Breaking Clear (Full Hearts Series Book 3)

by MJ Summers

  A loud bark caused Evan to lose his place filling in a spreadsheet on his laptop. It was late in the evening and he was trying to finish up so he could get some sleep. Tomorrow would be another long day at the site. He heard the squeak of Roy’s truck door through the open window in the bedroom that served as his office. Boots sounded the happy alarm again, compelling Evan to get up and walk down the hall to the living room. There he found the dog, paws on the windowsill, looking back and forth from him to Harper as she came up her dad’s front walk.

  “Yeah, I see her,” Evan told the dog. “And no, we’re not going over there right now. We’re playing it cool, remember?”

  Boots lowered his head as if he were disappointed.

  “I don’t have time for a woman right now, no matter how much you like the way she scratches behind your ears.”

  Seven

  The next morning, Harper woke early. She got ready for the day as though she had a job to go to, dressing professionally even though she was only going to visit her dad and get groceries. Climbing into her father’s big truck, she drove to the hospital, praying that his legs had shown some sign of regaining feeling since the day before.

  Her mind wandered to the moment he had mistaken her for her mom. She wanted to find a way to ask him about it. She had almost managed to convince herself that he must have been dreaming, but what if he really did miss Petra? Was that why he’d never really moved on or gotten remarried? If that was the case, she should bring it up when the opportunity presented itself. Maybe he didn’t consciously realize it.

  She found Roy picking at what looked like a very unappetizing breakfast. He looked up at her, his eyes reflecting the same weary expression they’d had the day before. That expression signalled to Harper that today was not going to be the day to bring up Petra. She’d need to wait until he was stronger, if at all.

  “Hey, Dad,” she said, crossing the room to give him a peck on the cheek. “What is that god-awful food they’ve given you?”

  Looking down at the tray before him, he shook his head. “I think these runny things are supposed to be eggs. I’m guessing that the soggy squares were toast at one time.”

  Harper laughed at his observation, glad to find that he hadn’t completely lost his sense of humour after everything he’d been through. “I’m going to start bringing you breakfast every day, okay?”

  “I’ll take you up on that. I may not be the brightest bulb in the room, but I’m smart enough to know not to turn down a good offer.” Roy picked up a slice of the toast, letting it hang limply from his fingertips.

  “Do you want me to run out and get you something now?” Harper offered, scrunching up her nose.

  “Nah. I’ll make do with this shit for today. They’re taking me for more tests in a bit so I wouldn’t even be here when you got back anyway.”

  “If you’re sure.” Her tone was skeptical but she knew better than to push him on any point. Once Roy made up his mind, he never changed it. “I was wondering if you’d mind if I give the house a good spring cleaning. You know me, I can’t stand sitting around doing nothing all day.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir, kid,” Roy said, glancing at his legs.

  “Shit. Sorry, Dad. That was insensitive of me . . .” She paused for a moment, trying to think of what to say. “But if you think about it, you’re not doing nothing. You’re recovering. That’s a big job in itself. You had a building collapse and literally land on your back. It’s incredible that you even survived. Cut yourself some slack.”

  “Yeah, I’m a regular superhero.” He sounded sarcastic as he lifted the toast above his nose so he could lower it into his mouth.

  “I would say that’s actually a very accurate description.”

  She sat with her dad for another hour, chatting about the headlines in the paper one of the nurses had left for him. Looking down at her purse, Harper remembered that she had brought a couple of books for him to read. Pulling them out, she held them up to him. “Tom Clancy? I found them on your shelf so I know you must have read them already, but I thought I’d bring them just in case.”

  “Thanks. I will read them again. That’s the nice part of getting old. You can read the same books over and over because you forget what happened.”

  Chuckling, Harper shook her head. “You’re not old. You just need a new haircut and a shave.”

  “Oh, not this again.” Roy rolled his eyes. “Say, don’t you need to get home and start cleaning? It’s been years since those walls have seen a wet rag.”

