| |
All the days were beginning to blend into each other as Harper forced herself to keep moving. Her painting, such as it was, was done and ready to be sent to the competition. She had given herself as much time as possible, trying to overcome her melancholy, but now she was on the very edge of the deadline and had to mail it today or it wouldn’t arrive in time to be counted.
She was currently wrapping the piece for transport and would travel to the nearest post office to get it shipped off. It would take her whole afternoon, but it wasn’t like it mattered. She had nothing else pulling on her time.
Her resume had gone out to a few jobs within the last week and Harper was waiting to hear back from them. Meanwhile, she moped around the house, pretending to paint, but really doing nothing.
She’d gone to visit Riley and the kittens a couple times and Harper was having a hard time not bringing one home. Sometimes all she wanted in the middle of the night was a tiny, soft kitten to cuddle with, but then the morning would come and sense would return.
She was getting a job. She wouldn’t be home. It wouldn’t be fair to a pet to be gone all day.
Harper sighed. So for now...she would remain single. Though she would use her friends to help with the loneliness, just like she had always done.
Luckily, Harper had yet to run into Mason, which was a blessing and a curse. She ached to see him but knew it would only prolong the hurt she was still experiencing. “Just like a Band-Aid,” she whispered to herself as she wrapped the painting. “Rip it off and get it done.”
Her phone rang and Harper ignored it. She’d get back to whoever it was when she was done. Trying to get a painting ready for the mail was no small task.
Her phone went off again and Harper sighed. “Fine,” she breathed. Setting down the wooden frame, she grabbed the device and frowned at the screen. Who in the world would be calling her from California? “Hello?”
“Is this Harper?” a deep voice asked.
Harper’s frown deepened. Who was this? And why was the tone ever so slightly familiar? “I’m sorry...who’s this?”
“This is Crew Turley. I’m Mason’s younger brother.”
Harper froze.
“Harper? Are you there?”
“Y-yes,” she stuttered. “How did you get my number?”
Crew chuckled and the sound was so like Mason’s that Harper’s knees shook. “I stole it from Mase’s phone when he wasn’t looking.”
“What can I do for you, Mr. Turley?” Harper said coolly. She didn’t need this kind of stress right now. If Crew was calling about Mason, then it wasn’t anything she needed to hear. Mason had broken up with her. Not the other way around. Not to mention, she still needed to get on the road so she could get that painting shipped before it was too late.
“Look,” Crew said in a somber tone. “I know Mason probably isn’t your favorite guy right now—”
Harper snorted. That was an understatement.
“But he needs your help.”
Harper put her hand on her hip. “If he needed my help, why isn’t he the one calling?” She wasn’t usually so snarky, but Harper’s emotions were a little on edge at the moment.
“Because he doesn’t think you’ll listen.”
Harper pursed her lips. “What do you want, Crew?” she asked, her tone softer. “I have several things to do today and some of them are on a tight deadline.”
Crew grumbled some things under his breath that she couldn’t understand. “Did you know that my mother is trying to take Layla away from Mason?”
Harper’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes. He mentioned it once,” she whispered.
“Did you know he’s at the courthouse right now fighting to keep her?”
Her eyes just about bugged out of her head. “What? Today? How in the world did it move that fast?”
“My mom has connections,” Crew said wryly. “But what matters is that he’s desperate for a good character witness and doesn’t have one. They’re using the hospital trip against him and Mason doesn’t have a leg to stand on.”
Harper’s stomach felt nauseous and she put a hand on it. “What do you mean, he doesn’t have a character witness? He has friends. Any of them would be willing to speak up for him.”
“And they are, but none of them have experience watching him with Layla.”
Except you. The words hung in their air between them, breaking down all of Harper’s carefully built defenses. “He won’t want me there,” she said hoarsely. “He practically kicked me out of that hospital.”
Crew snorted. “I think you’d be surprised by the reception you’d receive.”
