Breaking Clear (Full Hearts Series Book 3)

by MJ Summers

  When his wife left, she took Roy’s heart with her. He shut down for several months, barely speaking other than to give one-word answers. When he finally emerged from the darkness, a quieter, slower-to-smile man remained. He finished the job of raising his children, doing his level best to help all three of them as they suffered through their teenage years without a mother.

  It had been especially hard on Harper, the only female in the house, without a mom to guide her. Roy, a tough-as-nails construction foreman, struggled to understand his youngest child, a creative and fiery girl who seemed to want to run free in a way that terrified him. Looking back, Harper could see how he had pushed through his own discomfort to help her when she was going through the inevitable high school drama, or to awkwardly answer questions she had about boys, his usual response being, “They’re all idiots; stay away from them.” He’d focused on ensuring that she would grow into a strong woman who could handle whatever life threw at her. And in this endeavour he had been a tremendous success, something Harper now wished she had told him. Why hadn’t she taken the time to thank him properly for everything he had done and given up for her? He hated overt displays of emotion, but surely she could have found a way to let him know what he meant to her.

  The guilt she felt at not picking up Craig’s calls squeezed at her chest. Why hadn’t she answered the damn phone? She could be in Boulder by now, already at her dad’s side. Please let him live, she prayed silently. If she could just get there by the time he woke up, she would say everything she had neglected to tell him.

  Boulder, Colorado

  * * *

  Harper sat listening to the incessant beeps of the machines hooked up to her father, her eyes refusing to stay open. Head bobbing down to her chin, she jerked herself awake for the hundredth time. She had flown through the night, with two stopovers between New York and Boulder. Checking her watch, she saw it was evening already. She’d been sitting by her dad’s bed for ten hours now but he hadn’t stirred since the surgery. Harper was starting to worry, having been told that he should be awake by now. Instead, he lay there, a halo brace attached to his head and shoulders. The only signs of life were in the low rise and fall of his chest and the bright green lines on the display that served to represent his vital signs. Getting to her feet, Harper stretched her back and walked over to the window to take in the last of the sunset over the mountains in the distance. Her silent prayers continued as darkness blanketed the world. Let him live. Let him be okay.

  “Petra?” a voice croaked behind her.

  Harper turned, relief hitting her first before the horror registered. Her dad was awake. And he’d just called her Petra. Pushing that aside, she rushed to him and grabbed his hand. She could feel his fingers faintly squeezing hers. Or had she just imagined it?

  His eyes were full of emotion as he stared at her, seeing someone else. “Petra . . . You’re back. Missed you”—he pressed his fingers to her palm again, this time she was sure—“so much.”

  “No, Dad. It’s me. Harper.” But he had already slid back into unconsciousness.

  Her dad had spoken. And his fingers had moved. She felt them move. The fracture to the top of his spine must not have robbed him of the ability to use his upper body. And if they were really lucky, when he woke again, he would have feeling in his legs. Then everything would be alright.

  Harper was suddenly fully awake. A jolt of adrenalin at hearing her dad’s voice and seeing his eyes open had given her renewed energy. She rubbed her hand over his gently. “I’m right here, Dad. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She pushed the call button to summon a nurse before grabbing her phone and dialing Craig’s number. Swallowing the lump in her throat when she heard her brother’s voice, she gave him the news he’d been waiting for. “Craig, he woke up for a second and said a few words!”

  “Seriously? So, that must be a good sign, right?”

  “I’d say so. He squeezed my hand! It was almost nothing, but he did it twice!” Harper could hardly keep her voice steady.

  “Yes! What a relief! What about his legs? Has he moved them yet?”

  “Nothing yet,” Harper answered.

  “Let’s hope for the best. I’ll get word to Wes.”

  “Thanks, Craig. I’ll let you go.”

  “Sure . . . And, Harper, thank you for getting there so fast. I’m glad you’re with him.”

