Epilogue #4
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Truck warned. “I don’t want you to be disappointed if they don’t.”
“Disappointed?” Mary asked incredulously.
“Truck, I was disappointed when you made spaghetti for dinner the other night and I was in the mood for steak. I was disappointed when Rayne had to cancel our girls’ day out because she had morning sickness.
I don’t give a crap if Aarav and Deeba recognize us today or not.
They’ll get to know us because we’ll be there for them every day of their lives.
We’ll comfort them when they cry and feed them when they’re hungry.
They’ll learn to trust us, just like I learned to trust you.
If I did it after thirty years of being disappointed and let down by the people I thought were supposed to love me, they can do it after only two and three years. ”
“Fuck, I love you,” Truck whispered. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
“Well, for starters, you love to rub my feet,” Mary quipped.
Truck still didn’t mind in the least that she didn’t say the words as frequently as he did.
She showed him every day they spent together how much she loved him.
She had no problem telling Rayne or her other girlfriends how she felt about them.
She was constantly whispering words of love to the babies and children in their circle, but Truck still didn’t care for one second that the words didn’t come out of her mouth all that often.
Because when she did say that she loved him…it was as if the angels came down from heaven and bestowed upon him an otherworldly gift. She’d said the words twenty-two times in the five years since they’d renewed their vows. But she’d told him in a million and one nonverbal ways as well.
“I do love to rub your feet,” Truck agreed. “And other things.”
Mary blushed and smacked him on the arm. “Shut up. Don’t get me all worked up right before we meet our children for the first time.”
Before Truck could retort, the door opened and two Indian women walked in, each holding a small toddler in her arms.
Truck let go of Mary’s hand as they both instinctively went to their knees when the women bent over and placed the children on their feet. His heart in his throat, Truck took in the sight of his kids for the first time. He’d seen pictures, but they hadn’t done these precious babies justice.
Aarav was the older of the two. He had dark brown hair that was too long and fell onto his forehead, almost covering his eyes. He was wearing a pair of loose brown pants held up with a drawstring. His feet were bare, and he had on a white short-sleeve shirt.
Deeba was only two, and she wobbled on her feet when the woman holding her took a step back.
She wore a gray dress that came down to just below her knees.
Her hair was black and was shorn close to her head.
Truck knew it was because she’d had a bad case of lice not too long ago, but her hair barely even registered.
He gazed into the eyes of his children and for the first time, he understood the big undertaking they had in front of them.
The kids looked scared to death; he couldn’t blame them.
Not only were he and Mary white—he had no idea if the kids in the orphanage had ever seen a white person before—but he was big. And he had the awful scar on his face.
Truck wanted to cover it up with his hand, but he didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to do anything that would scare these precious children in front of him. His children.
“Namaste,” Mary said softly and held out one hand.
Neither child moved. Aarav stuck his hand in his mouth and sucked on it, and Deeba just stood there, wavering on her feet.
“Maa,” Mary said, pointing to herself. “I’m your mom. And this is your pita. Your dad.”
Truck held his breath, then whispered, “Maybe I should go. Leave you alone with them for a while.”
The second he said the words, Deeba looked at him and tilted her head.
“We played the tapes you sent every night,” one of the women said in the quiet of the room. “We thought maybe if they heard your voices, they’d be more comfortable when they actually met you.”
“Every night?” Truck asked.
Before the woman could answer, Deeba moved. She teetered toward him with her arms outstretched.
Without thought, Truck leaned forward and held out his hands, wanting to catch her if she fell.
But she didn’t. Deeba walked right up to him and didn’t flinch when Truck’s large hand wrapped around her tiny back.
She was small for her age. Underweight and undernourished, but the only thing Truck could see was the yearning in her eyes.
“Pita,” she said softly.
Truck nodded. “That’s right. I’m your father.”
Aarav, not to be outdone by his sister, followed behind her and came toward Mary. Without a word, he burrowed into her, dropping his forehead on her chest as if he’d done it every day of his life.
Truck’s eyes came back to his daughter when he felt her little hand pat him on the cheek. “Chot?”
Having no idea what she’d said, he looked to the women.
One translated. “She wants to know if you’re hurt.”
Truck closed his eyes and counted his blessings for what seemed like the millionth time since he’d met Mary. When he felt little Deeba patting the cheek with his scar impatiently, he opened his eyes and covered her hand with his own. He shook his head. “It doesn’t hurt.”
