Harkham's Choice (Harkham's Series Book 2) (23 page)

Her chest burst at him saying, “our home,” and she cried like a baby.

A moment later, she was back in his arms, and he patted her hair.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” she said, feeling ridiculous. She smiled while making fun of herself and managed to stay in the hug but swipe away her tears.

“You feel up to going back in? You really don’t have to. You can stay out here, and I’ll go make sure things are moving along nicely,” he offered.

“No, it’s okay. It’s my job to do it,” she said and smiled with watery eyes.

“You just let me know if it gets to be too much.” He pinched lightly at her chin with his thumb and forefinger.

She stepped out of the hug. The way he looked in her eyes like he had faith in her gave her the will to go on.

When they stepped inside the living room, it was already halfway cleared out.

“Wow, this is a big room,” he commented. “Now that I’m considering how we’ll get this accomplished, it’s just . . . Yeah—it’s big.”

“Dad! Look how much we got done!” Adam said from his spot at the window he was now sliding open.

“Whoa, you guys have been working hard,” his father said, almost tripping over a dog toy.

“Careful, Dad, don’t step on that. It’s Choppy’s,” Adam told him.

“Choppy?” His dad’s eyebrows rose along with his voice.

“Yeah, our dog. Mari’s dad loved her so much he gave us his dog,” Adam said, beaming as he spoke. “Mari said we could keep it, so we’ve got man’s best friend to bring home with us.” He jogged over to the toy and put it in his pocket. “Wanna see her?”

Dustin nodded woodenly, and Adam led him outside and over to the side of the house.

Mari coughed when a dusty box she took down shifted its weight away from her and crashed at her feet.

Inside were trophies and medals. Some of them were stupid things like her little league soccer ribbons from when she was a kid and her mom was worried her daughter was getting to be a little too porky.

At the bottom were a few pictures. She wiped them clean on her shirt since they were covered with a thin film of dust.

The first one was of her dad in his thinner, younger days, holding up a huge fish he’d caught. There was a thumb covering the corner. It was probably her mom taking the photo—she was notorious for having a finger in the way of the lens.

The second picture was one of Mari in a sleeping bag on one of their few camping trips. She was probably five in that one. She smiled at how her hair looked like a nest made of tooth picks. It was all poky, scraggly and she could almost smell the campfire scent lingering there.

She shuffled through a few more, depicting some of their fun outdoor activities they had experienced together. There were also a lot of beach pictures of Mari and Victor, making sandcastles.

“What did you find?” Adam asked, dropping his chin on her shoulder from behind.

She jumped. Her mind was so absorbed, she’d blocked all noise out.

“Some old pictures,” she answered, trying to calm her heart back down after that surge of adrenaline.

“Is the shaving one in there?” he asked.

“I haven’t found it yet, but these are pretty cool. I was thinking maybe Mom might want these,” she said. She handed them to him.

“You should keep some, too,” he suggested.

She shook her head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? He loved you, and you loved him. It wasn’t all bad, and these are pictures of the good memories. Keep them.” He shoved them back into her hand, and his motion wound up pushing the pictures, and her palm, up against her heart.

“Okay . . .” She looked down at them. “You’re right. I need to focus on the positive things.”

“And you’re so good at that—like with me. You only seem to see the nice parts of me. I love that about you.” He kissed her nose. When he turned to get back to work, he tripped over a toilet plunger on the ground with the tags still on it. He ignored it and started looking through another box.

She let her hand drift down so she could look at the pictures once more. Her finger traced a smile on her dad’s face, and she knew Adam was right. The good was there—it was buried, and now they unearthed it. She was glad to have it back.

When most of the guys were at a point where they could barely stand, she announced she was going to go visit the cremation garden where Will’s ashes were spread. She figured none of these guys would want to go with her to visit.

“Is this it? Your idea of a service—just to go visit him?” Victor asked.

“Well, yeah, I . . . I guess so. I wasn’t planning anything formal. It’s not like I had a great relationship with him. And I don’t have time to organize anything while I’m here since I’ll be working on emptying the house the entire time so it can be put up for sale.” She shrugged, and her heart plummeted. She sucked as a daughter, and she had no idea what she would say anyway if she did hold some kind of memorial.

“All right—you all hate what happened to his body,” Vic yelled to the bunch, “but this is it. This is all you’re gonna get. So if you want to say bye to Will, then you need to follow Mari and me over.”

He clapped Adam on the back, kicked his right leg out in a goofy way, and smiled like he was delirious. Vic opened the car door on his VW bug to let Mari in.

“Sorry, but I’m going with my family,” she said, taking Adam’s hand and leading him over to his dad’s rental.

Vic followed them over, uninvited, and got in the backseat with Mari and Adam. It was squished and awkward being sandwiched between these two guys. They smelled horrible.

“I shoulda hosed everybody down before getting in this car. It smells awful in here!” Zach said from the front seat.

Dustin started the car up. “Not to mention I’m probably going to be required to pay a cleaning fee now,” he mumbled.

“I can pay for it,” Mari said, gripping the back of his seat so she could talk to him about it. She pulled herself forward.

Adam grabbed her by the shoulder, bringing her back to the seat. “That’s not safe.”

“Speaking of not safe—if you’d hosed everybody down, it woulda been a wet tee shirt contest. Imagine what kind of problems we’d have on the road when the drivers in the cars couldn’t keep their eyes on the road,” Victor said and laughed like the thought was hysterical.

“Victor,” Dustin groaned. “Manners are for everybody.”

“Not me.” Vic was still grinning stupidly. “Got no use for them. I’d rather tell it like it is.”