  “Me too. I feel like the lucky one to be able to be here.”

  “Hey, what did he say?” Craig asked.

  “Oh, that. It wasn’t really coherent. I think he must have been dreaming.”

  When Harper got off the phone, she sat back down in the chair next to Roy’s bed. Tucking her knees into her chest, she hugged her arms around them and stared at her dad’s hand, a nagging feeling coming over her. She had lied to Craig. She had heard exactly what he’d said. But there was no point in bringing up Petra’s name with Craig. That would only leave him with the same pain she felt. Roy had mistaken her for their mother. A woman who was nothing but a painful memory. A woman who’d turned their lives into the most sordid of scandals, a topic for gossip in their not-so-small town. A woman Harper pretended she didn’t see when she looked in the mirror. Most days, a woman Harper could successfully forget had ever existed. But being mistaken for Petra by her father made that impossible right now. Did her dad really still miss her after more than twenty years? After what she’d put him through? He couldn’t. He must have been dreaming.

  Three

  Manhattan, New York

  The following Tuesday, Harper was back at work after spending three emotional days at her father’s bedside. Blaire sat propped on the edge of Harper’s desk, listening as Harper recounted her trip home.

  “I promised I’d go back to take care of him when he gets out of the hospital.”

  “Really?” Blaire’s eyes grew wide.

  “It’s something I have to do. The man basically raised us on his own. He did everything he could to hold things together after my mom walked out. I can’t leave him on his own now, when he needs me most.”

  “What about your brothers? Couldn’t one of them look after him?” Blaire asked.

  Harper shook her head. “Wes won’t be home from his tour for another year, and Craig can’t exactly drill for oil from home, whereas I could probably do a lot of my work from there. Craig’s home a month then gone for a month, so I could alternate living there and here for a little while. It could work, couldn’t it?”

  “Hmm. Well, maybe. You wouldn’t be able to oversee the photo shoots, but you could plan them and do edits from there. I can direct the shoots you can’t be here for, or the ones where we’re on location. It wouldn’t be ideal but I’m sure we could make it work.”

  “Thanks, Blaire. I was hoping you’d say that.”

  “It’s not me you have to worry about,” Blaire said as she sipped her coffee.

  Wincing, Harper gave Blaire a tentative look. “I know. I also need your help to convince Hartless to let me go.”

  “That might be a bit harder, but I’ll speak up for you. You are the best in the business, so that’s got to count for something.”

  Harper’s assistant, Jasmine, knocked on the open door of the office. “Hartless wants to see you right away.”

  “Super,” Harper groaned sarcastically as she stood, picking up her notebook. “Wish me luck.”

  “Luck,” Blaire replied, plucking her coffee off the desk and walking out the door.

  * * *

  Cybill Hart, or Hartless, as the staff called her behind her back, had been the editor-in-chief of Style since the magazine’s inception. She had clawed her way to the top, not caring whose back she scarred, until she sat as one of the most powerful figures in the fashion industry.

  Harper rapped on Cybill’s door as she entered, then adjusted the cuffs on her royal-blue silk shirt and smoothed her wide-leg grey trousers. She seated herself in the chair opposite Cybill’s desk without a word. Waiting for Cybill to acknowledge
her presence, Harper sat wishing she had taken time for full makeup instead of a hurried dusting of bronzer and a single swipe of mascara as she dashed out the door. She knew the dark circles under her eyes would not go unnoticed by Cybill, who insisted that her staff look polished at all times.

  “Ah, Harper. There you are. How was your vacation?” she asked distractedly as she looked over a set of layouts.

  “I wasn’t on vacation. You’ll recall my email in which I explained that my father was in the hospital in critical condition?” Harper’s voice was dripping with a sweetness as fake as a box of Splenda.

  “Right. Of course. How did that turn out?” Cybill asked impassively, without looking up.

  “Fine, Cybill. He made it.”

