Sweet Temptation
Page 118

And that’s how we ended up here in Malawi at the orphanage owned by Kope and Zania. They’re looking well. I suppose if caring for loads of children hasn’t aged them terribly, Anna and I can handle just two.
I’m far more nervous than I care to admit, so I hold Anna’s hand tightly. She smiles up at me when Kope goes to get them. Her eyes are already damp with emotion, and I think to myself that these two boys are the luckiest lads in the world to be getting Anna as a mum.
Kope comes back in with a toddler and a baby, one on each hip, and they’re bloody cute as can be. A burst of excitement I hadn’t planned to feel flares through me, followed by even more nervousness.
These are my boys. My sons.
My God, I can’t believe this is happening.
Anna goes to the baby, who takes to her straightaway, and I’ve never seen my woman smile so big. She is radiant. The baby flaps his arms, making bubbling sounds and grabbing her hair.
“Hi, Onani,” she says to him, laughing.
I can’t help but smile. I look down now at the older boy, Mandala, and he’s clearly going to be a tougher sell. He looks a bit untrusting, and I can understand that feeling. But I’ve come prepared. I squat next to him and pull out a toy car, a red hot rod. I hold it out, not getting too close. He takes a tentative step toward me.
“It’s yours, mate,” I say, stretching my arm closer to him. “I brought it just for you.”
I keep my arm extended until he slowly walks forward and takes it from me. He stares at my eyes, as if expecting me to take it back or yell. I nod and smile. I crouch and urge him to roll it on the ground. I even make some awesome engine sound effects and he suddenly looks up at me and smiles.
I have to swallow back a bout of mounting emotion. I want this boy to trust me. I want him to never fear me. I want to do right by him.
It’s funny how even yesterday I was still feeling wary, though I’d never tell Anna that. She was so thrilled, and I felt like a gobshite for not being excited. I couldn’t see how I’d have room in my heart to care for two children, two strangers, the way they would need me to. I’d hoped, over time, I’d get the hang of it, but it turns out some things truly do come naturally.
Like loving a child. My heart expands and makes room for them without any effort from my mind. And once they’re in, they’re there to stay. They’re mine to care for. Mine to provide for and support.
We remain at the orphanage for hours, getting to know the boys’ personalities, and letting them become accustomed to us. I can already imagine them at our home just outside of L.A. We have a small yard. There is a park down the street. I can see them there. I can see me there with them.
The room opens and other children filter in to look us over with curiosity. They all seem to be fascinated with Anna’s bright hair, and drawn to her lovely smile. Can’t blame them.
The children are easy to entertain. They mostly just want attention, so I give it to them, and find that they make me laugh.
“Kai,” I hear Anna say. “I think someone wants to meet you.”
I look up to where I sense that I’m being watched. A little girl, maybe four years old, stands next to the door, staring so hard at my face that I go still. Her aura is powerful—much fuller than most children’s. Her negative emotions run deep, and I wonder what she’s been through. Orange excitement zaps like tiny lightning bolts through the gray cloudiness as she watches me. But the strangest part is the top of her aura. It goes fuzzy, then pink, like cotton candy.
She’s staring straight at me . . . and feeling love? I think she must be confused, but that stare of hers is potent, and I can’t look away.
“Hi there,” I say to her. “What’s your name?”
She points at me and says, “Bambo.”
I look up at Zania, whose forehead scrunches. Both she and Kope crouch on either side of the girl, but she pays them no attention. Her eyes are on me.
“Her name is Alile,” Zania tells me. Ah-LEE-leh. “It means ‘she weeps.’”
“Alile,” Kopano says to the girl. “Zikuyenda bwanji?”
“She speaks Chichewa,” Zania whispers. Anna scoots closer to me.
Alile’s guardian angel dips low to whisper, and the darkness in her aura lightens. It is highly unusual for most adults, much less a child, to be this open to the spirit. The girl walks toward me and I hold my breath, curious and a bit nervous.
I remain very still as she reaches out to touch my face with dry, dusty hands. Her face is close to mine, and it’s like she can’t get deep enough into my eyes. She keeps a small, cool hand on my cheek and climbs confidently into my lap, sitting. She speaks clearly up at me again. “Bambo.”
Something is happening here. I don’t know what, but it’s making me dizzy with anxiousness. I can’t look away from Alile, but in my peripheral vision I see Kope and Zania staring at each other.
“What does Bambo mean?” Anna whispers.
Kopano clears his throat. Pauses. “It’s a word for father.”
Holy mother . . .
If I wasn’t sitting down already I might pass out. Father? But why on earth . . . ? I look down at the delicate girl, who is now patting at my shirt, checking me over.
Zania begins to sign. She came to us from another orphanage that shut down because of sexual abuse.
My gut sours and tightens. I look at Anna, whose face is horrified. My teeth grind as I think about this poor little girl. She is so small. She’s been a victim of heinous acts in a world I’m all too familiar with. It’s no wonder her aura is so dark. I want to find and kill whoever touched her.