Page 36 of Even After This
Lost his purpose. My heart constricts in pained empathy. Our stories have different names, but they are kindred spirits.
“Somehow my brother sat with me during my toughest moments. He understood better than anyone why I didn’t want to get out of bed, and he patiently waited until I was ready to pick myself up and move forward. At any rate, to answer your original question from ten minutes ago, I don’t know.” His smile is genuine and heartbreaking all at the same time. “Your emotions don’t scare me, Meredith. Neither does your story. I hate it for you, and I wished today at the zoo that I could take away some of your pain. But since I couldn’t, I just decided to sit in it with you.”
Why would Harlan Holcombe ...
I blink. I blink as if my eyelids are windshield wipers and can swipe the old view away and bring up a fresh, different one. He’s no longer Harlan Holcombe to me anymore, is he?
He’s just Harlan.
And he didn’t have to know me for a lifetime to understand what I needed today.
Before I can think about what I’m doing, I rise, move toward him, and hold out my hands.
He pauses, not taking his eyes from mine, then stands and places his hands in mine.
I push up on my toes, his grip tightens in mine, and I press my lips to his cheek in a soft kiss. “Thank you.” My voice, thick with emotion, is barely audible.
He draws me to him and wraps his strong arms around me, one hand sliding to my waist, the other gently sifting through my hair before he presses my head to his shoulder. And then he pulls me in tight, his warmth engulfing me.
After what seems like an eternity and a quick second all at the same time, he says, “Meredith?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you don’t smell like a giraffe anymore.”
9
“What is he doing?”Last night I thought I traded my famous-people panic disorder for a friendship with Harlan Holcombe. However, as I half hide behind a giant green plant in the lobby of the Broadmoor Hotel, I realize my current behavior belies my newfound role.
Prissy slides her eyes in my direction. “He’s meeting with the guys. It’s his thing.”
“His thing?” I shift forward, and the word “thing” is pushed out along with a branch caught in my mouth.
“Everywhere he goes, he’s a mentor. Peer helper in junior high, football captain who headed up service projects for the team in high school, creator of a Big Brother program in college.” She adjusts the bangles on her wrist until they form a pristine row. “This isn’t the first group he’s brought to the Broadmoor. I’ve seen this play out numerous times. Without fail, Harlan gets up each morning, plants himself down here in this corner of the lobby for a couple of hours, and meets with whoever wants to show up.”
A warmth fills my chest, and I am once again surprised atHarlan. This new information spurs twenty-seven questions, but I don’t voice them because the group stands.
Five hulky men of varying degrees of beauty, including Charlie Boyd, say their farewells through man-grips, hugs, and slaps on the back. I worry someone will need medical attention by the time they finish.
While shaking a hand, Harlan catches my eye. His face lights up, and he flashes a smile my way.
Prissy raises her slim eyebrows. “Nothing going on, huh?”
My face flushes. “I mean, we’re just—I kind of—you know, yesterday we—it’s not a definite, you know.” My hands try to help my non-explanation but instead resemble flailing fish.
Prissy’s eyes glitter with amusement but shift with mine to observe Harlan sauntering in our direction.
“The queen of England called, Mrs. Prestidge. She wants her clothes back.” In one smooth move, Harlan takes her hand and kisses the top.
“Don’t be silly. The queen could never pull off this look. Stop with the vain flattery, Harlan Christopher Holcombe.” Her eyes narrow. “I changed your diapers, caught the show when Carissa Jo turned you down at the homecoming dance, and your mama would support me if I found cause to put you in your place.”
Prissy’s bad-to-the-bone display is entertaining. By the time she’s halfway through, Harlan has moved two feet over and side-hugged me. We’re now standing with his arm draped around my shoulders. I’m surprised my sharp, rigid posture doesn’t hurt him.
It’s not that Harlan Holcombe is touching me. It’s thatHarlanis touching me. Somehow this is so much worse.
Harlan’s head turns, his mouth aimed at my ear. “Breathe.” He lets go of me but remains close. Prince Charming starts back in on Prissy. “Why are you cranky this morning, Mrs. Prestidge?”
I gape at him. No one messes with Prissy. I’m afraid of the consequences Harlan will face for poking the immaculately dressedbear. “Don’t give her a hard time, Harlan. She’s not pleased with me after this morning’s meeting.”
