Until Harmony

by Aurora Rose Reynolds

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  “Honey,” I lower my voice in hopes to get through to him, “I’m okay. I’m healing. The doctors have said I’m doing great, but I need to start doing stuff for myself too. Without you hovering over me.”

  “I don’t hover.”

  Oh Lord, here we go. He does hover. I can’t do anything without him standing at my back, watching my every move. “Okay, you don’t hover. I’m just saying I need to do things on my own again.”

  “I don’t hover.”

  Lord, give me patience.

  “You saved me,” I say, and his chin jerks back so I lower my voice even more. “I love you. I know what happened was hard, but you saved me. I didn’t die. I’m living and breathing, and so are you. I want us to get back to normal.”

  “Angel—”

  “Please, Harlen,” I beg. “I want normal back. I need that.”

  “I almost lost you.”

  God, that hurts. No, it kills me, to not only see the pain in his eyes, but to hear it in his voice when he says it.

  “I know, but you didn’t and you won’t.”

  “You need to give me time, baby.”

  “I know,” I agree, because that really is the only thing that is going to help, but at the same time, I want to move on. I don’t want to see him looking at me like I’m going to suddenly disappear right before his eyes, or to wake up at night finding him wide awake, his arms tight around me because he’s afraid I won’t be there if he goes to sleep. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” He leans in, resting his forehead to mine. “More than anything on this earth.”

  Tears start to fill my eyes, and I can’t hold them back as they fall down my cheeks. “How can I help you deal with this?” I ask through the lump in my throat.

  “You breathing is helping me, but I need time to forget how close I came to losing you, to forget what happened. I know I’m a little overbearing right now, and I don’t know when that will stop… or if it will. I still see the look in your eyes when he raised the gun toward you, still feel your body going limp in my arms as I carried you to the ambulance. I don’t know when I will get over that, or if I ever will.”

  Every single one of his words cuts me open, leaving me completely bare. I hate that he was so close to losing me, after already suffering the loss of his parents and knowing what a lifetime without them feels like.

  “I’ll give you time, as much time as you need,” I finally say, watching his eyes close. Moving my hands to his face, I tip my head and press my mouth against his. “It will be okay.”

  “Okay, Angel.”

  “I promise it will be okay,” I whisper against his lips, the same words he said to me, and I pray that he will believe them like I did.

  “Okay, baby.” He kisses my forehead, and I hold onto him then smile when my stomach growls.

  “Now, let me take care of you. What do you want to eat?” he asks, and I look up at him.

  “Takeout?”

  “Of course she wants takeout,” he mutters dryly, and I smack his arm, seeing his lips twitch. “What kind?”

  “Pizza,” I respond immediately then shake my head. “No, Chinese. Wait, no, pizza.” I bite my lip, and he laughs, that sound filling me with the knowledge that we will be all right.

  “How about both?” he suggests, and I smile.

  “All right, dessert pizza and Lo Mein.”

  “I can do that,” he agrees, then his eyes soften, making my stomach melt. “Do you need a pain pill?”

  “No, I’m okay,” I whisper, and he touches his mouth to mine then to my forehead before he stands and heads for the kitchen. Lying back against the arm of the couch, I listen to him place our order, and then I smile when Dizzy jumps up onto the cushion to lie down on my stomach. As I run my fingers through his hair, my mind wanders.

  Two weeks ago, I was released from the hospital, and ever since, then the media has been clamoring for a story. Harlen had to unplug the phone and change our cell numbers, because the calls just wouldn’t stop. Hopefully, they give up soon, but I doubt they will. A woman getting kidnapped is big news. Over fifty women coming forward to admit they had been sexual harassed by Hofstadter, and then forced to quit or be fired when they went to HR about what was happening, was not just big, but huge, especially in our town.

  My dad told me that Dr. Hofstadter was so crazy, so egotistical, that he believed if he got rid of me, his troubles would go away. He didn’t know that his time was already up. There were too many rumors; he had hurt too many women, and his family had run out of ways to cover it up for him. They had been doing it for six years, since the moment he transferred to town.

