WITCHCRAFT (A Paranormal Romance) (32 page)

9

Max walks into a small room off the West hallway of his large house to find Alexander Cooper is sitting at his desk, his retro black phone pressed against his ear. The old man tries to wave his son off, but Max doesn't budge.

“Yeah. Okay. Tell them I'll be in Israel in a week to meet with them. Great.” Glaring at his son, Alexander frowns. “Listen, Marjorie, we'll need to finish this up later. Max is here. Of course I'll tell him to come by and see you.”

He hangs up the phone and pulls the large glasses off his face. The older man hates wearing them, but they really help him feel in control when he needs to get down to business.

“You know not to bother me when I'm working. What's this about?”

Max shuffles his feet, his arms behind his back. He looks almost exactly the same as his father had, years ago. Dark hair, green eyes swirling with emotion and confusion. Alexander is not used to seeing his son act so unsure of himself.

“Well, speak up son, I don't have all day!” Alexander opens up the second right drawer of his desk and pulls out a glass. Into it he pours expensive whiskey bought while he was in England.

“I think I need your help. I got myself into a mess.”

Alexander's eyebrows shoot up. The last time he heard those words, his son was handcuffed and begging for a lawyer. “What did you do?”

Max watches his father's face for any troubling emotions, anything that could warn Max to run. Alexander is rarely violent, only having spanked Max three times in his life. Still, the older man has a sore temper.

“So, you know how Charlotte and I broke up?”

“Of course I do, I work with her father. Though to be honest, I never thought she was a good fit for you, or for the family.”

“Well, do you also remember when I asked you how to get Poppy to stop having a crush on me?”

Alexander leans back in his chair. “What, in middle school?”

“Yeah. Well, she never did get over me. And about a month ago, I was at Charlotte's house. We had a sort of... complicated relationship.”

“Do I really need to hear this?” Alexander laughs, standing to push his son out of the office.

Max stands his ground. “You do. After that, she kicked me out, and said she was done with me. I got really upset and Poppy helped me with that.”

“So you fucked her, and now Charlotte is jealous?”

“No, Dad, just listen to me!” Max's shoulders are tense, his hands balled into fists. “I got them both pregnant, Dad, and now I need help! I need to support Poppy, so I need a job!”

Alexander sits back down, his glass hitting the table hard. “You did what?!”

“I–”

“You did
what
?!” Alexander repeats. His eyes are wide, a vein on his jaw bulging. “You were whoring around, and now you come to me asking for a favor? I raised you better than this, Max!”

“I know I fucked up, Dad! I'm trying to make it right!”

“How about you make it right by growing up and figuring it out for yourself?” Alexander stands back up and grabs Max by his shirt collar, spinning him and forcibly walking his son out of his office. “Get out of here! I don't want you back in this house, not ever again!”

Deep into the night, Poppy drags herself out of bed. Her stomach hurts again, and she knows in a few minutes she'll be sick. Instead of risking having to clean up after herself for the second time that day, she goes into her bathroom and sits on the edge of her tub to wait.

Before her nausea can win over, her phone suddenly starts screaming an old rock song. It's the song her dad used to use to teach her to dance when she was still standing on his toes. Running back into her bedroom, she picks the phone up. “Dad? Are you okay?”

“Of course, dear, I just wanted to chat with you. It's been so long!”

Poppy's dad is a native Irishman, and since divorcing her mother has moved back to the country. He's living with Poppy's grandma, taking care of her and the farm.

“Dad, do you know that it's 4 in the morning here?” Poppy says, rubbing a bit of crust from her eye.

“Oh, hell, it didn't even occur to me. Sorry about that, my love! You don't sound like you were sleeping, though. Were you out partying?”

Poppy sits on her bed. She didn't expect to tell her father about the pregnancy. “No, I felt sick.”

“Oh no! Are you alright? You hardly ever get sick, you usually just pretend to get out of doing work!” He chuckles, and his bright attitude is infectious.

“Actually, I'm pregnant.”

An immediate, loud whoop crackles on the other end. “No way! That's great! When are you due?”

“In August.”

“Ach, a summer pregnancy. That was hell for your mum. I'll have to plan my flight!”

Poppy pauses, her happiness fading. Why did she tell him, if she plans on aborting it? “I'm not sure if you should. I don't know... I don't know if I can keep it, Dad.”

“Hmm,” her father says. She imagines him rubbing the bit of orange stubble on his chin. “Well if you think that's best, I support you. It goes against the Church but I know you aren't religious so I won't bother with that.”

“Thanks.”

“But Poppy, I think you would be a wonderful mum. Don't do anything without really considering it. I know yer own mum wasn't so great to you, and I'm partially to blame for letting you stay there. You take after me, though, in your temperament. You're kinder than she is.” He stops, and then laughs. “Plus, you loved babysitting the neighbors!”

He's right. She smiles as she remembers playing board games and chasing those kids around the house. Still, babysitting is different from being a parent. “I don't know what I'm going to do. What should I do, Dad?”

“I couldn't possibly make that choice for you, but you let me know what you decide and I will support you all the way. If you don't have a baby now, I hope you will one day. Oh, shit-” He pulls the phone away from his face and yells something in Irish. Poppy never learned the language, but she's guessing he's yelling at the chickens to get back in the yard; they try to escape every morning. “Sorry, the chickens are off down the road again. I have to go, but I'll call you soon!”

“Okay! I love you!”

“I love you too! Be strong.”

There's a soft silence on the other end. Poppy's confusion is plain on her face. If her dad thinks she can be a good mother, she has to believe him. But is now the right time?

As if to answer that, her nausea returns. She runs back to the bathroom, just barely making it. Her stomach feels better afterward, but feelings are still vague.