  “I’m sure that’s a relief for you. Now, what are you going to do to get caught up for those days you missed?”

  “Work faster.”

  “Well, if that’s possible, why don’t you do it all the time?” Her eyes flicked up to Harper before returning to the layouts in front of her.

  “Everyone on the team has had four extra days to get ahead of me. Normally I have to wait for them.”

  Cybill’s gaze finally settled on Harper. She stared her down for a moment before answering. “I see. So everyone else here is just too slow for the great Harper Young.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Everyone here works hard, Cybill. We get the job done.”

  Cybill shrugged. “I suppose. I don’t know. I’m getting bored with your work lately.”

  Harper stared at her, feeling confused. Though she hadn’t seen the spreads, she knew the shoot had been perfect. Then she realized what this was about. The month before, at a departmental meeting, she and Cybill had had a very public disagreement about which mood to set for a fall casual-wear shoot. Harper had let her temper get the better of her, and instead of holding her tongue, she had told Cybill she was way off base on this one. The room had fallen silent, everyone waiting to see how Cybill would react. She had smirked, asking “Am I, now? Well, as long as my nameplate says editor-in-chief under it, I’d like you to remember that I am the base.”

  They’d gone ahead with Cybill’s plans for the shoot, only to have to redo it once Hartless had seen the results. She had stormed into Harper’s office to yell at her, accusing her of screwing it up on purpose. The episode had cost the magazine thousands of dollars that it couldn’t afford to spend. Harper now realized that Cybill had been waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on her about it, and the moment had arrived.

  She sat quietly, hating the fact that she needed to ask for time off to care for her dad. She knew that Cybill could very well refuse, forcing her to make a very difficult decision.

  Trying to remove any hint of anger from her voice, Harper replied, “Well, if you’re finding my work boring, maybe what I’m about to ask you for will actually be to your liking.” She paused, seeing she had Cybill’s undivided attention now. “I need to take some time off to look after my father while he recovers. He has no one else, and my brothers and I can’t afford full-time care for him without wiping out our savings. I wouldn’t have to leave until he’s let out of the hospital, which is a couple of months away. I have five weeks of unused vacation time, and I can work from there so you won’t have to do without me entirely. I’d be back every other month when my brother is home from his job. Blaire said she can direct any photo shoots I miss.”

  Cybill’s right eyebrow shot up, never a good sign. She leaned back in her seat with the tiniest trace of a smirk on her lips. The look in her eyes was that of a cat with one claw dug so deep into its prey that there would be no escape. “You want to take a few months off? Why, of course, Harper. It’s no problem, really. I’ll just call an emergency board meeting and let them know we won’t be putting out any issues this winter. Then I’ll order Accounting to give back all the money we’ve gotten from our advertisers. I’m sure no one will mind.”

  She sat up, smoothing back her perfectly coiffed blond hair with one hand before pressing the intercom button on her phone. “Victoria, grab your notebook and come in. Harper has decided we don’t need to put out the magazine for a few months. I’ll need you to notify everyone immediately.”

  “Um, okay, ma’am. I’ll be right in,” Victoria responded quickly.

  Harper glared at her boss now, finding it impossible to hide her loathing for another second. “People have family emergencies, Cybill. It happens. They need time off at some point in their lives, and then they return. It’s part of life. It’s unrealistic to think this kind of thing will never happen.”

  Victoria hurried into the room, flashing a look of concern in Harper’s direction. She stood silently, waiting to be addressed by her boss, pen at the ready.

  “Victoria, apparently I’m unrealistic. Can you pencil in some time for a reality check for me?”

  Victoria nodded, writing and muttering, “Schedule reality check.”

  Harper dug her nails into her palms. She hadn’t realized her career had been circling the bowl, but she knew now that Cybill’s bony finger had been firmly positioned on the handle and she was about to flush.

