by Messer Stone
A few days after that, I brought home a signed first edition of her favorite book— The Old Man and The Sea. Her hands all but shook with excitement as she turned the worn pages, reading words she’d read time and time again, as though she’d never seen them before. The following weekend, I coaxed her into a shopping trip. Back when she went to Bolton’s with Lorelai, she got nice clothes to wear to work. I wanted her to have some nice fun clothes too. And even though she’ll never admit it, I know she’s developing a passion for style and fashion. Although that could just be a product of Lorelai’s influence on her. Lately, the two most important women in my life have been as thick as thieves.
Still, I can’t help but notice the apprehension in her eyes whenever I give her a gift, or spoil her with luxury. The tense set of her shoulder as she worries her bottom lip with her teeth. She’s never said as much, but I think she’s afraid of taking advantage of me. Of using my love for her to get expensive things. Like people have done to me in the past. But obviously, that could never happen. Not only is Mercy incapable of using anyone, she loves me more fully and more selflessly than anyone ever has.
When Lola looked at me, she saw dollar signs. If something happened and I didn’t have my money any more, she’d drop me like a bad habit. But Mercy wouldn’t care if I worked at a minimum wage job and lived in a trailer park. She’d love me anyway. And that’s the difference. That’s why buying her presents and making her smile is my favorite thing in the world to do. Because she’s given me her heart and that’s worth far more than anything money could buy.
I watch her intently as she stares off into the distance. Somewhere behind us, Barbara is talking on the phone, giving us the space to discuss this privately. The sun is starting to go down, melting into a halo of gold and orange atop the skyline.
“Just answer one question for me.” I pull her into my arms, fingers rubbing circles at the small of her back. “And be honest.”
“Okay.”
“Do you like the house?”
She arches a brow. “Do I like the enormous mansion with an indoor pool and a view of central park? No it’s a total dump.”
“Mercy.”
With a sigh, she rolls her eyes. “Of course I like the house, Parker. It’s gorgeous. But I—”
I lean in, stopping her words with a long, hard kiss. Pulling back, I tuck Mercy into my side before turning to address the realtor. “Hey, Babs!”
“Hang on a minute,” she says into the phone, before taking it away from her ear and giving me her attention. “Well? What’s the verdict?”
“We’ll take it!”
Her pudgy, wrinkled face lights up with a victorious smile. “Excellent!”
She ends whatever call she was on, immediately making another as she goes back into the house, leaving Mercy and I to trail behind her.
“You’re impossible,” Mercy grumbles, though I can tell she’s trying to hide a smile.
Laughing, I throw an arm over her shoulder. “You can punish me for it later.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I will.” She glances at me seductively. “I’ve got plans for you, big spender.”
“Do you?”
“Mmmhmm. Six weeks is a longtime. And I’m nothing if not creative.”
The smile instantly falls from my face as I swallow audibly. Nine days from now, Mercy goes in for a follow up appointment at her doctor’s office. Once she’s declared fully healed, we’ll have the greenlight to resume a full and active sex life. And from the look in her eyes, I might not survive it. But hey— what a way to go.
Smiling to myself, I reach down to swat at her ass, laughing as I let her chase me back inside.
****
The following Thursday happens to be Thanksgiving. Mercy and I, along with Jason and Sophie, make the journey up to Martha’s Vineyard to spend the holiday with my family. We briefly considered bringing her father out too, but he’s been making such good progress at the rehab center and we didn’t want to disrupt that.
I had hoped that my first time with Mercy on my private jet would be a bit more private, so we could make use of the bedroom in the back. But Jason and Sophie’s infectious enthusiasm is almost as good. Plus, with Mercy still on the mend, it’s probably better for us not to be alone.
“Everybody looks like ants from up here,” Sophie says, her tiny nose squished against the glass of the window.
“Sophie don’t!” Mercy drags her away. “You’ll leave a smudge.”
“Relax,” I say, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, as Sophie runs off to badger the flight attendant with a million more questions. Jason is laid out on one of the couches, watching a movie on the big flat screen TV. Clearly, they’re both having the time of their lives. Mercy, on the other hand, seems tense about something.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I’m just…” She pauses, fiddling with the hem of her dress. “I’m a little nervous.”
“About seeing my family?” I frown. “Why? They adore you. You know this.”
“Jason!” Sophie whines from across the plane, tugging on her brother’s arm. “I don’t wanna watch this movie!
“Well go use one of the other TVs,” he says, referencing the three other screens available on the plane.
“But I want to sit with you!”
“Stop being a brat,” he says, shoving her away.
Outraged, Sophie turns in our direction. “Mercy—”
“Enough!” Mercy gets to her feet, pointing at her siblings. “I swear if you two don’t stop bickering, I’m going to strap you to the roof of this plane. Find a movie that you can watch together and watch it quietly. Now.”
Jason and Sophie don’t make any further protests, sitting calmly side by side as they decide to watch How To Train Your Dragon. Once they’re distracted, I pull Mercy into the back bedroom.
“Hey,” I say, cupping her face. “Talk to me.”
She exhales, leaning into my touch. “Are you sure your parents are okay with us bringing the kids?”
