Vision by Dean Koontz Page A

to find parents now. Who would want kids as big as us?”
    “Be serious,” she said.
    He stared at her for a long moment, then put down his spoon without eating the spumoni on it. “You really mean you and me ... adopting a child?”
    She was encouraged by the wonder in his voice. “We’ve talked about having a family,” she said.
    “And since I’ll never be able to have a baby of my own...”
    “But maybe you will.”
    “No, no,” she said. “The doctor made that very clear to me.”
    “Doctors have been known to be mistaken.”
    “Not this time,” she said, almost too softly to be heard.
    “There’s too much wrong ... inside of me. I’ll never have a baby, Max. Never.”
    “Adoption ...” Max thought about it while he sipped his coffee. Gradually he began to grin. “Yeah. It would be nice. A cute little baby girl.”
    “I was thinking about a little boy.”
    “Well, sure as hell this is one thing we can’t compromise on.”
    “We can,” she said quickly. “We’ll adopt a girl and a boy.”
    “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”
    “Oh, Max, you really do like the idea. I can tell. We could talk to an adoption agency this week. And if—”
    “Hold on,” he said, his smile fading. “We’ve been married only four months. We should take our time, get to know each other and ourselves better than we do. Then we’ll be ready for children.”
    She didn’t hide her disappointment. “How long will that take?”
    “It’ll take as long as it takes. Six months ... a year.”
    “Look, I know you. You know me. We love each other and we like each other. We’ve got intelligence, common sense, and loads of money. What else do we need to be good parents?”
    “We need to be at peace with ourselves, in ourselves,” he said.
    “You don’t fight anymore. You’re at peace with yourself.”
    “I’m only halfway there,” he said. “And you’ve got things to face, too.”
    Defiantly, although she knew the answer, she said, “Like what?”
    “You’ve got to face up to what happened twenty-four years ago, remember what you’ve refused to remember ... every detail of the beating you took ... everything about what that man did to you when you were six years old. Until you come to terms with that, you’ll continue to have the nightmares. You’ll never know real peace of mind until those memories are confronted and exorcised.”
    She tossed her head, throwing her long hair over her shoulders. “I don’t have to face what happened then to be a good parent now.”
    “I think you do,” he said.
    “But Max, there are so many kids without homes, without hope or a future. Right now we could give two of them—”
    He squeezed her hand. “You’re playing Atlas again. Mary, I understand you. There’s more love in you than in anyone I’ve ever known. You want to share it ; that’s the meaning of you. And I promise you’ll have the opportunity. But adoption is a big step. We’ll take it only when we’re ready.”
    She couldn’t get angry. She smiled and said, “I’ll wear you down. I promise.”
    He sighed. “You probably will.”
     
 
Mary didn’t like to drive fast. When she was nine years old her father died in an accident. She’d been in the car when it happened. To her, the automobile was a treacherous machine.
    As a passenger, she endured high speeds only when Max was at the wheel. With him in command, she was able to relax and even to feel exhilarated as the scenery whipped past her window. Max was her guardian. He watched over her and protected her. It was inconceivable that anything bad could happen to her when she was with him.
    He took great pleasure in handling the Mercedes at speeds that tested his skills and his ability to avoid police detection. He enjoyed the car as much as he did his gun collection ; and when he drove, he was as single-minded as when he made love. On a long, uncrowded straight stretch of freeway, with all his attention riveted on the car