  Hofstadter didn’t know he was already being looked into by an outside government organization, or that a few of the women he had harassed had gotten together and found a lawyer who was more than happy to take on the biggest hospital in four counties. Obviously, Hofstadter is now dead, but the story did not die with him, nor did the case against the hospital. The board changed members, and the CEO wisely stepped down. But even with that, there was a lot of backlash, and someone would eventually pay for what they allowed to happen and what they tried to cover up.

  I, on the other hand, put in my resignation two days after I was released from the hospital. I’m not giving up my dreams of being a nurse and someday working in an emergency room. I’m just going to find someplace else to work, where I’m not constantly forced to remember how horribly Hofstadter’s family let me, and fifty other women, down. They had the power to stop him from the beginning, but they didn’t. Instead, they fed into his ego and made him believe he was untouchable. And for a while, he was. I wish I could say I’m sorry for him, but I’m not. He tried to kill me, and if Harlen hadn’t been there, he would have done it. Then he probably would have killed Hadley so there weren’t any witnesses.

  “Food will be ready in about thirty minutes. You wanna come with me to pick it up?” Harlen asks, breaking into my thoughts.

  I tip my head back to look at him upside down. “Can we ride your bike?” I ask knowing there is no way I can ride on his bike with him. Not yet anyways.

  “Baby, we can’t carry pizza and Chinese on my bike,” he says, coming to take a seat on the couch and pulling my legs carefully over his lap.

  “Really?” My brows draw together. “Then the first time we hung out, how were you going to get your pizza home?”

  “I wasn’t going home. I was going to your place.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t know that at the time.”

  “I did.”

  “You did?” I frown, and he smiles.

  “Saw you, saw you get out of your car and go into the restaurant, pulled into the lot, parked, and followed you in. I placed my order right after you placed yours, and then I made my move.”

  “Made your move?”

  “Yeah. Evan and Wes had told me that you were in the middle of unpacking, so when I saw you, I knew you probably needed help with that. I figured that would be my way in, and it was.”

  “You told me I looked beat.”

  “Even exhausted, Angel, you’re still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life.”

  “What?”

  “Not only do you have brains, which is sexy as fuck, but your body is unbelievable, those tits and that ass, the fullness of your thighs.” He shakes his head then focuses on me, his eyes roaming my face. “Your face is the stuff of wet dreams. Believe me, before I had you, I had a lot of those about you.”

  “Oh my God,” I laugh, and he grins, resting his hand on my cheek, his thumb skimming over my bottom lip.

  “Even more beautiful when you smile, but the best is when you come.”

  “Okay, you need to stop. You’re turning me on,” I tell him honestly, and he throws his head back, laughing loudly. “Glad you find me amusing.” I roll my eyes, and he laughs louder, and even though his reason for laughing is annoying, I know when I hear that sound that we will totally
be okay.

  Harlen

  Sitting on the back deck of the four-story cabin Nico and Sophie rented in the Smoky Mountains I stare into the house through the glass doors watching Harmony play a board game in the living room with her siblings.

  “It will get easier,” Nico says pulling my attention from his daughter, taking a seat across from me and handing me a beer. “It takes time, but it will get easier. Soon you won’t be constantly thinking about what happened, what could have happened.” “I hope you’re right.” It’s been over three months and it still feels like it was yesterday. There are nights I don’t sleep. I just lay in the dark holding her, listening to her breathe. Days when I can’t get shit done because all I can do is think about her, worry about her. Even knowing she’s safe, that shit still haunts me.

