Love, Mercy

by Brooke May

  Once more, I head to my office and don’t stop until I’m falling into my chair and looking at the picture of Daxon next to my phone. And as relieved as I am about my boss stepping in, I can’t help but wonder if there isn’t some truth in Marcus’s words.

  Chapter Fourteen

  An eerie silence surrounds me when I step into my mom’s house. It’s frigid and slightly haunting the deeper I get into the house.

  Something is wrong. The hairs on the back of my neck are telling me that much.

  “Mom?” I peek in the kitchen and find it empty. “Tina?” The backyard is also empty. “Layla?” As I pass the hallway to head to the living room, movement causes me to stop.

  “Layla?” Shuffling out of my old room, she rubs her eyes and makes her way over to me.

  “Momma.” Using grabby hands, she sleepily asks me to pick her up. She doesn’t have to ask me twice. Bending down, I pull her to me and bury my nose into her hair. I swear there is a lingering scent there that doesn’t belong on her.

  It’s a smell that belongs to only one person.

  Daxon.

  Ice slices into my heart at the fading scent of my husband. How could she possibly smell like him or am I just day dreaming? Once we are standing upright, I take another deep breath but there is nothing. The ice remains in my heart as I carry her to the living room.

  “Where are those grandmas of yours?” I murmur into her hair, still trying to find that scent, but it’s gone. If it was really even there to begin with.

  She mutters something I couldn’t possibly understand as she cuddles deeper into my neck. Her little fingers find some of my hair, and she begins to twirl it.

  “It’s a little late for you to be napping. Looks like we are going to have to have a slumber party in our living room and watch movies tonight. How does that sound?”

  She giggles in response.

  “And maybe have pizza for dinner?”

  “Piz!”

  One more step and we are in the wide living room. The wall on the far side is nothing but windows and overlooks the vast backyard and the river that cuts through the bottom of my parents’ property. Usually, my mom has already drawn the curtains for the evening, but not today.

  Sniffles pull my attention away from the doe and fawn grazing on the browning grass and over to the couch where both women sit.

  “Mom? Tina?” Worried about them, I hurry over and sit on the coffee table with Layla still in my arms. “What’s wrong?”

  I know something is definitely up because I’m not allowed to sit on the coffee table, not when I was Layla’s age and certainly not now that I’m an adult.

  Tina is a blubbering mess, reaching for more tissues while Mom blows her nose and blinks up at me.

  “PMS.”

  “Together?” I’m baffled.

  “We spend enough time together that our cycles have synced.” Mom continues to dab at her eyes. I know this isn’t an act. At least not the crying bit. That is very much real. The reasoning on the other hand, is what I’m not buying.

  “I thought women don’t have periods anymore after menopause.” My eyes narrow on the pair, but they don’t cough up the truth.

  “Don’t you be worrying about us. We are just two old women who sometimes need a good cry.”

  “Yeah, hmm mmm, okay.” Aside from torturing it out of them, something I won’t do in front of Layla, I don’t know how to get the truth out of them, so I might as well change the subject. “How was Layla today?”

  Tina finally calms herself enough to tell me about the tea party they hosted for some of Layla’s friends from the library, and then they had a fun afternoon of grocery shopping. I’m sure I’ll have a bag or two of new things to take home. They wrap up with Layla lying down for her nap.

  The sniffles continue throughout their recollection, and when I begin to pack up Layla to head home.

  Aside from the crying and sniffles, they don’t act any different from their normal selves. Once I have Layla in her car seat, and we are headed home, I ask her knowing I won’t get an answer.

  “Do you know what is wrong with those two, baby?”

  “Gramma! Mimi!” She claps happily.

  I wouldn’t have any luck asking Dad or Cord either. Neither of them knows what is going on with their wives half of the time anyway.

  So, I give up.

  “Are you ready for our slumber party and our fun day tomorrow?”

  “Fu!” That little cheer is enough to put a smile on my face and melt the ice from my heart.

  Daxon,

  Here I am again. Sitting in front of my computer and writing to you. I’m honestly surprised they haven’t shut down your email yet. Maybe they see my weekly messages and are leaving it up to help me heal.

  I’ll never heal from the news that shocked my world. But I’ve done an okay-ish job living my life in the best way you would want for me.

  The funniest, or oddest thing, happened to me today when I picked up Layla from my mom’s. For a split second, I thought I smelled you on our little girl, but when I tried to catch it again, it was gone, so I’m sure I was wrong about even picking up on it to begin with.

