Of Happiness

by Olivia Luck

  His words trigger memories of what happened. Claire attacking me, kicking me, Jared attempting to sexually assault me, Claire and Cooper… It’s all such an outlandish story, I can’t believe it actually happened.

  “Harris,” I croak as my eyes open, taking in the stark walls of the hospital room. I’m lying in a bed with thin, eggshell-colored bedding covering my body. The room is private, no other patient sharing the space.

  “Mom, I’ve got to go. Edith’s awake.” He pauses and when his gaze meets mine, I sigh in relief. His calm and tender reaction relieves my instantaneous anxiety. “Okay. Travel safely.” With his free hand, he ends the call and slips the phone into his pants pocket. He hasn’t changed out of his stained shirt, though the top few buttons are open, revealing his undershirt.

  “What time is it?”

  Leaning closer from where he’s seated next to me, Harris brushes a kiss across my forehead. “Eleven. You had a nice nap. How are you feeling?”

  I gauge my pain level, running through my memory of the injuries I incurred at the hands of his sister and my ex-boyfriend. Tears well up in my eyes. “What happened?” I whisper, not answering his question.

  Reaching over to a switch beside the hospital bed, he tells me that he’s calling a nurse. “You have a couple of bruised ribs. No concussion, thankfully. And”—he scrubs his free hand across his face, cursing softly—“bruises on your face, hips. Edith, how do you feel?”

  “Hurts, but not too bad.”

  He nods once, relief relaxing his tense features when a nurse scurries in.

  “Hi there,” she says cheerfully. “I’m Katie. I’ll be helping you out. How are we doing?”

  “Um,” I mumble as she gently places her hands on Harris’ shoulders to move him aside and scoots in front of him. She pushes up the sleeve of my hospital gown to wrap a Velcro arm band around my bicep as she takes my blood pressure. “My side hurts and I’m not sure, but there might be a herd of elephants walking through my head.”

  Katie nods agreeably, not bothering to smother her smile. “The doctor wants to keep you overnight for observation, but he told me that you should be able to go home in the morning. With painkillers.”

  I return her smile with a wobbly one.

  Turning, she addresses Harris. “You know, it’s way past visiting hours.”

  His lips thin into a straight line. “Are you trying to kick me out?”

  She pats his hand, then turns to look at me over her shoulder, winking. “Not the doting boyfriend, but the two gentlemen outside will need to go home shortly.”

  “I’m staying,” he confirms. “But I will see that they head home once they’ve taken stock of Edith.”

  When she’s satisfied with my vitals, she leaves us alone again. Harris watches me fearfully like he’s afraid of how I’ll respond to him.

  He launches into a speech. “I should have protected you from her. I should have never left your side. It was against my better judgment to go to work and that damn dinner, but I went anyway. I am so sorry, Edith.”

  I grab his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “There’s nothing to apologize for. None of us knew Claire was capable of this…” As the sleepy fog clears, I have a million questions. “Why did you come home early? Where’s Luke? What happened to Claire and Jared?”

  “Luke is fine, shaken up. He’s out in the hallway with Sean. He’s arranging for Sarah, Greg, and your father to come to Chicago tomorrow morning.”

  My eyes widen. “You’re flying them out?”

  “Your father was the first person I called when they”—he shudders visibly, coming to sit on the edge of my bed, clutching my hand in his warm, larger one—“when they brought you here and the doctor was examining you I had to do something, so I called him. He called Sarah. You’ll be with them tomorrow.”

  “But,” I whisper the word, “you’ll be with me too.”

  His lips form a grim smile, a slight one erasing any worry I have that he might be back to sullen Harris. “There’s no way I’ll leave your side.”

  “And Claire?”

  His eyes fall to where our hands are joined. He blinks a few times. “When she woke up, she was hysterical, raving about Cooper. They had to sedate her. She’s on another floor…” His eyes fall closed for a beat. “I don’t know what they’ll do with her. The police don’t take too kindly to false imprisonment.”

  He curses softly.

