Remember (15 page)

chapter twenty-six

T
he first few moments of kissing Neil, every sense in my body reported back how it was different from kissing Josh. Neil smelled like clean laundry and fresh air. Josh smelled like a mix of rubbing alcohol from the labs, Zest soap, and the woodsy cologne he liked. Josh was lean with angles. Neil was larger, his body firm. He was also hot. It was like he had an internal generator cranking out the heat; I felt the warmth from his hands burning through my clothes. It burned thoughts of Josh out of my head.

I felt as if there were a cable that ran from my chest to his, tethering us together. It pulled me toward him, connected us. The blood in my ears made a rushing noise, and the sound of our breath coming faster excited me. Neil pushed me so we were pressed against the shelves and hidden by a display of
chocolate syrup. I pushed his T-shirt up so I could feel his bare skin. My index finger traced his ribs under a layer of muscle. It felt as if his body was all that was holding me down and that if he weren’t there I would float up and away.

“Wait.” Neil pulled back. “Give me a second.” He closed his eyes.

My insides had turned into molten metal, and I felt as if I could ooze onto the floor and melt through the tiles. “You okay?” I whispered.

He chuckled. “I’m doing a bit more than fine.” He held on to the handle of his cart and took a deep breath. “I don’t want this to happen too fast.”

“I’m not confused about you, if that’s your worry. This isn’t some rebound thing. I’ve been thinking about you for a while, since the bike ride. Probably before that, but I wasn’t ready to do anything. I’m ready now.”

He smiled. “So you’ve liked me since the bike ride, huh?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t fish for compliments.”

He looked up and down the aisle. “I want to go out with you. On a real date.”

“As opposed to all the pretend dates we’ve been on.”

“I want to take you out to dinner,” he insisted. “I want to get to know you. Have you come over, watch movies. I want you to meet my friends. I want to see you ride a horse, but I don’t see that happening.”

I swallowed. I’d assumed he wanted to go out with me
too, but now I wasn’t sure. Did he think he would embarrass me? Or that I would make some random comment that would make me sound like a snobby society girl in front of his friends? He hadn’t always seen me at my best, but I was capable of basic social interaction. “Pick a place for dinner and we’ll go.”

He shook his head clearly frustrated. “You’re missing the point. I’m not supposed to see you at all. The police told me to stay away from you, or else,” he said. He gestured around the grocery store. “Look at us—we’re hiding behind a display of chocolate syrup so we can make out. We’re meeting places where we hope no one recognizes us. Does this seem like a normal dating relationship to you?”

My stomach dropped. I tried to picture Neil and my dad sitting in my living room watching a football game together. It was like trying to imagine keeping a mini Godzilla as a home pet—an interesting image, but impossible.

Neil sighed. “Don’t you get it? Your dad is the one who sent the cops to my place.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “That’s not possible. My dad doesn’t know anything about you. This is something that the security detail has focused on. They’ve seen you protest the company and somehow they found out you were poking into my dad’s past.” I hated the expression in his eyes. I could tell he didn’t believe me. “You don’t know these guys. They rely on my dad for their jobs. They’d do anything to protect him. They don’t tell him stuff they think would upset him or distract him from
what they think he should be doing.” I tried to find a way to explain it. “It’s not just work—my mom and I have always done it too. We arrange everything so nothing gets in the way of him doing what he does best. My mom makes sure he never has to use his brainpower on repairing the roof, or worrying that we’re out of milk, or helping me if I’m struggling in chemistry. My dad isn’t going to spend his time on my love life. I’m sure he doesn’t know about you. The warning came from someone else.”

“This isn’t just about who you’re dating. It’s about him,” Neil said. “It’s about whatever he did to cover up the lie of your real mom. The reason he doesn’t want me around is that he doesn’t want to know what I might find out.”

I wanted to cover my ears. “What else is there to find out? She died. Most likely I couldn’t handle it, or he couldn’t handle a nine-year-old obsessed with grief, and he wiped my memory. Should he have done it? No.”

“What if it’s more than that?” He took a deep breath. “I did some more checking into your real mom.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” I pointed out. I didn’t want to hear what he found out.

“She was a scientist like your dad, but she was really focused on ethics. She wrote an article about the importance of transparency in the development of new drugs and procedures. She did her PhD thesis on the importance of informed consent.” He pulled his backpack out of the cart. “I downloaded a copy of it if you want to read it.”

I shook my head. “What’s the point of all of this?”

“What if your mom knew that the procedure had major side effects?”

His words hit me, and then their meaning exploded into brittle shrapnel. “You think my dad did something to my mom?” I felt sick. “No, not something. You’re saying that she uncovered what the procedure could do and he killed her to keep it quiet.” I wanted to run down the aisle away from him. I needed more air or there was the very real risk that I’d vomit. My dad was clearly lying to me, but this was going too far. Neil hated my dad and he was willing to think the worst of him, but that didn’t mean I was willing to make this leap. My brain scrambled to go through my memory of Robyn: Had she fallen down the stairs, or had she been pushed?