  “Look at my girl,” He lifts his chin to the glass door. “She doesn’t have a care in the world, she knows she’s safe, she knows you made her that way. She knows you have the power to keep her that way.” He says shaking his head, his face softening. “You’ll lose sleep, you’ll lose hours a day thinking about it, but remember when you look at her that she’s good, and eventually you will be too.” He reaches out wrapping his hand around the side of my neck holding it tight, pulling me close. “I couldn’t have chosen better for my girl, you’re a good man Harlen, I didn’t know your parents, but I know they’d be proud of the man you are, proud of the kind of husband you’re going to be to my girl and proud of the kind of father you’ll be to your kids. I know that because down to my fucking soul, I’m fucking proud to call you my son.”

  Fuck my throat gets tight and my eyes start to burn as I hold his gaze. Knowing I have no words to give him to express how I feel, I wrap my hand around the back of his neck, and knock my forehead to his like I used to do to my dad. His eyes close briefly and he does the same back to me before letting me go, having no idea what he just gave me.

  Epilogue

  Harlen

  One Year Later

  “SHE REALLY IS PERFECT FOR YOU.”

  Looking down at my aunt, I see her eyes are focused across the room on Harmony, who’s standing under her dad’s arm smiling at something one of her brothers is saying. Taking her in, my chest gets tight and my stomach fills with pride and possessiveness.

  Three hours ago, I made her my wife at the front of a small church, with friends and close family.

  Three hours ago, she walked down the aisle toward me, her white lace dress skimming her body and flowing out at her waist.

  Three hours ago, I took her hand when her dad entrusted me with her.

  Three hours ago, I realized I had been wrong all the times before, because her face right before she became my wife was the most beautiful I had ever seen her.

  “So perfect for you.”

  My aunt’s words pull me from my thoughts, and I focus on her. “She is,” I agree, as her arms slide around my waist and she tucks herself into my side.

  “Your parents would be proud of you, Harlen Alistair MacCabe. So darn proud of the man you’ve become.” Her words wash through me, and I wrap my arm tighter around her shoulders. “You’ve done good for yourself, kid.”

  “You had a hand in me becoming the man I am,” I tell her, and her body jolts in surprise. Christ, have I never told her that?

  “She’s making you soft.” I hear the tears in her voice, and then see them when she tips her head back to look up at me.

  “Probably,” I agree without a shred of regret, and she laughs, wiping the tears off her cheeks.

  Looking around the room, I take in all the familiar faces, and then my eyes land on the large photo of my parents. Harmony wanted them with us today. I didn’t know she had it planned, but when we walked into the reception hand in hand, I saw that photo and knew that, even without the picture, they were here. In some way or another, they have always been with me. I still miss them every day, but I know they had a hand in me finding the woman I married and the life I live.

  Harlen

  Six Years Later

  Hearing Ava cry through the baby monitor on the nightstand, and feeling Harmony starting to get up, I place my hand against her round stomach to still her. “Stay, I got her.”

  I kiss her bare shoulder then roll out of bed and head out of our room, down the hall to our five-year-old daughter Ava’s room. Seeing her shadowy figure sitting up in bed, I walk across the dark room and flip on her lamp. The base is the head of a unicorn, the shade a soft cotton candy pink that is the same color as pretty much everything else in her bedroom.

  “You okay?” I ask my baby girl, picking her up when she holds her arms out to me, and she shakes her head.

  “There’s a monster.” She sniffles, and I run my hand down the back of her long, soft hair as she tucks her face into my neck and wraps her tiny arms around my shoulders.

  “There’s no monsters in here, baby,” I assure her quietly, feeling her shake.

  “There is. I saw it.” She pulls her face out of my neck to look at me, and then points. “It’s in the closet.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes.” She nods, and I give her a squeeze then kiss her forehead.

  “Okay, let me get my sword.” I go across the room with her still in my arms and pick up the plastic silver sword leaning against the wall by the door. Taking hold of the hilt, I whisper, “You open the door to the closet, and I’ll kill him.”

  Nodding, she leans over and opens the door to the closet then quickly tucks her face into my neck. Like I do at least a few times a week, I swing out the sword, making grunting noises, spinning around and dancing, and then finish with a downward plunge into the imaginary monster’s chest.

