Harkham's Choice (Harkham's Series Book 2) (38 page)

Mari laughed last week when he came over, and teased him relentlessly. Zach talked Mari into leg wresting him and he lost, as usual. Adam went next, and he figured out a trick where he could roll his hip out and put more torque into it, pinning her down in seconds.

My God, was he powerful, and she was so turned on she made up a lame excuse to get rid of Zach early that night, even though Friday night was pizza night at their place, which Zach always attended whether he was invited or not. Not that she could blame him. She learned how to cook a few more things over the last year, and pizza dough from scratch was one of them.

It took her a few times to get it down and to ignore the guilt over eating so much white flour, but watching how happy Adam was eating it, well, it was worth every gluttonous calorie.

“Is there going to be soda?” Adam asked her as they walked through the grocery store.

She patted her doughy midsection. Ten pounds seemed like a lot to gain in a year, but Adam told her mercilessly how beautiful she was to him and how much he loved her curves.

“Tons of soda, and donuts for dessert instead of cake, as you requested.” She pulled out her lengthy list.

“Good. And I want a lot of butter on my hot wings. I like butter,” he reminded her.

“I do too. Paula Dean says everything’s better with butter—I agree. Load it on,” Mari said with a smile almost as exuberant as his.

Zach was a part of the planning of the meal, so it had shifted from lasagna with salad, to Superbowl party food—hot wings, potato skins, veggie platter with spinach dip, chips, those big soft pretzels, hot dogs and cheeseburgers. It was a ridiculous amount of food, but then Adam wanted to invite practically every person he knew.

And Zach had given up on trying to lose weight a long time ago, so he could get more definition in his abs. So that meant there was no limit in terms of how unhealthy this food would be.

Mari was going to add some salad and a fruit platter so they didn’t have to watch as their guests’ arteries clogged directly before their eyes while they waddled out to their cars afterward. She’d never forgive herself if they had a coronary on the way home.

“Are you going to tell me what movie Zach’s bringing for this birthday celebration?” Mari asked.

“Nope!” He popped his P and grinned. He pushed the cart ahead.

Ehhhhhh, ehhhhh, ehhhhhh.

She stopped. “Can we please switch out this shopping cart? It sounds like we’ve got a wounded baby seal tucked away at the bottom.”

“No way! It sounds like a train. Chuggah, chuggah, choo choo!” Adam pushed harder and faster, making her chase after him.

“Can’t you hear it? It’s cool,” he said, looking like he was having the best time ever.

She directed him over to the produce section, and while she was picking out the best fruits for her part of the meal, she lost track of where he was and what he was doing.

Sometimes he’d wander and sniff at the vegetables and make adorable wrinkled noses in distaste. There were a few vegetables he’d learned to tolerate because of her insistence he eat more balanced meals, but they still were something he viewed as a sort of nemesis.

“Listen . . . Do you hear it?” she heard him say.

She tucked the cantaloupe in her arm—an unplanned purchase she couldn’t resist—and found him talking to a little girl sitting in a cart a few feet away. She was in one of those car ones.

“Sounds like an engine,” the little five-year-old girl said, turning the driving wheel in her fake car.

“Like a train, huh?” He smiled with pride.

She giggled, and Mari laughed. The little girl was flirting with him.

“Choo, choo!” He fisted and pulled his arm down in the air, pretending to blow a train conductor’s whistle.

She leaned out the side of her car and listened hard. “I do hear it!” she cried with joy.

Her mom was perusing the grapes, oblivious to her little girl.

The little nugget got out of the car, ran over to him, and he picked her up and put her in
his
cart, then gave her a ride. He zoomed it around in a zig-zag pattern, careful to keep from knocking into anything.

He wore the happiest smile ever, and his whole body was vibrating with tenderness and joy.

Mari’s chest squeezed and then exploded, filling her up with so much love she could hardly breathe. A sudden, deep desire to have his baby flooded her. Wow. It was hard to stand. Her womb tugged at her heart, begging for a chance to do what it was meant to—have this man’s children.

Mari’s eyes welled up, and she was riveted at this new, lighthearted laugh he was emitting.

It was the most wonderful thing she’d ever heard or seen.

The little girl squealed with laughter, alerting her mom who blanched, gasped, then flew at him.

“Kimber!” the mom screamed. “Let go of my daughter!”

She flung herself at him, pushed Adam back and ripped her daughter out of the cart.

“I was going on a train ride,” the little girl said, frowning.

Mari raced over there and told the mother, “I’m so sorry. He didn’t mean any harm. He’s with me. This is my husband, and we—”

“Tell your husband I’m gonna report him as a pedophile that goes after little kids in grocery stores!” The woman pointed in Mari’s face.

“If he was a pedophile, he wouldn’t have made sure to keep her near you and in plain sight. Be reasonable.” Mari sighed, and her shoulders fell. “He was only playing with her. This is the most innocent man you’ll ever meet. He wouldn’t hurt anyone, least of all a young child.”

“I want to have kids of my own, but I can’t. I have problems—kind of like autism, but different. I think it’s better, because I want people to touch me and—”

The woman’s eyes grew bigger than the cantaloupe Mari was still holding. She made an absolutely horrified face and pushed her daughter behind her.

“You-y-you stay away from us,” the woman said, terrified.

“Oh, God, no! He didn’t mean it like that. He means he has to hold hands with me, and he likes being affectionate with his family—not strangers. He didn’t touch your daughter besides putting her in the cart,” Mari explained, waving her one hand in front of her, palms out so the woman would understand they were both harmless.

