Chapter 13
Thirteen
AFTER ANOTHER NIGHT of no sleep and a whole heap of coffee, Harper led the way up the stone walkway to a large brick home with an oversized lion knocker on the arched brown door, trying to forget last night’s intruder.
They still hadn’t determined how he got in or why he was there, other than to elicit fear on behalf of Big Max, and if that was only the beginning, she feared what was to come.
But she had to put that aside and focus on Nick and her sweet friend Taylor, who wouldn’t be part of her life anymore. She exhaled. “Here goes nothing.”
“Right here with you,” Deckard said. “I’ve got your back. It’s going to be okay.”
“She’s gone. It’s not going to be okay.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I just meant I’m here for you.”
“I’m sorry too,” she said. “I didn’t mean to jump on you like that. I just can’t believe Taylor’s gone.”
He reached out, slow and gentle, to take her hand, and she let him, thankful her body didn’t flinch. His skin was soft and warm against her palm, his fingers slipping between hers, his hold solid yet tender. “I’ll be with you through it all,” he whispered.
Through it all? As in through everything?
Could Deckard commit to something like that?
Something that could take weeks or months or even years to overcome?
Trauma affected people differently. How she’d respond when the initial fear and disbelief wore off remained to be seen.
Would he stay by her side, no matter how long and deep it went?
The door opened, and Nick stood on the other side, his brown hair tousled in that decades-old style he still thought looked cool. “Harper, I didn’t know you were back. I’m guessing you heard about Taylor?”
She nodded, tears smarting in her eyes. “This is my friend, Deckard.”
“Deckard.” Nick nodded. “Please come in.” He opened the door wider and stepped back to allow them passage. “Why don’t we head into the living room?” He led the way.
“Nice place,” Deck said under his breath.
It was indeed. With her trust fund, which Taylor had inherited upon her parents’ unfortunate deaths in a car accident, she’d had deep pockets.
The foyer opened up into a large, nearly all-white living space. No kids, but Taylor said they’d been trying. Which made her fear of Nick cheating all the more painful.
“Please, sit.” Nick gestured to the leather sectional.
“Thank you,” Deck said, taking a seat next to Harper while Nick took a seat in the matching armchair across from the gold-and-glass coffee table. “My condolences,” Deck added, his deep voice resonating in her chest.
“Thank you. It’s all come as a terrible shock.” Nick pinched the bridge of his nose. Was he staving off tears?
She studied him once his hand was lowered and found his eyes red rimmed. Maybe she was off base questioning him with the possibility of foul play, but something was tugging at her gut, and her gut was right ninety-plus percent of the time.
Harper hunched forward, releasing Deck’s hand. His warmth left her, and a chill crackled through her body. She swallowed, keeping her focus on Nick. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Nick sniffed. “I’m sorry?”
“I just can’t believe she’s gone. It was a total shock. I heard you were with her in her final moments.”
“Yeah.” He sniffed again and rubbed his eyes. “She died right in my arms.”
“I’m so sorry,” Deck said. “That had to be excruciating.”
“It was. It’s difficult to even talk about.”
“I can imagine it is,” Harper said. “I just came home, and Taylor’s gone. I thought, if it’s not too painful for you, if I could just hear what happened, it might help me start to process her death as real.”
“I’d rather not go there. It is too painful,” Nick said, sitting back against one of the oversized throw pillows Taylor had picked out on what was now her and Harper’s last shopping trip together.
“I understand,” Harper said, trying to maneuver around his no, approaching from a different vantage point. “I just can’t believe someone as healthy as Taylor had a heart attack.”
“They say it happens, but again, it was an absolute shocker.” Nick sniffed.
“So the ME said it was a heart attack?” she asked, knowing an exam hadn’t happened but wanting to hear why not from him.
“No.” Nick shook his head. “I didn’t want poor Taylor cut up like that.”
“Oh.” She sat back. “I just assumed. If not the ME, then who?”
“I explained her symptoms to the paramedics when they arrived, and they said they were the classic signs of a heart attack.”
“I see.” Harper nodded, acting compliant so he’d keep sharing. But she had to pace herself. She couldn’t come out of the gate with the possibility of their divorce or him supposedly having an affair.
