Harkham's Corner (Harkham's Series Book 3)

by Lowell, Chanse

  “Who knows. She seemed to find ways to get money when she needed it.” He swung his arm around her back and held her tight to his side.

  His dad said a few things through unshed tears, and they all left quieter than they came.

  They were relieved Megan was still asleep when they left.

  “You didn’t have anything to say to your sister?” Mari asked Zach quietly.

  “No. Nothing’s changed. Some things are unforgivable, and I can’t even think about what she did to you guys,” Zach answered. “Lorraine can’t either. That’s why she refuses to come here.” He had his hand resting on Megan’s center, suggesting she probably woke up at some point and he had to comfort her until he could persuade her to go back to sleep.

  Their daughter was a light sleeper, unlike Zach’s who could sleep through a tornado.

  Or Zach’s snoring, which was worse—louder and more damaging.

  * * *

  Dinner ended, and Adam ran his finger over his phone.

  “If I do this, you’ve gotta promise me you’ll help me deal with an episode, because I’m pretty sure one will be triggered if I spend any kind of time with them,” Adam said. His eyes dug deep into hers.

  “Is that what’s really been stopping you? They’re the ones that brought the numbers on, so you’re worried they’ll bring them back in full force?”

  “Well, yeah, I . . . Hell, I don’t know.” He chugged his soda down.

  Mari stroked his thigh.

  “I can’t believe they live so close to us. Don’t you think that’s a good sign, like they were holding out hope to be a part of your life again?” Mari’s eyes were like soft pools of love.

  “I don’t know. Mom contacted Zach, but he ignored her.” He shrugged and burped. The soda went down too fast.

  She kissed him at the corner of his mouth, cupped his jaw and wiped away the moisture she’d left behind with the pad of her thumb.

  There was a sort of humming sound.

  It wasn’t until she gave him a light nudge that he realized that sound was coming from him.

  His tongue was numb, and his fingers ached from keeping them in a tight ball.

  He stepped out of the car and walked slowly up to the front door of their small home.

  “They might want to meet their grandchild,” he told himself, quickening his pace.

  But they’ve never really tried . . . Have they?

  He frowned and pounded on that door, making his hand sting.

  The door opened, and his mom stood there slack-jawed. “Adam, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, I came because . . . Well, Mari said I should, and she knows better. More than you or Samara or even my dad—my real dad—Dustin. He’s smart. I hope I can be a good doctor like him someday.”

  She grinned. “Come on in.”

  “No, thanks. I’m comfortable here.” Adam took a step to the side to see if he could gaze down her hallway and take in more of her house.

  “Sarah, who’s at the door?” Thomas called.

  “It’s . . . him,” she said in a breathy way.

  “What?” Thomas came sliding down the hall in socks and wearing some kind of workout clothes. He was sweaty, and his hair was darker because it was wet with perspiration.

  “It’s Adam,” she said, holding the door open wider.

  “I’m here because you’re grandparents. Mari thought you might want to at least see your granddaughter. And Mari’s due at the end of this semester. We’re hoping she goes over her due date so she can finish up her student teaching,” he blurted. He dipped his head and bit his cheeks. It probably wouldn’t help to keep him quiet.

  His leg jerked a little with nerves.

  “We’d love to meet her. Is she close by?” Thomas asked.

  Adam’s teeth clenched tight. “I’d rather have Mom see her first, and then if that goes well, then you can come out and see her. She’s in the car with Mari, asleep in her car seat. She’s almost two and a half.”

  “I heard—your Dad told me,” his mom said.

  “You’re talking to Dustin?”

  “Only because he wondered if I wanted to be there for your visit to the cemetery, but I didn’t think you’d want me there,” she admitted. “So we opted to stay home.” She left out the part about how Adam decked Thomas a few years ago at the funeral.

  “It’s not like she’s gonna move, ya know? You can always see Samara anytime you want to,” Adam said, sounding a little rude. He couldn’t help it. It made him short-tempered to see her smiling like she was happy to see him after all they’d done to him.

  “Can I say one thing?” Thomas asked.

  “I guess, if you make it quick,” Adam said with a little groan.

  “I’m sorry for everything—you have no idea how much I regret the way I raised you and how little time we had together.” Thomas tucked his chin into his chest and swallowed like a lump was blocking his air passage. He wheezed.

  “Stop smoking. It’s bad for you, and as a singer, you should know better.” Adam knew that whistling sound in his throat because Mari sounded like that when she used to smoke and was in desperate need of one.

  “I’m trying,” Thomas said.

  “No—don’t try. Do it. If you want to be around my kids, you’re not smoking anywhere near them!” Adam huffed, his eyes feeling swollen they hurt so much.

  His heart expanded in his ribcage.

  What had he offered him just now without thinking—a chance to make things better and be involved with Adam’s own kids? Could he trust this man ever to be around his little ones?

  What in the hell was he thinking? Damn his mouth!

  His nostrils flared as he exhaled. He’d deal with that later and talk to Mari about it. She’d know what to do.

  “Okay, Mom. Come see her,” Adam said and stepped away from the door.

  She had to jog after him because he kept a steady pace, and her legs were so short compared to his.

