The Accidental Werewolf 2: Something About Harry (Accidentally Paranormal Novel) (30 page)

“Mimi,” he whispered down at her. “I’ll be right back. Go nowhere, woman. Got that?” As he rose, his warmth leaving her embrace, his body hard and supple under the moonlight, it was all Mara could do not to shout her joy before rising, too.

She grabbed her bathrobe as Harry pulled his T-shirt over his head. Tightening the belt, she slipped around the side of the bed and grabbed his hand. “I’m coming, too,” she assured.

Harry looked down at her, running his palm under her chin. “I’m a little nuts about you, Mara Flaherty.”

“Yeah? I’m a lot nuts about you. Let’s go be nuts about the kids—
together
.” She pulled him with her out of the bedroom and across the hall where Mimi sat up, Coconut tightly pressed to her chest.

Her face began to crumble and the tears began to fall. “I had a bad dream, Uncle Harry,” she muttered.

Mara hopped over her where Fletcher stirred, sitting between the children. She pulled Mimi close and hugged her. “Was it about elephants?” she asked, kissing the top of Mimi’s freshly shampooed hair.

Mimi giggled her innocent, sweet giggle. “No, silly.”

“Because you know, I’ve been talking to Uncle Harry, and I think, no promises, but I think we can talk him into an elephant. The only problem is where to put him. You think he could fit in the bed with all of us?”

Fletcher grunted a sleepy giggle of his own. “Elephants don’t belong in beds, Mara.” He shifted a little when Harry nudged him to sit next to him on the bed, tugging the child into his arms and smiling.

Mara reached over and ran her fingers along Fletcher’s exposed belly, making his eyes half-open as he squirmed and laughed. “Said who? Shouldn’t all elephants have beds? If you can have a bed, why can’t an elephant? Are you special or somethin’?”

Harry looked over at Mara, his wide grin as endearing as it had always been, stretching his fingers to meet hers alongside of Mimi’s arm. “I’m the boss and I say no elephants in the bed! They poop on the floor, not to mention they’ll turn the bed into a total pancake.”

Mara gripped his fingertip, smiling back at him. Her heart so full, she had to fight tears. “Okay, partners in elephant crime, on three.” She squeezed Mimi to her, snuggling her close. Grateful. So very, very grateful. “Ready? One, two, three! Oh, Uncle Harry!” they all groaned simultaneously.

The children fell into fits of giggles while Mara and Harry cuddled them near and Carl snored softly on the floor.

As she gazed upon this new adventure beaming at her from beneath the moon shining into the window, full of giggling, happy, healthy children and a hot nerd of a man, her heart welled with gratitude.

And really, Mara thought, what better way to begin her fairy tale than with two small children, a sorta zombie, a cat named Coconut who wore dresses under protest, and a handsome prince named Harry who had two left feet?

It was everything she’d ever dreamed of and more.

So, so much more.

Epilogue

Seven Months and Twelve Days Later—Eight and Counting Quacky-Wacky Paranormal Accidents, a New-ish, Albeit Not As Reluctant As He Once Was Werewolf, One Incredibly Smart, Suddenly Childless No More Werewolf, Two Precocious, Very Active Human Children, Three Doting, Constantly Interfering Aunties, A Manservant Grandfather, One Half-Assed Though Totally Endearing Witch Doctor, and a Demon Who Could Push a Swing Like No Other, attended a wedding beneath a pine tree in a clearing on a beautifully perfect summer day . . .

Mara smiled up at Harry and over at his children—
their
children—when Charles Knotts pronounced them husband and wife.

Harry kissed her soundly, encompassing Fletcher and Mimi in his embrace as everyone cheered.

Marty cheered, dabbing at her cheeks and blowing Mara a kiss. Marty had been her surrogate mother during the planning of the Flaherty/Emmerson wedding. She’d held Mara when she’d cried because her mother wouldn’t see her marry, given her endless advice on raising two small children, worried over her—coddled her—made her man up when the going got tough with Harry and the kids.

Cried like a child when Mara, in a simple white, sleeveless silk gown with an empire waist and a small broach tucked between her breasts, one Marty had given her as her something borrowed, had entered the room just before the ceremony.

She’d cooed over Mara’s hair, flowing down her back in soft curls, placing the wreath of freshly picked flowers on her head, straightening the ribbons so they flowed over Mara’s shoulders just so.

Marty, though not much older than Mara herself, had taken on the role all pending brides relied on, and she’d done it like she did everything else where her family and friends were concerned.

With love.

Nina poked her head over Harry’s shoulder, pinching Fletcher and Mimi’s cheeks before Harry set them down to run off and play with the other children in the pack.

Nina gave Mara the look of death. “It’s good I like you, Short-Shot. This fucking dress sucks ass. Christ, all I did was itch during that whole thing.”

Mara giggled, happier than she’d ever been in her life. Nina was gorgeous in the ivory sheath Mara had chosen for Ying, Marty, Wanda, Jeannie, Astrid, and Nina. Gorgeous. Alas, she couldn’t see it because she couldn’t see her reflection. “But you look sooo pretty, vampire!”

