by Leigh Tudor
Loren chewed at her lip. “Okay, well, just in case it does, you know what to do.”
Both women appeared visibly awkward, neither of them willing to further explain their recent decisions and situations.
“Well, I better get going,” Becky said, picking up her leather boho purse from the table next to an Adirondack chair Loren picked up at a secondhand store. “I’m glad Jimbo will be staying with you. Just as much for your sake as his.”
“We can’t have too many friends,” Loren said.
“No, we can’t,” Becky added with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Just like we can’t always talk about our ‘family issues,’” she said, making the point that both women were harboring secrets.
Loren followed her friend to the front door, gave her a hug, and watched her pull out of the gravel driveway. Off to her right, farther down the road, she caught a flash of taillights from a truck pulling away.
A truck that looked disturbingly familiar, but this time, it was parked down the road rather than in her driveway, while the driver pounded fruitlessly on her front door as she hid in the pantry with her fingers in her ears.
She closed the door, suddenly feeling dizzy and nauseous. Not an uncommon occurrence these days. The consequence of eating too little food, harboring too much regret, and living with a chronically broken heart.
She leaned her back against the door and took a cleansing breath, willing the nausea to subside.
Hearing the shower turn on in her guest bathroom, she smiled and slowly started to regain her bearings.
Jimbo was here. And that was a very good thing and a start to a new life.
Mercy floated on air.
And that was no exaggeration.
She had a not-so-fake boyfriend who was crazy about her and three children who made her laugh every day at their antics.
But sometimes, as she levitated throughout the day, she felt something missing. And then she’d crash to the ground, mindful that none of this was worth having or experiencing without Loren to share it with.
Cara was even more morose, sleeping late whenever possible, her music bordering between grunge or emo that made you want to crawl in a hole and bury yourself from the soul-wrenching lyrics.
Madame would try to bolster Cara’s enthusiasm by planning get-togethers and meals with Levi, Samantha, Alec, and Ally as well as Trevor’s crew. But the longer Loren stayed away, the more Cara caved into herself, as she did this morning. The morning of Wilder Hardware’s grand opening, she sat desolately at the piano, leaning on one hand and plucking at the keys.
Four Sundays had gone by, and there was still no sign of Loren.
Mercy stood in front of the piano wearing a flowy cream linen dress. Spring came early at the prairie town, and she hoped the vitamin D would help Cara’s mood. To Mercy and Madame’s dismay, Cara was back to wearing her post-apocalyptic wardrobe, sporting a pair of tight black jeans, a vintage T-shirt featuring some emo band called Sunny Day Real Estate, which was anything but sunny, and her fingernails painted matte black.
“Is that what you’re wearing?”
“Yes.” Oh, and she was back to responding in monosyllables.
“Don’t you think it would be nice to wear something bright and uplifting to help celebrate the grand opening?”
She shrugged one shoulder, her fingers continuing the morose song.
The door flew open, and in came Marleigh and Haley with Nate sauntering inside with a pronounced swagger. The girls took turns throwing their small bodies at Mercy, Marleigh talking a mile a minute as Haley skipped circles around Mercy twirling her red dress around her slender legs.
Mercy gave them each hugs and complimented their pretty dresses as Nate walked up to Cara, who didn’t give him any notice. He pulled something out of his pants pocket and laid it on the side of the piano.
Cara stopped her incessant plucking to pick it up with one hand, exerting as little effort as possible. She opened the loose wrapping, the kind only a boy could manage, and looked up at him devoid of expression.
“I thought you might like this band. You seem sad, and sometimes it’s good to just wallow in it.”
“Real Friends,” she read.
“They sing ‘I’ve Given Up on You,’” he added. “Not to be confused with the song by P!nk. Totally lame,” he said with an eye roll.
Mercy continued to side-eye the exchange.
“Thanks,” Cara said lethargically and pulled herself up from the piano.
“Sure thing,” he said with a manly chin tilt that he must’ve learned from watching Trevor. His eyes never left her as she walked up the staircase with the new DVD in her hand.
Trevor finally made his way inside, just coming off a phone call.
“Hey,” he said with a naughty smile that Mercy instantly picked up on.
They were keeping their newfound relationship to themselves, waiting until the time was right to tell the children.
“Hey there, Sugarplum,” she said with a saucy grin, knowing the nickname would come off more as a joke to the children than a heartfelt endearment. Only she and Trevor knew the truth.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she said, blushing, still not used to his compliments and subtle signs of affection.
Madame fluttered into the living room, and Marleigh and Haley converged upon her, with Nate close behind.
“Well, aren’t you ladies divine?” she exclaimed as the two girls preened.
She gave them each a pat on their backs and then pulled her patent leather purse over her arm. “I must say, Master Nathaniel, you are looking quite dapper as well.”
He tightened his tie on his collar. “Do I look older?”
“Without a doubt. Why, it looks as if you’ve gained two years wearing trousers with matching shoes and belt. And that tie is quite manly. Well done!”
He leaned toward Mercy. “Since I’m a bit vertically challenged for my age, Madame G thought that dressing up might make me look older.” His eyes turned toward the staircase.
