Harkham's Case (Harkam's #1)

by Chanse Lowell

  She’d rather go back and bury herself next to Megan than say those cruel words.

  Adam knocked on the door for her before she could catch her breath.

  “It’s gonna be all right,” he told her.

  Her head snapped toward him, her eyes flashing with liquid fear as tears began to gush. “How?”

  “Because Megan will help you know what to say. She wants you to be better, just like I do.” He kissed the corner of her mouth and wiped it away with the pad of his thumb, the way she had for him so many times.

  The door creaked open, and there stood Owen in some khaki shorts and a wife-beater.

  “Mah-reee?” His voice was barely able to string her name together—it was so stilted and broken, it sounded like he was falling and begging for help.

  “Yeah, I’m . . . I’m here,” she said with a shadow of a smile. “And I’m . . .” Adam put his arm around her back, settled his hand on her waist and squeezed. “I’m so sorry for what I did. I wanted you to know that.”

  “She misses your daughter, and she bought her a teddy bear that she had wanted to give her at the funeral,” Adam added.

  “Why didn’t you come?” Owen asked her, his face contorting with anguish and his lips trembling. “We waited for you. We waited a whole thirty minutes, but still . . . You didn’t come.”

  Tears ran like raging floods down her cheeks. “You what?”

  “We waited and waited. We all wanted you there so you could get closure. I was worried sick about you—and then you avoided us all. Were we that horrible to be around? We tried to be there for you,” Owen said, then lurched forward and grabbed her into a giant hug.

  Adam joined in. “See? They love you!”

  “No . . . I . . . My dad said you had forbidden me to go,” she said as she sobbed. “That you couldn’t stand the sight of me.”

  “That was my dad saying that crap. And he didn’t mean it. He was so drunk off his ass when your dad visited—he didn’t know what he was saying.” Owen sighed and laughed through his tears. “All this time you thought we despised you?” He pulled away and cupped her cheeks with her hair between his hands and her face. The strands were damp from tears.

  “Well, I . . . Yeah,” she admitted, biting her lip after.

  “Damn, girl. You know it wasn’t your fault at all. I’m the one. I told you before we left to ignore her after you put her in the crib. And if I hadn’t been so adamant about Meg learning to self-soothe, she’d be alive today.” He stepped back and wrapped his arms around his torso. “The ironic thing is, we can’t seem to have any more kids. It took a long time before we even wanted to try again, but once we did, nothing occurred. We didn’t plan to have Meg—she just happened, like a blessing that fell straight out of the sky into our laps. She changed everything in our life. Everything. There were times I resented her—my stolen youth and wildness. Now I’d give anything to relive those twelve months with her, but without the drugs and partying. I’d do more with her, watch her little smile when I made goofy faces at her, enjoy her giggle when she stole food off my plate. I miss the little sounds she used to make when she’d drink her bottle and fall asleep on me. The few times I let her do that is what I treasure most. I tried to force her to be independent, and she couldn’t do that. She wasn’t ready, and it was my fault she found my spoon in her crib and choked on it.”

  “Your what?” Adam asked.

  “God, this is sick . . .” Owen groaned and dropped his head. He closed his eyes. “I sometimes hid my drug paraphernalia in her room. I must have dropped it in there. It was a teaspoon, and part of the handle had broken off since I’d practically destroyed the thing. She swallowed it. They found it in the autopsy. For some reason, they didn’t find a trace of drugs in her system.” He cleared his throat with a forced cough. “I should’ve served some serious jail time, but my dad and Mari’s found a way to cover things up and get me through it so I could stay with Claire and my family.”

  Mari grabbed Adam into a sideways hug, clung to him like he usually did for her. Only much tighter. Her head tucked under Adam’s chin. “It was still my fault I didn’t check on her,” she said, her voice wavering.

  “You were twelve, and you were being a good babysitter. You followed my instructions.” Owen glanced up at her and then back down. “It sickens me to think of what I used to be like. Did Vic tell you I cleaned up my act after she died?”

