Harkham's Case (Harkam's #1) (20 page)

She got a little teary eyed, her face paled and she grabbed his hand, pulling it off her hair. “I’m sure they would, but I’m never having kids, so I’d rather not talk about this.”

She started walking briskly away from the booth. As she was going about gathering her sleeping bag and backpack she’d set aside while they were paying, he swooped in and grabbed it for her.

“I’ll carry all of it,” he said. “That’s my job.” A heavy weight felt like it had settled on his chest, rather than his shoulder where the backpack now rested. “How come you don’t wanna have kids?”

“’Cause I’d probably kill ‘em.” She shrugged and turned away from him.

It looked like she was wiping her eyes. Was she tired?

“C’mon. You deserve a treat after paying for those overpriced tickets.” She waved for him to follow but barely looked at him.

They wound up at her Jeep. She helped stow all the gear away.

“Let’s have a real breakfast. I’m starving! And there’s this great little ma and pa shop I love coming to whenever I’m here.” She pulled out her own wallet. “This time I’m paying, and no arguments from you.” She opened the rusted, creaky passenger’s side door, and he hopped in. Before closing it, she said, “Thanks for joining me, Adam. You have no idea how you brighten everything around you, including the bleak, dark thoughts of a crazy girl, waiting on a cold sidewalk.” She swallowed back some emotions Adam couldn’t name, so he reached for her.

She yelped when he pulled her into his lap. “You can cuddle with me whenever you’re sad,” he told her. “It feels nice for both of us.”

“I don’t know that it will help,” she said, muffled, because she had her face smooshed into his chest and her palm rested right on his abs.

It made him squirm for a minute because the sore spot was really close to that hand. But she was sad, so he ignored it.

“It will make it better. It
does
. I know, because that’s why I hold your hand and need hugs from you. It always makes it better. I want to do that for you, too.”

“O-kay,” she said, sounding childlike and out of breath.

His heart swelled. She was accepting his help, letting herself need him. Yay! What a smart thing of her to do.

He sunk his nose into her hair. It smelled wonderful. There was a faint trace of smoke, but it was so light, he was able to get past it.

She shivered.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“Always. I live in the dark.”

His brow furrowed. “You live in the land of the sun. That’s not possible.”

She patted his tummy. “Not when you’re around, it’s not.” She sighed and sat up. “Thank you.” She kissed his lips so fast he didn’t have time to react.

She slid off his lap with a weak smile and was about to shut the door when he grabbed her arm and halted her. “When you do that—you kiss me because you want to or need to—it makes the whole world better. I want you to know that.” He let go of her arm, touched his lips softly with his fingertips and almost went into a trance-state. She was every particle of air he’d ever need to be okay.

Mari tucked her head down, shut the door as quietly as she could and walked around the back of the Jeep.

He barely noticed when she started the car and drove off.

She played some serene music, adding to the ebb and flow of his mood. Had he ever been this calm and relaxed?

“Mari . . . ?” He turned his head to gaze on her.

“Hmmm?” She looked lost in her own thoughts.

“My favorite part of last night—well, there were lots—but the part I’ll always remember is being so close to you I could hear your every heartbeat and breath. It made me . . .” she stiffened in her seat “. . . well, it helped me feel like I was at a new home I’ve never known. And I like this new one much better than the one I’ve already got.” He was so happy he could barely feel his feet wiggling.

She smiled but kept silent. The drive was peaceful, and he almost fell asleep.

Several minutes later, she parked in front of a little cafe and a tear swelled at the corner of her right eye. Her eyes closed and stayed that way for a moment as she took a deep breath. She rubbed that eye, opened both her eyes and it looked like a new solid thought was behind her. “It’s time to feed you.”

They got out and walked with linked hands inside the restaurant.

Mari took care of everything. She found them a great place to sit, and it was close to all the pastries, muffins, and donuts. They were freshly baked—that was obvious, because the fresh-baked smell lingered in the air. Could this morning be any brighter and more beautiful?

“I like this place,” he said, rocking side to side with a shift of his hips as he gripped the edge of his seat. “It’s like a day of music!”

She smiled, placed an elbow on the table and rested her right cheek in her right hand as she sat still and observed him. “What’s it like in that head of yours? What do the numbers feel like?” Her tone was so soft, so melodic, he leaned forward and stopped wiggling with excitement. Instead, he stroked her arm she had propped up.

“It’s kind of like a gentle breeze at first. It’s comforting and something I know. I don’t even notice it when it’s like that. But then the breeze can quickly become a nasty storm. There’re micro-bursts in Phoenix in the summer. I was caught in one once—in the car with Zach. He had to pull over off the side of the road and hug me until it went away. It came so fast I didn’t have time to prepare. It’s kind of like that. I can’t see anymore—all I hear is howling, and it scares every bit of me.” Her eyes sunk like she was about to go to sleep. She licked her lips, and he leaned forward a little more and caressed her bottom lip with his thumb. “But now I have you. You’re like that car and Zach. When the storms hits, I know you’re there, and you’ll keep me safe. You won’t open the door to the car until it’s all gone. That’s why I trust you.”

“If I could take the numbers from you—but only when they scare you—I would. It would only be fair that somebody like me takes them on. But maybe . . .” She looked around the room, deep in thought, then swished her head from side to side. “Maybe it would destroy me, because I’m not as strong as you are.”

“But I’m a man. I’m supposed to be stronger than you,” he argued. It made him hurt inside when she looked and talked like that.

“I’m not talking about your physical strength, although I’m sure you could kick my ass in the gym any day. I’m talking about your spirit—your soul. I swear you’re the best person I’ve ever known because you . . .” Her voice faded out, then she looked away from him. A look of anger crossed her eyes. A few minutes later, after their drinks arrived, her eyes were back on him. “You know, Adam, you ask me sometimes if I like you.”