Neil reached for my hand, but I stepped back, knocking a few boxes of cereal off the shelf. “I don’t know if that’s what happened—” he said.

“No, you don’t know.” I cut him off. “I know you think you understand my dad, and I’ll admit he’s not perfect and he’s made some huge mistakes, but he’s not someone who would kill someone. Kill my mom, his wife.” I hated the feeling of uncertainty in the center of my stomach and was mad that Neil had put it there.

Neil held up his hands in surrender. “I shouldn’t have said anything, but I thought you should know what I found out.”

“No, you told me because you want to prove to me you’re right. You think the world is shit, but I’m telling you not every
one in it is. It might seem like my dad has it all and is some kind of dictator at Neurotech, but he’s not God. If he killed someone, the police wouldn’t let him off.” I pushed down the thought in my head that if it looked like an accident, he might just get away with it.

“There are a lot of people who protest Neurotech. Even if the security staff investigated me because of what I’ve been checking into, how did they find out that I knew you? Someone told. Who of your friends knows about me?” Neil asked.

I spun around and pushed my cart down the aisle, my hands shaking. I could hear Neil trailing after me. I turned around and hissed at him. “So it’s not enough that my dad’s a murderer? One of my friends also must have betrayed me too, huh?” Josh’s face flashed in my mind.
Would he?

“You’re only mad at me because you don’t want to hear this. You don’t want to believe that your faith in your family and friends might be misplaced.”

“No, I’m mad at you because what you’re saying is wrong.”
And mean,
I wanted to add, but even in that state I knew that saying it would make me sound like a toddler.

“Look at the facts. Someone from Neurotech warned me to back off from the company
and
you. They might try to protect your dad, but they have no reason to worry about his daughter. The most likely thing is that your dad asked someone to scare me off. How did he know about us? Either he’s spying on you, or someone told him.”

“It could have been one of your friends,” I said.

“The only one who knows anything about you is Trey. Why would he tell on me? There’s nothing for him to gain.”

“Why would my friends tell on me?”

“Because they think they’re protecting you? Maybe because they don’t want you going out with me.” Neil’s voice was getting louder, and a woman glanced at us as she made her way down the aisle. We were attracting attention. He lowered his voice and looked over his shoulder.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Josh. How far would he go to protect me? “I need to go.” I grabbed my bag out of the cart and abandoned everything else in it. “Thanks for all the information. I’ll consider what you said.” I forced my voice to come out calm and rational.

“Harper, wait.”

I started walking toward the door, but he was right behind me. He sped up and walked around, getting between the door and me. “Get out of my way,” I said.

“Let me explain,” Neil said.

I felt panicked. I stepped to the right, but he moved so he was still in front of me. “Let me go,” I repeated louder. The cashier closest to us looked over. I could tell she was considering calling a manager.

Neil took a quick step to the side and the automatic door whooshed open. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to scare you. I just want you to listen.”

I stood in the doorway, half in the store and half in the parking lot. The sun had gone down, and the night was cold.

“I’m not saying these things to hurt you. I’d change it if I could. I wish I’d met you in a coffee shop, or at a party, or just about any way other than because I was protesting your dad’s company. If I could go back and not know all this stuff, I would, but I do. You know it too. You can’t pretend to ignore it,” Neil pleaded with me.

“You might be surprised what I can ignore when I set my mind to it.” Even as the words came out of my mouth, I knew they were a lie. I had to have answers, but more than anything I wished I could walk away and never think of it again.

chapter twenty-seven

I
didn’t want to go home, and both Win’s and Josh’s places were out. One of the best things about animals is that you can trust them. Horses don’t lie. They don’t say things to hurt your feelings. You don’t have to worry about what they really mean, or if they have an ulterior motive. They just are. They might shit on your boots, and if you aren’t careful they might nip you, but that’s about the worst that will happen. When I turned on my car after the confrontation with Neil and had no idea where to go, the first safe place that came into my head was the stable.

Hampton Mews might have looked like an eighteenth-century barn, complete with quaint details, but it also housed over twenty horses and equipment that added up to hundreds of thousands of dollars. No way were they going to go with
old-fashioned guard and just throw a padlock on the door. The security system was as elaborate as Fort Knox with alarms, motion sensors, and for all I knew ninjas that could be lowered from the ceiling in an emergency. I punched in my personal security code number and heard the alarm beep its acceptance.

The main barn had motion sensor lights set up, so as I walked down the hall, the lights flicked on. The horses nickered and neighed in their stalls. They were interested in the change in their routine. The barn wasn’t a typical party place; the last groom would finish up and go into his apartment above the stable by eight. A few of the horses tossed their heads over their stall doors to check out events. I grabbed a handful of alfalfa treats from the bag. Dallas gave a nicker of recognition when he saw me. He tossed his head, which I took to mean,
Hey, girl, what’s up?
I held out the treats, and his soft velvet mouth took them gently, barely tickling the palm of my hand.

“Things are pretty fucked up,” I admitted.

Dallas snorted. I suspected he was a horse who had heard many tales of woe. He butted my head softly with his nose. I gave him another handful and then petted his forelock. There was something about the soft, bristled fur that was soothing.