  “I’ve been here for over twelve years, Cybill. All-nighters, weekends, cancelled vacations, whatever you needed, whenever you needed it. Twelve years. Now I’m asking you to let me work from Colorado for a few months, using my vacation time and getting someone to cover for me. You won’t notice that I’m gone. I promise.”

  “Victoria, schedule Harper into that same reality check as me. I think we’re suffering from the same illness.”

  Four

  The sun beat down on the cab of the Rent-Haul truck as Harper drove west for the third straight day. She slammed her fist on the dash, hoping that the air conditioning would magically start working. Of course it didn’t. Taking a swig of her now sickeningly warm water, she glanced down at the navigation screen on her cellphone. It showed that she still had four hundred miles of driving ahead of her. But that was without any delays. At the moment, she was stuck in a line of fed-up motorists that was so long she couldn’t see the front of it. Construction had the traffic moving slower than she could walk.

  Her phone rang. It was Megan Sullivan, her best friend in the world.

  Harper pressed the hands-free icon on her cell phone. “Hey, Megs.”

  “Hey, you. Where are you at?”

  “Still in Nebraska. Fucking construction everywhere. It’s going to be at least six hours before I’m home. Maybe ten, for all I know.”

  “Well, come here first when you get to town. Luc’s just at the market with Elliott and he plans to spend the afternoon in the kitchen, so there will be one amazing welcome-home dinner waiting for you.”

  “Thanks, hon. If I’m there even close to supper, I’ll come by. But I’m warning you, I’m a revolting, sweaty mess. I’m going to have to throw out this D&G T-shirt I wore today. It’s about two hundred degrees in this truck right now, and there is no way I can salvage this thing.”

  “Oh God, the air conditioning broke?”

  “Of course it did. Somewhere in the middle of Ohio. Right when we’re at the end of the hottest June on record. But it’s fine. I need to lose ten pounds, so I’m trying to pretend I’m in a steam room at some swanky country club.”

  Megan laughed. “Ten pounds? More like ten ounces, tops. How are you doing?”

  Harper sighed heavily. “I’m at about a level eight on the ‘my life is poo’ chart. I think I’m still in shock. I can’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that I’m unemployed. I did not see that coming. Style is my whole life.”

  “I can’t believe it either. It’s insane. You’ll land on your feet, though. You’re so connected in the industry, you’ll find something even better when you’re able to go back to work.”

  “I wish I was as sure of that as you are. Cybill is probably doing a lot of damage to my reputation as I sweat. She can make it very difficult for anyone to ever want to be seen with me again, let alone hire me. Fucking witch
.”

  “She is a witch. I’m just glad you managed to get in a few shots before you left.”

  “It did feel good at the time, but now I’m thinking I probably shouldn’t have asked if she’d had Botox injected into her heart to stop her from having feelings or if she’d just had her face frozen into place so no one would know she was having an emotion. That may not have been the smartest choice.”

  Megan burst into laughter. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t laugh, but she so badly deserved it. I hope she falls off the earth and is never heard from again.” Harper could hear a little cooing sound in the background. “Amelie agrees. Cybill’s a total shit.”

  Harper laughed. “Tell her thank you from Auntie Harper. I’m glad she knows a shit when she hears about one. Smart little monkey. What’s she doing?”

  “Having lunch.”

  “How’s that going, by the way?”

  “Good. She’s nursing a lot better now and she’s not as fussy as she was for a while there.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Us, too. It’s getting much easier. It was a rough couple of months at the beginning. Part of me was expecting Luc to get on a plane and head back to France for good once he realized how tough it is with a newborn in the house.”

  “No chance. Luc’s not going anywhere, Megan. In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never sounded happier.”

  Just as she finished her sentence, Amelie started making some fussing sounds. “Oh good Lord, you should smell what just erupted from my daughter’s bottom. I think I’m going to puke.”

  “Eeew, I’m going to puke just hearing about it,” Harper replied. “I’ll let you go deal with that.”