17. The Best Ones
SEVENTEEN
The Best Ones
Harry
H arry bent and picked Lillian up, carrying her into the house.
He heard Ronetta close the door behind them as he walked Lillian to her couch and sat on it.
Considering her position in his arms, she landed in his lap. He intended to put her into the seat beside him, but her arms slid around his neck and she burrowed in close, so he left her where she was and tightened his hold on her.
Ronetta first put a box of tissues on the couch next to him, then she came back with two glasses of water and placed them on the tray on Lillian’s ottoman. She retreated, but Harry heard her murmuring from the back hall, and he suspected she was making more calls.
He shifted to get more comfortable, and when he did, Lillian latched on to his hair and yanked her face out of his neck to look at him.
“Don’t leave me,” she breathed jaggedly, the serrated words dragging along his soul.
“I’m not going anywhere, honey,” he whispered.
“I mean…” She sniffed, released her hold, hesitated, and asked, “Can someone look after your pups?”
He knew what she was asking.
“Got Rus on it already,” he assured her.
Her face started to crumble, so he cupped her head and tucked it back into his neck.
It happened about ten minutes later, the thing that happened when you were loved and had good friends.
George showed first.
He took in what was happening on the couch and quickly tutted and wagged a finger when Lillian tried to move to get up and go to him.
He instead came to them, leaned in, kissed the side of her head and muttered, “Don’t move a muscle. Stay right where you are. We got you, darlin’.”
More tears came from Lillian, George’s desolate, concerned gaze slid through Harry’s as he straightened away, then he went to his wife.
Lillian’s friend Jenna showed next. Molly came after. Janie and Kay came together.
Lillian had it under control by then, and Harry had pulled them out of the couch and put her on her feet.
After she allowed her friends to give her love, Ronetta claimed her and took her to the bathroom. Then they moved to another room, and Lillian came out with the mascara smears cleared away, her face shiny with moisturizer, and she’d changed out of her sweater and jeans into some loose drawstring pants, a tight cami and bulky cardigan with slippers on her feet.
George left for a few minutes and came back with a bottle of Macallan. He showed it to Harry across the room and Harry nodded. George poured him two fingers just as he liked it. Neat.
Ronetta got on making some macaroni and cheese. Molly got on to opening bottles of wine and pouring. The other women put Lillian’s groceries away. Mark, Kay’s husband, showed. Then Trey, Jenna’s husband, showed.
And surprisingly, Rus showed.
When George opened the door to him, Harry moved in that direction and George moved out of the way.
Rus was carrying Harry’s duffle.
“Got a clean uniform in my truck. Want me to put it in your office?” Rus asked.
Jesus, but he had good friends too.
He already had an extra uniform in his office, but he didn’t get to answer, Ronetta was there.
“Bring it on up, son,” she ordered.
Rus didn’t wait for Harry to say anything. He handed Harry the duffle then hoofed it down to his SUV where Harry could see all three of his dogs in the back. He wanted to go down and give them pets, but he didn’t want to confuse them, and more, leave Lillian, even just to walk down to the street for five minutes.
Rus returned with one of Harry’s uniforms in dry-cleaner plastic, but again, Harry didn’t take it. Ronetta did.
“Leave you to it,” Rus said.
“Thanks, brother,” Harry replied.
Rus dipped his chin, turned and walked away.
Harry shut the door and Ronetta was still there.
“Follow me,” she said.
He did and she took him to the room beyond the bathroom, which would be the smaller of the two bedrooms in the house.
When they entered, Harry saw lots of soft colors, dried flowers, an ivory iron bed, and he knew this was Lillian’s room, which meant in all of these years, she hadn’t taken over her parents’ room.
He felt a sharp pain in his chest at learning this.
“You can change in here,” Ronetta said after hanging his uniform in Lillian’s closet.
He looked down at her but didn’t get a chance to exchange a glance. She was walking out.
And he was apparently spending the night.
He had zero problems with that.
Ronetta was right about something else. Lillian didn’t need him hanging around in his sheriff’s uniform.
He opened his duffle, pawed through it and saw Rus’s experience with packing a go bag for his work in the FBI hadn’t been lost in the few years he’d been out of that game.
Harry quickly changed into faded jeans, a sweater, and he put on the warm socks Rus added to the bag.
Then he headed back out.
Lillian came right to him when he showed, wrapping her arms around his middle and pressing her front to his side. Her hold was tight.
This told Harry he’d been correct in not going out to have some time with his dogs, she didn’t like she’d lost sight of him. He took careful note of that.
And Harry didn’t know her enough to know if all this company was a balm, or if she felt some ingrained need to play hostess when she needed to focus on other things.
Like she had all night, Ronetta took charge of this too.
Once the mac and cheese was in the oven, and a salad was in the fridge, with an ease and grace that even in the circumstances Harry found fascinating, she made her point.
So with lots of hugging and “I’ll check in tomorrow” and “Try to get some sleep” and “If you need anything, you know how to find me,” (with every single one of them, even the men, sending Harry speculative or grateful looks) her friends left.
Then came more hugging and murmured words, and Ronetta and George left, with George leaving behind the Macallan and Ronetta leaving behind her instructions to Harry about when to take out the mac and cheese.
Harry made sure Lillian had a full glass of wine, he grabbed what remained of his whisky, and he took them to the couch.
She cuddled close immediately.
Harry welcomed it and pulled her closer.
“It’s stupid,” she whispered into his neck.
“What’s stupid, baby?” he whispered into her hair.
“Me crying and carrying on. I knew it. I’ve known it for years. They would never have left me behind.”
“It’s still a shock,” he noted.