“Fuck pretty,” she groused. “I’m burnin’ it when this shindig’s over.”

Marty wrapped her arms around Nina’s waist from behind and squeezed. “Oh, thou art a cranky Mistress of the Night. Leave it to you on such a beautiful day to complain.”

Nina flicked her fingers at Marty’s hands—even though she followed it with a chuckle. “Get the fuck off me, ass sniffer. No hugging. I’m on fire in this goddamn frilly shit.”

Wanda, her hair atop her head cascading in loose waves about her face, her expression serene, landed a rare kiss on Nina’s cheek with a chuckle. “Hush, Elvira, and come with. You need more SPF one bafillion on that nose of yours.”

Before Wanda pulled her away, Nina clapped Harry on the back with a grin. “You, make sure you do this right.” She waggled a finger at the space between Mara and Harry. “Got that? Or I gotta kill ya. Ugliness—this I promise. So much ugliness.”

Harry cocked his head, so handsome in his dark suit and tie. “Is that your way of saying congratulations, Crypt Keeper?”

Nina grinned, taking Wanda’s hand. “Whatever, nerd.”

Wanda gave them each a hug, squeezing Mara extra hard. “Happiness. I wish you both so much happiness,” she whispered as Nina dropped a kiss to the top of Mara’s head, then let Wanda lead her to the shade of a pine tree where more sunblock awaited her.

Carl waited patiently, as he’d been taught over the months, putting his stiff limbs on Harry’s and Mara’s shoulder. “Hoppy,” he said, that awkwardly stiff grin wreathing his face.

He was handsome in his suit and tie, picked out by Mimi and the other girls on “Carl Day”—a day created specifically for their zombie to spend getting to know his new extended family and friends.

And once a week, he sat with Mimi while she practiced her spelling words, and unbeknownst to them, had begun to absorb Mimi’s homework.

Mara patted his face, making sure he had his duct tape tucked securely in his inner pocket in case of an accident. “Yes! We’re happy—very happy you’re here, Carl,” she praised.

“Thanks, buddy,” Harry said with a warm smile, rubbing Carl’s shoulder.

Carl wandered off to find Charlie, one of his favorite people in the whole world. He found her under a tree with Greg and, with Greg’s help, settled beneath it, shaking toys to interest her.

Charlie clapped her chubby hands and laughed, her dark curls draping on Carl’s arm when she fell over on him, her balance still unsteady. Carl stroked her head the way Darnell had taught him—gentle and soft.

Werewolves bandied about, threading in and out of the ornately decorated trees, eating, laughing, chatting.

Harry sighed, pulling Mara close, surveying the people he’d come to love and trust. The people who’d helped save his children—who loved them almost as much as he did.

Keegan surprised them by pulling Harry into a hug, bumping shoulders with him. “You make sure you take good care of my sister and those kids. Or I’ll eat your liver.”

Marty burst out laughing, roping her arms through Mara and Harry, her eyes full of the not-so-quiet tears she’d shed during the ceremony. “I’m so happy for you both. We’re all so happy you’re here, Harry. You and the kids—it’s all just right, isn’t it?”

Harry cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, it is, Marty. Thank you,” he said, his voice tight.

Jeannie rushed up to them, fresh and pretty in her gown, a spot of batter on her face. She grabbed them both up in a hug. “So beautiful—it was all so beautiful. Mara! You’re a vision. Have you ever seen a more beautiful woman, Harry?”

Harry agreed warmly, kissing Jeannie on the cheek. Jeannie was one of Harry’s favorite people aside from the girls. He’d never admit it had anything to do with her divine apple turnovers or the most amazing dumplings he claimed to have ever had. “Never.”

“Except for you,” Sloan added, leaning in to gather Mara into a hug and shake Harry’s hand. “Welcome to the state of servitude, pal,” he joked, handsome in his gray suit.

Jeannie wrinkled her nose, grabbing Sloan’s tie and giving it a yank. “Speaking of servitude, I need help with the side of beef I have cooking over there for you carnivores. So move it, husband,” she said on a laugh when Sloan scooped her up, twirling her around toward the general direction of an open pit where the most enormous amount of beef, skewered and turning slowly, roasted.

Harry cupped her face. “She’s right. I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman than you. Never. I think I love you, Mara Flaherty,” he murmured, tracing her lips with his tongue.

She shivered in response. “You think? It’s a little late to be unsure, huh?” She chuckled, holding up her ring finger.

“Fine, fine, fine. I love you—and that’s my final answer.”

“I love you, too, Harry Emmerson.”
So, so much.

Since the night Leah had taken the children, they’d overcome so many personal obstacles. Helping the children adjust to losing Donna the right way. By remembering her.

Once a week, just before bedtime, while they had milk and cookies freshly baked by Mara, she had instituted “Donna Day,” wherein they looked at old pictures of Donna and Harry growing up together. Pictures of them as babies, with their parents, smiling in the bathtub, with their first birthday cake slathered on them from head to toe. Swinging in the swing they’d once had out in their old backyard.