  “Right. I almost forgot. I better get at it.”

  “You better. I’ll be really disappointed if that place isn’t sparkling when I get back,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

  Standing, Harper touched her hand to her dad’s grey hair. “See you tomorrow for breakfast. Unless, can I bring you some dinner?”

  “No, Craig said he’ll come by. Maybe he could bring me a burger or something.”

  “I’ll text him your order.”

  * * *

  Over the next week Harper fell into a routine. Each morning she brought her dad breakfast and visited with him while he ate, struggling to hide her increasing concern that he still showed no sign of having any feeling in his legs. She spent the rest of the day cleaning one or two rooms in the house, organizing closets and cupboards as she went.

  Thoughts of Evan flowed freely through her mind as she sang along to the radio. Every song reminded her of him—the romantic ones, the ones about longing, the ones about sex. She hadn’t seen him since the weekend. It hadn’t escaped her attention that his truck was gone early each morning and wasn’t parked in front of his house again until late in the evening. Okay, Harper, you’re becoming a stalker. He probably hasn’t given you a second thought since he left here on Saturday. Her thoughts were interrupted by a call from Blaire.

  “How are things in the Big Apple?”

  “Ugh. Not great. I need to ask you something every hour or so. It sucks here without you.”

  “Is it bad that I feel a little bit happy to hear that?” Harper asked.

  “Yes, but you always were a bit of a bitch, so I’d expect nothing less,” Blaire answered wryly. “How’s your dad?”

  “Not good. So far, he has no feeling in his legs. He doesn’t say anything but I know he must be scared. Not to mention that his back must be very painful.”

  “That’s terrible. How are you doing with all of this?” Blaire’s voice was full of concern.

  “I’m alright. It’s really hard to see him like this.” Harper felt a sob rising in her throat but she managed to push it back down. “Most of the time, I’m just happy he’s alive. And I’m keeping busy. When I’m not at the hospital, I’m spring cleaning his house. Top to bottom, every room.”

  “That’s my version of hell on earth.”

  “Mine too. That’s how desperate I am for something to do. How do people live like this on a regular basis?” Harper asked. “Alone with your own thoughts? It’s been only a few days and I feel like my skin is crawling.”

  “I seriously don’t know. Just keep reminding yourself it’s only temporary. You’ll be back here in no time,” Blaire said, as though it were a fact.

  “I wish I was there right now. If only I could just wave a magic wand and have my dad back to normal and have my old life again.” Harper sighed. “I shouldn’t be complaining, though. What I’m facing is nothing compared to what my dad’s facing. I definitely shouldn’t be a baby about it.”

  “Oh yes. Please don’t do that. You know how I hate babies.”

  Harper laughed, knowing Blaire was more serious than joking. “Today, I realized this is the first time in my life that I don’t have a plan. What the hell am I going to do when my dad doesn’t need me anymore?”

  “You’ll be back here before you know it. We’ll figure out a way, I promise.”

  “If that happens, I’ll be the happiest woman on the planet,” Harper said.

  “If that happens, you’ll
have to fight me for the title. I have to run. We have a planning meeting in five.”

  “I have to go too. I have an important conference call with a mop and bucket that I can’t get out of.”

  “Take care, my dear. Chin up. Keep in touch.”

  “You too.”

  As she got back to work, Harper groaned loudly. She should be on her way to that planning meeting right now. They would be working on the December issue and she desperately wished she were a part of it. December was one of her favourites—all those jackets and boots and warm, cozy sweaters to offset the glamorous cocktail dresses. She loved fall and winter fashion. It offered women who weren’t in perfect physical shape the chance to look amazing in the latest trends. Summer clothing was often too short, too tight and just didn’t fit right on anyone with flaws to hide. So when the cold-weather clothes came out, she could imagine women feeling fabulous as they adorned themselves with the perfect pair of wool slacks or a cashmere top that fell just right. And a few months after she had carefully attended to every detail of the fall and winter issues, she would see those looks on the streets of Manhattan. And it was wonderful. Gratifying in a way that few things had ever been. But she wasn’t there to be a part of it this time. And she had no idea if or when she ever would be again. Could that chapter of her life really be over? Was the career that she had given her life to, and that in return had given her so much, really finished?