Mercy smiled at Nate repeating Trevor’s nickname of the grand dame.
“As usual, Madame nailed it. You could easily pass for thirteen, maybe even fourteen.”
“Do you think Cara noticed?” he asked, her opinion clearly trumping all others.
“Oh, without a doubt.”
“She’s a tortured soul,” he said with a serious tone. “And it’s my mission in life to make her happy.”
“That’s a tall order right now, Romeo. It’s important to remember that we’re not responsible for other people’s happiness.”
Now, if she could only convince herself of that little pearl of wisdom.
Trevor interrupted as another call came through. “You good to bring the kids over at noon?”
“Yep,” she said. “You go on. We’ll be there shortly.”
He gave Marleigh and Haley each a hug and saluted Nate.
Madame laid her purse on the side table, suggesting she show the children the prairie chicken nests she’d found in the backyard.
Nate stayed behind.
“You don’t want to check out the nests?” Mercy asked.
“Nah, I’ve studied nearly all the indigenous fowl of the prairie. It’s wise to know your surroundings. Prairie chicken nests are usually seven inches wide, two and a half inches deep, and formed in a bowl-shaped depression, lined with feathers, dried grass, leaves, and small twigs.”
Mercy walked into the kitchen, and he followed. “Have you had breakfast?”
“Depends. You got Lucky Charms?”
He might’ve looked like a young man in his fancy clothes, but he was still just a boy who loved sugary breakfast cereals.
“Um, yeah, because . . . charms.”
She pulled a bowl from the cabinet.
“I think our boy Trev has a girlfriend.”
She hesitated, the bowl in midair.
Trevor has a girlfriend? Did she hear that correctly? She couldn’t have.<
br />
“What was that? A girlfriend, huh?”
“I mean, you don’t care, right? You’re just pretending to be together.”
“That’s right,” she said, her throat strangling. “What makes you think he has a girlfriend? Did he say something?” Maybe he was talking about her? Warming Nate up to the idea of them becoming a real couple.
“No, he didn’t say anything.”
She exhaled, her entire body returning to homeostasis.
Nate popped a charm in his mouth just before she began to pour the milk. “But her name is Amber. She called him today.”
The milk sloshed over the rim at the familiar name.
Amber, the woman he was talking to on the phone in the motel.
“She must be his girlfriend because he told her that he loved her.” Nate grabbed a spoon out of the drawer as Mercy carefully lowered the gallon of milk onto the counter. “That’s . . . nice.”
“Here’s the thing. I don’t want another mom. I want you to be my mom. But I have new plans that might make that . . . weird.” His eyes ventured back toward the staircase. “So I guess I’m going to have to go with it.” He took a bite, and with a mouthful, he said, “I mean, how bad can she be, right?”
“What else . . . did they say?”
“I couldn’t hear her, but she must’ve told him she was coming to Wilder because he told her that it was the best surprise ever, and he couldn’t wait to see her.”
Was this really happening? Was her original assessment of him correct all along? He was a player with women spanning the globe who believed his lies?
And she was at the tippy top of the “gullible” list.
Mercy didn’t know whether to cry or heave.
“Once we’re introduced, I’m going to need your help to properly vet her. If she’s going to be Marleigh and Haley’s adopted mom, we need to make sure she meets stringent guidelines. Which segues nicely into our next topic of conversation, a criteria list for the future Mrs. Trevor Forrest. We both know he’s unsuited to make such critical life decisions on his own.” He pulled out a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket and handed it to Mercy as he shoveled another mound of cereal into his mouth. “I’ve said it before, he’s a good guy but not the sharpest tool in the shed.”
“Yes, you have said that before,” Mercy whispered, thinking about her own list of must-haves for the future Mr. Mercy Ingalls.
His original attributes didn’t mirror a single one. But he had convinced her otherwise.
Mercy moved through the kitchen like a zombie. The girls threw open the door with Madame close behind, going on and on about the nests and sat for their own breakfasts of sugary cereal, which Madame dubbed a veritable disgrace to the time-honored tradition of breaking a fast.
They finally left for the grand opening. Mercy remained quiet, with her elbow leaning on the passenger door and the children in the back seats, including an equally silent Cara.
When they pulled up, dozens of familiar faces stood outside the newly renovated store, and a large ribbon stretched out in front of the entrance doors.
Trevor had initially thought a ribbon-cutting ceremony an outdated concept, but Mercy convinced him that the town of Wilder loved nothing more than an excuse to celebrate, and it would be the perfect kick-off to their new business endeavor.
And that he just needed to trust her.
But did she trust him?
What she needed was to find him. Needed to talk to him. He would explain everything, and she could go back to being delusional and levitating again.
People said hello, and she managed to reply and to make conversation with a few of her closer friends. She searched for him, but he was nowhere to be found.
She went to the back lot, the same area where she watched Loren easily snuff the life out of a man who had raped her.
A bad omen, she was sure.
She found herself becoming nearly hysterical with tears pooling her eyes.
Could it be possible that she had been used? Played?