“You’re having a remembrance ceremony?” Deck asked, taking yet another tack to wedge Nick into a corner without making it apparent.
“Yes.” Nick reached for a tissue, clutching it near his face. “I wanted everyone to remember the good times of Taylor’s life, not concentrate on her death.”
“That’s a really nice idea,” Deck said as Harper surveyed the room, stopping short at the urn on the mantelpiece.
“Is that—” Her voice choked. “Is that her?” She pointed at the elaborate gold urn.
He nodded. “It was a difficult decision.”
“Why?” Harper worked to school her features.
“It’s what Taylor wanted, and this way I get to keep her with me. But her brother fought hard to have her buried in their family plot.”
“That’s not what Taylor wanted? Oh . . . I went with her to put roses on her parents’ gravestones on the anniversary of their death, and Taylor said she’d be buried there.”
Nick cracked his knuckles. “Taylor changed her mind about a month ago.”
“How’s Steve taking it?” Harper asked.
“He’s devastated and confused.”
She cocked her head. “Confused?”
“He didn’t know about the decisions Taylor and I made together, apparently. As close as Tay and Steve were, I assumed she’d shared with him, but given his confusion about things, it’s clear she had not.”
“What kind of things?” she asked.
“That’s where the personal details come in,” he said, standing. “So if you’ve finished with your questions . . .”
Quite the irritated emphasis on the last word.
Deck rubbed his jaw, no doubt thinking the same as her. Interesting.
“Sitting around the house is crushing without Taylor, so a friend talked me into getting some exercise. I have an indoor tee time with him, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try and get through it.” He took a steadying breath. “Hopefully I won’t break down on the green.”
“Of course.” He hardly looked about to break down, despite the sniffles.
Deck got to his feet and held out a hand to help Harper to hers.
“Thanks so much for talking with us,” she said, moving to give Nick a hug. “I’ll be praying for you.” She needed to keep him on her good side—at least for now.
“Thank you.” He patted her back, his embrace loose, then ushered them toward the door, where his club bag stood propped beside it. “And thank you for stopping by. I haven’t felt up to seeing visitors, but I’m glad you came.”
“Happy to do so,” she said, then halted in the middle of the foyer. “Oh shoot. I forgot.”
Nick frowned. “Forgot what?”
“I lent an evening gown to Taylor and a diamond bracelet that holds a lot of sentimental value. Would you mind getting them if I describe them to you?”
Nick glanced at his watch, irritation evident. “I’m going to be late if I don’t leave now. You know where Taylor keeps her things. Just go up and grab them.”
“Thank you so much. I’ll only be a second.”
“Just lock the door behind you when you go. And then you can leave your set of keys under the toad out front. With Taylor gone, I can’t imagine you’ll be needing them any longer.”
“Right. Will do.”
Nick headed out and shut the door behind him.
Deck glanced over at her with a smile. “Let me guess, you didn’t loan her those items?”
“Actually, I did lend her a dress, but the bracelet I added on so he’d understand the value was high and I wouldn’t quit asking until I retrieved it.”
“Smart thinking, Ace.”
Warmth infused her limbs. He hadn’t called her that since before she’d deployed.
She led the way up the curving staircase to the left.
“Where does the other side go?”
“Nick’s rooms.”
“Aren’t they all Nick and Taylor’s rooms?”
“Uh-uh. Taylor has her private sitting room—”
“Sitting room?” He arched a brow.
“It’s an old-fashioned name and probably notion as well, but it’s what she grew up with, so she has one here, and she has a makeup room with a walk-in closet the size of a bedroom.”
“What does Nick have, or dare I ask?”
“He has the same size walk-in closet, his upper office—”
“Upper?” Deck furrowed his brows. “As in he has more than one?”
She waggled two fingers.
“What in the world does he need two offices for?”
“That was always my question, but Taylor could never say. She only said he had people in the lower one on the first floor, but his second-floor office was off-limits to even her.”
“And she didn’t find that odd?” he asked as she led him through Taylor’s sitting room—a tall Southern glass tumbler still on her reading table.
She paused, taking it all in afresh. Taylor was gone, and, again, she hadn’t even gotten to say good-bye.
From the sound of it, only Nick had. If there was no foul play, she couldn’t imagine how traumatic it would be to watch a loved one die right before your eyes.