  * * *

  That evening, Harper made several trips to the curb, dragging many bags and boxes for the next day’s garbage pickup, feeling very satisfied. As she stood on the driveway, she realized that she would have to find another way to spend her free time. But now she needed to channel her artistic side. It would be the best way for her to keep her sanity. Staring back at the yard, she decided that she should revitalize the tired flower beds in front of the house. That would allow her to bring something beautiful to her dad’s little corner of the world. Tomorrow, she would stop at a nursery on the way home from the hospital and pick up some plants. She put a little skip in her step as she made her way into the empty house to plan her next project.

  * * *

  Morning found Harper outside with a measuring tape and a pad of paper. The birds serenaded her as she drew sketches of the front yard, measuring the beds as she went. They were, for the most part, very bare, with the exception of the weeds that had taken over. A few overgrown evergreen shrubs stood as though randomly plunked into the ground. They were spaced too far apart, with nothing tying them together.

  Harper sat on the front step, sipping her coffee and planning what would go in each spot. The warmth of the sun on her face brought a new sense of contentment with it. Maybe for now she needed to just go where her life was taking her, instead of trying to control everything.

  Looking over at Evan’s house, she noticed that his truck was gone. She hadn’t seen him leave that morning and she found herself hoping that he had left for work early and not slept at someone else’s house. “Speaking of things you can’t control . . .” she said to herself.

  By afternoon Harper was covered with sweat and dirt, which had stuck to the sunscreen on her arms as well as, somehow, to her neck and face. Glancing down at her jean shorts, she was glad she had dug around to find some old clothes for the job. It was a hot day and she was grateful the sun had already gone around the side of the house, so that she could continue pulling out weeds, working in the shade now. Stopping to take a long drink of cold water, she looked down at the pots of plants waiting to go into their new home. The muscles in her hands and back ached.

  “Okay, Harper,” she told herself. “Let’s get this done.”

  She thought of her dad lying in bed, staring out the window when she had arrived that morning. He was lonely. He had been lonely for many years, but now he was really alone. Until now he’d been able to hide from that feeling from sun-up to sundown at a construction site. Harper knew it was killing him to lie there, unable to do anything for himself. Her dad was a man who despised weakness so vehemently that she knew a part of him would have preferred that the accident had ended it all right then. But it hadn’t. He had lived, and Harper was going to do whatever she could to make sure his homecoming and recovery were as smooth as possible. Maybe this could be a fresh start for them as a family. Maybe almost losing him would remind them all of how much they still had, in spite of the void her mother had left.

  Her pondering was interrupted by the all-too familiar sound of Mrs. Morley from across the street calling her name. “Haarrrppper! Helllooo!” she called as she bustled over on her short legs. She wore a pastel track suit and running shoes, as she did every day. The neighbours believed that her attire was chosen for the sole purpose of making it easier for her to keep tabs on everyone in the vicinity. She was a little wider now than when Harper had last seen her, and her short hair was salt-and-pepper, but she still moved with the agility of a cat when there was a story to be uncovered.

  “Oh, hi, Mrs. Morley. How are you?” Harper asked, feeling her heart sink as the neighbourhood gossip closed in on her. She rose to her feet and gave her a tight smile.

  “Excellent and improving. Things were a little rough there for a while. Neil needed a hip replacement in February, so that wasn’t easy going, let me tell you. But he’s doing much better now. Even started golfing again.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know Mr. Morley needed surgery. I’m glad to hear he’s doing well,” Harper answered politely, wondering how long it would take for Mrs. Morley to leave her alone.

  “How’s your poor father doing?” she inquired, her face pulling into a pout.

