Where the Lotus Flowers Grow (38 page)

Holding it up to the light, I saw the faint M etched onto the flat side.

M for Marco.

M for Mary.

M for mine.

I smiled for the first time in months.

Mary

Dev rushed into the kitchen, his round face scrunched with worry. “There is a Westerner outside who demands to see the cook. He says the
parathas
are too spicy.”

I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. “Doesn’t he know he’s in India? Everything is spicy.”

“I’ve already spoken to him, but he doesn’t want the manager. He insists on speaking with the cook.”

I stared at all my boiling pots. I had much to do. “I’ll take care of your orders,” Dev said. “He’s outside on the veranda. You probably need a break anyway.”

Talking to an irritated customer wasn’t my idea of a break, but I was sweating like a pig, so any opportunity for air was welcome. I hurried to the veranda. Then I stopped short, feeling as if I’d run into a brick wall.

Liam.

My knees almost buckled. He wore a crisp white shirt and faded jeans. His sandy hair forked over his forehead just above the dark sunglasses covering his eyes. He stood and removed the sunglasses. His eyes focused on my face with such intensity I couldn’t rip my gaze from him. Then he went lower, and his face hardened as he took in my swollen belly. I put my hands over it as if I could mask the obvious. I grappled between running full force into his arms and rushing the opposite way. I did neither. I stood, still as a statue, my heart pumping fast enough to fuel a train.

Liam crossed over to me. He stopped, keeping a sliver of a gap between us.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“You’re pregnant,” he said at the same time.

Unable to answer, I simply nodded.

The breeze blew his spicy, clean, masculine scent toward me.

He took my hand and led me to the table. “I’m not supposed to sit out here.”

“Sit,” he growled.

I sat.

“Why are you here?” I repeated.

“You’re here.”

“Go home, Liam.”

“You are my home, love.”

He slid his water bottle toward me. “Drink. You look parched.”

I took a long sip. The sun shone against the silver of the bracelet on my wrist.

“You still wear it,” he said, his expression softening.

I hadn’t taken it off since I arrived. All I’d done was mourn Liam and curse the way the past always ripped through any chances for a future.

He sighed. “Were you going to tell me about the baby?”

“I needed time.”

“Jesus, Mary, how long were you going to keep my baby from me?” He raised his voice, not too loud, but Liam’s voice was deep enough that other diners turned in our direction anyway.

“I’m working right now. I can’t have this conversation with you.”

“You’ve been sacked, and you’re coming with me, even if I have to drag you.”

I crossed my arms. “You’re not my boss.”

“You think I’m going to let the mother of my child work in these conditions?”

I stood and took his plate. “I don’t think you have a choice.”

I returned the kitchen, my hands shaking so hard I nearly dropped the plate. I should have known better than to think I could simply walk away from him.

“Sir, you can’t come back here,” Dev said.

He pushed past Dev and rounded the corner.

“Answer one question. Do you still love me? Can you still love me?”

“That’s two questions.”

“Answer me.”

Every day I’d replayed the series of events that had brought us together and eventually torn us apart. I’d been living in darkness for the past few months. Seeing him was like having a veil lifted and bright light flooding in. I squinted against the sight, still grappling with my own fears. As if the baby disagreed with me, she gave me a swift kick.

He didn’t wait for my answer. He crushed his lips against mine. My bum hit the counter. The kiss, aggressive and passionate, stirred me awake. He slid his tongue inside my mouth. He tasted of sweet mint. I kissed him back. His long fingers threaded through my hair while his other arm wrapped around me. I felt all the warm, hard muscles of his chest.

We were both breathing heavily when he let me go. He smiled. “I thought so.”

“It’s not enough.”

“It’s a nice start. I’ll be outside.”

Before I could respond, Liam walked away, nodding toward Dev, whose mouth was almost as wide as his face.

Dev told me to leave straight away. I had no doubts Liam had arranged that. When I walked into the busy street, Liam leaned against a green Mercedes, waiting for me as promised. I didn’t see a driver.

“You’re driving…in India. Are you mad?”

He laughed and opened the passenger door. “I’ve figured out the cows have the right of way. Once you know that and how to properly use your horn, it’s not so bad.”

