She came to a stop at Comedy and found the films she was looking for immediately. Poor Little Rich Girl. Curly Top. Baby Take a Bow. Her eyes began to mist. These were three of her all time favorites.
Harker loved Shirley Temple. Loved her so much that she named her daughter Shirley. It had been the realization of a life long dream.
Dr. Julie Harker was born to be a mother. In her earliest memories, she'd always had a doll. Something to feed, and change, and talk to. Something that loved her as much as she loved it. In Julie's childhood her dolls were real babies, and she was the perfect Mama.
She knew the psychology behind it. She knew the reasons she had such a strong maternal urge. Both of Julie's parents had been unfit. Alcoholics. Abusers. They never should have had children. Kids were supposed to be a joy. But in Harker's house, she had been a burden.
“You're so fat and ugly,” she could remember her father saying over and over. “We'll never be able to marry you off. We'll be stuck with you forever.”
Not if Julie could help it. She knew she wasn't attractive, even if her parents hadn't reminded her of the fact constantly. Besides her weight problem and somewhat masculine features, Julie was painfully shy. She went through four years of high school without a friend or a date. But there was more to life than looks.
Julie Harker graduated at the top of her class, and had her pick of colleges. Medical school was tough, and her poor people skills were an obstacle, but Julie's saving grace was her way with children. She joined a pediatric practice after her internship, but that was only half of the equation. She still needed to have a child of her own.
With the tapes nestled safely under her arm, Harker left Purple 8 and returned to her room. She put Curly Top in the VCR and hit REWIND. Then she turned off the lights and undressed.
Samhain wasn't so bad, she decided. Compared to that month of sheer hell she spent in prison, this place was almost pleasant. True, it would never be like it was, raising Shirley and Shirley.
Harker frowned as the memory returned. The first Shirley had been hers. Julie had planned it carefully. She'd considered artificial insemination, but was leery about the honesty of the donors. Several times she went to bars, hoping to get picked up, but the men who hit on her didn't have the kind of genes she wanted passed on to her child.
She finally settled on her neighbor's son. He was seventeen, gawky and inexperienced, but from good stock. Her first attempts at seduction were laughable, but she lucked out one night when his parents weren't home, and after sharing a bottle of wine they did the deed.
Nine months later, Shirley was born. There were complications; profuse bleeding that resulted in a full hysterectomy, but Shirley was perfect. Her daughter was beautiful, actually physically beautiful, and Julie Harker was happy beyond all expectations.
For seven wonderful months, Harker raised Shirley. It was the greatest time in her life. Shirley healed every scar Harker had retained from her upbringing. She was a dream come true.
The autopsy report called it SIDS. Sudden infant death syndrome. Sometime during the night, Shirley had stopped breathing. When Harker found her in the morning, she was blue.
Dr. Julie Harker thought she handled the situation very well. Being a pediatrician, she easily gained admission to the hospital's nursery. She'd just lost a child, and could never give birth to another, so why shouldn't she have a replacement? Julie was born to be a mother. It wasn't fair that she was denied her birthright.
The second Shirley was actually named Jennifer. She was four days old when Harker smuggled her out of the hospital. That same day she fled the country, finding work as a nurse in Canada. She'd had this Shirley for almost a year, raising her and loving her as much as she had the first Shirley, before the authorities found her.
They came for her while she was nursing. She saw the police car outside. She knew they’d try to take Shirley away from her.
Harker couldn’t allow that.
She ran out the back door, Shirley wrapped in a blanket, ran into the woods with the police right behind her. She was hysterical, frantic, and never saw the branch she tripped over.
When Harker fell, she landed on top of Shirley.
After being extradited to the United States, she was tried and convicted of kidnaping and second-degree murder.
Prison almost destroyed Julie. She'd lost two kids in a ten month period, and the grief consumed her. Prison was worse than school, with the teasing and harassment. Julie was attacked many times, and her mental state flip-flopped between constant grief and terror.
President Reagan's call was a blessing.
Harker had been in the prison infirmary, recovering from a botched suicide attempt. Reagan had made it very clear that he didn't like Harker, or the things she'd done, and didn't care one way or the other what happened to her. But he offered Harker a choice. She could either carry out her life sentence in prison, or at a fully equipped secret facility in New Mexico, looking after the daily health of a research team.
Harker made the obvious decision. The VCR stopped and Harker pressed PLAY, then she curled up in bed to watch the video.
Yes, Samhain was a prison of sorts, and yes, she would probably die here, but life could be worse. And maybe, now that Bub was talking, the project would end. Maybe, after over twenty years of service, Harker would get a reprieve. There was always hope.
“Hello, Shirley,” Harker said as the movie began, the tears starting to flow. “Sing a song for Mama.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
After her shower, Sun put on a pair of blue jeans and a snug black top with a V-neck. She spent ten minutes on her hair and make-up, and another two minutes searching for perfume before she remembered she didn’t own any.
“It’s just a game of pool,” she said to her reflection.
Then she brushed her teeth.
Purple 5 had more to offer than just pool. It was a fully equipped game room, complete with darts, foosball, ping pong, and an old Asteroids arcade game. Andy was at the table, rolling a cue across the slate to make sure it wasn’t warped. He wore tan Dockers and a striped shirt, untucked with the sleeves rolled up. His hair was still wet from the shower.
Looking at him, Sun felt her stomach do little flip-flops. She silently cursed her hormones. This wasn’t the time, or the place, to start a relationship.
It doesn’t have to be a relationship, the little voice in her head told her. It can just be sex.
She told the little voice to shut up.
“What’s your game,” Andy asked. “Eight ball or nine ball?”
“I prefer nine. Lag for the break?”
“Sure. Double or nothing, right?
“Right. Two thousand dollars.”
“Or two kisses.”
Andy winked at her.
After selecting a stick from the rack and chalking the tip, Sun stood next to Andy and they both placed a cue ball on the table. Lagging was an art form. The trick was to bounce the cue ball off the far rail and have it return back. The one who got it closest to the near rail without touching won the break. Sun’s parents had a pool table, and she grew up with the game. She hadn't played in a few years, but once she slid the stick onto the bridge of her fingers it all came back to her.
“Ready?”
Andy nodded.
Sun won the lag.
“You’re a few inches short,” she teased.
“I’m not sure how I should reply to that.”
Sun used the triangle to rack the balls, leaving a perfect nine ball diamond pattern on the table. She put her whole body into the break, getting good separation and sinking the 4.
“Nice,” Andy said. “Where did you learn to break like that?”
“I played the pro circuit for a while.”