  “He’s coming along, thank you. And thank you for sending him those cookies. He really appreciated it.”

  “Well, it’s the least I could do. He’s been through so much. So, so much . . .” She let her words hang there as though tallying up all the horrible events of Roy Young’s life. “Such a shame that he never met a nice woman after your mother left with that boy. You and your brothers certainly could have used a motherly figure in the house. But maybe he’ll fall for one of the nurses. You know, a Florence Nightingale thing? Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” She nattered on as Harper turned and began arranging the plants in the flower bed. There really wasn’t much need for her to answer. “It’s not like you or your brothers are ever here, anyway. You all take after your mother, never wanting to stay in one place too long.” Mrs. Morley put a hand on her generously sized hip and gave Harper a knowing look.

  Harper stiffened at her words. “I’ve been in the same place in New York for eight years, actually.” She didn’t know whether to be more annoyed with Mrs. Morley or herself for feeling obliged to answer at all. “I should get back to work.” She crouched down to yank out a weed she’d missed, wishing that something—anything—would just get this woman the hell away from her.

  “I really like what you’re doing out here. It’s about time someone fixed it up. I’ve been staring out at this mess for years now. Pretty much since your family moved in.” Mrs. Morley laughed to soften her comment, though they both knew she meant it. She walked over and picked up one of the pots. “I see you picked up a few bleeding hearts. They’ll do nicely on this side of the house. This one’s a bit spindly, though. You should put it at the back.” She switched the plant with a large one that Harper had set closer to the house.

  “Actually, I’m going to stick it right out front and centre to give it more sun,” Harper answered, switching the pots back to where they had been.

  “Oh. Well, I suppose that might work too . . . I noticed you cleared out quite a few things yesterday. I bet it was just a mess in there. One man alone in that house all those years.” Mrs. Morley clucked her tongue in disapproval.

  “He’s pretty good at keeping things neat.”

  “Oh. If you say so,” Mrs. Morley went on. “I saw Evan Donovan helping you unload your things the other day.”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “That Donovan boy is quite the looker. Always wa
s. What that awful wife of his did to him! He never should have married that one. Should have stuck with a nice girl from this side of town. Someone he had more in common with.” Mrs. Morley sighed heavily, as though the drama was her own. “I told his mother to warn him, but you know how men are about taking advice. Now, he just goes to work and comes home to his empty house. I still keep in touch with Nancy down in Tucson. She says he’s fine, but I don’t think she really knows. I think he’s hiding it from her. Such a waste for a man like that to be alone.”

  Now Mrs. Morley had Harper’s full attention. She stopped pondering the placement of the plants long enough to risk a glance at her neighbour. “Hopefully he’ll find someone.”

  Mrs. Morley’s stare hardened, indicating that she hadn’t missed that flash of hope in Harper’s eyes. “I’ve been telling my niece to come by so I can introduce them. She’d be perfect for him. She’s a medical receptionist now but she’d give it all up for the right man. Nice girl. He needs someone like her, not some busy career woman or someone who needs a lot of fancy clothes or closets full of designer purses, like that ex of his. A man like that needs a good wife to take care of things at home while he’s at work.”

  The sound of Mr. Morley’s voice saved his wife from the retort on the tip of Harper’s tongue. “Delores! What are we doing for supper? I’m getting hungry!” he called.

  “Just a g.d. minute!” she hollered back. “At least say hello to Harper! You haven’t seen her in ages!”

  The man gave Harper a sympathetic nod and a wave. “Hi, Harper. How’s your dad?”

  “Hi, Mr. Morley. He’s doing much better, thanks!” Harper called back.

  “Tell him I say hi!”

  “Will do.”

  The screen door slammed, indicating that he had gone back inside to wait for his dinner. Lowering her voice, Mrs. Morley said, “Well, I better get back in there. If I leave him too long, he’s likely to start messing around in my kitchen, thinking he can cook. I’ll be days cleaning up the mess.” She shook her head at the thought.