She pushed through the back entrance and made her way inside the empty store. And there he was, sitting on the counter with his back to her and holding a woman’s hands. When he stood to hug her, Mercy’s heart crashed onto the floor and flopped around for lack of oxygen.
The woman was crying, telling him how much she had missed him. They were swaying back and forth. He was shushing her, telling her how sorry he was and apologizing for not visiting her in London.
For making her come to him.
It was so obvious that they were both deliriously happy to see one another.
And she was beautiful. Tall, at around five nine, long dark hair with one of those figures that could be a model or an internationally renowned human rights attorney. Or . . . the wife of George Clooney. But she was holding Trevor in her arms, not George.
Mercy turned and quietly went back the way she came, back through the ominous lot and toward the front entrance of the hardware store.
Trevor must have pulled himself from the desperate clutches of his long-lost lover as he was now outside standing at the front entrance. He caught Mercy’s attention and waved her to toward him, unaware of what she’d witnessed.
What was he doing? And where was his famous human rights attorney girlfriend? Was he planning to continue this charade of Mercy being his fiancé? To maintain the lie so that he was sure to gain custody of the children?
Made sense. He had yet to receive the signed paperwork, so their fake relationship still needed to be carefully managed and maintained.
Woodenly, she walked toward him. Alec had Trevor’s attention at the moment, as the crowd grew and people clamored to see these two beautiful men cut the ribbon and proclaim themselves in business.
Not to mention single and ready to mingle.
How much more stupid could she be?
“Trevor,” she said, and he continued to bend his ear toward Alec. “Trevor.” Her voice rose several octaves, and he turned.
“I . . . I have something to tell you.”
He held up a hand to Alec, who hadn’t noticed Mercy’s fallen expression, but apparently, Trevor had.
“Mercy, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, not fine at all. “I realize this isn’t the best time to tell you this, but I think circumstances are such that I must.”
“Tell me what? And why are you talking like Madame G?” he asked, holding her by the arm. “Are the kids okay?”
“They’re fine.”
But she wasn’t. She would never be fine. Or good enough.
“Then what is it? You’re scaring me, BC.”
Omigod, he created a nickname for her nickname. Could he be more evil and dastardly and . . . and two-timing?
Suddenly, Alec raised his hands to quiet the masses so they could continue with the ribbon cutting.
“It’s . . . it’s over,” she said, in an overly loud voice, considering the voices had hushed.
Her faced reddened as she felt hundreds of eyes staring at her while at the same time holding their collective breath.
Trevor stared at her while shaking his head in disbelief. He held her by the elbow and pulled her to the side. “What do you mean?”
“You and I are over,” she said with more temerity. “I’m afraid I’ve found someone else.”
And now you could hear a pin drop.
Everyone merged forward like a swarm of bees, trying to hear the drama playing out before them.
“You met someone else in the last”—he checked his phone—“hour and fifteen minutes?”
“True love has no time limits.”
“What the fu . . . Don’t do this, Mercy,” he said, remarkably confused and appearing overwrought.
The nerve. After having caught him in the arms of his celebrity girlfriend, who probably starred in movies or, at the very least, hair conditioner commercials. What kind of woman had the name Amber?
Movie stars.
D-listers, anyway.
Mercy turned to the gossip-mongering crowd. But they didn’t seem on the edge of their seats to be the first to hear the dirt. Rather they all looked shocked and somehow distraught.
“I’m sorry, everyone. Please carry on, nothing to see here,” she said as Trevor held her by the upper arm, pulling her into the front entrance.
They stood just inside the double doors. Trevor with his hands on his hips and his eyes boring into her as he raked a hand through his hair.
“What do you mean you’ve found someone else?”
“Well, it just happened out of nowhere,” she said, trying to pull together her story so that she wasn’t the victim in this. She wanted to be the victor for once. The winner. The vanquisher instead of the vanquishee.
He now looked more angry than confused. “I thought we were exploring . . . us.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but I’m in love with him. Truly and deeply in love with him. And I hope you understand.”
He straightened. His countenance grew hard, and his eyes stared out over her head. “So, it’s over?”
She nodded.
He glanced down at her and blinked as if in pain. “This isn’t a fake breakup?”
“No,” she whispered, wondering why she suddenly felt sorry for him. He was the one who duped her. Not the other way around.
“Trevor?”
And there she was. It appeared his gorgeous girlfriend, aka world-class-surgeon-human-rights-attorney-movie-star had emerged from the ladies’ room.
“Is this Mercy?” she asked with a dubious smile as if aware of the drama unfolding. She held out her hand, and Mercy stared at it in disbelief. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard wonderful things about you from Trevor. I’m Amber Patrick, Trevor’s sister.”
Mercy’s heart stopped.
And then the blood drained to the lower half of her body.
But not in a good way.
She blinked, trying to make sense of what she was learning about these two people who so obviously loved one another.
“No.” Trevor shook his head, his flat tone forcing Mercy’s attention back to him. “This isn’t Mercy. As a matter of fact, I have no idea who this woman is.” He turned and slammed his hand on the door handle and stormed out.