“Are you kidding?” I laugh. “My mother’s been angling for grandchildren since the day Lorelai and I graduated college. She all but demanded that we bring Jason and Sophie along. She loves kids.”
She still doesn’t look convinced. “And your father?”
“If my mom’s happy he’s happy. And he’s actually pretty good with kids himself.”
“What if Sophie breaks something? What if Jason acts like a prick the whole time? What if they make a mess? What if they—”
“Would you stop?” I say gently, putting my hands on her shoulders. “My parents raised kids. And we weren't at a picnic, I can tell you that. Trust me, they can handle it.”
In the end, they more than handle it. My father and Jason are practically kindred spirits, constantly huddled together to discuss their mutual love for New York’s sports teams. On our first night there, he brings Jason down into the basement to show off his extensive model train set, an honor he extolls most seldomly.
My mother and sister are of course besotted with Sophie, as is anyone— I’m coming to learn— who finds themselves in the little heartbreaker’s presence. On that first night, she wanders into our room while Mercy’s in the shower, clutching her stuffed lion.
“Hey.” I smile at her, setting my book on the nightstand. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”
She shrugs. “‘I’m not tired.”
With a little coaxing, I manage to get her back into her room which, incidentally, happens to be the room I slept in when we came here as kids.
“What’re those?” she asks, pointing at a shelf on the wall as I tuck her back into bed.
“Those are some books my mom used to read us when we were little,” I say, ears burning. Of course, Sophie doesn’t know how embarrassing it is for a grown man to admit that his mother used to read him the Little House On The Prairie books when he was a kid. In my defense, I wanted to read the Hardy Boys. Unfortunately for me, Lorelai won that particular battle. And
though I’d never admit it out loud, the books eventually grew on me.
“Will you read one to me?” Sophie asks, blinking up at me with big blue eyes. They’re similar to Mercy’s but not quite the same. The blue of Mercy’s eyes is deeper, darker— almost dangerous, somehow. Sophie’s are a bright, irreverent blue, the color of cloudless summer sky.
I’m reluctant at first, but eventually she wears me down.
“Okay.” I get up, retrieving the first book— Little House In The Big Woods— from the shelf. “But just for a few minutes.”
I settle down next to her, my heart squeezing when she lays her tiny head on my shoulder.
Clearing my throat, I begin, “Once upon a time, sixty years ago, a little girl lived in the Big Woods of Wisconsin, in a little gray house made of logs.”
By the time I finish the first chapter, Sophie has passed out cold. Smiling, I kiss her gently on the cheek, easing out of the bed slowly, so as not to wake her. When I look up, I find Mercy, leaning against the doorframe, wrapped in a pink silk robe. Her eyes so full of devotion and love it stops me in my tracks. We stand there, staring at each other for what feels like forever. Finally, I manage to tear my gaze away, returning the book to its shelf.
“What’s going on in that gorgeous mind of yours, Mercy Chase?” I ask her, once we’ve slipped into the hallway and I’ve closed the door behind us.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she teases, before kissing me senseless.
The next day is Thanksgiving, and it’s the best one I can ever remember. Mercy and I help my mom in the kitchen while dad throws a football on the lawn with Jason and Boyd, who arrived earlier this morning. Sophie and Lorelai have appointed themselves to the task of decorating the dining room.
“When is Spencer getting here?” I ask my sister as I hand her a glass of wine. It’s after five o’clock now, only an hour before dinner, and her fiancé still hasn’t arrived.
“Not coming,” she answers curtly, taking a long sip.
Mercy gives me a questioning look, but I pretend to ignore it. I absolutely refuse to get involved in whatever this drama is between my twin sister and my best friend.
As if on cue, Boyd Avery comes in from outside, dressed in track pants and an Oxford University sweatshirt. He takes it off, revealing a fitted white t-shirt beneath that happens to be soaked in sweat. I pretend not to notice how my sister is looking at him— like she’s a diabetic with a sweet tooth and he’s the last Hershey’s chocolate bar.
“Damn it smells good in here.” He stretches, popping his neck. “Better go wash up.”
He winks at Mercy, kisses my mother on the cheek and ignores Lorelai completely, a brush off that clearly infuriates her.
By the time we sit down to dinner, the tension seems to have dissipated. Conversation hums up and down the table as we discuss everything from politics to sports to business.
“Parker tells us you’ve been working hard on your applications,” Silas asks Mercy over dessert. “What schools are you applying to?”
At first, she was reluctant to even try, convinced that her dropping out of high school and getting her GED would automatically disqualify her from admission to any respectable school. Eventually I convinced her that once people knew the facts of her circumstances—the tragedy she lived through, the battles she had to fight, the hurdles she had to overcome— they’d be dying to admit her. Up until her parents accident, she was a very good student and active in her community.
She was eligible enough back then, but now that she’s proven her strength of character by refusing to give up in the face of crippling adversity, she’ll be drowning in acceptances. The recommendation letter from my father probably didn’t hurt either.
“So far, just NYU, Fordham and City College,” she says, a little shyly.