  “No.” She blinked away a few more tears welling up in her eyes.

  “Well, I did. It was hard. Harder than anything I’d ever done. I wanted to get lost and forget the pain more than anything, but Claire was willing to forgive me and help me through the rough days. I still really love her. She’s everything to me. Stronger than I’ll ever be. She’s the reason my life means anything at all,” Owen said so low she could barely hear him.

  “Where is she? I want to apologize to her, too,” Mari said.

  Owen shook his head. “She’s not here. Once a year she leaves to go visit her mom for a few weeks. She won’t be back until after Thanksgiving.” He sniffed.

  “Can I write her a quick note then?” Mari offered.

  “Sure.” Owen turned around, disappeared inside and brought back a little pad of paper and a pen.

  Mari scribbled something quickly and gave him a parting hug. She shuffled back to the car while her head pounded and her heart ached.

  “He was the only guy I ever loved. And after Megan died, I didn’t believe in love anymore.” She stared at the ground but didn’t see anything.

  “The only guy you ever l-l-loved?” Adam stuttered. He swallowed with a clicking sound.

  “Until you . . .” She clutched him to her chest, kissed him until she thought she’d fall over. So drained . . . “Now, what I felt for him seems like a bad joke in comparison.” She smiled.

  He opened the car door, sat her on his lap and told the cab driver to take them to the cemetery.

  The bear sat on the other end of the backseat.

  He stroked her eyes, her cheeks, her lips—kissed her in those same spots with gentleness and understanding. He placed sweet breaths on her forehead and the top of her head. “See . . . I told you that you were all good. Every bit of you.”

  “I thought I was only capable of being nice, not being good,” she said, her voice devoid of any emotion. Her whole body was limp like she was dead. Maybe the old Mari had to die in order to come back and be something new and different . . .

  He hummed and rocked her, then after a while said, “Not my shining star. She’s filled with goodness and light.”

  The car stopped a few minutes later, and though this part should be easier since Megan was dead and gone, it was more difficult to face.

  Adam got out and waited with the door open, ready to help her out.

  She folded in half, her head between her legs as she hyperventilated and heard nothing but a baby’s dappled cries in another room. Bile rose to the back of her throat as that green, sickly feeling overtook her.

  She could almost feel the wind on her face as Owen drove her home with the windows down in his car, and could remember exactly how she’d smiled because she was so damn happy to be alone with him.

  She had kissed him goodbye. He let her!

  “Dammit! She didn’t deserve this!” she screamed, kicking the seat in front of her.

  “Hey!” the cab driver yelled and wrenched himself around to glare at her.

  Adam yanked her out, held her tight. Mari cursed, screeched and cried harder than ever. She beat her fists into his chest even though he made it almost impossible with his crushing grip on her. “I hate myself for this! I hate that she died, and I didn’t save her. I didn’t know!”

  “I know you didn’t, sweetie,” he said, like she’d called him a few times. “She knows that, too.”

  “She doesn’t! Nobody told her!” she cried.

  “Let’s go tell her right now. Let’s make sure she knows what happened that night,” he said in a soothing, low voice.
r />   She flopped into his chest, absorbing each of his breaths so she could gain some strength.

  He brushed her hair off her face. “I want to tell you a story. There’s this beautiful woman—she’s even stronger than she ever thought she could be. She told me she’s been to hell, but I’ve seen her climb out on her own.” He kissed her mouth with a slow press, then withdrew even slower with a smile. “And I’m so proud of her.”

  “You are?” Her chest hiccuped, threatening to break into wails again.

  “More than anything.” His eyes were filled with compassion and adoration.

  “I can do this,” she said to herself and nodded her head once. She tried to catch her breath.

  “You can.” He paused. “And I’m lucky enough, I get to watch.”

  She smiled but it was lacking in anything more than a little twitch of the lips. “I love you.”

  “I know you do. I love me, too. I love you, and I already love this little girl, Megan, because you love her.” He opened the car back up, grabbed the teddy bear and handed it to her. His arm went around her shoulders. Then he moved, his legs not taking their full stride, but instead, keeping a pace that was slow and measured.

