“Harlan?”
Harlan snapped out of his trance, looked at her, and immediately smiled. “I was wondering where you were.”
“I had a few things to take care of this morning,” she informed him, although she wasn’t going to mention that those things involved identifying a dead woman.
Indy was relieved that whatever had him upset with her from last night had already left his mind. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her as much as it did. It obviously had more to do with Maureen, but she still felt some guilt over what happened between them, which was mostly on her.
“We need to get you washed and dressed before breakfast,” Indy announced.
Harlan’s expression was priceless. “Oh, bath time,” he gleefully announced.
He removed his shirt, not letting his casts slow him any, and grinned boyishly at her. Indy couldn’t resist smiling and shook her head at his childlike fascination. Jackson had been right; Harlan by all accounts should have been dead. If he got some perverse pleasure from bath time, it didn’t matter. He was alive. Her attention shifted to his left cast. She sat on the bed and examined the new markings. Several areas were blackened out with permanent marker, including the area referencing her sexually. Had Roman lied? Was Harlan more upset than he led on?
“What happened here?” she asked of the markings on his left arm cast.
“I have no idea. I’ve been trying to figure that out all morning,” he replied and studied the blacked areas with great interest. “Looks like something had been scratched out and then colored over.” He gave her a puzzled look. “Who’d do something like that?”
Indy wasn’t sure she liked the behavior he had been displaying and would need to question Roman further on what Harlan had been doing last night. She studied the blackened areas a little closer. Harlan had been correct. There were scratches beneath the permanent marker, removing any trace of what had been written beneath it. Indy’s thoughts immediately strayed to the photo album and Harlan’s outburst directed toward her. She couldn’t fight the feelings any longer and stared into Harlan’s eyes.
“Were you mad at me last night?” Indy blurted out and almost immediately regretted it.
Harlan stared back at her and seemed puzzled. “I don't think so. You give me my bath.” He grinned proudly. “I could never be mad at you.”
She wanted to believe him, but his mood last night was evidence enough to tell a different story. Indy again studied the scratched out and blackened areas with concern. She was almost relieved that the one referencing her was gone. She inhaled deeply then offered a warm smile.
“Well, maybe certain reminders are best left hidden,” she remarked.
“I wouldn't be able to remember your name if it wasn't written on my cast,” he contradicted, obviously not caring for her opinion. “Could I have a tablet? I seem to have run out of space on my casts.”
She had to admit, he did a fantastic job of filling all the available space on both his casts. Left-handed writing wasn’t a hindrance for the man of many talents. In the past, he boasted being able to read upside down, which didn’t surprise her. Harlan was a man who’d never forgotten anything that had happened in his life. His memory was astounding, which is what made his current situation all the more saddening.
“I'll see if I can find one for you.”
†
Morning had passed quickly and it was nearly noon. Roman was the first to rise and seemed in a hurry to leave despite his hangover. Indy saw him attempting to make an escape and hurried onto the porch after him. He had to have seen her, but he didn’t stop. She caught up to him before he reached the steps and grabbed his arm. He was hesitant to stop, judging by the amount of pressure she was forced to use on his arm. He turned to face her and immediately ran his fingers through his hair. Judging by his condition, his hangover was massive.
“We need to talk,” Indy announced firmly.
Roman groaned softly and looked as if he were about to heave. “Can we talk later, Indy?” he questioned. “I'm suffering from major hangover here.”
She could see that much, but she wasn’t letting him go without some answers.
“No, it's important,” Indy announced. “What happened last night with Harlan?”
Roman groaned and leaned heavily against the support beam, allowing his head to hit the post a little hard than intended.
“He asked about Maureen, so I told him,” he announced as his eyes rolled open and met her gaze. “He got a little weird, and I tried to smooth things over.”
“Was he mad at me?”
Roman suddenly straightened and appeared surprised by the question. “Mad at you? Why would he be mad at you?” he asked then hesitated as his eyes widened. “Oh, you mean because of what was written on his cast?” A strange grin crossed Roman’s stubbly face. “I'm pretty sure I don't want to know what happened there, but he wasn't mad at you.”
“He scratched different writings from his cast and colored them over with permanent marker,” she informed him with a firmness that demanded an explanation.
“Yeah, I know,” Roman replied casually. “He was doing that with a butter knife while we talked. Don’t worry; I removed the butter knife before I left.” His expression softened despite how poorly he must have been feeling. “You don't need to worry, Indy, he wasn't mad at you. All his anger was at Maureen.” He hesitated then inhaled deeply while sinking into thought. “Then ten minutes later, he moved on to the next thing.” He looked back at Indy. “It was an endless loop of anger toward Maureen, thinking the coyote was after him, bombs not detonating, and where you were with his bath.”
Indy attempted to relax though it wasn’t easy. “I'm glad to hear.” She subconsciously ran her fingers through her hair while feeling the guilt returning. Now Roman knew what she’d done too. “I didn't mean for it to happen, Roman,” she remarked timidly. “I guess I was still dealing with his near death, and when he came on to me, I just couldn't turn him down.”
“Sympathy sex. I get it.”