“With Max helping me, I could be a good parent.” Poppy sits down at her dining table, in front of the papers the clinic gave her. She pulls them over, looking at the clip art of tiny babies on the top of the first page. Looking at them makes her feel anxious.

She imagines what the child growing within her might look like. Would it look more like her, or like Max? Would it have her nose, and his lips? Would it have her hair, or his? Imagining the baby as a little girl makes the center of Poppy's chest burn with love.

Placing her hand on her stomach, her heart flutters. Within her is the first thing she's ever created. How could she destroy such a precious gift?

Poppy smiles, rubbing around her belly button and looking out her window. “I'm going to cancel the abortion, Dad.”

Poppy calls the clinic when it opens at 10. She's surprised to hear the secretary's voice full of relief when she says she's canceling her appointment. It makes the red head feel even better about her decision.

Max texts at 11:45 to say he's on his way over. Poppy calls her work to take the day off before tidying up her apartment. She forgets, however, to put the papers from the clinic away.

When Max gets there, he looks tired and wrung out. “You look worse than I expected.”

Max grunts and flops down onto her couch. “I have a problem.”

“Oh no,” Poppy groans, sitting down with him. “What now?”

“I told Dad about you and Charlotte. He kicked me out and cut me off. Jared says he's going to give me money, but I spent the night crashing on his couch. I was wondering if-”

“If you could stay with me?” Poppy finishes. He nods. “I guess it's not the worst thing in the world. You can be here to help out if I get sick or need help getting to work.”

“Thanks,” Max says. “I'll do whatever I can to help out around here. Do you have plans for dinner?”

“Not yet. Do you know how to cook?”

Max nods, a smile twitching at his lips as he fights back a few relieved tears. “My maid taught me a few things when I was a kid. Remember that month where I was out of school?”

“Because you broke half the bones in your body?”

Max laughs, blushing. “It was a bad skiing trip. But yeah, during that month Rosie taught me how to cook burgers and grilled cheese and spaghetti. She even taught me a few casserole dishes. It's probably the most fun I've ever had.”

Max stands up and paces around the room. “Have you seen a doctor yet, about the baby?”

Poppy's nerves fire off. She shakes her head. “No, not yet.” Not aside from the one who was supposed to abort it. Her fingers dance circles around her belly button as her heart flutters at the thought of going through with this pregnancy. “What are you going to do about Charlotte?”

“I don't know. I want to be there for her, too, and help raise that baby. She doesn't want anything to do with me, though, and you know how stubborn she can be. I'll just have to wait and see what happens, which means I get to focus on you.”

The man moves closer to Poppy and places a hand on her stomach. His face softens, and as Poppy watches his green eyes swell with pride her heart begins to melt. She can't stay mad at this boy that she's loved for so long.

“Ah, I have to pee. Could you have a glass of water ready for me when I get out? I'm trying to drink more water. And we should probably go grocery shopping tonight, all I really have is junk food.”

“I have the money for that. Jared said he'll be by sometime this week with a check for me, too.”

Poppy stops, thinking for a moment. “You can't rely on him forever, Max. You need to look for a job.”

Max's jaw clenches, his lips going tight. “I know. I'm going to put in an application a few places online. I brought my laptop over, do you have wifi?”

She tells him that she does, and then goes to the bathroom. When she sits down, she wonders how this all might play out. Maybe Max will come to love her. How might it feel to have him touch her with love, rather than lust? What would his arms feel like, wrapped around her waist? What would his lips feel like, pressed against hers?

Her face goes hot as she shakes herself out of her erotic thoughts.
I'm pregnant. Now isn't the time to be thinking of sex.
Still, her heart is beating hard in her chest and her breath is shallow.

After washing her hands she splashes cold water on her face to refresh her and keep her thoughts from going to the gutter again. “Self control,” she whispers, her eyebrows stitching together. “I need to have self control.” It's never been a virtue she's possessed.

When she comes out of the bathroom, Max is hovering over the table with an empty glass. There's a paper in his other hand and his eyes are full of pain.

“What's wrong?” She asks, coming to touch his shoulder. Then she sees the papers he's holding.
Shit! I left out the clinic papers!

He turns to her, his voice choked. “Are you getting an abortion?”

“I was-”

“You were going to get an abortion? Without talking to me first?!”

“Max!” She slaps the papers out of his hands, throwing them to the floor. “Max, I was scared! I don't know what I'm doing, and I'm still scared! You've met my mother! What if I turn out like her!”

“You won't?”

“How can you know that?”

“Because, Poppy, you always took great care of me. Every time I was sick or heartbroken, you were there for me. You're kind, and you're smart, and even though you're a mess right now you weren't always a mess and you won't always be a mess. You're already a lot more mature.” He takes her hands in his, his warmth radiating throughout her body. “You're going to be a great mother, and I'm going to help you. Please, don't get an abortion.”

“It's fine, though. I already canceled.”

Relief washes over Max's face. He sighs and rubs his mouth, his scruffy beard scratching against his hand. “Thank God.”

“You really want this baby?” Poppy asks, her voice small. Max pulls her in for a hug. His heart beats against his chest and Poppy can feel it thudding against hers. Her red hair tickles his nose.

“Of course I do.” He rubs her back, feeling the stress in her muscles. He finds himself amazed at how good this hug feels and, when she pulls away, how cold his body becomes. “We're both going to do our best. Now, let me get that water for you.” He bites his lower lip, wishing to pull her in for another hug.

Poppy bends over and picks up the clinic papers. She looks at them, studying her shaky signature at the bottom before crumpling the papers up and throwing them away. She might not have all the answers now, but if she and Max works together, she'll be able to find them. She's going to work just as hard as Max to make the miracle within her a happy, healthy baby.