Harkham's Choice (Harkham's Series Book 2) (19 page)

By the end, it was all his own original tune, and
that
part he played with more finesse and confidence.

He bobbed his head in time with the music, and when he played the last note, he released an, “Ahhhhh. Just. Like. That.”

They all clapped, and he took a mini bow when he stood up. He left to return the keyboard to wherever it came from.

When he rejoined them, he was instantly almost in her lap, whispering in her ear. “Did it make you smile?”

“It did. Didn’t you see how my jaw broke because I was smiling so big?” she asked, rubbing his knee with her palm.

He nudged her with his shoulder and chuckled.

“Can I give you mine now?” she asked.

He nodded and held his hand out like an eager little puppy, waiting to be brushed and lavished with affection.

“It’s not very good, but it . . . Well, open it—you’ll see,” she said.

Once it was in his possession, he opened her small box in less than a second. He grinned from ear-to-ear while he unrolled the little piece of paper.

“It’s an idea, nothing more. If you don’t like it—we’ll get something else,” she told him, fidgeting a little.

“I . . . I . . . this is—” He cut himself off, flinging himself at her and engulfing her in a strangling hold.

“What is it?” his dad asked.

“A receipt with a drawing on it,” Adam replied.

“Uh, o-kay,” Zach said, his brows scrunching together.

Adam let go and held it out to them. “She put some money down on a wedding ring for me, and she drew a picture of it so I could see what it looks like.”

“I wanted to take a picture of it and stuff that in the box instead, but you were borrowing my phone that day, and I had to hurry up and get back here before you asked why I took so long to go buy an onion and some tomatoes for dinner.” She shrugged a little.

“Look! I have a ring!” Adam said, bolting out of his seat and shoving her pitiful drawing in his dad and brother’s faces.

“Cool,” Zach said. “Right on, little sister.”

She ducked her head and hid her silly, pleased grin. “Thanks. I thought it looked like him.”

It had some roman numerals in the band, but it was so subtle it looked similar to Celtic knots on an Irish wedding ring.

Adam plopped back down on the couch with her, his palm landing on her thigh. His fingers squeezed her inner leg, and she squirmed, her heart knotting up at his touch.

Once they had all opened their gifts, his father sat up real straight and cleared his throat, garnering their attention. “I have a gift for you, too, Mari.” He gave her an approving look. “It’s something you’ll need.”

“But you already paid for the plane tickets for us to get back to Alta. I really shouldn’t be accepting anything else from you,” she said, whining a little.

“Will it make you happy to know I didn’t spend any money on it?” His dad’s eyes softened more than she’d ever seen on him before.

She smiled, and her fingers shook. Adam’s dad had thought to give her a gift?

She really was family now, and he didn’t hate her like she originally thought he had when she first started living here.

She opened the book-sized box, fully expecting a paperback, but it was a set of silver hair combs with sapphires along the edges.

“They were my mother’s, and Sarah wore them at our wedding. They’re the ‘something blue’ part for your wedding. I figured you already borrowed your mom’s wedding ring, so I wanted to contribute as well, to get you both started off right.” His dad smiled so big, she had no idea he possessed so many perfectly straight, blinding white teeth. He was full of all sorts of surprises today.

It was almost disarming to see him so happy, especially when it came to giving her something.

“Thanks, Dad,” she said. Heat flooded her chest. She’d said it for the first time naturally—without thinking or hesitating.

It should have felt odd, but it didn’t.

“You’re welcome, nugget.” His dad’s eyes sparkled at her.

Oh, that did it. She suppressed a laugh, but not the happy tears. That was what they all called Samara—
nugget
. And now she was one of their nuggets in a family full of nuts.

Her lips twitched and her tongue felt heavy as she began to spew words that made no sense in her head, but she had to get them out. “I love this family so much, and I apologize for any pain I ever caused any of you. I’ll spend the rest of my life making all of you happy—especially Adam. I love him more than anything. Thank you for everything, and this was a terrific Christmas. The best I’ve ever had. And, oh, I still can’t believe you’re all coming with me to Alta to work on my dad’s house when
I
don’t even want to go. I dread it. But this family’s—”

“Breathe,” Adam told her, pinching her inner thigh.

She yelped and rubbed it, moving his hand out of the way.

“That was longer than the damned Gettysburg Address. What was in that pancake syrup, Dad?” Zach asked.

She took a throw-pillow off the couch and chucked it at Zach’s head with her lips pursed through a wry smile.

He caught it since he was sitting on the floor and had been passing out gifts that were under the tree. It was easy for him with his long arms. He shoved it under his seat right away for some cushioning.

“Don’t mention it, Mari. We’re excited to see where you spent some of your formative years in the summers with your father,” his dad said with a gracious smile.

“What time is our flight?” Zach asked.

“Three o’clock. We probably need to leave in about two hours,” his dad answered.

“Come with me,” Adam told her, standing and taking her with him. “I have one more surprise before we go.”

He took her out into the backyard—a place she had barely set foot in since moving in.

“This is our grass. Remember when you talked about hating fake grass? Well, in honor of going to a green place with real green grass, we’re going to sit on our lawn and watch the clouds blowing in the direction we might be flying today,” he said.

She tagged along behind him. He found a spot he liked and told her to lie down.

They were both on their backs next to each other, pointing at clouds and laughing like children at their descriptions of what each cloud was shaped like.

Her favorite was the elephant wearing a wig and tap dancing shoes.

“You guys are so weird,” Zach said, stepping into the backyard and joining them. “I thought you guys were playing basketball out here. That’s why I came out to join you.” He looked longingly at their small court.