“And Columbia,” I add. She’s been especially reluctant on the application, insisting it’s a waste of time. But I’m not so sure about that. Like I said, Mercy’s unique story makes her a highly appealing candidate. Not to mention my father happens to be one of their most prestigious alumni.
“Good choices.” He smiles warmly. “Only New York schools?”
She nods. “Yeah. I’m not interested in living anywhere else.”
I’ve assured her that she can go to school anywhere. If she wants to go to the University of Hawaii, we’ll find a way to make it work. But she’s adamant on staying in New York. I suspect that has something to do with her younger siblings. Not to mention her father, who is due to come home next month.
****
The day after we return from Martha’s Vineyard, we begin moving into the new house. It’s an exhausting process and when it’s finally done a few days later, I all but collapse into bed.
The next morning, I wake up to the single greatest feeling in the world: Mercy’s lips wrapped around my cock.
“Fuck,” I groan, automatically arching my hips. “Baby. What—”
She sucks me deep and hard, until I feel the head hit the back of her throat. Cursing wildly, I sit up, bracing myself as I lean back on my hands.
“I just got some very good news at the doctor’s office,” she says sweetly, swirling her tongue around me.
Oh. Oh Christ. What time is it? Somehow, I manage to lean over and grab my phone from the nightstand. How did I sleep so late? This move must really be taking it out of me.
She takes me deeper, moaning around me, the sound vibrating against my stiff flesh. “Really good news.”
Gasping, I thread a hand through her hair, groaning at the overwhelming pleasure. She bobs her head up and down, working me in a hard, driving rhythm.
“Oh God,” I hiss through my teeth, holding her head as I thrust up and up. “Love that fucking mouth. Holy shit.”
She takes me deeper, sucking hard like her life depends on it. My mind splits off in a thousand different directions, splintering in a prism of light and sound.
“Come here,” I growl, jerking. My hand fists in the rich chocolate of her hair, pulling her up to meet my kiss.
The next few hours pass in a blur of fury and lust. With the taste of her still dripping from my mouth, I kiss my way up her body before slipping inside her, sheathing myself in the most beautiful heaven I’ve ever known.
Hooking her legs over my shoulders, I fold her in half, driving into her like a desperate man, blind to the hunger for release.
“Mine. Fucking mine,” I growl, biting at the round of her chin.
“Yes,” she gasps, moaning her pleasure into my mouth.
And when she comes, I come too, pouring my soul into her, as she gives hers to me.
CHAPTER 32
Mercy
My mom was pretty religious. Not excessively so, and she never tried to impose her beliefs on others or tell people how to live. But I think she found peace in her faith. After she died, I desperately wanted that peace for myself. I prayed for it harder than I could ever remember praying for anything before. But it never came.
A few weeks before I met Parker, I was boxing up some of my mother’s old things to be sold, desperate for quick cash in the throes of our rapidly deteriorating financial situation. Her bible was one of the few things I couldn’t bring myself to sell. When I tossed it into the keep pile, it fell open and I saw that a single passage was highlighted. Curious, I looked closer.
Weeping may endure the night, but joy comes in the morning.
For some reason, I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.
“Stop micromanaging me.”
“I’m not micromanaging you.”
“Yes you are,” I say firmly, folding the wrapping paper around the box before taping it in place. When I glance over at Parker he’s still staring at me, sitting there next to his pile of meticulously wrapped presents. He’s not saying anything, but he doesn’t need to. His judgement of my wrapping skill is written all over his face.
“Fine,” I say, sighing and defeat as I throw the parcel at him. This particular gift happens to be an A
merican Girl Doll for Sophie. I suppose it deserves better than my clumsy, half-hazard tape job. I’ve never been good at wrapping presents. The paper always ends up wrinkled or torn, despite my best efforts.
Parker, on the other hand, wraps like a pro. He’s efficient and precise, manipulating the holly and reindeer covered foil until each present is wrapped flawlessly. The few presents I did manage to wrap look a little pitiful next to his.
Glancing back at the tree, I worry again that we bought too much. Reigning Parker in was a struggle, but I was adamant that we wouldn’t go overboard. Of course I’m grateful for his generosity and I’m delighted that he wants to buy Jason and Sophie so many wonderful things, but I don’t want my younger siblings to lose respect for the value of money. Growing up we were never poor, but we definitely lived on a budget. As a result, I appreciated what I had and I never took anything for granted. Despite our drastic change in circumstances, I want Jason and Sophie to have that same appreciation.
As it is, they’re both getting more presents this year than they did for the last three Christmases combined. Wistfully, I think back to this time last year, to the last Christmas we had together as a family.
Christmas Eve was spent at home making cookies and watching movies. Later that night, I got caught using my phone at Mass. I’d been glued to it all day, texting with Liam, my boyfriend at the time. She took it from me and after Mass was over we went home. By the time my brother and sister were in bed, she still hadn’t given it back.
“Midnight Mass is the same every year Mom,” I grumbled as I helped her load the dishwasher. “It’s not like I missed anything I haven’t seen before.”
“That’s not the point.” Sighing, she brushed a lock of red hair out of her face. “It’s Christmas. This is a time to be with family. Not boyfriends.”