  “What happened to my sister? I should have stopped this—I should have done something, saw it coming. She wasn’t well. We both saw it.”

  “Harris, stop,” I plead. “There’s was no way of knowing she would take it this far.”

  He lets out a tortured breath and his deep gray eyes blink open. “Can you forgive me? I failed you.”

  “No, no, no.” My eyes fill with tears again. “Don’t think that, not for one second. We can’t be responsible for anyone’s actions but our own. You didn’t know. I didn’t know how far she had fallen. Then she found Jared at the exact right time. How were we to guess how desperate they were? Claire wanted to get rid of me and Jared wanted back in his dad’s good graces. They were fighting for their livelihood.”

  He nods, but his disbelief is evident.

  “Will you hold me?” The request will calm both of us. I need the reassurance as much, if not more, than him. He complies eagerly, stripping off his sweaty shirt and throwing it on the abandoned chair. I shift my body toward the opposite side of the mattress, giving him room to join me. His arm slips around my shoulders and I turn into him, pressing the side of my face against his undershirt. Some of the tension I saw in his body language before drifts away when he carefully tucks me into his side.

  “I called my parents,” he says gruffly, lifting a hand to run his fingers through my messy hair. “They’ve decided to come home.”

  “Why now?”

  “Pick a reason: Claire’s about to be institutionalized or worse, their son has fallen completely for the best woman he’s ever known, we may finally get the answers we sought about Cooper.”

  “I wish so badly we weren’t meeting under these circumstances.” I’m frantic, wanting to protect him, but knowing that these aren’t my secrets to hold. “Harris, we need to find Cooper’s journal. Claire said some things—some awful things.”

  “It’s all right,” he soothes. “I know, she was rambling on and on about him when she woke up. But that’s not something to worry about right now. Let’s focus on getting you better, then we’ll concern ourselves with what’s left.”

  Thousands of worries sprout in my mind. “But Harris, as soon as any media gets wind of what happened, it will destroy your family’s reputation. Not to mention the damage that could happen to your business.”

  “My family was wrecked long before Claire decided to attack the most important person in my life,” he says vehemently. “I have no worries that this story will blow out of proportion. The police will smother my sister’s involvement. And when it does come out to the public, they’ll just see a girl who never got over the loss of her best friend and brother.”

  I ponder his statement. That sounds too easy.

  “Cooper killed himself and no one but a detective and the four of us know it wasn’t an accident. When you make the kind of donations my family does, they’re willing to help keep some things quiet,” he explains ruefully.

  I nod my understanding. “And what about Jared?” My voice drops to a worried whisper.

  “Arrested,” he says with finality. “Officially for breaking and entering, assaulting my girlfriend. There’s nothing that needs to be hidden there. That piece of shit singlehandedly ruined his father’s lifetime of work.”

  “Don’t go after Congressman Gordon,” I plead. “He had nothing to do with this. Jared said his dad found out what happened between us. Then he practically disowned Jared—”

  “Shh,” he croons. “It won’t be me that stifles his career, baby. Jared’s done that all himself.”

  Shivering at th
e malice in his tone, I snuggle closer into his embrace. “One more question.”

  “Anything.” He strokes my cheek tenderly with his knuckles.

  “How did you know to come home early? How did you know I needed you?”

  “That was two questions.” I can hear the twist of his lips, a slight smile. Then he sighs heavily before explaining. “There was a nag hounding me since I left you this morning. At first I thought I was just paranoid. I told Luke to call me when he got to our place, tell me what you’re making for dinner, so I could bring you dessert from the restaurant. When he didn’t call, I was worried. I was getting ready to call him and then my investigator texted, telling me that Claire and Jared had left D.C. for Chicago. Deem it intuition, whatever, but I knew then. I called the building concierge and he told me that Claire had come to visit.” He lets out a noise of disgust. “I fucked up. Should have told him that no one was allowed upstairs except for you and Luke. But I didn’t. As soon as I found out she was there, I left my dinner and went to find you.”

  “Thank goodness you did,” I murmur.