  “Keep quiet. She’s a light sleeper, and it takes a long time to get her down,” Adam said.

  When they got to the car, the windows were rolled down.

  His mom’s hands cupped over her mouth and tears burst out of her eyes. “She’s so precious,” she said, muffled. “Looks so much like you and your father.”

  He looked away. Not like that man. Only like me!

  “Hi, there, sweet girl,” she cooed, and before he could stop her, that hand of hers was inside the window and she was stroking her cheek. “I’m your grandma, and I love you so much.”

  “You don’t even know her,” he said.

  “I don’t have to, to love her—she’s of my own flesh and blood,” his mom answered and pulled her hand back.

  Megan slept through it.

  Mari waved at his mother, and she did the same back.

  “All right—you’ve seen her. Send him out before I change my mind and we drive off.” Adam jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “But if he touches her, I’ll shove a stick down his throat and destroy what’s left of his vocal cords.” Stupid cigarettes were already doing that job in a slow, methodical way.

  His mom jogged off to go get that man.

  Adam stretched his long arm through the passenger’s window and grabbed Mari’s hand.

  “This is hard,” he told her quietly.

  “I know, sweetie, but you’re handling it so well. It’ll be worth it. You’ll see . . .” Her eyes were filled with love and pride.

  “For you—I’d do anything, including deal with this man.” He let go of his wife and smiled.

  “Oh, wow . . . Thank you for letting me see her,” Thomas said, sneaking up behind him.

  “Don’t touch her. Look, but that’s all.” Adam’s head followed his every move as he put his hands at his sides.

  “I won’t. I’ll be good.” Thomas smirked.

  Adam was hit with deja vu. His dad said that to him on more than one occasion—to look and nothing more, and Adam’s answer had always been that he’d be good. H
e rarely succeeded.

  “Yeah, right.” Adam snorted and leaned up against the car, taking on a comfortable position and spot while he monitored him.

  “She’s got the fingers of a piano player,” Thomas remarked.

  “She’s got the fingers of a girl with a mind of her own. I’m not going to push her to be anything she doesn’t want to be.”

  “You’ve changed so much, Adam.” Thomas stood tall.

  Adam had a few inches over him, but not much.

  Not like Dustin. They were at eye-level with each other and with a similar type of build.

  “How would you know? You don’t even know me anymore.” Adam’s eyes looked past him—over his head. This man was stupid if he thought he knew anything at all about his son from forever ago.

  “I’ve listened to the things your mom has said, and also to Dustin. They said you used to sound almost immature when you talked—like an emotionally stunted boy. But you’re not a boy at all. You’re a man—a man I’m proud to call my son.”

  “Don’t say that,” Adam said through gritted teeth. His jaw flexed.

  “Then what should I say? That I regret every day how I hurt you, and how I lost years I can never get back with my family? That I killed a child—the only other person I’ve ever loved as much as Sarah? And that somehow, against the odds, he became a much better man than I’ll ever be, without my guidance or help. Do you know what it’s like to kill a baby?”

  No! Because I’d never, ever do that. I’m not like you!

  Thomas grabbed his arm.

  Adam hunched over—the numbers whipping through his mind. He covered his ears and tried to hum.

  The hand released him.

  “Stop it. You’re hurting him,” Mari said, and he heard her get out of the car.

  His dad curled up next to Adam so he was right next to his ear. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to kill a child and know you destroyed who they were? And all because I was such a junkie and such a piss-poor father I had no idea how to deal with you or my wife, or how to help you? All I wanted to do was to protect you, but I didn’t know what I was doing, and I can’t ever take any of it back. I drank until I couldn’t remember any of my family’s names. But I’m through with it. I’m not that man anymore, wallowing and self-obsessed. I’m sorry, and I love you.”

  “Adam, get in the car, sweetheart.” Mari’s hands were guiding his shoulders toward the car. The door opened, and somehow he was placed inside.

  She had a few words with Thomas outside the car and then Adam was being driven away, the numbers eating his brain raw until Megan woke up and said, “Daddy!”

  Then he could see his own world again—the one he’d created for himself without that man back there.

  * * *

  Mari was really quiet all night long, and she turned away from him when he reached out to stroke her belly.

  “What’s wrong?” He nuzzled his nose into her damp hair. He loved it when she showered right before bed.

  “Nothing,” she said.

  “Tell me,” he insisted.

  She heaved herself over so she was facing him. “One of the things I love about you is how honest you are.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He stared without blinking. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I feel like you somehow lied to your—to Thomas today.”

  He grimaced. “I never lied to that man.”

  “Adam—did you listen to anything he said at all?”

  “Not really. I didn’t want to hear his excuses. He was the reason I suffered.” He grabbed a piece of damp hair and twirled it in his fingers.

  She pulled it away, cupped his jaw, forcing him to look at her. “He said he killed a baby, meaning you. He was a junkie.”

  “Yeah? So?”

  Her eyes lifted, then sunk low. “That doesn’t sound familiar to you?”

  “Not really.” His chest tightened, and he wondered if this was what it felt like to be a smoker for years on end—because no matter how hard he tried to drag in air, it was like it fought against his lungs.