Harper shook her head. “Crew...I really don’t see how my word means more than anyone else’s. I haven’t known Mason as long as Ethan or Jayden. Yes, we hang out with the same friend group, but we haven’t been close.”
“Harper,” Crew begged. “You know him. You know him better than anyone else. You tell me... How many people in that great big group of yours have seen Mason when he was mopping up spilled orange juice in his pajamas? Or when he was sleep deprived? Or when he was bathing a tiny toddler with jam smeared in her hair?”
Harper couldn’t get enough moisture in her mouth to swallow.
“How many have seen him at his worst, but also his best? How many have dealt with his need to be in control and helped him learn to let go?”
“How—?” She didn’t even know how to ask the right question. Crew was talking as if he had been there.
“He told me,” Crew said softly. “Letting you go was the hardest thing Mason has ever done. The man is a giant on the outside but full of stuffing on the inside. Layla means almost everything to him. He can’t lose you both.”
Harper bit her tongue. Mason hadn’t lost her. He’d pushed her away. But she knew from personal experience that losing Layla would break him. Harper was barely surviving and Layla wasn’t even hers. Mason would never recover.
And Layla won’t either.
“Where are they?” she asked.
Crew spouted off the directions, obviously having practiced before he got on the phone. “Will you come then? Can I tell our lawyer you’ll be here?”
Harper looked at her painting. The courthouse was in the opposite direction. There would be no way to do both. If she went after Mason, she’d lose her ability to enter the competition and any chance she had of talking to her mother about an extension. By not sending in the painting, she wouldn’t be fulfilling her end of the bargain and her mother would have the right to cut off funds immediately.
Her stomach churned once more. He doesn’t want you. He has other friends. He regrets kissing you.
Tears swam in her vision when Layla’s dark eyes and addicting laugh broke through the bad memories. She didn’t have to do this for Mason, though Harper still loved him...she would do it for Layla. Layla had never let her down and even though Harper wasn’t going to be part of the toddler’s life, she still wanted Layla to have the best, and it wasn’t with her grandmother. “I’ll be there.”
*****
DEFEATED. THERE WAS no other way to describe how Mason was feeling. A social worker had taken Layla and he was sitting in a courtroom listening to his mother’s lawyer talk about every mistake Mason had ever made as a youth, as a teenager and as an adult. His life, which he thought was pretty decent, was being picked apart as if he were a criminal offender.
Pictures of Layla’s head wound were up on a screen and had been for the past several minutes. Mr. Thomas had whispered that they were being left up in order to keep the accident in the judge’s mind.
Mason’s parents were sitting on the other side of the courtroom, his mother pristine and smug.
Mason had never felt such an intense dislike for anyone in his life as he did for his mother right then and there. His mind had slowly been opening the last month to his mother’s machinations, but seeing her there, her eyes to the front and her hands folded so primly in her lap while her lawyer argued about her son’s incompetence, was almost more than Mason could stand.
Crew’s lecture the other day came to mind. Where he said that Mason liked to control things...like their mother. Aimee had said Mason was kinder, and Mason found himself grateful for that, but the longer he sat in the courtroom, the more he was determined to make the differences between his mother and himself even greater.
He wanted to be the complete opposite of the woman in every way, shape and form. He wanted to learn to let go of his control and live life to the fullest. He didn’t want to just be kind, he wanted to have full compassion and charity for everyone around him. If he managed to take Layla home, he wouldn’t worry about the small messes. He would take pictures when she had food smeared in her hair. He would laugh with her when she knocked over the tower of blocks.
And the next time a woman hands me her heart, I’ll treasure it as if my life depends on it.
His own heart sank. He wasn’t sure any females would be in his life ever. The case wasn’t going well and Harper was gone. Half of Mason’s heart was already destroyed and if Layla was taken too, he wasn’t sure how he was going to survive. And there’d be no way he could approach Harper after losing his niece.
Even if she could forgive him for being horrible to her, how could she forgive him for losing custody?