  His grip around me tightens fractionally. “I love you, Edith Neff. And I will do whatever it takes to take care of you, cherish you. I’m—”

  “You saved me, Harris. Stop apologizing, I know you cherish me and want to protect me. You couldn’t have prevented this.”

  “It’s my fault you were ever in this situation.”

  “If you want to blame someone, Harris, blame me because I’m hopelessly in love with you. Every time Claire tried to scare me away from you, I fought harder to be with you. If I had taken her threats seriously, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

  I feel him shudder. He wavers between a fine line of confidence and despair. “What am I going to tell my parents?”

  “The truth. You’ll tell them that you did everything you could to heal your sister, but she needed more than you had to give. You’ll tell them that you wanted her to be better, so much so that you were unable to uncover what she hid so well—the torment that clung to her. When you tell them, I’ll be with you and if you can’t speak, I’ll speak for you.”

  I tip my head, so we can make eye contact, and I give him a gentle, hopeful smile. He stares at me unblinkingly.

  The door to my hospital room swings open, Sean bounding inside with Luke following close behind.

  “I’m a fan of kink, but don’t you think you took it a little far, Ms. Neff?” Sean demands, crossing his arms across his chest. When neither Harris nor I respond, he quirks on eyebrow with a really? facial expression.

  It starts slowly, just the right corner of my mouth lifting. Then it overtakes me—giggles that develop into full-fledged laughter. It spills over to Harris and then the four of us are laughing (me more gingerly than the others), because if we didn’t, we’d most likely be crying.

  The next several hours were a blur of drowsiness interrupted by the poking and prodding from a doctor while a very anxious Harris looked on, and being gently shaken awake to answer questions from the police. After we gave our statements (each twice), the detectives were satisfied. Just as Harris promised, one of the officers told him that Claire’s involvement would be kept under wraps. For the time being, she was still sedated, and when she woke would most likely be sent to a psychiatric hospital for further evaluation.

  Now it’s the morning and Harris pushes me in a wheelchair to the hospital exit. As the nurse instructed, Sean and Luke left last night after a short visit, but not before dropping off some essentials: change of clothes for Harris, two brushes (of the tooth and hair variety), underwear (the second time in recent weeks that someone other than me rifled through my unmentionables), shoes for us both, a pair of my sweatpants, and a loose, comfortable T-shirt. Even though I was thrilled to talk with my friends, I was unable to be much company; sleep was a relentless caller.

  It wouldn’t be hard for me to walk, but my ribs are still tender, despite the pain medication, and it makes me sleepy, so I’m grateful for Harris overtaking the situation, demanding that he push me outside and not a nurse. Of course when we exit through the automatic doors, his boxy SUV idles directly in front of the hospital doors.

  After we thank the nurse, Harris lifts me effortlessly, opening the platinum car door with one hand and settling me into the front passenger seat.

  “How did your car get here?” He was with me all night, no time to pick it up.

  “Luke.” He taps a finger on my nose, closes the door, and circles the front of the car, climbing into the driver’s seat.

  The drive to the apartment is less than five minutes and happens in silence. Not tense, just comfortable. Actually, Harris appears somewhat content. On the opposite side of the car, my stomach tumbles with nerves, and my hands get sweatier and sweatier as we draw closer to home. Bursts of yesterday’s trauma flash before my eyes as he pulls to a stop. Harris races around the car to my side, not allowing the valet to help me out. Again, carefully, he cradles me against his chest.

  When we’re just outside the elevator, I fall apart. Sobs wrack my body, trembles overtaking from where I’m held against Harris’ chest.

  “Baby, baby, what did I do? Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t know if I can go back inside,” I whimper against his neck, a crippling anguish washing through me. “It’s like the ghosts of what happened are waiting for us and I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to face them.”

  “You are more than strong enough. And in the event that you need to borrow some of my strength, I’m here with you all the way,” he whispers into my ear as I battle against the all-encompassing emotions.