“What’s weird? We’re all packed and ready to go. She always wanted to sit on our grass with me, so I’m making sure it happens before we go to a place that has some sad memories for her,” Adam explained.

“It won’t be as hard as last time, though. This time I have my family to back me up.” Her hand swung out to find Adam’s. Their fingers intertwined right away, and she almost melted into the grass.

Good idea. Then she’d never have to leave . . .

* * *

Mari sighed. Already it was worse than she had thought it would be. The stress seemed like it was damn near crippling for her.

“They’re already mad at me,” Mari said, her arms wrapped around Adam’s bicep.

She was having a hell of a difficult time relaxing on the flight, even though his dad got them all first class tickets.

“Maybe it’s not like that. Maybe they’re just—”

“I love you, but you’re wrong. They’re mad.” She tapped her foot nervously. Her legs had been twitching around like this ever since they left home.

“It’s gonna be fine. We can do it without their help,” Adam said. “And no more phone calls. It’s making you tenser with each one you make.”

“I don’t care about their help.” She paused, and her foot went even crazier, wiggling so much their seats were visibly shaking. “I mean, I do—I could use their assistance, but . . . Never mind, I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“If it bothers you, then it does matter,” he insisted.

“I should’ve waited, I guess. But how long could I hold this off? Nobody had money for a funeral and burial. Cremation was the only way to do this,” she said. “Vic said I should have done it after I arrived. But why does that matter?”

“Maybe he thinks it’s rude you weren’t there to say bye to your dad’s body first?” Adam guessed. He really had a hard time understanding her friendship with Victor. It seemed to get stronger over the weeks. He was calling her more and more.

“Probably. It’s not like I asked Vic to carry my dad’s whale-of-a-body to the facility himself,” she complained. Her fingers picked at her pants. “I couldn’t even understand half of what he was saying on the phone because his dad was screaming at me in the background about how my dad’s soul was destroyed by me, and how I was the most ungrateful daughter ever.”

“He won’t yell when we’re there,” he reassured her.

He pulled one of her arms away from his, then extended it palm up on his leg.

“You need to relax—this used to help me sometimes,” he said, grinning. His fingers feathered along her inner arm, making her skin transform into gooseflesh. He followed the path with his cool breath, blowing.

“That tickles,” she said, wiggling her arm a little.

“Not really. If you really pay attention, it’s not tickling—it’s simply different. Our inner arms are really sensitive—kind of like you are right now.” He chuckled when she squirmed, jiggling her hips.

“It’s kind of turning me on,” she whispered.

“Oh . . . It was supposed to help mellow you. My mom used to say doing this to me helped me mellow. I don’t mellow you?” He used the most calming voice he could.

“You do. I have a lot on my mind right now, and it’s hard to shut it off,” she admitted.

“Close your eyes and pretend for a few minutes it’s the two of us in our bed—nothing around us, no one interfering. It’s dark, and you’re tired. My hands drift through your hair and down your back,” he lilted. He moved his hand in longer strokes. “Would you like that, if I touched your hair to make the vision feel more real?”

“Yes,” she mumbled, looking half-asleep. Her eyes were slow to blink, and her breathing was calm and deep. He glanced at her foot—even that had stilled. “I like it when you touch anywhere at all.”

“Good.” He smiled. “Now close your eyes.”

She did as he asked, and she released a sigh with her lips pursed a little.

“Where’s your favorite place I touch you?” he asked.

Her cheeks colored a little. “You know where.”

“I was right.” He smiled. “But I hoped I could trick you into saying it.”

“I’m not that frazzled,” she said. “Talk to me about your mom. Tell me something you miss about her.”

“There’re a lot of things. I think what I struggle with the most is she would let me crawl into bed with her every morning and she’d tell me what we were going to do that day. It always made me feel safe. I always felt like I had a say in what we would or wouldn’t do. She listened to me.” His eyes followed his fingers as he combed through strands of long dark hair along her back. Touching her like this probably made him more relaxed than it did her.

“What did she like to do for fun?” Her back stretched a little and then she went right back to being curled into his side.

“I don’t know. She mostly had to deal with me, so fun was missing a lot. I wonder if that’s why she left? If she was sick of always worrying about me,” he wondered out loud. “I think before she had me, she really loved kids. She was studying to be a pediatrician, but then she got pregnant with me, and I was a fussy baby, making it impossible for her to continue school.”

“What about your biological father? What do you know about him?”

He drew lazy ovals on her back, and she wiggled a little bit when he moved too close to her sides.

It was fun when she got ticklish. It rarely happened—only in moments like this when her guard was all the way down.

“He was a singer. I think he struggled to find work, so they were poor. When Mom found Dustin after the divorce, I do remember her saying it felt weird to buy things new and shop without coupons and a calculator in her pocket.” He played with her hair now, fiddling with the ends—twirling and making patterns that reminded him of when the numbers were comforting and good.

He tipped his head to the side to see another angle.

“. . . want any more kids?” he heard a faint voice say that sounded far off in the distance.

He pushed a few sections of hair in another direction. It kind of looked like a figure eight and—

“
Adam
? Did you hear me?”

“Sorry—what?” Her hair was mesmerizing. So many different hues of brown and red mixed together. He wished he could play with it all the time and stare at it this way whenever he wanted.

A few more pieces to the left, and now he had a diamond pattern next to the figure eight. He smiled. They were good shapes, especially the diamond. He needed to find a ring for her soon. She found his, and it was gre—