“Your Honor,” Mr. Thomas said, interrupting another long speech from Mr. Thornbull. “I fail to see how Mr. Mason Turley’s seventh grade report card has any bearing on our hearing today.”
“It shows a lack of initiative, Your Honor,” Mr. Thornbull said quickly. “A history of slothfulness which undermines his ability to take care of a child.”
“He was only a child himself,” Mr. Thomas argued.
The judge held up his hand. “You’ll have a chance to offer your side, Counselor,” he said to Mr. Thomas. The judge looked at Mr. Thornbull. “Having said that, I recommend you stick with only those facts which are pertinent, Counselor Thornbull.”
Mr. Thornbull nodded, then cast a smug grin at Mason’s table. “Thank you, Your Honor.” And then he was off again, talking about Mason’s delinquent middle school years.
The door to the room opened and Mason glanced back to see Crew slip inside. He walked softly to the front and took a chair next to Mr. Thomas, whispering something to him.
Mr. Thomas nodded and whispered back.
Mason waited until they were done. “What’s going on?”
“We might have caught a break,” Mr. Thomas said.
“Counselor Thomas?”
The table looked up at the judge. “Yes, Your Honor?”
“Is there something you wish to share?” the older man asked with a raise of his bushy eyebrows.
“Not yet, Your Honor.”
The judge nodded. “Then perhaps you could offer Counselor Thornbull enough respect to be quiet during his presentation?”
“Of course, Your Honor.”
Mason felt a nerve ticking in his jaw and saw a corresponding one on Mr. Thomas. This judge hadn’t been overly friendly since they walked in this morning. It felt as if he was against Mason before they’d even met and it didn’t bode well for their keeping the will in tact.
But what did Crew say to Mr. Thomas?
Whatever it was, not knowing was bugging Mason. The whole situation had been falling apart and if they had something good, Mason wanted to know. He looked back to see Ethan, Jayden and Gavin all waiting for their chance to speak on his behalf. They offered him small smiles, which Mason returned. He was grateful they were there, but it was hard to have them listen to every mistake he’d ever made in his life. He’d be lucky if they didn’t turn on him by the time they answered questions.
“Thank you, Counselor,” the judge said, leaning back lazily in his seat. “Counselor Thomas...here is your opportunity.”
Mr. Thornbull sat down and whispered with Mason’s parents for a few moments before settling into his seat confidently.
Mason tore his eyes away when his father looked over. There was something decidedly sad in his dad’s eyes. Like he was apologizing for their mother, but it was too late for that. They were in court and Timothy Turley had apparently decided not to keep his wife from cutting ties with all their children.
Any respect Mason had had for his dad began to wither. While ultimately, Patricia Turley was her own woman, making her own decisions, sitting by his wife’s side meant he supported her, which also meant he didn’t support his children.
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Mr. Thomas said, standing. “We’d like to present a few character witnesses, if you please.” He turned around. “Mr. Ethan Markle, will you please come forward?”
Ethan gave Mason a discreet wink as he walked up and was sworn in.
The questioning began and Mason sighed in relief when Ethan worked hard to make Mason sound as good as possible. Mason owed his friend a steak dinner out. Probably several of them.
Slowly, the minutes continued to tick by as Mr. Thomas worked. He led Ethan through scenarios and memories they had planned out ahead of time, sharing Mason’s strengths and trying to avoid his weaknesses.
The whole process was tedious and slow and from the look on the judge’s face, Mason also felt like it wasn’t working. The judge looked ready to fall asleep, instead of being interested in anything the defense had to say.
“Does the prosecution have anything to ask?” the judge finally remarked, letting Mason know he was awake.
“Not at this time,” Mr. Thornbull said, rising slightly from his chair.
Mason blew out a breath. Good. Maybe the stories from his friends would stick if Mr. Thornbull didn’t pick it all apart. Because right now, this was the only thing he had going in his favor.
His hand curled into a fist on his lap. He’d already lost one woman he loved... He prayed that heaven would let him keep the other.