  We stay like that for a few solid minutes until I’m able to center myself. Harris tightens his hold on me, easing a section of my tension. I take a shuddering breath. “Okay, let’s go.”

  When we’re in the elevator, he begins talking rapidly. “Do you want to go to a hotel? We can. I’ll sell this place, put it on the market tomorrow if that’s what you want. You’ll never have to walk through these walls again.”

  He takes a step into the foyer when the elevator doors whisk open. “I—no, we don’t need to do that,” I stammer. “Will you put me down, please?”

  Gently he sets me on my feet. I tangle our hands together. “Let’s do this.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “As long as you’re with me,” I say hoarsely, throat scratchy from the onslaught of tears.

  With unending patience for my hesitancy, Harris matches my slow pace into the apartment. There are no remnants from yesterday’s struggles, no pillow out of place in the living room. In fact, it’s no different than any other time I’ve entered the apartment.

  He pauses next to the piano, wrapping an arm around my shoulders gently, so not to cause me additional pain, and pulls me against his steadfast body. “Everything’s cleaned. The furniture outside donated to Goodwill. You won’t have to see any of it again.”

  My body sags in relief, Harris holding me in place. That little change removes some small pieces of the invisible albatross wrapped around me.

  He glances down at his watch. “Eleanor will be here soon. We’re having breakfast with your family.”

  The notation of Sarah, Greg, and Dad as my family sends some relief coursing through my chest. “My family,” I repeat softly to myself.

  “That includes Luke and Sean.” Guiding me through the apartment and into the master bath, he adjusts the knobs of the shower.

  “May I help you in the shower?” He gestures to my still trembling body.

  “Please,” I whisper almost helplessly.

  Turning smoothly back to me, he lifts my T-shirt over my head, cursing when he observes the smattering of bruises along my side. He falls to his knees, then grabs one of my hands and places it on his shoulder, so I can maintain my balance. First he removes my flip-flops, tossing them aside. Next, he grips my pants at the elastic waist. He drags the remainder of my clothing off my legs, leaving them in a heap. Before rising to his feet, he sta
res up at me, full of tender emotion. In another time and place, this second would be charged with provocative tension. But right now, in this sliver of time, the energy between us overflows with love.

  Harris breaks his hold with a slight smile. Pushing off the ground, he pops into a standing position and quickly removes his clothing. Then he helps me into the steamy stall.

  His movements are unhurried in the shower. Since all of my belongings were moved here, that includes body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. He foregoes the loofa; he drops a dollop of the lavender-flavored soap on his hands. With slick hands, he caresses my body from behind my ears, down the column of my neck, across the slope of my shoulders, skirting down my sides, all the way to my toes, rubbing this thumb between each of them. When he’s on his feet again, he massages the wash across my chest, again lacking sexual intention. The strong, steady pressure of his hands as he works the shampoo and conditioner into my hair has a rejuvenating effect, wiping away the invisible, bitter film throughout my body.

  When he’s finished, he palms my cheeks, staring into my eyes. “That won’t erase what happened, but it’s a start.”

  “Thank you,” I mutter through a lump in my throat. While he washes himself, I sit on the shower bench, leaning my head on the marble wall as I wait. Suddenly, I’m tired all over again.

  He rushes through the remainder of his routine and then turns off the warm water. I follow him outside of the stall and move to stand on the plush bathmat outside the glass door. I yelp as the air conditioning hits my wet skin. In a second, he engulfs my shivering body in a long, cream-colored towel, taking painstaking care to squeeze the excess water out of my hair, drying every damp segment of my body. When he’s finished, I drag a comb through my tangles and hobble over to the door, removing one of the hanging robes and wrapping my body in it.

  “Is there time for a nap before everyone comes over?”

  “Baby, you sleep, and when you wake up, you wake up.”

  “I’m too tired to dry my hair,” I tell him sleepily. With a hand pressing between my shoulder blades, he takes me to the bed—our bed—peels back the covers, and settles me under the lush duvet. “But your sheets,” I say halfheartedly as my head sinks into the pillow.