Then she melted his heart even more when she held up her arms in the universal sign to be picked up.
Truck stood up with his daughter in his arms then reached down and helped Mary stand with their son.
They stood there looking into each other’s eyes, ignoring the warnings from the caretaker of the orphanage.
She was telling them that the kids would probably be scared later, and that they shouldn’t take it personally.
She was instructing them on what the kids liked to eat and cautioning them to take it easy for a while on new foods so they didn’t get sick.
She also told them last-minute things they needed to do in order to get clearance from the Indian government to take Aarav and Deeba out of the country and back to Texas.
But Truck barely heard any of it. His eyes were glued to his beautiful wife and their son.
“I love you,” Mary whispered as she gazed into Truck’s eyes.
Twenty-three.
“I love you too, baby.”
Then Mary turned to her son and kissed his forehead gently. “I love you, Ford Aarav Laughlin.” She then leaned forward and kissed her daughter’s temple. “And I love you, Elizabeth Deeba Laughlin. Welcome to the family.”
Truck’s throat closed up with emotion once more. He reached forward and pulled Mary toward him with a hand on her nape. He kissed her on the lips and whispered, “Love you.”
Ghost and Rayne, five and a half years after the weddings.
“Give him to me,” Ghost ordered, wiggling his fingers at his wife. She was holding their four-year-old and struggling to walk with him.
She gladly handed him over and winced, arching her back.
“I told you to take it easy today,” Ghost said, shaking his head at his wife.
She smiled at him but shook her own head. “Yeah? What was I supposed to do, lie around while your son single-handedly clogged up every toilet in the house? Or when your daughter decided to take the permanent marker she found and draw pretty pictures all over the wall in her bedroom?”
Ghost winced. “That’s it. I’m calling that girl Chase recommended tomorrow.”
“We don’t need a nanny,” Rayne whined. “I can look after my own kids just fine. I don’t need someone else to do it for me.”
“It’s not that I don’t think you can do it,” Ghost said patiently. “It’s that I hate seeing you so exhausted. And when this one is born,” he put his hand on Rayne’s enormous belly, “it’s just going to get more hectic.”
When tears sprang to her eyes, Ghost didn’t panic. He put his son down and swatted him on the bottom. “Go wash your hands and get ready for dinner, sport.”
“Okay, Daddy!” the little boy said happily and ran off toward the bathroom.
Ghost pulled Rayne into his embrace and held her as she sniffled. “I feel like the world’s worst mom. I’m awful. They’re going to grow up to be delinquents, I just know it.”
“You aren’t,” Ghost reassured her. “You think every mother is all hearts and rainbows all the time? I don’t give a shit what people post on social media, I’d bet everything I have that there are times when they want to duct tape their kids. This is normal.”
“I’m just so tired,” Rayne said softly.
Ghost kissed her forehead. “I know. And I haven’t been helping, being gone so much lately, have I?”
When Rayne didn’t respond, Ghost felt even guiltier. The team had been on three missions almost back to back recently, and he knew he hadn’t been helping with his family nearly as much as he should be.
“Go lie down,” he told Rayne. “I’ve got the kids tonight.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll get some nuggets in the oven for Billy, and Greta still only eats hotdogs, so I can boil some of those and—”
“I got this,” Ghost interrupted. “Seriously.”
The tears returned to Rayne’s eyes and Ghost felt awful. “I’m sorry, Princess. I’m gonna get you some help so you aren’t so exhausted by the end of the day.”
“I…okay,” she said softly. “I hate to admit it, because it makes me feel like a failure, but Billy has so much energy he sometimes makes me tired just looking at him. And Greta is so picky, I swear to God I spend most of my day pleading with her to eat something, anything, so she doesn’t blow away in a stiff wind.
I sure as hell hope this one is a little more easygoing.
” Rayne put a hand on her belly and rubbed.
Ghost leaned down and kissed her pregnant belly, then spun her around and gave her a gentle push toward the stairs. “Go on. Relax. I’ve got this. And tonight, if you’re up for it, I’ll give you a back rub.”
“Oooh.” Rayne turned back and her eyes lit up. “Just a backrub?”
“I’ll give you whatever you want, Princess. You know that.”