The next stall over had been Harry’s. His brass nameplate was still on the door. The stall had been washed and cleaned, and someone had stacked a few bales of clean hay in the corner, using the space as storage. It looked empty without Harry. I waited for a wave of sadness to come over me, but there was nothing.

I wanted to feel again. The black void where he’d been threatened to consume me. I stepped in and touched the various ribbons on the wall. Some were events I could remember and others were vague. There had been so many over the years that they blurred together. My forehead pressed against the wooden wall, and I thought about Harry. I could picture him, a mental image of me sitting on his back, but I felt nothing. I strained to reconnect with those memories, but they were gone. It was like riding him had been something that happened to someone else. I couldn’t even feel sad about losing memories of him; I’d given them away. Traded away all the good memories to get rid of the bad.

I sat on the hay bale and took a bunch of deep breaths to try to clear my mind. Wasn’t this supposed to be some kind of Zen thing? Millions of Buddhists couldn’t be wrong, but it wasn’t working for me. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything. I’d push one thought away, and six others would rush to fill the space. My own skin didn’t seem to fit anymore. I couldn’t get comfortable. Was this how people felt before they finally snapped and went crazy? I wondered if this was how Neil’s brother had felt—like his life was unraveling. I jumped up. I needed to do something or I’d start screaming.

I clicked on the light to the tack room. Every owner had a locker for his or her things. I opened the black-stained wooden door. I had a Devoucoux saddle. One of the grooms had cleaned it after my last competition and put it away on the saddle rack.
I pulled it out and placed it on the blanket on the center table. With the exception of Harry, my saddle was the single most expensive thing I’d ever owned. It was a work of art. As far as I was concerned, it could have been propped up on a marble pillar in the house like a piece of sculpture. I caressed the dark mahogany leather and breathed deep to pull in the smell, a mix of leather, horse, and saddle soap.

I dusted the saddle with one of the soft cloths from the equipment room. You had to be careful when you cleaned a saddle so you didn’t rub dirt into the leather; you could scratch and scar it that way. I used a paintbrush to clean any dirt under the skirt and around the pommel. I opened a tin of saddle soap and inhaled the familiar smell. I rubbed it on the leather the way Laura had taught me, with tight small circles.

As much as I tried to focus on something else, anything else, I kept cycling back around to what Neil had told me. And to kissing him. That was another memory that I couldn’t shake. I was off-balance—part of me wanted to go back to making out with him and the other part wanted to hit him for telling me things I didn’t want to know. It didn’t seem possible to want both of these things at the same time, but somehow I was managing it.

I polished the saddle harder. How dare he say I was too scared to face real life? It was normal to want to avoid unpleasant things. That was why people didn’t go strolling through broken glass or drink milk that smelled off. I picked up the tin
of saddle soap and hurled it against the wall. The horses shifted uneasily in their stalls at the loud noise.

Chucking the tin didn’t make me feel any better. It also left a small black mark on the wall. I had to do something that would make a difference. Throwing a tantrum like a toddler wasn’t going to do it. I pulled out my phone. Did I really think my dad would have done anything to my mom? There was no reason not to confront him. No reason to be scared. If I really wanted answers, I had to stop fishing around and go directly to him. He picked up on the first ring.

“Dad?”

“Hey, Harper, where were you tonight? Your mom expected you home for dinner. When she found the note you left in the hall that you’d gone out, she was on the warpath.” He lowered his voice. “Not that I blame you; she made that vegan fake macaroni-and-cheese casserole thing. If there’s proof of Satan, it’s that fake cheese. What the hell do they make that stuff out of, anyway?”

“I need to talk to you.”

He was silent. I pictured him sitting in his office staring up at his action figures. He knew I didn’t want to talk about something like the origins of vegan cheese. “Okay. You come home and we can have a family meeting.”

“Not Mom.” My mouth soured even saying the word “mom.” I couldn’t stand these lies one more second. “Just you and me.” My stomach had gone into high acid production
mode. If this kept up, I was going to develop an ulcer by the end of the day. “I have some things I want to ask you.”

“I see.” His voice had lost the joking tone; now he sounded like he did on one of his conference calls with the Neurotech board. Calm and all business. “When can I expect you?”

“I’ll be home in twenty minutes.”

“Drive safe. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

I clicked off the phone and dropped it on the table. It was too late to back out now. I’d put things in motion. I debated calling Neil to tell him what I’d done, to show him that I wasn’t nearly as scared as he made me out to be, but I was afraid he’d hear the tremor in my voice.

I know I should wash the saddle soap off and condition the leather, but I didn’t want to take the time. I’d do it later. I gave the saddle a quick wipe and hefted it back onto the rack.

Dallas watched me shut up the tack room. He neighed softly. I grabbed another handful of alfalfa treats and held them out for him. When he finished them, I patted him on the nose.

“Wish me luck,” I said. I pulled open the door and reset the alarm.

Dallas neighed again, which I took to mean
You’re going to need it
.