First Comes Marriage. Sophia Sasson

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First Comes Marriage - Sophia Sasson


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don’t know what I did yesterday to make everyone so cross.”

      Jake smiled. She’s in for a surprise. I bet she’ll be packing her bags this afternoon.

      “Why come here all the way from London?”

      She shrugged. “I was required to do a one-month rotation and thought it might be fun to do it in a small town.”

      “But why here? Why not someplace closer to home?”

      “I’ve never been anywhere outside the UK on my own. Or India—that’s where my parents and I are from originally. I’ve always wanted to visit America, and this seemed like a good opportunity. Besides, it will be good for me to learn how medicine is practiced in rural areas like this one.” She sounded rehearsed. There was definitely more to the story; it was written all over her face.

      “That sounds like a mighty boring reason to be here all month.”

      She began twisting the watch on her wrist. Jake sensed she wanted to say more, but she didn’t continue. What aren’t you telling me, Meera?

      “Well, you might get more than you bargained for, but I’m sure you’ll make the best of it.” She bit her lip, and Jake found himself staring at the way her mouth moved.

      “Won’t you give me a hint of what to expect when I go into town today?” she pleaded.

      He laughed and shook his head. “There’s no way to explain it. You’ll have to experience it for yourself.”

      “Any words of advice?”

      He grinned. “Yeah, give ’em hell!”

      She laughed. It was a pleasant, tinkling sound, and for some reason he wanted to make her do it again.

      “Well, thank you for giving me a room—the cottage is just what I need for the month.” She got a faraway look in her eye. “Do you own this ranch?” she asked suddenly.

      “My father does. It’s been in my family for a long time, passed down four generations now.”

      “So you grew up here, then?”

      He nodded. “I was born right upstairs and spent my whole life here.”

      “Must be nice to have roots.” Her voice had a sad longing in it.

      “It’s what makes this my home.” Jake was surprised to hear his own voice catch. Home...this ranch is so much more than home.

      “Is your father still alive?”

      Jake shifted on his feet; Meera was too nosy. He didn’t like answering questions about his family. “Yes.”

      “Does he live here?”

      “No, he’s suffering from Alzheimer’s. He’s in a nursing home.”

      “What about your mother?”

      He focused on the cattle grazing in the fields outside the window. His mother was a topic he didn’t discuss, not even with himself.

      “She doesn’t live here,” he said sharply, then turned away from her.

      Meera stepped back. “I’m sorry—I was just trying to get to know you.”

      “You’re renting a room at my ranch. We don’t need to be friends.”

      She muttered something under her breath.

      “What’s that, now?”

      “Nothing. Do you have any tea?”

      He pointed to the pot. “Try coffee—packs more of a punch.”

      “It’s okay, I’ll pick some up in town today.”

      “Good luck with that.” Mr. Cregg owned the only store in Hell’s Bells, and he was about to lose a major bet thanks to Meera.

      She leaned against the counter, pressing a hand to her head, as if massaging a headache.

      He sighed. She was all alone in a new place. The least he could do was to be nice and stop giving her a hard time about everything.

      “I left you a plate of bacon, sausage and eggs.” He motioned toward the heaping plate on the counter.

      She swallowed, and her nose twitched.

      What now?

      “Do you have any toast?”

      He pointed to the bread box.

      “I’ll just have that.”

      He bristled. “I’m a pretty decent cook, you know, and the bacon and sausage are fresh from the ranch.”

      “When you say ‘from the ranch’...what exactly do you mean?”

      He looked at her quizzically. “I mean we raise the animals here.”

      “And then slaughter them?”

      “That’s what ranchers do.”

      Her lips curved downward. “Well, that’s something to think about.”

      Now she was rubbing her temples with both hands. He studied her carefully. “Out with it.”

      “Out with what?”

      “With whatever’s making you look like someone’s drilling your brain.”

      “Oh, it’s just that...I’m a vegetarian.”

      “What?”

      “A vegetarian. I don’t eat meat or any product that requires killing a living—”

      “I know what a vegetarian is. Look at you, all bones, it’s no wonder.”

      “Please tell me you don’t raise cows here, to be killed.”

      He looked at her in disbelief. “It’s a cattle ranch!” He motioned at the grazing cattle outside.

      She grabbed the back of a seat. Her caffe-latte skin paled. He pulled a seat out, encouraging her to sit down, and she slumped into the chair. The last thing he needed was for the doctor to require medical attention. She muttered to herself.

      “What is it?”

      She began to say something, then closed her mouth.

      “Oh, come on.”

      “Well...just that... I was raised as a Hindu. We believe the cow is a sacred animal and hurting one, or being anywhere near where one is being tortured, may bring bad karma for an entire lifetime...and possibly the next several lives.”

      You’ve got to be kidding me.

      “You’re a doctor, right? You went to medical school? Where they teach you about the brain and science and how the universe works?”

      She glared at him. “This isn’t about science. Even if you don’t believe in reincarnation, you’re raising a living organism for the sole purpose of killing it.”

      “The animal provides us with food.”

      “There is plenty of plant-based food for us to eat. We don’t need to live at the expense of another being.”

      “The animals only exist because I bring them into the world for food.”

      “And it’s wrong to create something just to destroy it. In my culture, the cow is sacred because it gives us milk...it gives us life. We call it gai mata, mother cow. For generations she has fed us, and the karma of killing her—”

      “Cows are considered sacred because your ancestors used them to plough the fields and didn’t want people to kill them for meat in times of famine. It was a practical decision, not a spiritual one.”

      She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

      “I would ask that you not mock my beliefs. I’m not asking you to stop cattle ranching, just


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