“I think I’ve heard enough!” The woman put her daughter in the seat directly in the cart instead of the pretend car portion and took off.

“I just . . . I love kids,” he said, his eyes so filled with sadness they were killing her.

“I know . . . I do, too,” Mari said, covering him with her arms and with a few kisses. “I think we better get our stuff fast and go before that woman causes us a problem.”

“What did I do wrong? The little girl was happy. I was being nice,” he said, pouting.

Mari held his hand and they pushed the cart together, walking much slower than she wanted to, but he was really hurt by what had happened.

“The mom doesn’t know us, so it scared her. There are tons of sick people out in this world that will kidnap children and do disgusting things to them,” she said.

“I know what a pedophile is. She thought I was one?” He blinked, and tears were thick in his eyes. His lips quivered with emotion. “I would protect Kimber from mean people, not hurt her. I was her friend.”

“I know, sweetie. I know you would do all those things, but think if that was our little girl? How scared would you be if a strange man you’d never met suddenly took her and put her in their cart?” She stroked down his arm.

He bit his lip that was shaking along with his chin. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore . . .”

They got what they needed without any issues from that hysterical mother, went home and put their purchased items away. That night he didn’t eat much at dinner and went to bed early.

Mari wrapped his birthday gifts and then sat, hanging over her knees. Her elbows dug into her thighs, but she ignored the uncomfortable pressure. With every breath, her head hurt almost as much as her heart.

You can’t do this. You can’t have kids. What if they have a disability that’s . . . No! Don’t you even think it! You don’t think of him as disabled. His needs are a blessing, 
not
 a curse. You would love that child more than anything, even if it came out with a missing arm and was blind.

She lowered herself down onto her side and curled up in the fetal position on the couch.

How could she want this even for herself?

And how could you think for a second Adam’s disabled? You’ve never thought of him that way before. You’re disgusting—taking your own insecurities and issues and hiding them by blaming your unwillingness to have children on him! If you’re that low, then you don’t deserve the honor of carrying his child!

Tears moistened the corners of her eyes.

Even after knowing baby Megan’s death wasn’t completely her fault, she was still hung up on it.

What if it had been her own baby that died? It would destroy her—no question. If Megan’s death had her that self-destructive, then she knew without a doubt, her own baby passing away would turn her into a psychopath, destroying everything in her path, possibly including Adam.

It kept her stuck—failing to move forward and letting her family of two be as blissfully happy as possible.

She closed her eyes, tears slipping out of them, and she hummed one of Adam’s piano songs he’d been practicing religiously. He wanted to play it for everyone at his party.

Her mind relaxed some, regardless of how tense her body remained with her fists curled under her chin and her arms glued to her chest. Sleep managed to take hold quickly.

“Congratulations, Momma, you have a girl!” the doctor said, handing Mari the chubby, bright-eyed gift that just left her body.

Mari touched the infant’s bloody cheek but didn’t dare hold her.

“What are you going to name her?” the doctor asked.

“Shara,” Mari blurted, taking no thought to ask Adam his opinion.

He was sure to have one.

She looked around the room containing a few of their friends and some family, but he was gone.

The baby was forgotten.

“Do you want something to eat?” her friend Katie from school asked.

Mari nodded.

A moment later she was eating her Friday night pizza, drinking soda and laughing with her friends.

The baby was being held by someone in the room, but Mari didn’t care. She paid no attention. This was fun. Everybody was here to see her. They fawned over, hugged, congratulated her and talked about the music she was passionate about.

An hour or more passed. At some point, she held the baby out in front of her and smiled. She was cute with round cheeks and dimples, but Mari couldn’t remember what she’d named her for the life of her.

“What’s her name again?” she asked Zach.

“I don’t know. I was talking to Lorraine when you said it.” He shrugged.

She handed him the baby like it was poisoned. “Here, you hold her.”

Zach rocked and smiled at her. He seemed happy to be an uncle.

The baby grabbed anything he got near that she could hold onto. She started shoving her fists into her mouth, making little grunting noises. A few little whimpers came out of her.

He handed her a pen with a cap on and the baby sucked on it greedily, her tight fists looking mottled.

“Is she cold?” Adam asked, entering the room. “I got her a blanket.”

Mari’s face dropped. What kind of a mother was she? She hadn’t even cleaned the blood off her baby. She was dirty and cold. A diaper was put on her by somebody, but who did it? Mari was unsure of who had touched her and what they’d done to her. She was too busy being the star of the show.

Mari’s entire body went ice cold, and she shook herself into a small, rounded lump. Tears kept away, but inside she was a waterfall of regrets already.

You’re a horrible mother! Your baby hates you and loves Adam. He loves her without thinking, and you? You set her aside like your meal—ignoring her needs, she thought.

Her body convulsed and her lungs hiccuped several times with silent sobs.

Could she disappear now?

Nobody needed her. Not even this baby.

“Sweetie, she needs to eat, and only you can do that,” Adam said, coaxing her to sit up.

Tears stained Mari’s cheeks, and she knew it would be permanent. Every person that ever came across her would see the red track marks on her face—proof of her hideous nature. She was an unnatural woman, awkward and broken—unable to be a mom without Adam telling her how to do it.

He helped Mari lift her shirt, and he placed the chubby baby in her arms.

“I weighed her. She’s a fat one. Ten pounds, one ounce,” he said, his eyes gleaming with utter pride.

No! I don’t want her to be fat like me!

The little nugget attached right onto the breast and sucked with gusto. Mari’s eyes grew wide, and her heart grew as big as this baby, resting on her torso.

“She likes me? She likes my milk I make for her? It’s not poison?” she gasped.