“I guess,” she mumbled. “But even if in the meantime I honed my talents with denial to a sharp edge, if I didn’t know it before, I would have known it when you first came to visit me.”
He gave her a gentle admonishing shake. “You’re allowed to react, now, sixteen years ago, sixteen years from now.”
She pulled her head off his shoulder and looked at him. “I love Amina and Saira and Momtaz and Bisma and Ayesha, but I need to watch something mindless tonight.”
She was talking about the characters in their show.
“We’ll find something,” he muttered.
“Do you mind staying with me?” she asked shyly.
Harry rounded her jaw with his hand and dipped close. “Honey, if you want me here, I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
Wet filled her eyes again, she sucked in an audible breath and said, “Thanks.”
“Are you gonna be able to eat mac and cheese?” he asked.
“Ronnie’s mac and cheese is the awesomest,” she told him something he could already tell by sight and smell. “But I’m not sure how my stomach would respond to something heavy.”
“Salad?”
She curled her lip.
He smiled at her. “Want me to make you a sandwich?”
“Are you going to let me get away with having wine for dinner?”
“No.”
Her lips turned down and she gave in. “So I’ll have a little mac and cheese and some salad.”
“All right, sweetheart.”
He reached for her remote.
She snuggled into his side.
He found a home improvement show, they settled in, and he got up when it was time to get the dish out of the oven. He made them both a plate. After they ate, Lillian insisted on helping him wash up.
This commenced them taking in two hours of watching people extol the virtues of shiplap and fight over the price of tile, during which Lillian fell dead asleep against him.
He let her sleep another half an hour before he clicked off the TV and lifted her again in his arms.
She roused on the way to her bedroom.
Ronetta had taken care of things in there too, with a light on one of the bedside tables giving a soft glow.
When he set Lillian on her feet beside her bed, she gazed around vaguely, and he asked quietly, “Where can I find some blankets for the couch?”
Her head tipped back, she reached out and took his hand.
“Please stay with me?” she requested.
He didn’t fight it, there was no purpose.
She wanted him there, that was where he’d be.
And incidentally, that was where he preferred to be.
“You get ready for bed first. I’ll shut down the house.”
She nodded.
Harry kissed her forehead then moved out of the room.
He heard her shuffling around as he checked windows, turned out lights and locked the door, at the same time he texted Rus.
Dogs good?
Fine , Rus replied. Then, Lillian hanging in there?
Yeah , Harry told him. Then, You’re a good friend, Rus .
You’d know , Rus returned.
Yeah, Rus was a good friend.
He went to the bedroom to retrieve his dopp kit and the pajama bottoms Rus packed and saw Lillian curled up in bed, her pretty green eyes to him.
She looked cute tucked up under her white quilt, her thick, amazing auburn hair stark against the white pillowcases.
Cute and vulnerable and sweet and expectant, a little scared, a lot sad.
And right then, his.
His .
On this thought, Harry felt something move inside him.
No, it was more like a shift.
And then it locked into place.
Sturdy, strong.
Immovable.
His .
“Be right back,” he said, his tone gruff.
Gratitude saturated her features, and what room it left, there was the slightest hint of peace.
In this time, the worst of her life, Harry being there gave her that hint of peace.
His .
Her head moved on her pillow with her nod.
He took his kit to the bathroom, did his thing and returned to Lillian.
She flicked back the covers.
He accepted the invitation, folding in beside her and reaching beyond her to turn out the light.
When the room was dark, he settled in, pulled the covers up high over them, then drew Lillian into his body. When he got her there, he tangled them up.
They lay there, tucked tight, for some time, and Lillian didn’t fade back into sleep.
“If you have troubles getting to sleep, I should have kept us on the couch,” Harry belatedly muttered.
Lillian pressed closer. “Oh no, honey, this is much better.”
She was very right. He was just pleased she agreed.
He still wanted her to go back to sleep.
Harry stroked her back.
And then she told him where her thoughts were, which would be the same as his.
“Who would do that to them?”
Harry buried his face in the top of her hair, wishing he could promise her he’d find who murdered her parents. Wishing he could actually do that so she’d have answers and justice.
But sixteen years had passed. Evidence assuredly had been lost. Witnesses definitely had forgotten. And the ultimate crime didn’t happen on his patch.
In other words, as much as it fucked him, Harry couldn’t make that promise.
What he could say was, “I’ll do everything I can to find out.”
“Are you sure you’re okay being here? Are the dogs okay by themselves for the night?”
“They’re with Rus. Which means they’re with Maddie, and she’s probably feeding them raw filet mignon and they won’t want to come home.”
She laughed softly, it sounded genuine but out of practice, like that evening had lasted ten years and she hadn’t felt mirth during any of them.
They fell silent.
Then Lillian whispered, “I’m so sorry you have to go through this with me.”
“Lilly,” he said sharply.
At his tone, he felt her head move and her gaze on him through the dark.
When he got the last, he stated, “I feel like the luckiest man on the planet that I get to be here for you while you go through this.”
He wasn’t lying.
This was who he was.
And at this very moment in his life, this was where he was made to be.
She pushed her face in his throat and whispered, “My good guy.”
“Damn straight,” he murmured.
Her fingers curled spasmodically against the skin of his back, like she could clutch it.
Then they loosened and pressed tight.
“’Night, Harry,” she said.
“’Night, Lilly,” he replied.
It took a while, but eventually Harry felt her relax in his hold as sleep claimed her.
Then, as it claimed him and he gathered Lillian even closer, he thought he’d never know what kind of woman a black hat would win.
What he knew for certain was the men who wore the white hats got the best ones.