Breaking Clear (Full Hearts Series Book 3) (20 page)

A few minutes later, she found Evan lying on a blanket that was set back a little from the rest of the party. “There you are! Come take a load off, the show’s about to start.”

Harper flopped onto the blanket next to him, lacing her fingers through his. “What a great day. You really showed everyone an amazing time.”

“This was definitely our best picnic yet. Thanks, in no small part, to you.” He paused, picking up her hand and bringing it to his lips. “I’ll have to find a way to make it up to you later.”

“I like that sound of that,” she replied, but there was something about her voice that sounded small.

“You seem a little upset. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m happy.”

They were interrupted by the first crack that filled the air as the fireworks began. She smiled reassuringly at Evan. They lay back with their heads together, holding hands as they watched the sky light up then grow dark. The heat hung in the air, allowing everyone to hold on to the last moments of summer before it gave way to autumn. Although they were surrounded by people, Evan and Harper were suddenly alone again in their own perfect world. The sound of
oohs
and
aahs
faded in her ears as she snuggled closer to him, feeling safe and cared for. How could anything that felt so right be so wrong?

*     *     *

Later, as they bid goodbye to the sleepy children and grateful parents, Lacey stopped to give Harper a hug. “I sure hope you two are going to have a happy ending, but if you don’t, just promise you won’t break his heart, okay?”

“I’ll do my best.”

When the last of the stragglers had gone, Evan pulled Harper in for a long hug. “Thank God they’re gone. I thought I’d never get you alone.” He kissed her from the nape of her neck to her earlobe. “We’ve been so good all day. I say we do something really bad to make up for it.”

“Mmm. What did you have in mind?”

“I thought I’d get you out of those clothes and we’d go for a swim together,” he murmured in her ear, letting his hands wander up into her tank top.

Harper gave him a naughty look. “I like how you think.”

“Then let’s get to it,” he said, picking her up over his shoulder and carrying her down to the water.

“Ack!” She squealed with laughter. “Put me down!”

“Nope. You walk too slow and I’ve been waiting all day for this!”

The day Roy came home was a mixture of relief and worry for all concerned. Black clouds swirled overhead, threatening to open up and pour down on them as Craig pushed an empty wheelchair up the ramp to the back door of the house. Roy, who had now progressed to using two canes with arm braces, walked ahead of his son, annoyed at the need for the support but grateful to be going home again, where the food was good, where he could sleep in his own room, where his private space was waiting.

“Dad. Welcome home.” Harper smiled at him from the kitchen, where she had been waiting for him.

“Yup. It’s about time, isn’t it?” he asked.

“That it is,” Harper replied, hovering a bit as he slid his shoes off.

“Back off, kid. I’ve got it covered,” he said with no hint of anger, only pride in his accomplishment.

“Where do you want this?” Craig asked Roy, referring to the wheelchair.

“The dump, for all I care. I’m not using that damn thing.” Roy’s voice was determined.

Craig looked at his sister, his eyes wide with exasperation.

“Would you like a drink, Dad?” Harper asked.

“Yes, but I’ll get it myself. I’ve been waiting to have a beer for months now, and it just won’t taste the same if someone serves it to me.” He grunted a little as he carefully made his way over to the fridge. Trying to act like everything was normal, he said, “The place looks terrific, Harper. Thank you so much. I saw all those plants out front but I really want you to go with me and show me everything you did.”

Harper lit up, glad he had noticed. “I’d love to. Do you need to have a rest first?” She moved to the stove, stirring the chili she had made.

“Yeah, I probably should. They work you hard at therapy. It’s like a boot camp for cripples.”

His attempt to joke about his predicament fell flat, bringing tears to Harper’s eyes.

“Don’t go getting all soft on me now, kid. This is going to be hard enough. We should at least keep our sense of humour about the whole thing.”

“Of course, Dad.” Craig stepped in, giving Harper a moment to recover. He grabbed himself a beer and sat at the table, cracking open the can. “So, Harper and I were thinking I could stay with you part of the time, when I’m home from work. I’m going to stay here for the next few nights. I don’t have to leave until Monday morning.”