  “There. He’s gone,” I say, and Ava lifts her head and looks around the room then peeks into the closet. “See? All taken care of.”

  “Thank you, Daddy.” God, no matter how many times a day I hear her call me that, it never gets old.

  “You’re welcome, baby. You ready to get back into bed?”

  “Yes.” She nods. Dropping the sword back to its spot by the door, I carry her to her bed and lay her down, pulling the blankets up around her shoulder and kissing the top of her head. “Is tomorrow doughnut day?” she asks, sounding already half asleep.

  I grin. “Yeah, baby. Tomorrow’s doughnut day.”

  “Yippie,” she whispers, as her eyes slide closed.

  “See you in the morning.” I kiss her hair once more, turn out her lamp, and then head across her dark room. Climbing back into bed with Harmony, I fit myself against her back and rest my hand over our soon-to-arrive second daughter.

  “Harlen Alistair MacCabe, the Scottish lord and slayer of monsters,” she says, and even though I can’t see her face through the dark, I know she’s smiling.

  “Do anything for my girls.”

  “We know.” She scoots back, cuddling closer.

  “Sleep, Angel.”

  “Still so bossy,” she mumbles, sounding like she’s still smiling.

  Ignoring her comment, I kiss the top of her head then listen to her breathing even out as she falls back asleep.

  Harmony

  Four Years Later

  “No, it’s mine!” Ava cries, holding a pink-frosted sprinkled doughnut over her head, just out of her little sister’s reach.

  “No, I want it!” our daughter, Lillian, yells, standing on her tiptoes trying to reach the doughnut but failing, since she’s about a foot and a half too short.

  “How about neither of you get it?” Harlen growls, and I look down at our six-week-old son Alistair to hide my smile from our girls.

  “Dad, that’s not fair! I saw it first,” Ava says, and I’m sure if I looked up at her, she would be jetting out her bottom lip in a pout, a look she has perfected over the years. A look that normally gets her whatever she wants from her daddy. I also know she’s lying. When Harlen came home and dropped the box of donuts on the table, both girls opened the box at the same time, and both of them reached for that doughnut
at the same time. Ava just got to it first.

  “Give me the doughnut, Ava,” he orders, and I look up just in time to watch him hold out his hand and her place it in his upturned palm.

  “Daddy,” Lillian whispers in horror, as he shoves the whole thing in his mouth and swallows it without really even chewing.

  “Now it’s gone. Pick another one, stop arguing, and go watch TV,” he orders, and I hold back laughter, because he’s seriously funny when he’s trying to be tough. Something he’s not very good at being with his babies.

  “Need some milk, honey?” I ask, and his eyes come to me and narrow. “What? Just asking.” I bite my lip, and his eyes drop to my mouth then down to our son that is attached to my breast, where he’s enjoying his Saturday breakfast. When his eyes meet mine again, I see frustration there. Then again, he hasn’t gotten laid for over six weeks. I just got word from the doctor that the seal could finally be broken a couple of days ago, but with the girls and a new little one, we haven’t had a chance, so he’s not the only one who’s frustrated.

  “Did you eat?” he questions, and I shake my head. “Angel, you need to eat.” He comes to me, taking Alistair when I lift him off my breast, then bends to kiss me. Hearing the doorbell ring, he leans back to look at me, ordering, “Eat something. I’ll get the door.” Kissing my forehead, he carries Alistair toward the front door, patting his back.

  I listen to the door open, and then hear the sound of my dad and mom greeting Harlen. My face softens as my dad says something that makes Harlen laugh while the girls run through the house—a house we bought after Lillian was born—both of them yelling for their grandma and grandpa. Hearing all that, I smile to myself, get up, and head to the kitchen to make myself something to eat.

  ***

  “Honey,” I whimper against Harlen’s ear eight hours later, and his fingers that had been playing lazily between my legs speed up.

  “Do not wake the kids,” he orders gruffly, and I bite my lip.