  She hooked her thumb into her chest. “That’s me. He was describing all the horrible nightmares I went through. Only you forgave me.”

  “Yeah, because you didn’t do all those rotten things to me.”

  “Oh, I see how it is . . . This is an exclusive club, where really I’m forgiven because you didn’t know the person. What if I had killed Zach’s baby, Jill? What then?”

  “I don’t know . . . I have to th—”

  “And what if I ran away because I could barely live with myself, and the drugs weren’t enough to dull the pain? Not only would I have harmed a kid, but one of the parents, too. He loves your mom more than anything—that’s plain to see. You won’t even consider just listening to what else he has to say?” She licked her lips. “He loves you—that’s plain to see, too. He knew it might hurt you today, that you might have an episode, but he came out there anyway.”

  He grabbed her shoulder and shook it a little as he said, “Don’t you see? That was him being selfish—he doesn’t care about me at all.”

  “Then why come out there if he didn’t care about you? If he didn’t care about you, then it stands to reason he doesn’t care about Meg either.” She brushed his hand off her and turned back over with great difficulty.

  “Your dad’s an older version of me, but less disgusting, because he did it without having sex with tons of people to get a hold of the mind-numbing drugs he needed.”

  “Don’t be like this,” he pleaded, tugging at her shoulder.

  She rolled her arm to get him off.

  “Night,” she said with a sniff.

  He knew that sound. She was crying.

  He snuggled up to her, kissed with light presses all over her back, shoulder, arm and the nape of her neck.

  Somehow she let him make love to her with a slow, caring pace.

  He told her over and over how he loved and adored her, and he would’ve forgiven her no matter who she harmed.

  It was easy to say that because she hadn’t actually harmed anybody.

  But at one point, you thought she had, and it didn’t matter to you . . .

  His stomach didn’t sit right with that thought drilling into him.

  Mari slept soundly next to him, all worn-out from making love to him and from the emotional release that accompanied the physical one.

  He swung his legs out of bed without making a sound, grabbed his phone and padded out into the living room.

  Choppy was right behind him.

  He dialed the number with shaking hands, and with his breath in his curled up toes. His fingers were ice.

  “Hi . . . Adam?” Thomas answered.

  Two words he had given his mom repeated in his head. “I’m listening.” Adam exhaled. “This time I’m really ready. So, tell me . . .”

  “I can only begin to share a little of the pain, because it’s so deep and never ending. It’ll never go away. All I knew was that every day, I was never good enough. Does that make sense?”

  Adam smiled. It was small, but it was there. “I know exactly what that feels like, and it makes so much sense it makes it easier to hear you.”

  “This isn’t gonna be pretty,” Thomas warned.

  Adam gripped his neck with his free hand. “I married somebody that means more to me than anything, and she knows exactly how you feel. She’s strong and beautiful, and I think that’s probably how Mom sees you, too. Share with me the why, and I’ll share with you the hows—on the way I can love and forgive . . .”

  Chapter 2

  6 months later…

  Adam shifted in his seat, staring at the baby.

  “How are we supposed to deal with this?” Mari asked him, staring out the window.

  “I don’t know.” Adam shook his head and grabbed blindly for her hand.

  His heart was in his throat.

  “Maybe I should take the wheel.” Her voice was soft.

  He ran his h
ands across the top and then squeezed at the center. He closed his eyes and gulped in as much air as he could. His pulse was in his ears, and he could barely . . .

  The square root of—

  “Adam . . . Just stop, honey. Let go. You’re hurting yourself.”

  He barely heard her. The numbers swirled in black and white.

  “Okay.” But his breathing was ragged, and it wasn’t okay.

  The numbers grew bigger.

  “Ahhhhhh! No! Stop!” He smacked his forehead and clenched his teeth tight.

  Why was this happening? Not again!

  It had been a year since he’d had an episode.

  “Sweetheart, I’m getting out of the car now. I’m going over to your side, and I’m going to collect you out of the car, okay?”

  “No!” He opened his eyes and they narrowed at her. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit! I’m a grown man. I can drive my own damn car!”

  Soft smacking noises from the baby alerted him to his foul language.

  He cringed. “Sorry, Button.”

  That’s what he called him, because he had a button nose.

  Mari smiled. “Byron’s fine.”

  “I can do this. I can do this,” he chanted, squeezing the wheel tighter.

  Cars whizzed past them.

  “I’m calling Amelia,” she said, pulling out her phone.

  He snatched it out of her hands and slammed it into the foot-well behind his seat.

  “No! I can’t take it when she looks at me that way, like she expected this. No one should expect me to endanger my family!” Dr. Harkham was not the answer. He didn’t need her.

  “Adam, it’s okay. She understands. She’s not judging you.” Her eyes softened. She stroked his arm.

  “Call it what you want. She expects me to have relapses, and I don’t do that. I can’t do that. I’m your husband, and I’m a man.” He turned his head to stare out the window.

  Men drove by with their women riding in the passenger’s seat. No one look terrified. Their wives or girlfriends weren’t gripping the seat for dear life.

  Mari trusted him, and he screwed up.