoon. The meeting was officially over at two.

He met the other businessmen and, without taking part in the formal lunch, left for his hotel. He had told Oliver that he would be leaving for Cadillac shortly. The flight barely lasted half an hour; he was determined to catch another flight to Denver the same day.

Before heading out of the Wexford County airport, he thought of checking the location of his destination lest the cabby should waste more time. Hooking his small trolley suitcase with his foot, he took out his phone out of his pocket and looked for Douglas Clarke’s store on the map. He quickly flagged down a taxi and hurried to the store. Hoping to catch a plane to Denver by nightfall, he paid the taxi and stepped out at the precise location. The store was nowhere in sight. He roamed around, looking on and off his phone, and ended up again in front of a bookstore. He decided to go inside.

The bookstore was relatively silent; there were three people, all unpacking some cardboard boxes.

‘Can I help you?’ the owner said, coming to his desk.

‘Yes … I was looking for a jewellery store here.’

The owner gave him a blank look.

‘Something owned by a Douglas Clarke.’

‘Oh yes,’ the woman, who was at the shelves, shouted. ‘It was here. He sold it three weeks ago.’ She was standing on a ladder, holding freshly packed books in