They were encouraged to talk to her—tell her how much they loved and missed her. Sometimes it hurt. Sometimes Harry struggled with the words of his memories. Sometimes they cried—all of them. But they did it together—as a unit, learning to bond, finding their way out of the darkest night of their lives and knocking hard on happiness’s door.

And little by little, week by week, while they all repainted Mimi’s room purple as a family, when they read books together at bedtime, when they played laser tag or had a picnic in the park with Grandpa Arch, the open wounds began to heal. Nowadays, there wasn’t nearly as much sadness as there was great joy and laughter in honor of Donna’s memory.

Mara smiled as much as Harry and the kids—she smiled because it was during “Donna Day” that she relayed memories of her own mother and father. And one night she invited Keegan and Sloan to join them—and together, as a growing extended family, she began to heal her own private wounds by sharing her own pain with her brothers. By finding peace with their pain, too.

And it was good.

Adjustments had been a little tough at first. Harry had to learn to be a parent, not the fun uncle, and Mara had to help. They’d spent long nights, researching parents’ blogs, reading, laughing, making incredible love, and in all of that, they found a deeper love than either of them could have ever imagined.

It scaled the walls of the role Harry had been thrust into and the one Mara had always yearned for. It was full of mutual respect, communication, admiration, and most of all, trust.

Mara had been cleared of all charges in Harry’s turning, and with the promise that the serum she’d created would be brought to the council to discuss the possibility of beginning a surrogacy program.

Score one for female werewolves everywhere.

Guido had become a constant in their lives as of late. After all, he had, in fact, thrown his life in the mix to distract Leah and save Mara. Neither Harry nor Mara would ever forget that. And as he came around the cottage more and more often, showing up suspiciously when Astrid was around, Mara grew to love him.

It seemed his witch doctoring ways didn’t go so awry when he was around those of his own paranormal ilk—not to mention, he and Astrid were cute as a button together.

Astrid was like a whole new woman as she fell in love with Guido. Her insecurities, the ones that had made her so touchy and moody, seemed to melt away beneath the glow of Guido’s smile.

They’d spoken of Leah and that horrible night once—after going to her parents to tell them of her death. No one understood what in Leah had snapped, or if she’d always been in the process of breaking. Not even her parents knew what had created the Leah they’d witnessed that dreadful night.

But none of them were enough amateur-psychiatrist-curious to find out. Instead, they all talked about it—together, alone, in various groupings, and then each of them opted to move forward—let go.

They were all also there when Harry, Mimi, Fletcher, and Coconut asked Mara to marry them—at a mini
Deep Space Nine
gathering with some of Harry’s online friends. There were tears, smiles, laughter, and so much happiness, Mara couldn’t help but cry when they all got on one knee and asked her to be their mommy-wife.

And here they were today, on a gorgeous day in late June, with their family and friends, laughing, smiling, celebrating.

Mara tugged at Harry’s tie. “So I guess this means I’m Mrs. Harry, not Harold, Emmerson now, huh?” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, sighing when he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Mrs. Harry for short, don’t you think?” he asked, cupping her to his chest as she watched children in their Sunday best play in the sunshine, Guido and Astrid huddled in a corner sharing a glass of purple punch Mimi herself had created with Aunt Jeannie.

Nina batted at Wanda’s hands, lathering her up with sunscreen, complaining as she did until her mate Greg brought over little baby Charlie and handed her to his wife with a doting grin. Chubby and the spitting image of the dark, beautiful Nina, she swung her up in the air, making baby Charlie melt into a fit of giggles.

Keegan and Marty danced slowly to a song the pack band played on a floor especially made for their wedding spot, their hands entwined, heads together.

Heath, Wanda’s mate, moved through the crowd toward her, grabbing her hand and twirling her in a spin to the dance floor where he dropped kisses on her lips.

Jeannie and Sloan teased and flirted, despite the fact that they were married now, giggling as though they had a secret only they knew about. Archibald chased after children, his aging cheeks red, his belly full of hearty laughter.

And Mara nodded. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Tears stung her eyes—tears of complete peace and happiness. “Mrs. Harry, it is.”

“So, Mrs. Harry, you wanna go and see about making some babies the old-fashioned way? You know, no vitaminwater. Just you, me, and some serious naked.”

“Are you kidding me? If there’s no vitaminwater in the mix—I’m out. Where’s the fun in that?” she teased.

“Well, maybe I can convince you?” he uttered against her lips, running his hand over the swell of her hip.

She sighed into his mouth, bracing her hands on his chest. “Oh, I dunno, Mr. Harry. You’ll have to work hard. So hard.”

And as Nina once more called out the question they’d all grown used to, “Where’s Carl? Has anyone seen Carl?” and as Wanda fussed over Archibald secretly giving the children too many sweets and as Marty yelled at Nina not to rip her dress, Mara decided there was nothing in the world that compared to this.