  It forced her to move with him. She buried her face in his shoulder and depended on him to lead her.

  Neither of them had any idea where her gravestone was, but within a few minutes of looking, Adam found it.

  “Hi, Megan,” he said. “You were a smart little girl with a lot to give your daddy, your mommy, and my girlfriend, Mari. They all love you and miss you. Mari has something for you.”

  Mari refused to look. She stayed in her safe spot in the curve of his shoulder.

  “She wanted you to have this,” Adam said and gently pried the stuffed animal out of Mari’s hand. He let go of her, and a tiny mewl escaped her chest.

  She clasped her own hands like Adam had to do in times when he needed somebody and there was nobody available.

  When she opened her eyes, she saw uneven ground over a grave with no grass, but a few flowers. It was nothing but dirt.

  Adam set the bear at the base of the headstone, but it covered some words about her.

  Mari’s heart clenched, and her breathing stuttered. Her feet marched over, took the bear and found a dip about ten inches from the headstone. It was where Mari imagined her heart to be. She placed the bear there, and it fit perfectly like it was meant to sit there for all eternity, on top of her chest.

  “I’m really sorry I didn’t protect you,” Mari strangled out in a garbled plea for forgiveness. “I should’ve . . . I should’ve never let you cry back there. For how long did you ask me to come get you?” Tears chased down her cheeks once more. “How long did you choke on that spoon? I could’ve saved you, but I ignored your sad cries.”

  Mari stepped back. Adam was like a wall behind her—implacable and unmoving. She rested her back into him. His arms wrapped around and he kissed her ear.

  “Tell me something you miss about her,” he said.

  She wiped the tears away and took a breath. “I miss how she used to say my name—Maw-wee. It was adorable. She would sing it like it was a nursery rhyme. ‘Mawwee, Mawwee, Mawweeeeh.’” She exhaled in a whoosh. Saying that small portion brought a moment of peace to her soul. So, she said another thing she missed about her. “The way she’d jump into my lap with a book and stab the cover with her fat, roly-poly finger . . .” She paused and smiled. “She loved to read—just like me.”

  He nuzzled his nose into her neck, hummed like he agreed and could see it all in his mind. His body swayed her back and forth a little.

  Another moment of calm descended on her, and all at once, the burden she’d been carrying felt like it lifted. “She liked to push my cheeks together before I’d kiss her so it would be a fish kiss. She giggled every time.” Mari giggled herself for a second. “And when I blew bubbles with her at her one-year birthday party, she hugged me over and over.”

  “She was special,” he said into her neck.

  “She was. I really loved her like I was her aunt.” She stared at the bear, almost wishing she could be the one to sit there and protect her little body from this day on, and keep it from ever being disturbed. It seemed like she owed Meg that much.

  “Let go—put all those feelings of how you miss her and love her into the things you care about now. She’d want you to do that.” He squished her up against him.

  “I know . . . I know she’d want that, but I don’t know if I can. What if I forget about the small things she did I adored?” She turned around to face him, his arms relaxing until they were loosely encircled about her waist.

  “You won’t. You’re going to write it all down, and anytime you think of her, you can read it and it will be fresh in your heart again.” His blue eyes were soft like a forgiving sky after a rain storm had completely passed.

  “If I ever have money, I’m gonna make sure the cemetery grounds are better cared for. I want her to have grass to play on.”

  “Did she have grass where she lived in that trailer? I didn’t see any . . .”