“No, I'm not sure you do,” she announced then groaned. “It goes beyond sympathy. He almost died. I almost lost him. I needed that closeness.”
“Yeah, I still get it. Comfort sex.”
Indy sighed, allowing her arms to fall to her sides. “Close enough.”
“So what now?” Roman questioned, appearing alert to the prospect of a sexual conversation. “Are you going to continue servicing him?”
She glared at her friend. She loved Roman dearly, but he could be a pervert at times.
“Not that I don’t appreciate your crudeness, but, no, it's over,” she announced bluntly then felt slightly insecure about the entire incident. “He doesn't remember any of it, and the writing is no longer on the wall…so to speak.”
“That's for the best,” Roman replied with less enthusiasm. “You're like a niece to him, and knowing he slept with you is liable to kill him.” He inhaled deeply and again looked as if he was about to heave. “He has enough problems without living with that sort of guilt. Not to mention your father would kill him if he ever found out.”
Indy was very aware of the consequences if that happened, and she trusted Roman not to say anything. He liked Harlan and didn’t want to see anything bad happen to him either.
“I’m feeling guilty enough for both of us,” Indy announced gently. “I’d prefer it if that memory never returned to him.”
Roman straightened. “Can I go now? I really don’t feel--” Before he could even finish the sentence, he turned toward the railing and vomited over the side and into the bushes.
“Okay, I think we’re finished here,” Indy announced while grimacing.
She turned and hurried back into the house. If she had to see, hear, or smell any more of that, she’d be doubled over the railing alongside him.
Chapter Twenty-six
Two days later, Indy and Harlan sat at the kitchen table with a bored game between them and a plate full of Christmas cookies. Harlan ate a cookie as h
e rolled the die then moved his play piece the appropriate amount of spaces. He picked up the card, read it, and groaned.
“I keep going back to the bog,” Harlan protested then moved his piece back to the undesired location. He frowned his disapproval and pointed at the board. “That place is a hellhole. Last time I was there, someone jumped me from behind and nearly tore off my testicles.”
Indy looked at Harlan with surprise by the comment. She didn’t know what game he was playing, but she didn’t remember Candyland being that violent. Their game was interrupted by someone knocking on the front door. Harlan immediately looked around with concern.
“Did you hear that?” he suddenly asked.
“Yes, someone’s at the front door,” she replied while standing. “I’ll see who’s at the door. You just sit in the bog and watch out for marauders.”
“Oh, I will,” he announced firmly.
Indy eyed him with concern then hurried from the kitchen. She crossed the foyer and approached the front door. Utilizing the peek hole was not something she’d ever done in the past, since nothing ever happened in their small town. That was, until the visiting nurse was murdered. Indy opened the door and stared at Maureen standing in the doorway. Indy’s heart nearly pounded through her chest at the sight of Harlan’s soon-to-be ex-wife. There was a time when she was happy to see the woman, but those feelings were replaced with anger and hostility. Despite Maureen’s timid smile, Indy gripped the doorknob and sneered at the woman.
“What do you want?” Indy demanded.
Maureen appeared surprised by the tone and equally scathing words from Indy. She blinked several times as her lips parted slightly.
“I came to see Harlan,” she announced almost innocently, as if it were a common occurrence.
Indy released the doorknob and leaned her shoulder against the doorframe while folding her arms across her chest. Her expression was cold.
“I think it was made perfectly clear that you only speak to Harlan through his lawyer,” Indy scoffed.
“He’s my husband,” Maureen firmly protested, her innocent appearance quickly turning angry and hostile. “I can see him if I want to.”
“No, you can’t,” Indy hissed back. “Anything you have to say, you’ll need to say to his lawyer. He doesn’t remember you, and it’s in his best interest that he has no contact with you until the divorce is final.” Indy’s eyes narrowed as she glared at the woman. “And even then, I’m not letting you anywhere near him.”
“I’m withdrawing the divorce,” Maureen announced while holding her head up high. “I want to see my husband. In fact, I’m petitioning to have him moved back into our house.”
Indy felt her entire body twitch at the words. Her heart pounded rapidly as fright swept through her. She couldn’t do that! Could she?
“Now get out of my way,” Maureen snapped and shoved past Indy into the foyer.
Indy was momentarily thrown off balance then turned and watched Maureen strut into her house. She looked around for Harlan while making her way along the foyer. Indy bolted after her, grabbed her by the arm, and slung her backward, forcing her to face her. Indy’s look was wild and unpredictable.
“Get out of my house!”
“I’m taking Harlan home with me,” Maureen blurted out, “and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”
She attempted to storm past Indy. Indy suddenly kicked her in the abdomen. As she doubled over, she punched her in the mouth, sending her to the floor. Indy sneered and stood over the writhing woman.
“You can either walk out or be carried out,” Indy snarled in a hateful tone.
