Page 121 of Rescuing Mary

“Eventually, yes,” Truck said, and took her hand in his as they waited for the employees to bring their children into the room. “But I also think it’ll take a while. You know they’ve had a hard life so far. As good as this orphanage is, it’s still not like a home. There are people who look after the children here, but we were warned that they might be standoffish. They won’t understand what’s going on.”

“We sent that photo album with our pictures,” Mary said, looking up at Truck with big eyes. “Maybe they’ll recognize us.”

“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.