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

by Chanse Lowell

  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.

  “She loves you, and your beautiful milk. You’re doing it, Mari. You’re being the best mom ever,” he said, glowing.

  “But I . . . I was . . . I can’t even remember her name,” she said, racking her mind. She shook her head, and a tiny little fist kneaded into her sore stomach muscles. Mari dipped her head down, took her daughter’s top fist in her hand, nuzzled and kissed it. The moment her lips met her child’s, it hit her. “Shara . . .”

  “Shara . . . Our perfect baby,” Adam exclaimed to the room.

  Everyone turned toward them and bowed down.

  Mari’s insides froze. This was wrong. Don’t worship me!

  “She’s beautiful,” Mari whispered, “but I don’t deserve her, you, or this.” She motioned to the people around them, still on their knees, not daring to look at them.

  “Mari?”

  Her shoulder shook, rattling her awake.

  “Yeah?” She bolted upright, her brow sweaty.

  There was a blanket in his hand.

  “Why are you sleeping out here?” Adam asked, staring down at her. “Are you mad at me? I thought you might want a blanket at least if you don’t want to sleep with me.” His eyes were soft and filled with concern.

  “No, I . . . Shara . . . God, that was a . . .” She licked her lips, her mouth was dry, but it was easy to ignore. Her head went from foggy to clear when she realized her fears were unfounded. That was not who she was anymore—irresponsible and self-centered.

  She cared about Adam more than anything—thought of his needs before her own most of the time.

  “We had a baby girl in my dream—Shara,” she began, looking up at him through her lashes. “And I think . . . I think I want to have your baby, if you want one, too.”

  “Really?” he squeaked, dropping to his knees before her. “You want my baby inside you?”

  “I do. More than anything,” she whispered.

  She leaned in to kiss him, but he dragged her off the couch, into his lap, then kissed, cradled and rocked her.

  “A baby of our own? A baby we can love and share together? Shara?” His shoulders rose.

  “Yeah, that name . . .” She gazed in his eyes, gauging his reaction. “It’s strange. I don’t know if we—”

  “No! I love it. It’s beautiful, and Share-ah. It means we both share her—love her together. It’s perfect, like you.” He kissed her deeply.

  She didn’t dare mention it seemed to be some sort of variation on his mother’s name of Sarah.

  When they broke, she said, “But it was just a dream. We don’t know if we’d have a girl or not. You used to say you knew we’d have a boy. I’m sure this dream was a reflection and direct result of that little girl, Kimber, we met at the grocery store. It doesn’t mean we have to—”

  He cut her off again. “We do too. We’re gonna have a girl first, then later a boy. I can feel it. In here.” He put her palm on his hammering heart. “And you feel it, too. I know you do. I can see it in your eyes, behind the fear.”

  “I’m not afr—well, okay, I’m petrified,” she admitted when he gave her a no-nonsense look. “But I’ll have you to help me, so you’ll make sure I love this kid and don’t screw up like my parents did.”

  Ten-year-old Jeremiah, Dr. Harkham’s case number three, drifted into her mind, solidifying her decision. She wanted a child just like Adam and Jeremiah.

  She stared at Adam with reverential awe.

  “And I’ll never leave this child like my mom did, even if Samara comes at me with a knife,” he teased.

  She moved like a cat on the prowl, pushed him gently down onto his back, started pulling his clothes off and she got straight to work on making this baby. No birth control would be a part of their near future. No control at all.

  Just a man and his woman, making love on the living room floor of their small apartment.

  It was the second time she cried tears of joy, and this time, her face was wet for reasons she loved.

  Chapter 21

  Adam ate whatever he wanted at his party. Nobody cared.

  Mari would bring it to him, and she looked pretty with her hair up in a messy bun.

  It made it easy to kiss her neck from behind.

  Zach slugged him a few times for doing that, but he was allowed. She was his wife, and sex was good. Really good.

  In fact, it kept getting progressively better and better each time.