Maureen suddenly kicked Indy in the shin, nearly catching her in the knee. Indy fell to the floor with a thump that sent pain through her hip. Maureen jumped on top of her and screamed while punching her in the face. She coiled back for a second punch, which Indy prepared to block. Maureen suddenly cried out as she was pulled off Indy by a casted arm around her waist. Harlan tossed Maureen across the foyer floor with such force that she slid in circles across the hardwood. Harlan stood defensively in front of Indy and glared at Maureen on the floor several feet away. Maureen stared at the cold expression on Harlan’s face as his eyes cut through her. She slowly stood while facing him. Indy sprang to her feet and attempted to bolt past Harlan. He extended his casted arm, stopping her, and forced her to remain behind him.
“Harlan,” Maureen announced with a soft gasp while staring at him. “It’s me, Maureen, your wife. Remember?” She smiled sweetly and attempted to charm him with her bedroom eyes. “I’m here to take you home, away from these people. They’ve been trying to keep us apart.”
“You lying bitch,” Indy growled and again attempted to bolt past Harlan.
Harlan caught her arm and nearly slung her back to her position behind him. His eyes remained locked on Maureen with a look of mayhem on his face.
“I don’t care who you are,” Harlan boldly announced. “This is my home, and I’m not going anywhere with you. And if you ever touch Indy again, you’ll regret it.”
“But, Harlan--” Maureen protested.
“Get out,” he growled lowly and pointed to the door. “And don’t ever come back.”
Maureen stared at him and appeared frightened for the first time. She quickly grabbed her discarded purse and hurried from the house, slamming the front door behind her. Harlan turned to face Indy. His look immediately softened as he gently touched the red mark on her face.
“Are you okay?”
Indy stared at Harlan with surprise. “You remembered my name.”
“Yes,” he replied. “Can we finish our game now? There are some pretty seedy characters in that bog, but I can’t get out until my next turn. I fear they may torture me soon.”
Indy attempted to hide her smile. She didn’t care how insane he sounded, she was just happy he remembered her name without consulting his cast for once. The front door was suddenly thrown open with a thunderous crack, startling both. Harlan spun on his cast so fast that he nearly fell to the floor. Flynn entered the foyer and looked at them with alarm.
“Was that Maureen who nearly ran me down in my own driveway?” Flynn demanded.
“Yeah,” Indy remarked with disgust. “She’s petitioning to have Harlan returned home. She claims she changed her mind about the divorce.”
“I’ll bet she has,” Flynn announced then snorted a laugh. “Harlan’s lawyer discovered she had signed a prenuptial agreement prior to their getting married. If she divorces him, she gets nothing. Her lawyer probably told her that this afternoon.” He grinned his pleasure. “Harlan’s lawyer is going to proceed with the divorce on his behalf. Maureen gets nothing except some furniture and her personal belongings.”
“That’s wonderful,” Indy announced while breathing a sigh of relief. She looked at Harlan, who had no idea what they were even talking about. “You’re free, Harlan.”
“Really?” he announced with surprise. “So it’s my turn to roll then?”
Indy held back her laugh. “Yeah, it’s your turn to roll. Let’s finish that game.”
Harlan appeared pleased and hurried as fast as his cast would allow him to travel back to the kitchen. Indy smiled at her father and followed Harlan.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Just three days after the New Year, Indy, Jackson, Harlan, and Flynn sat at a booth at the local diner. The diner was particularly busy that morning, being the town was returning to a sense of normalcy after the holiday season had finally ended. Harlan sat alongside Indy while picking at his French fries and subconsciously rubbed his bare arms. The casts had finally been removed, leaving his arms a little paler in comparison to the rest of his body. Surprisingly, he hadn’t lost much muscle tone in his lower arms. He seemed unusually preoccupied with the new sensation and was barely able to concentrate on much else than his cast free limbs. Jackson watched Harlan repeatedly rubbing his arms. It wasn’t as if they all hadn’t been there at one point during their tour of duty.
“How does it feel to be free from your cast hell?” Jackson asked while hiding his humored smile.
Harlan glanced at him but didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm. “Like I'm naked.”
Both Jackson and Flynn were amused by the response. Physically, he was in fine shape, and it wouldn’t take much to return his body to a weapon of mass destruction. His mind was the continuing saga of despair.
“I bet you're dying for a good old-fashioned shower,” Flynn announced then slyly eyed Indy with a knowing grin. “No more sponge baths.”
Harlan sharply shifted his attention to Flynn, as the magnitude of the comment appeared to sink in. There was an odd moment of silence.
“Huh?” Harlan snorted softly in response then hesitated. “Well, that sucks.”
Jackson chuckled at the remark then minded his own meal. Ending the conversation on sponge baths was in everyone’s best interest. Flynn’s sense of humor only went so far.
“What did the doctor say about your memory loss?” Flynn finally asked Harlan.
Harlan considered the question then flipped through his notepad, which was filled with entries. Flynn glanced at Indy for an immediate response. Her father had never been a particularly patient man when it came to answering questions.
“He wasn't concerned,” Indy replied with a shrug. “He said it's only been two weeks since he came out of the coma. The doctor is encouraged that he thinks to write things down and actually remembers to consult his notepad.”
Flynn sank back in his chair with a look that conveyed his distaste for the diagnosis. “But he still doesn't remember one day to the next,” he protested. “That didn’t concern him at all? You know, I never liked that doctor.”
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