“Do you? Do you still like me?” His head picked up nice and straight, and he gripped the sides of the small cafe table. “Or do you like Zach more?”

“No . . . I don’t like him more—not even close. And with you—it’s more than
like
. I can’t even begin to describe the level it’s at. But no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I can’t kid myself. I’m never gonna be good enough to be anywhere near you.”

“Don’t talk like that.” He extended his arm out and gripped her hand, then squeezed.

“I find that I wish more and more I was like you—exactly like you.”

“No, you don’t want to be this,” he said, looking down at his body. “
This
is broken.”

“But it’s not.” She scooted her chair closer and leaned over the table like she had a secret to share. “Don’t you ever let anybody say you’re broken. They have no idea what they’re talking about. You hear and see numbers? So what? If you had any idea of the horrors I hear and see, you’d know better . . . Keep the numbers if they help you. I would never want you to change, because you’re perfect to me,” she said it all in a hurried, hushed tone. Her hand was out of his, she sat up straight and mumbled a few things under her breath. He thought he heard some profanities in there.

He dragged both hands across the back of his neck, then clamped down on the tops of his shoulders. “I don’t understand why you think you’re bad. Nobody’s nicer than you—nobody! And my family is really nice to me most of the time. Stop talking like this. It hurts my ears.” He dragged his left hand down and put it on his heart. “And this too. If you’re bad, then I want to be bad, too.”

“I’ll never let you,” she said, shaking her head, then following it up with a sip of her water.

Their food arrived, and Adam stared at his plate of scrambled eggs with turkey and avocado in it. “None of this means anything to me without you.” His entire chest hurt—to think she didn’t like herself. “Do you still like me?”

“More than ever,” she replied, taking a bite directly after.

“Then if you like me a lot—and I’m glad you do—then you need to like yourself, too. Because I don’t like bad people.”

“That’s only because you don’t really kno—”

His hand hit the table, making her jump and cutting her off. “
Not
bad!
Mari’s
not
bad
. She’s
good
. And I do know you! So don’t say that.” His eyes stung with tears that were stuck inside.

She smiled for a second, then took a bigger bite and chewed in silence.

“Thank you for ordering me these eggs. They’re very good, and I hope it didn’t cost a lot.” He watched her shoulders smooth down and her eyes soften along with her mouth.

“You’re welcome. You deserve it.” She smiled and tucked her hair behind her ears before finishing the rest of her fruit plate.

“You do too. And before I forget, I like to watch you eat. It’s a lot of fun.”

She choked on her bite as she started laughing. Her shoulders rounded up by her ears, and her chest curled as she rounded over her plate. Her hand went over her mouth to keep her food inside.

She grabbed a napkin, wiped her mouth and waved for the waitress to come over.

Mari gave him a curious glance, a sort of mischievous smirk. “This man right here loves donuts more than the stars in the sky. Can you hook him up?”

“Boston cream!” Adam almost shouted and bounced out of his seat.

“Give him two,” Mari said. “He deserves it.”

After the waitress left, Mari put her fingers over her lips to tell him to keep it quiet.

He zipped his lips with his fingers, kind of bobbed up and down in his seat until he had those gems bagged and in his hand.

“Oh, good. You ate most of your eggs. This should work out fine,” Mari said.

They went to the front, she paid for the breakfast and drove him back to his car.

Before they parted ways, she hugged him. “Okay, you eat those donuts now. Don’t wait. And get rid of the evidence when you stop to fill up for gas. If somebody in your family asks where you got them, tell them I gave them to you. Okay?”

“Okay, but I—”

She covered his mouth with her palm. “No buts. I don’t want you to get in trouble for any of this. I want to take all the blame. Tell them I invited you to the concert but you didn’t realize you didn’t have to be with me to buy the tickets.” Her hand fell away, freeing his lips.

“That’s kind of a fib,” he said, his foot scraping on the asphalt. He looked down.

“Okay, then tell them the truth. But make sure they know I didn’t send you home right away when I could’ve.” She kissed the corner of his mouth, cupped his chin, stared at the spot where she kissed him and rubbed the remainder of the moistness away with the pad of her thumb.

“I’ll see you at school on Monday.” Her hand fell to her side, but at the last minute she grabbed his hand and caressed it. “Be good like you always are.”

“I will. I’ll be so good, Mari. All for you!” He beamed at her as she got in her Jeep and drove away.

He couldn’t let her get too far ahead, so he jammed a donut in his mouth, almost choked on it, and hopped in the car so he could chase after her. A few minutes in, he remembered the other donut. This one he savored—he’d already gotten right up on her tail, so no more worries.

* * *

When Mari’s mom finished lecturing her after she found out where her daughter had been, they left each other in sulking, bad moods.

Mari didn’t bother to tell her mom where she was going, yet again. This time it was local though.

She pulled up at the gym. Sunday afternoon meant the place was dead.

As soon as she was on the elliptical, she wished she had skipped the salad at lunch. Her stomach wasn’t reacting well to even a little bit of food in it, and she was sluggish, but she powered through. Sweat was pouring off her, but her music was blasting, and for a few short minutes, she was able to think of something other than Adam.

In this moment, right now, all she could think of was her dad—what he was probably doing, surrounded by his mountains of junk. Her chest ached to think what it was going to be like when she went for her visit. It had been two years since her last stay there. And that last one, she ran out of time and wasn’t able to get through as many of his massive piles. He needed help, and she was the only one he would let in the door of that house.

Images assaulted her of his monstrous belly heaped in front of him as he sat and watched hours and hours of sports in his recliner.