“I don’t see the point in either of you staying, really,” Roy said. “I’m fine.”

“Well, we’d like to hang around all the same, at least while you get used to everything.” Craig took a sip of his beer. “Besides, Harper here is homeless and jobless. You wouldn’t kick her out now, would you?”

“It’s true. I’m like one of those boomerang kids you hear about who keep moving back home,” Harper added.

“You sure as hell better not be,” Roy said, trying to hide his delight. “I didn’t raise any lazy-ass kids. Speaking of which, don’t you need to get to work today?”

“I told the ladies at Fashion Forward I was spending the day with you. We have a couple of clients tomorrow, but nothing pressing today.” Harper checked on the chili again, lowering the heat.

“Well, thanks, kid. I appreciate that.”

*     *     *

On Monday morning, Harper unlocked the front door to Roy’s house, opening it as quietly as possible. Craig waved to her from the kitchen and held up a pot of coffee, silently offering to pour her a mug. Nodding, she put her bag down on the living room floor and crossed to the kitchen. It was so early that a few stars still hung in the sky. Craig seemed tired as he handed her the warm mug.

“What day are you back?” she asked. He had come over to Evan’s to watch baseball and unwind while Roy was sleeping, so he had filled her in on how things were going. She knew that the next month wasn’t necessarily going to be pretty and she had readied herself for it.

“On the tenth. It’s hard to see him like this, isn’t it.” Craig poured himself a travel mug of coffee and secured the lid.

Harper nodded without saying anything.

“I better go. Call me if you need to talk, okay? I’m off shift by eight every evening.”

“Will do, but I’ll be fine. I’m not made of glass, you know.”

“You’re not made of iron like you pretend you are, either.” He gave her a little wink before he opened the back door, making the “call me” sign before he left.

Harper sat at the kitchen table, coffee in hand as she contemplated the day. A few minutes later, her dad’s door opened and she could hear him negotiating the narrow hall with his canes. He looked old to her as his eyebrows knit together in concentration. Seeing her, he stopped briefly before continuing on.

“Morning, Harper.” He relaxed the muscles in his face in an attempt to make walking look easy.

“Morning, Dad. How’d you sleep?”

“Not bad. That bed you got me is pretty comfortable, actually. I might want to keep it.”

“Yeah? I’m glad to hear it. I was worried about that.”

Her first impulse was to get up to pour him some coffee and offer to make breakfast. Fighting that urge, she sat still, knowing he’d want to do it himself. She watched as he struggled to get a mug out of the cupboard and then pour the hot liquid, spilling a little as he did. He turned to the fridge, opening it and getting the milk out, but not before knocking one of his canes with the door and having to correct himself in order to avoid falling.

Harper dug her nails into her palms to prevent tears from forming in her eyes, finding it heart-wrenching to see her tough-as-an-ox father weakened like this. She’d gotten used to seeing him lying in a hospital bed but somehow this was so much worse. Staring up at the ceiling for a moment, she reminded herself that this was only temporary and that he’d make a full recovery. The last thing he needed was for her to burden him with her sadness.

He returned the milk to the fridge and gingerly picked up his mug, taking a sip where he stood. He finished half of it before bringing it along for the bumpy journey to the table. Once he was settled, Harper stood and crossed the room, opening the breadbox and dropping two slices of bread into the toaster. “I’m having some toast. You want any while I’m up?”

“Couldn’t help yourself, could you? Watching me get the coffee was all you could stand to see.”

Harper refused to look back at him, not wanting him to see the truth in her eyes. “You managed that just fine as far as I can tell. I would make the same offer to anyone I was sharing breakfast with.”

Her father nodded a little as if accepting the logic behind her explanation. “Okay, then. I’d like a couple of slices with some peanut butter. But not that New-Age crap you like. I want Skippy.”

A small grin crossed Harper’s lips. “Sure thing, Dad. Skippy it is.”
Skippy. Four out of five tough guys prefer it,
she thought to herself.

