Jarod returned the following day at three, just as promised. He reached her door and knocked. Nia answered the door.
"Jarod, please come in," she smiled.
"Thank you." He entered into her house; it was just as he had remembered, but most of the furnishings were different. As he removed his jacket, a portrait on the mantelpiece caught his eye. It was a picture of Nia and another man. She was wearing a white gown. Jarod moved closer to look at the picture; his heart ached when he realized it was a wedding picture.
"That's my husband Eduardo," Nia said, as if sensing his thoughts.
"Oh," was all Jarod could say. After a short silence, he asked, "Is that what you wanted me to know about?"
"No, not exactly," she answered hesitantly. She rubbed her hands together nervously. "There's someone I want you to meet." She held out her hand to him. He moved forward and gave her his hand. She led him into the kitchen. A little boy sat at the table, writing on a piece of paper. He looked to be about four or five years old. He had olive skin like Nia. And there was also something familiar about his face, but Jarod couldn't quite figure it out.
"Jarod, I want you to meet my son Carlos," she said. She tapped the boy's shoulder. "Mijo, hay alguien aqui quien yo quiero que conoscas." They boy looked up at Jarod and smiled.
"Hello, my name is Carlos," the boy said pleasantly.
"Hi, Carlos. I'm Jarod," Jarod smiled. "What are you doing?"
"Homework," Carlos answered. "It's math." Jarod glanced at the paper Carlos was working on; it was full of addition and subtraction exercises, probably first or second grade level.
"Carlos, honey, can you finish your homework upstairs? I need to talk to Jarod alone," Nia said.
"OK, Mami. It was nice to meet you," Carlos said politely. The boy picked up his homework and pencil, and left the kitchen. As he walked out, Jarod noticed that Carlos had a small mole underneath his right eye.
"He seems like a wonderful child," Jarod commented.
"He is," Nia agreed. "And very smart. He's already in first grade."
"How old is he?"
"He's four. He'll be five at the end of September," Nia replied. Jarod sat down; the pieces of the puzzle started coming together. He gasped.
"Nia, is he…"
"Yes, Jarod, he's your son."
"Oh my god…"
"That night in the mountains," she began. "We were both vulnerable…" She trailed off, not knowing what else to say.
"I am so sorry," he whispered. Tears formed in his eyes. He had impregnated a woman, and abandoned her. "I left you alone to raise a child. My child! Please forgive me." He held her hand pleadingly.
"No, Jarod. It's all right," she assured him. "I have Eduardo now, and he's been so good to Carlos. He accepted him as his own son."
"Thank God," Jarod exhaled. "Please, tell me more about him." Nia sat down across from Jarod, and began to describe her son in great detail. She spoke fondly and proudly of her son as only a mother could. Carlos was so smart, she said, that his teachers let him skip kindergarten and start first grade right away. They wanted to promote him as far as third grade, but Nia refused. She was concerned that being around older children would overwhelm him, so she insisted that he be with others a little closer to his age. He had adjusted well, and even made a few friends. He enjoyed learning new things, and was a superb artist. Jarod relished every detail; at the same time he could feel his heart break at having missed so much.
"And that's it so far," Nia finished.
"Thank you," Jarod said. As he thought about the boy, a fearful realization came over him. The Centre could not find out about Carlos. If they ever found out that Jarod had sired a prodigy, they would surely take him. He prayed they didn't already know. "Nia, I need you to be careful with Carlos."
"What? But I am."
"No, very careful. Do you remember those people I told you about, who took me as a child?" Nia thought for a moment.
"Yes, I do remember," she answered slowly.
"They took my knowledge and exploited it. If they find out about Carlos, they'll take him too."
"Oh my god!" she gasped. "What should I do?"
"How long have you and Eduardo been married?"
"Um… Two years."
"From now on, tell people you've been married for six years."
"But Jarod…"
"It's OK, I'll take care of it," Jarod assured her. "Explain the situation to Eduardo. If he—" Jarod paused. "If he really loves Carlos as his own son, he'll agree to this."
"We'll probably have to leave town and get new jobs, but it'll be all right," Nia said. "Thank you for coming, Jarod."
"I have to go," Jarod said sadly. "Please let me say good-bye to him."
"Yes." They exited the kitchen and headed to the living room. "Carlito! Come downstairs; come say good-bye to our guest!" she called from the bottom of the stairs. As they waited for Carlos to come downstairs, Jarod looked at the mantelpiece again. He noticed the small wooden music box he had given her. He picked it up and opened it; no music played.
"I wore it out," Nia admitted sheepishly. "I listened to that silly 'Three Stooges' tune over and over again. It reminded me of you." They both chuckled. Carlos came down the stairs.
"Jarod is leaving now; say good-bye."
"Good-bye, Jarod. It was very nice to meet you," he said smiling. "Can I give you a hug?"
"Sure," Jarod smiled. He held his son in his arms, wishing he could never let go. "Good-bye, Carlos." Words failed Jarod. There was so much he wanted to say, but felt it would be best not to let the boy catch on. "It… It was very nice to meet you, too." He let go, and looked at Nia. He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Adios."
"Adios, Jarod," she whispered emotionally. He walked out the door, and waved at Nia and his son.