  “She didn’t, but she should have.” Something hit her, jolted her even—it was a moment of undeniable clarity. “Just like I should’ve had a dad that didn’t wallow in his house filled with garbage. I should’ve had a dad that told me he loved me, hugged me, and could go places with me instead of wasting away in his own sorrows.” He smiled at her like she was finally getting it. She took a big, cleansing breath and rambled all of the injustices about her upbringing. “I deserved a mom who wasn’t a flighty, uncommitted parent, sleeping with any guy that could throw a few bucks down to buy her a dinner. I hate that she chose her boyfriends over me all the time, and she ignored me whenever I did anything wrong.” She paused and stood straighter. “Forget I said that—she ignored me anytime I did anything right. She didn’t care what I did as long as I stayed out of her way. I embarrass her because I made dumb choices . . . But what about her? I don’t throw it in her face she had to get an abortion a few years ago because she got knocked up by some nameless one-night stand!” Mari’s face heated, and her voice grew louder. “I earned my own money, working summer jobs, and I use it to buy my own groceries. She refuses to let me eat how I want. Dad too. And I only wanted to avoid becoming both of them.” She gazed intently into his eyes. “They’re miserable. Both of them, and they took it out on me. That’s abuse.”

  “Sounds like it to me.” He nodded.

  “I’m moving out, Adam. I have to. I’m gonna get a job and find a way to pay rent and finish up school. I’m really smart. Did I ever tell you I skipped a grade in elementary school?”

  He shook his head, and his eyes were alight with pride and joy.

  “But then, when I did rehab, had two relapses after and ran away, I failed that year and the next and had to repeat that grade twice. I’d have graduated already and could’ve been independent if I hadn’t screwed up so much.” She huffed. “I hate that I gave them that much control over me.” Her foot scraped back and forth on the ground. Her head spun with so many possibilities of her future. “I can’t go back to either of my parents. I’ll get a studio. When you graduate, you’ll move in. We’ll figure this out together.”

  “Thank you!” he cried out, then laughed and kissed her.

  “No, Adam, thank you! You’re the one that showed me the way.” She turned her eyes back on the grave. “Thank you, Megan. You showed me the way, too. I’ll try to visit you again someday.” And though her heart stopped at the thought of ever returning to Alta, she knew she was telling the truth.

  Mari deserved to pay homage to the spot where her life changed forever—the place she finally took control.

  * * *

  They spent so long speaking to Owen, visiting Megan’s graveside and getting Adam to change his clothes so he wouldn’t reek of beer when he got home that they barely made it in time to board the plane. It was a first-come-first-serve situation for the seats.

  Adam stood still, and his
mouth dropped open when he saw the plane was so crowded there were only single seats scattered through the cabin. They wouldn’t be together.

  He tightened his hold on her hand. “I don’t wanna be without you. I didn’t like flying alone before.”

  “But you did it just fine,” she said, caressing his arm with her hand. She smiled to give him confidence. “For me?”

  “M’uh,” he grunted, shaking his head.

  “We can’t be together. It’s not allowed. The spaces are all taken. It’ll be fine. It’s only an hour and a half flight.” She kissed the corner of his mouth.

  “I can’t—not when I know you’re nearby, but I can’t touch you,” he said.

  She stood there, trying to figure a way around this.

  He was chanting numbers quietly now in the middle of the aisle, his eyes closed, refusing to move. She kissed his cheek firmly to calm him down. The numbers continued to spill out of him.

  “Trust me, Adam. Take your seat. I’ll make sure we’re together,” Mari told him.

  She took the ring off her pinky and forced it onto her left ring finger. It was tighter than she would’ve liked, but she could figure out how to get it back off when they got home.

  Mari lifted her carry-on to put it in the overhead baggage area, when Adam suddenly barked, “I’ll get it. I told you I wanted to carry things for you.”

  “Oh, I know, honey,” she said all sugary, while rubbing her lower abs.

  Mari leaned back to check out who was sitting in the spot next to where Adam had been ready to plant himself.

  Her stomach immediately dropped, and she was in fact queasy. Good. For once she could tell the truth to get what she wanted.

  A blonde, curvy goddess, thin, chesty and with the brightest cornflower blue eyes Mari had ever seen was sitting next to Adam’s seat. Everything about her was perfection.

  No way was this woman sitting next to her man!

  Mari made sure to flash the ring on her finger as she fanned herself. “God, it’s stuffy in here. Is it hot to you?” she asked him. She leaned into him for a hug like she was feeling unwell and needed his support. He rubbed her back.