Chapter 18 Harper
Harper
I ended the call with Orion just as the sky ripped open and the rain started pouring down in sheets.
“That’s not ominous or anything,” I muttered, and heaved a nervous breath. “I can do this.”
I glanced at the dress laid out on my bed and let a small smile flicker over my lips.
I’d told Orion most of the truth regarding my hairpin change of heart.
I’d been dead set on keeping us secret, but Sunday afternoon, I’d changed my mind.
I’d been strolling Castle Hill’s tiny downtown.
Amid all the bougie boutiques, antique stores, and fancier establishments was a consignment dress shop.
In the window, a white empire-waist dress caught my eye.
It had silver embroidery along the seams and intricate diamond-shaped appliqués along its flowing length.
I instantly imagined myself wearing that dress, my hair curled neatly, and maybe even something sparkly in it while walking Castle Hill Country Club on Orion’s arm. I imagined dancing with him, celebrating his regatta win proudly instead of hiding us. Hiding me.
And why not? Mom seemed okay. She’d been sober at home, and my school stress wasn’t going anywhere. I was a tough cookie after all. I could handle more school scrutiny, and Orion was worth it.
Orion…
My pulse kicked up again. I’d vowed not to do casual with a guy again, and casual had been left in the dust. It was shocking and more than a little nerve-racking how much space this boy had taken up in my heart, leaving me breathless and utterly unprepared.
And I was always prepared.
Trust.
I nearly laughed out loud. In my experience, trust was a dirty word.
“I need backup.” I punched in Emery’s cell number.
“Hey,” she said, sounding defeated.
“Hey, yourself.” I sat on my bed, next to my dress. “Are you okay?”
“Dad is making me go to the stupid election watch party for Tucker’s dad.”
I frowned. “The same Tucker you broke up with on Saturday?”
“Yeah, well, apparently Dad didn’t get the memo.”
I bit my tongue. “Didn’t you tell him?”
“I did, but he doesn’t hear me. And he…he was…”
“He was what?” I asked, my blood running cold.
“Kind to me,” Emery said, her voice breaking.
I breathed a sigh of relief, even if it was still fucked up how Grayson Wallace dangled his love in front of his only daughter like a lure instead of just giving it to her unconditionally like a father was supposed to. But my own dad split before he ever knew I existed, so what did I know?
“It’s awful,” she cried. “But I’m so starved for any scrap for kindness from my own father, I agreed to go to this stupid party. But this is the last one. The last event I do for the Hill-Wallace family alliance, and then I am done.”
Since knowing Emery, she’d told me that a key element to her dating Tucker had been because his senator father and her tycoon father had business dealings, and it was advantageous to keep the families united.
The two men had twisted systems of favor exchanges and backroom dealings, so Grayson used Emery in his schemes like a feudal king from the Dark Ages.
“So after the election, you and Xander can be…?” I prodded gently.
“I don’t know, Harper. I’m just trying to get through this night.” She sniffed and pulled herself together. “What about you? Going to the regatta party?”
“That’s why I’m calling. I was sort of hoping you’d be there for moral support.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her about Orion, but I’d planned to do that at the party too, with everyone else. Not over the phone, and not when she was still clearly heartbroken and upset.
“You’ll be fine without me,” she said. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. I wish I had half your courage.”
“I don’t know about that, but you have courage, Em,” I said. “You just have to dig for it.”
“Hm,” she said, unconvinced. “I have to go. Have the best time. I’m so jealous. Tell me everything after.”
“I will.”
We hung up, and I heard Dash bang through the front door. I went downstairs to wave goodbye to Mrs. Andolina, got him situated with a snack and his favorite TV movie, then went to get ready for the party.
An hour later, I examined myself in the standing mirror that had once been in Mom’s bedroom in Pittsburgh.
For a girl who wasn’t too handy with the makeup brush, I thought I did pretty well.
The dress was flattering with my pale complexion and dark hair, giving me a Snow White–kind of vibe.
(Though if you’d told me a year ago I’d be comparing myself to a Disney princess I’d have slapped myself in the face.)
I blame Orion. The way he looked at me in the suffragette dress…
I wanted to look pretty for him again. And for me. No crime in that.
I’d put on a faint sweep of blush, pink lip gloss, and a little bit of eye makeup. Risking second-degree burns, I’d taken a wand to my curls and tightened them so that they lay in perfect ringlets around my shoulders and used a silvery headband to keep them from my face.
I inhaled yet another steadying breath, and my breasts pushed up from the top of the empire bodice rather prettily.
