“I think he likes it. He plays more with his dinosaurs than the spaceships, though. That’s my parent’s fault.”
“It’s a really cool place for him to grow up in.” Maverick had to admit.
“Thank you for saying that,” she replied. “I try to make his life as normal as possible.”
He glanced back at her. Normal? What kind of kid could live out these dreams in such a way? Not the normal kids he knew and seen. Maverick must have worn his mocking thoughts over his face. She lowered her eyes with embarrassment. “What he doesn’t want or use, I donate to the church. All kids should have something special to open their minds as children.”
“I never thought you were a bad mother,” he said.
“Don’t flatter me. Last time we met, you called me a bitch.”
Maverick opened his mouth to apologize and paused. She dismissed him and walked out. He followed. Maverick had to rub his hands together to keep the tingling nervousness from his fingers. He breathed hard through his nose as his pulse accelerated, and he felt himself sweating. He hadn’t thought the first visit through. He was too busy fighting to get through the front door. Suddenly he knew the importance of their meeting. He should have grabbed the toy he bought with him from his bag. The kid would be pissed to wake up to meet some ole dusty ex-cop just to say hi.
“Maybe we can wait until he’s awake,” Maverick said.
“No, it’s fine,” she replied and went inside the room before he could stop her. Maverick entered her bedroom cautiously. It was the largest room he’d seen since he arrived at the house. It was so huge there were three sections to it and a television area with a sofa and recliner. Maverick noticed Delilah’s reading glasses on top of her laptop in the seat of the chair. The view was quite remarkable. Next to a wide picture window was a golden harp and stool. Maverick had never seen a harp before. He stared at it for a moment, taken aback. What the hell went down in this room between her and her husband, he wondered. The bed was the room’s centerpiece. Fit for a king and his harem, the mattress was wide and plush looking. The headboard was a dimpled pillowed top tall structure the same color as the furniture. Upon it lay his son. The kid laid on his back in a Thomas the Train t-shirt and pull-up training diaper. Noah’s arms were outstretched. His legs spread. He claimed as much space as his little body could reach. Maverick smiled at the sight of him.
Delilah leaned in and kissed the little boy’s face; she blew on his tummy. Noah rubbed his eyes and turned over to his side with a smile that could melt anyone's heart. She picked him up and hugged him. Maverick expected the kid to holler, to protest. Who wouldn’t do so after being awakened from a nice sleep? Instead, Noah lifted his head and smiled at his mommy. He hugged her neck.
“Remember, Mommy told you there was someone we were going to meet today?” she asked.
Noah looked at Maverick with questioning eyes that were the same as Maverick's. He had sun-kissed skin and curly blondish-brown hair. How in the hell did she and her husband not know this kid wasn’t entirely theirs? Anyone could see it.
“Hi, Noah, I’m Maverick,” he said. Maverick didn’t dare reach for his son. It was too soon. Plus, he doubted she’d let him. Delilah put Noah right in Maverick’s arms. Noah didn’t protest. Maverick was the one shocked and awkward. He hadn’t expected to move so fast. The private moment he had planned to build up to winning his son’s trust enough to hold him was lost. He was forced into the reunion right there on the spot with her watching them. Noah stared at him curiously. Maverick didn’t know how to talk to children, so he gave him a lopsided smile. It would have been better if Melissa’s ghost appeared as she often did when he was distressed. Maverick could use Camille’s strength too. Someone to whisper in his ear and give him instructions.
“I’m your...” he glanced to Delilah and then to Noah. “I’m your father.”
Noah blinked at the word as if it were meaningless. He looked to his mother for an explanation. Noah reached for her, and Delilah took him back into her arms. “Are you hungry?”
“Me?” Maverick asked.
“Yes, you silly,” Delilah said. “It's time to eat lunch, isn’t it, Noah?”
Noah nodded.
“Does he talk?” Maverick asked.
“Put some food in him, and he’ll talk your ears off,” Delilah teased.
Maverick smiled. “Sure. Let’s eat lunch.”
Delilah left. Maverick glanced back to her bedroom and then to the harp. There were more questions in his head now than before he arrived. He was a cop. He was trained to be suspicious, to see what others didn’t want him to see. But he felt so relieved to be welcomed by her he couldn’t focus on her intentions.
Chapter Seven
I’M IN CONTROL
It was all performance. Delilah smiled and talked in a cheery voice while she fussed over a son, who remained confused by her over-affectionate manner. Noah exposed her. He kept turning his head away and trying to snatch the fork from her to feed himself. The kid cried and pointed several times to something in the kitchen he called ‘train.’ Maverick moved his food around the plate with the fork and tried to figure it all out. New York was known for having some of the best cuisines in the world. He’d eaten all kinds of foods. What was on his plate was bland and tasteless. Maverick looked up at Noah. He glanced at Delilah. Noah threw his cup off his highchair's tray in protest and screamed and kicked his feet while in tears. To this, Maverick smiled. Delilah noticed.
“Something funny?” she asked. Delilah tried not to seem flustered, but she was. And his poor kid was growing agitated by the minute. Maverick couldn’t take another moment.
“You’re not comfortable with me here,” Maverick said.
“And that’s funny?” Delilah asked.
“No. It’s just obvious to Noah and to me.”
Delilah tried again to give Noah some food from her fork. Noah pushed it away and continued to cry.
“Let me guess. He doesn’t eat in a highchair, does he?” Maverick asked. “Is it new?”
Delilah froze. She blinked at him and then looked at Noah. The toddler had his tiny hands to his face crying.
“How does he normally eat?” Maverick persisted.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about this chair isn’t new. Noah, it’s okay, sweetie mommy’s sorry. Just eat a little.”
Maverick reached over and touched Noah’s arm. The toddler lowered his hands and looked at him. His round face was streaked in tears. Maverick smiled for Noah and felt his hand, but Noah was in no mood to make a friend. He pulled his hand away. Maverick then glanced at Delilah for help. He found none in her accusing glare. To the mother, he appeared to be the instigator of Noah’s distress. That felt unfair to Maverick, but he didn’t call her on it. Again Maverick wished Melissa was there. In his head or as a damn ghost. If he didn’t figure out a way to diffuse the situation, he feared he might not get a solid footing with the two of them. It was then his gaze turned to the kitchen. There was a Thomas the Train tiny seat scooter. The kind of scooter a kid could sit on and peddle with his feet while he steered it across the floors. Maverick noticed the food and juice stains on it. It looked fresh. Maybe from breakfast?