“Well, in my presence, in my car, I’d ask you be a little more considerate,” Dustin replied.

“Yeah, whatever.” Vic’s smile faded. He turned to Mari. “Got any idea what you’re gonna say to your old man—or to his ashes, anyway?”

“I have no idea.” Mari stared straight ahead, expression blank.

“Me either. He never said a whole lot to me, but he and my dad talked all the time,” Vic said.

“About what?” Zach asked.

“How the hell should I know? Hunting, sports, beer and reminiscing about the sixties when they were getting laid?” Vic snorted and chuckled quietly.

“Victor—you’re going to have to get a ride back with somebody else if you don’t watch it,” Dad told him, his eyes on Vic through the rearview mirror.

“Sure, sure—I’ll watch it.” Vic stared at Mari’s body, acting like he was interested.

She shoved him. “Cut it out, Vic.”

He smiled and rubbed the spot. “So many orders around here. How do you remember them all?”

“We don’t,” Zach said, smirking.

The car went quiet as they approached the parking lot for the cremation garden.

Mari shoved Victor out when the car was stopped, and she was the first one to approach the gate, open it and walk in.

She found a nice bench in a corner and took a seat. The garden was serene with a lot of white, soft yellow and purple flowers. It was an unseasonably warm day—no snow on the ground even though it was mid-winter.

No one brought a jacket, since they were all so hot from hauling garbage out of her dad’s house.

Within a few minutes, they were all milling about the garden.

“Where do you think they put his ashes?” Vic asked her.

She shrugged and glanced around the garden. “Don’t know if I want to know either. I prefer to think his presence is kind of everywhere in here.” She smiled while deep in thought.

People filtered into the area, and when everyone was there, Victor straightened his back and cleared his throat.

“Okay, you people—listen up! Mari’s gonna share some thoughts on Will.” Vic hauled her up to standing.

She glared at him, coughed a little, and not a single thought popped into her head.

Adam took her hand and leaned into her a little bit. “Will was a private man, but I learned a lot about him today while helping to go through his things,” he began.

“I said 
Mari
 was gonna share, not her 
boyfriend
,” Vic said, his jaw tight and flexing.

“You don’t like it—tough,” she told him.

He rolled his eyes and picked at the leaves on the bush next to him, whistling like they weren’t there.

“I found out he worshiped this woman standing next to me. Though he had a hard time sharing his feelings with her, he never stopped thinking about her. He had little mementos and reminders of her all over the place. I think he had a hard time facing the fact she was close to being all grown-up now. He wanted her to remain his little girl. But . . .” Adam paused and looked at her. “He found ways to appreciate her for who she is now.” He smiled. “He had a few magazine articles close to his recliner about bands Mari liked. He also had clippings about things that were going on in Phoenix, and a few letters from her that had coffee stains on them, suggesting he read them multiple times. I love Will, because, well, he’s my dad now too. I only met him that once, but I’ll never forget him. And I’ll forever be thankful he brought Mari into the world to be with me.”

Mari beamed at him and found her words. “My dad and I never really saw things in the same light, but he taught me some things that helped me to figure out what it means to be a good person.”

“Me too,” Owen said, seconding her sentiments.

Until now, he’d merely waved at her when he’d first gotten to her dad’s house. She’d avoided him for the most part, even though they had already both cleared the air about what had happened with Meg’s death.

She smiled at him and looked away. It was still a little awkward to look at him. “He taught me to cook a little, how to clean.” She snickered a little. “Though, you wouldn’t guess it now to look at his place, but when I was little, he was the one that had me put my things away. He also loved to read, and he’d tuck me in at night, then read me stories.”

“He had a lot of books in that place,” Adam said.

She nodded. “He did. He loved learning on his own. Dad got frustrated at the end, I think because he felt useless. He always liked helping people and being reliable. That’s the biggest thing he taught me—to be there for the people that need me. If he hadn’t taught me that—well, I probably wouldn’t have given Adam a moment of my time, and never would’ve found the man I’m destined to spend the rest of eternity with in happiness.” She sucked in some air, puffed out her cheeks and let it go. “So . . . That’s it. That’s all I have to say.” She shifted about in her spot, her eyes darting away from the people standing before her. What else was she supposed to do?

The group of guys came to stand in front of her one by one. They each said a few words, shared a memory of him and then told her they forgave her for burning his body and soul.

They in turn, grabbed a leaf from one of the surrounding flowers or bushes and pocketed it. She did the opposite, pulling out of her pocket one of the faded pictures Will had of her where she was tucked in that sleeping bag. Her legs protested as she crouched down. She found a sharp rock nearby and dug a little pocket in the soil below a rosebush. She put the picture in the spot and covered it with the loose dirt.

For you, Dad. Sleep well, and have peace—that’s what I want for you . . .

She received a few hugs before the guys left. Owen was the final goodbye.

She was crying so hard after they were gone, swallowed up in so many emotions, that Adam practically had to carry her out.

Once back in the car, she collapsed into his chest and he feathered his fingers through her dusty hair.

“That was better than I could’ve ever planned or hoped for,” she whispered, her entire being sapped of strength.

“That’s because you can’t plan to love somebody or say goodbye to them when they’re gone. You just do—and it works out. Your heart told you what it meant ‘to do,’ and you followed it. That’s always the right thing. That’s why you and I work.” A round of chills hit her as he walked his fingers down her spine.

“I love you—thank you for sharing those touching words about my father,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome. I’ll miss him, too.”

The car was silent again, filled only with the sound of breathing and a few, near-silent tears.

Chapter 13