He grabbed the seatbelt and belted me in. Despite my anger and confusion, I almost leaned forward to kiss him. “You had me sacked.”

“I got you the afternoon off.”

“How long have you been here?”

“About a week. I had a few things to set up. I would have come sooner if I’d known…” His voice trailed off, but I could finish the sentence. If he’d known I carried his child.

He handed me a wrapped package after he got into the driver’s seat.

“What’s this?”

“A little gift. Open it.”

I unwrapped the paper, revealing a beautiful hardcover of Jane Austen’s
Persuasion
.

“Fitting title since I aim to persuade you.”

“Why are you doing this?”

He shrugged, starting up the car. “Me? I’m fighting for the woman I love. What the hell are you doing?”

“Trying to survive.”

His jaw hardened for a second. “Open it. I know you want to.”

I told myself not to, but I still flipped open the book. A note card with a rendering of a lotus flower fell out. I read his scrawled script. “My world is better because you are in it. Yours in every way, Liam.”

Although my fingers shook, I placed the card back inside the book and snapped it shut. “I said that to you once.”

“Words don’t die, Mary. You throw them into the universe, and sometimes they come back to you.”

I had said that too, hadn’t I? A long time ago when he was just a beautiful stranger to me. I swallowed back the surge of emotion. “Take me home, okay? I’m really tired.” My voice quivered. “We can talk tomorrow.”

He nodded, although he looked disappointed. “As you wish, love. I can be patient.”

He didn’t ask where I lived. Clearly, he already knew, but he did grimace when we pulled up to the building.

I fiddled with my seatbelt. He put his hand over mine.

“I lied. I can’t be patient. You’re not going in there. We don’t have to talk, but you’re coming home with me.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he sped off back in the direction of the beach. I stayed quiet because I didn’t have the strength or courage to argue with him. Most of all, I didn’t want to cause him any more pain.

We pulled up to a pretty blue cottage with Moroccan shutters. Palm trees and sweetly scented honeysuckle lined the path.

“You’re not staying at the Wilshire?”

“No.”

He ran around to open my door. The house was done up in earthy colors. A wall of windows framed the beach. He led me to the sofa. We sat in silence for a while, each lost in our own thoughts.

I rubbed my belly. “I don’t know how it happened, Liam. I swear I was careful.”

“I’m happy we’re going to have a child, but I have to know why you kept it from me.” His eyes darkened, a deep sorrow on his face. “Do you think I’m like my father? Is that why you didn’t tell me?”

I’d wounded him with my hasty selfish actions. “I didn’t think that at all. Not for one second. You are nothing like him.”

He looked relieved. “Good.”

“I needed time to sort it all out. I don’t expect anything from you.”

He narrowed his eyes, the vein in his neck throbbing. “Expect anything? This is my child, Mary. If you think I’m not going to be a major part of his or her life, then you’re very mistaken. Maybe you don’t want me, but I promise you my child will know me.”

“I never said I didn’t want you to be a part of our child’s life.”

“But not your life?”

“I had so much rage in me for a long time. All I wanted was to make your father—”

“Don’t call him my father.”

“Make Robert Wilshire suffer. I blamed him for every tragedy in my life. Even the things that had happened before, like my mother leaving. When I figured it out that night, all that rage came back inside me. I wasn’t afraid of you hurting me, Liam. I was afraid of hurting you. It was all too much.”

“We could have talked about it.” There was defeat in his statement.

“After I had some time to digest it all. The real fear was that you might leave me.”

“Why would you ever think that?”

“Everyone leaves me.”

He kissed my forehead. “I will never leave you. You are everything to me. Besides, the fates brought us together. It’s impossible to fight fate.”

“What?” The baby kicked me as if to tell me to shut up. I pressed my palm to my stomach.

“Are you all right, my love?”

I missed his nicknames for me. Missed the way he said them slower than the rest of the sentence. “I’m fine. She likes to kick.”

His lips curled into a beaming smile. “It’s a girl?”

“Just a guess. I didn’t want to call him or her an ‘it,’ so I settled for ‘her.’”