No crime in that either, I thought, my cheeks heating at the thought of Orion’s hands on me, his mouth on me, maybe taking the dress off…
I took a long drink of water from my nightstand and inspected myself in the mirror one last time. Now my eyes were glassy, cheeks flushed, breasts heaving like a character in a Jane Austen novel.
I look like a character in a Jane Austen novel. I like that better than Disney. More literary.
God, my thoughts were racing. Like my heart, because I wanted that boy. Bad.
“Down, girl,” I muttered, and headed downstairs to wait for Mom to come home.
Dash watched me come down. “Oh my gosh, Harper, you look so pretty!”
“Don’t say that, buddy. You’ll ruin my makeup.”
His face scrunched up. “How?”
I dabbed my eyes with a Kleenex from the coffee table “Never mind. Thank you. That’s a very nice thing to say.”
Dash beamed and went back to his movie. I sat on the couch, my delicate shawl and my ugly raincoat on my lap. Waiting.
And waiting.
The country club party started at six o’clock.
At six fifteen, I made Dash dinner, trying not to get any mac and cheese on my dress. I texted Orion that my mother was running late so I was running late, but I’d be there in a few.
Grand entrance? ?, he texted back. I can’t wait to show you off.
My stomach rolled. The last thing I’d wanted was to show up when everyone else was already there. And Orion’s swoony words would’ve sent my heart fluttering, but they couldn’t defeat the ugly coil of fear that was taking hold.
I texted my mother. Where are you? I’m late to the party.
No answer.
The storm outside was a wild beast, trying to get in the house, rattling the windows and howling in the trees. Rain pelted the glass like pebbles, and Dash’s eyes went wide as the house shook at a particularly gnarly boom of thunder.
“Harper…?”
“It’s okay, buddy.” I stopped pacing and sat with him on the couch. “Just a bad storm. Mom will be here soon.”
It’s getting rough out there, came a text from Orion. Maybe I should pick you up.
Guilt whipped me. I hadn’t been exactly looking forward to driving in this mess, even if the country club was a short five minutes away. But the dentist office was farther. Maybe Mom ran into some trouble. I texted Orion that I couldn’t leave Dash, and then texted Mom.
Are you okay? Getting worried.
No answer.
At seven p.m., just when I was about to start calling hospitals, headlights splashed the front windows with glaring light. It wasn’t Mom’s old SUV, but a car I didn’t recognize.
Oh God.
“Stay here,” I told Dash and went on leaden legs to the front door, to greet the cops that were there to tell me there’d been an accident. That Mom was gone…
I opened the door to find my mother trying—unsuccessfully—to jab her key in the front door with one hand while holding a raincoat over her head with the other.
The car idling in our driveway wasn’t a police cruiser, but a dark sedan.
I could just make out a man in the driver seat.
Mustache, glasses. Dr. Hensley, I presumed.
“Harper! You scared me to death.” Mom laughed nervously, stepped inside, and my heart cracked in half.
She was drunk. Not falling-down drunk, but more than tipsy. More than “a glass of wine or two.”
Instantly, I was three years old and listening to her cackle at the moon while lying on her back on our front lawn.
I was six years old, covering my ears as she screamed and hurled beer bottles at a faceless boyfriend.
I was ten years old, poking her passed-out body, thinking she was dead.
I was thirteen years old, hiding in the closet with Dash as a different drunk boyfriend slammed around the apartment like the storm outside, howling and thrashing to get in…
I shut the door behind her as she came into the house and started for the stairs, giving Dash’s cheek a pat on the way, and mumbling something about having to pack. He stared at her, confused, scared, and my heart cracked again.
“Mom,” I said. “Mom.”
She pretended not to hear me.
“Maeve Bennett.”
She turned, and imaginary confusion lit up her eyes. “Oh, Harper. You look so beautiful. Why are you all dressed up?”
“You know perfectly well why. The regatta party,” I said, crossing my arms, willing my voice not to falter.
For the tears not to come. Because the night was ruined.
There would be no party. No dancing with Orion.
No standing up for us, or for myself. I couldn’t leave Dash alone with her.
Not now. But behind me, the lights from Hensley’s car were still illuminating our front windows, his car still idling in our driveway.
“What is happening right now?” I asked.
“Oh, honey.” Mom’s shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry. I completely forgot about your party. Alan’s taking me to Newport for five days. A spur-of-the-moment thing.”
My hands on my arms dug into my bare flesh so hard they’d leave bruises later.