Though she supposed that happened often, but usually not with one so young and up-until-then healthy.
Gone in a flash without warning. At least her family believed there’d been no warning, but Harper still had numerous questions to ask Nick.
“In here,” she said, waving Deck into the closet.
“You weren’t kidding when you said the size of a bedroom.” He spun around. “How can one person wear so many outfits?”
“One a day,” she said, moving along the line of dresses on the rack. Everything from Christian Dior to Vera Wang.
“That must add up to a lot of days.”
“I’d have to agree.”
“And that’s just dresses.” He turned to the left, facing Taylor’s shirts and then the pants-and-shorts rack. “You weren’t kidding when you said she came from money.”
“Nope.”
“And you said she had more than Nick had, from her trust fund?”
“A lot more.”
“How did he handle that?”
“He acted like it was no big deal, made jokes about being a kept man, but I think deep down he resented her for it.”
“Why?”
“Because she got the idyllic upbringing and she didn’t have to work for her money. She worked, but she didn’t have to.”
“That’s even more admirable.”
“Agreed.”
“What did she do?”
“She ran a nonprofit for kids.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah. It’s a survival camp for boys who’ve lost their soldier dads, either in the line of duty or from suicide. She was working on one for daughters of soldier moms as well.”
“That’s amazing.”
“It gives the boys a chance to get mentoring, learn about God, and experience new skills that impart more than one layer of wisdom.”
“How’d she get started in that?”
“A friend of hers from college died overseas, and his son was very young. She saw the impact it had on the boy growing up and her friend’s wife. It takes a toll on the family. That’s really it. Taylor always loved kids. Wanted the best for them.”
“But she and Nick didn’t have any?”
“Not for lack of trying according to Tay,” she said, shuffling through the garments. She pulled the jade-and-gold iridescent dress off the hanger, then held it up to the mirror. It had been a while since she’d last worn it. A charity night with Taylor. She bit her bottom lip.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Just remembering the last time I wore this dress. I was with Taylor, and it was a good night.”
“I’m sorry.” He squeezed her unbruised shoulder. “It’s a stunning dress.”
“Thanks.” So much sorrow since she’d worn it—both for her and for her lost friend. Tears stung her eyes, but she brushed them away.
“Anything else before we head out?” he asked, his gaze softening as he took in hers. His shoulders dipped. “I’m so sorry. Okay to give you a hug?”
She nodded, really needing a hug but scared her body would once again yank back on her and hurt Deck’s feelings.
He draped his arm across her shoulder and gave her a soft and spacious hug—like a dude one. “We’ll get through this,” he whispered.
She looked up to meet his eyes. “We?”
“I’m walking beside you through thick and thin. Through whatever it takes.”
That sounded like quite the commitment for the guy who never made their relationship romantic.
But that was the difference. This wasn’t romantic.
He was offering as a friend, and while she longed for more—as she’d discovered in Syria over the previous three months—she still deeply appreciated the overture.
He stepped back and took his warmth with him. She ached to be back in his arms, but best not to push it or her body’s reflexive reactions.
“Ready?” he asked.
She narrowed her eyes. Were his arms trembling? She shook her head. Probably seeing things again. “There’s one more thing I want to check before we leave.” She bolted back into the sitting room, and he tilted his head. “Come on.” She waved him in.
“What are we doing?”
She moved for the “gossip seat,” an antique piece with a sitting area and small table. It had a pop-out drawer where Taylor kept her private things. Harper bent under the piece, wiggling up the base of the hidden drawer.
“What are you doing?”
“You’ll see.” She wriggled the latch, the drawer slid out—and it wasn’t empty.
She tugged out a linen envelope and a small journal-sized notebook. Standing, she tucked them into her bag.
“Aren’t you going to look at them?”
“After we’re out of here. I don’t trust Nick to be gone very long, and I don’t want him walking in seeing me with a letter and Tay’s journal.”
“Gotcha.”
She took one last look around, soaking up the memories—the good ones of chats and laughter, and the hard ones with Taylor in tears over a suspected affair, though Nick had denied it and she’d never been able to confirm it.
But Taylor’s gut served her well. If Harper were a betting woman, she would wager on Taylor over Nick any day.