  She was finally talking about having a baby with him. It made his hands touch her every chance they got.

  “That’s my wife. Isn’t she beautiful? I really love her, and she’s so sexy to me,” Adam told Victor’s boyfriend, Rodney.

  “Yeah, I guess for a woman, she is pretty hot,” Rodney replied, disinterested.

  He stared at Victor all the time.

  Adam handed him the plate of chicken wings. The guy ate a lot. Not as much as Vic, but close.

  Victor was always coming over and eating their food. And now with Vic and Rodney finally moving in a week, after a year of saying they were moving back east, he seemed to be stocking up. How many times had Adam explained to him they lived on student loans, grants, scholarships and Mari’s part time job as a waitress? So many, Adam almost lost track of those numbers.

  “Weren’t you guys supposed to have moved forever ago?” Zach asked Victor, nudging him.

  “Yeah, but things got kind of complicated with Rod’s job. We’re good to go now. No more trouble.” Vic stared at Rodney.

  “With the law? Trouble with the law can be really bad. You shouldn’t do that,” Adam told Victor.

  “The only trouble I have with the law is that my hotness causes men and women to get into car accidents when I walk by and they’re driving. They can’t take their eyes off me.” Victor ran his hands through his hair and sucked in his cheeks.

  He looked kind of like one of those singing fish plaques. Adam always liked those. They were kind of like a friendly reminder that fish were nice and liked music, too.

  “Whatever, man.” Zach shoved Victor over playfully and left to go find different company in the room.

  Adam roamed around, saying hi to Amelia, talking to his dad about his work, and smiling at how his dad laughed more now than he’d ever heard in his life.

  “Attention—if you don’t like piano music, now would be the time to take a bathroom break,” Adam announced. “I wrote a new song for my loving wife, and I wanted her to hear it today on my special day I’m celebrating with all of you.” He grinned at her.

  Her mouth formed an oval, and she stopped what she was doing, standing still like a statue.

  He sat at the piano and said, “It’s called ‘On Angel Wings.’” His fingers glanced over the keys, and he counted off in his head like a metronome. The beat was constant in his ears as he car
essed the keys and poured each quiet sigh they shared in their bed together, the kisses and sweet touches, into the song. It was their loving nights of warmth laid out in a haunting melody.

  His body swayed on the bench, his eyes were heavy, his breathing quick—he was each note.

  I love you—this is how I kiss you.

  The song shifted into a more melodic flow where the notes hung longer.

  I have to be inside you and see your face when you fall apart underneath me.

  The song morphed again, and there was a more consistent, punishing rhythm. It reminded him of the flapping of angel’s wings taking off into the sky—joining with the stars.

  This is how I hold you tight and think I’ll die unless you say you love me while I make love to you.

  The music chimed like a wind-up clock with bells and then died on a whisper of a breath.

  Mari was crying by the time he was done, and the final note seemed to hang in the air like a promise of many more nights of euphoria.

  The room was void of noise. Mari’s cheeks were shiny with water streaks.

  She held herself—arms wrapped around her middle—and she smiled at him like he was the biggest surprise of all.

  “Did you like it?” he asked her and nobody else, while he remained seated on his bench.

  “I loved it more than a donut,” she whispered, then covered her smiling mouth.

  His dad clapped, and everybody else followed.

  Adam stood up, bowed like a dork and thanked everyone.

  He joined the crowd, and after a while—once the party died down—Zach broke out a deck of cards with the last remaining stragglers.

  “Anybody for strip poker?” Zach’s eyebrows danced up and down.

  “Not tonight,” Mari said, cleaning up a few empty platters that had been covered with chicken wings on them an hour ago.

  “Oh, come on!” Victor groaned.

  “I’m a married woman. I only take it off for one man, and it does not require gambling or a few douchey onlookers,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder, pretending to be a snob.

  Adam joined her in cleaning a few things. Their apartment had been packed pretty full, but now it seemed almost empty with only three couples left behind.