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to my tummy. He looked nervous, as if I might reject him.

I nodded. He lowered his head, pressing his palms flat against my waist. My pulse raced with his touch.

“I don’t feel anything.”

Taking his wrist, I moved his hand lower and to the side. “Wait for it.”

Maybe she felt her papa’s hand, because she kicked three times in a row. Liam’s face lit up. “That’s our baby, Mary.” His voice turned thick. A tear rolled down his cheek. “Our baby.”

I caressed his cheek. “She’s feisty.”

“Like her mother.”

My stomach growled.

“What was that? Are you okay?” Panic laced his questions.

I laughed. “Just hungry.”

“I’ll go start dinner. Would you like to take a bath?”

I wanted to ask him when he’d learned to cook, but the idea of a bath was too enticing, so I nodded. He showed me the bathroom and ran the water in the large claw foot tub. I took a long soak and scrubbed myself with lemon soap.

I pulled on the soft silk robe hanging on the door. I piled my wet hair on top of my head and secured it with a band. Liam was still in the kitchen when I walked into the living room. The house was right on the beach. The curtains danced as the sea air hit them through the open veranda doors. There was an entire wall of blank, white canvases except for the painting in the middle. My feet were sore, but I had to get a closer look. I gasped, taking in the artwork. It was the picture we’d drawn together the last time we were in Goa. Liam had taken the sketch and painted it, leaving everything exactly as we’d drawn it, even my wonky dog-cows. On the top in black letters it read
The Best Time of Liam’s Life
. On the bottom in red letters, it read
The Best Time of Mary’s Life
.

“You’re still painting.”

He came out of the kitchen, a dishtowel on his shoulder. “I was able to finish two works since you left. That one and another.”

“It’s beautiful. Why are all the other canvases blank?”

“They represent the best times yet to come. We’ll fill them all up, won’t we?”

Yes…we will.

“Why don’t you sit, sweetheart?” he asked, leading me to the couch.

“Where is your other painting?”

“It’s here. It was your Christmas present originally.”

“May I see it?”

He gestured to the far side of the room where an easel was set up. A linen cloth was draped over it. I walked toward it with slow steps. A steady, firm hand pressed into my lower back. Then he removed the cloth. My knees did buckle this time. But he didn’t let me fall. He picked me up to carry me back to the couch.

“Please, I want to look at it,” I begged.

“Okay, but I’m not putting you down.” He turned back toward it. I had no idea what the right word was for this feeling…this feeling of warmth and hope and love. He’d painted Hannah and Papaji and me.

“I did it from the photo in your wallet. I made a copy of it when you were sleeping.”

“I don’t know what to say. This…this is the most amazing gift in the whole world.”

“I’m glad you think so. We’re just getting started.”

I didn’t think I could take any more. He said he’d come to fight for me. Didn’t he know I had surrendered the moment I saw him? I was wrong. There was nothing sick or evil about us. I had nothing but love and joy in my heart for this man. He was my best friend, my lover, my muse…my home.

“Liam—”

“I’m going to feed my girl now. She’s hungry and so is my baby. We’ll talk some more after you eat, yeah?”

I nodded, resting my head against his chest as he led me back to the sofa. He came out a few minutes later with a plate filled with cheese, fruit, and hummus with pita chips. “I have some things in the oven, too.”

I started nibbling. He unrolled some papers. “Someone else made you a few paintings, too. Apparently, you’re not just my muse.” He set down a few simple paintings of houses. The paper curled on the ends. I held one side straight while Liam held the other.

“Marcus did these.”

“Yes.”

“I can see him in them. Just like I see you in your work.” I ran my hands down the shapes. “He’s moved on from crayons to paint.”

“I’ve been going to see him and showing him a few things. He misses you, Mary.”

“I miss him, too.”

He rolled up the pictures and put them back in their case. He sat down and picked up my feet. “Your feet are swollen, aren’t they?”

“A little.”

He began massaging my feet. It felt so good I moaned.

“Why do you think we’re fated, Liam?”

“I have it on good authority, but I’ll keep that nugget for later. Right now, you need to finish eating, love.”