*     *     *

Late that evening, Harper lowered herself onto Evan’s front step and placed a Thermos of homemade beef-barley soup next to her, her grin touching both ears. She had seen his truck pull up and had come over to meet him as he gathered his blueprints and briefcase from the passenger seat. A slight chill in the air had her wrap her cardigan around herself a little tighter.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said, his dimples making their regularly scheduled appearance as he shut the truck door and made his way over to her. “And from your face, I’d say you’ve got something to celebrate.”

“I do. It’s not a major accomplishment or anything, but I got through day one of looking after my dad without any tears.”

“Good for you. It must be so hard to see your dad like that.” Evan sat beside her on the step, and they gave each other the sweet, lingering hello kiss that they’d both grown accustomed to.

“It is. But I just have to keep reminding myself that we’re lucky he’s even alive and that it won’t be too long until he’s much better,” Harper said.

“That’s true. Just think of how far he’s come. In the spring, it didn’t look like he’d ever walk again.”

“It’s actually amazing, isn’t it?”

“It is. I’m so glad for him. For all of you.” He paused to look at her for a moment, putting his arm around her. “I want you to promise me something. If you have a rough day or you need to talk, you’ll call me. Or, at the very least, come by when I get home so I can hold you until you feel better.”

Harper felt a lump in her throat at his words. He wanted to take care of her, which was a completely new experience for her. She was both touched and terrified at the same time. “That sounds nice, but I’ll be fine.”

Evan gave her a look. “Why can’t you just let yourself lean on me a little? I promise it’ll feel good.”

“That’s the problem. If I start doing things like that, this’ll end up feeling a lot less casual than it is,” she answered, glancing up at him. She could tell by his expression that he didn’t like what she’d just said. But there was no way Harper would let that conversation go any further. “You’re home late tonight. You must be beat.”

As if he understood that she needed him to drop it, he allowed her to steer them to a new topic. “I am both. One of the electricians had an apprentice who was a no-show, so I spent the last five hours pulling cable. That is a young man’s job if ever there was one.” He stretched his arms out straight in front of him to relieve the sore muscles in his back.

“You were pulling cable for the last five hours? No wonder you’re sore.” She tucked her lips into her teeth, doing a poor job of hiding her delight.

Evan shook his head. “I don’t know whether to be turned on by your dirty mind or concerned that I’m with a woman who has the sense of humour of a fifteen-year-old boy.”

“Would both somehow be an option?”

“Oddly, yes,” he answered. Spying the container on the step, he asked, “That wouldn’t be some soup for me, would it?”

“It would be. Beef barley.”

“Thank you. I was just wondering what I was going to make for dinner,” he replied, pressing his lips to her cheek. “I’ve always wanted a sexy neighbour who would show up with food when I was starving.”

“Oh, I know. Sex and food. You men are so simple it’s almost unfair.”

“You’re a little bit patronizing, you know that?”

“And even still, you can’t resist.” She let her lips hover over his.

“How is that possible?” he asked, pulling back to glance at her lips. “If every muscle in my body wasn’t aching right now, I would carry you into the house and have my way with you.”

“How about a massage instead?” Harper replied in a low tone, trailing a finger down his thigh.

“One with a happy ending?” His eyes lit up with hope.

“Sure, if your jaw isn’t as sore as the rest of you,” she answered before bursting out laughing.

“So, you look pretty relaxed for someone about to take the plunge,” Harper remarked. She and Megan sat side by side at the salon, soaking their feet in the swirling warm water.

“I’m too tired to be nervous. Amelie was up half the night. I think she’s cutting another tooth.”

“Well, you’re absolutely radiant in spite of the lack of sleep,” Harper replied.

“That’s because I’m marrying the right guy this time.”

“He is sickeningly perfect, I have to say.”

“I know. I can hardly stand us myself, sometimes.” Megan gestured with her champagne flute. “Speaking of sickeningly perfect, how are things with Evan?”

“He’s just . . . I had no idea it could be like this. Not even the tiniest clue. We just have so much fun together, and he really listens to me when I talk, and he’s so thoughtful. The other morning, he came home with the September issue of
Style
. He told me he couldn’t decide if he was being disloyal by supporting it now that I’m not there anymore, but in the end, he just really wanted to look at it with me so I could show him what I do. Did. What I did.”