  And then again, our moms were acting strange, stranger than normal, but they wouldn’t tell me why. I don’t know what’s going on.

  Layla and I made a blanket fort in the living room tonight and watched some of her favorite movies until she finally crashed on me. I couldn’t go to bed until I wrote to you. Tomorrow, we are going up to our spot one last time before the snow starts to stick.

  As always, I hope you find your way home.

  Love, Mercy

  Chapter Fifteen

  Packing a wiggling baby uphill on my back isn’t for the faint of heart. Luckily, I increased my workouts after having her. This would be easier, though, if she would quit moving so much.

  “We are almost there, Layla.” Even though this hike is more like a walk in the park for me now, I’m still dragging in a breath. “Mommy would greatly appreciate it if you would quit moving around so much.”

  I get it, I really do. Sitting up behind me while I do all the work can’t be much fun. She has trees and the random squirrels and chipmunks to look at but nothing else. The ride up here was far more enjoyable for her because we saw a few deer and two moose. I love seeing nature through her eyes. No matter how many times Layla’s seen an animal, the excitement coursing through her tiny body makes it seem like the first time.

  “Momma!” She bounces. From my periphery, I see her little finger pointing at a squirrel running around a tree.

  “Yes, baby.” Looking up ahead, I see the sky. That means we are feet away from our destination.

  Sweat trickles down my back as we reach the end of our little journey. It wasn’t a long hike, but it was enough to cause a sweat to break out on my back under the straps of the carrier. Not only do I have Layla’s added weight on my back, but our food and drinks in the compartment under her.

  Getting to the spot that is a safe distance from the ledge, I finally stop to put her down and then whistle for Trigger. I have never put him on a leash up here. He knows to come back to us when we call.

  Sure enough, I hear the clinging of his tags before he comes through the timber at our back. I don’t worry about him getting close to the edge since he has a better case of self-preservation than my child does.

  Thankfully, I don’t get lost in thoughts when I have her with me. My eyes never wander off her for long, and I tend to keep her behind me or in my arms.

  It’s surprisingly warm for this time of year. Usually, there is already being a good amount of snow on the ground, but fate has decided to keep it at bay for a little while longer. I’ll take it. That means we get this final time up here.

  “What are you thinking, Layla?” She bats my hands away when I muss her hair as she continues to play in the dirt between my legs. Smiling, I look out at the scenery before us. Sometimes, I imagine what it would be like if Daxon were here with us. He would hav
e insisted on hauling Layla himself while I brought up the rear with the food and drinks. Who knows, maybe I could have been pregnant again by now. I always wanted my children close in age. Being an only child left me longing for someone to spend time with when I couldn’t go outside to play or be near my friends. I never wanted my child to go through the same.

  Other times, I think of what this landscape looked like to the first person who set their gaze upon it. How magnificently terrifying it must have been. Going from the flatlands of the prairies to climb something this massive only to look out and see that there is still a ways to go.

  An uneasy prickling sensation grips the back of my neck, and awareness grabs me. I’m not foolish enough to think we are up here all by ourselves. There are always people on the mountains and an animal or two somewhere around here.

  Holding Layla, I look around. Finding nothing, I’m relieved it’s only the three of us. Trigger, who is usually a great watch dog, is quietly chewing on a thick stick he found. If he isn’t alerted to anything, then I shouldn’t be either.

  Rearranging us, I settle back against the base of the tree that holds Daxon’s and my initials and just relax. I have my daughter between my legs playing and my dog a few feet away. What more could I ask for?

  In the blue sky sprinkled with random white clouds, a face appears. A strong jaw coated in a light dusting of stubble, a firm line for lips, and then the penetrating stare that can read me better than anyone I have ever known.

  “Oh, Daxon.”

  I do my best to keep his memory alive for not only myself but for Layla as well. There is a but lingering in the back of my mind. What if it’s time for me to move on?

  That question causes untold pain to course through me. I don’t like the idea, but maybe it’s time. Daxon has been gone for too long. If he hasn’t made it home by now, he might not ever. I need to come to terms with the possibility that he will never make it back.

  Rubbing my chest, I can’t handle this pain, but I must. For my future and the future of my daughter, I need to come to terms with the fact that my husband is gone and I might never get an answer to what happened to him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  This is why I thought coming down on Sunday would help avoid this from happening.

  I’m about ready to pull my hair out. The parade is set to start in thirty minutes, and everything is set to go except the cheerleaders have misplaced the pompoms they made especially for today.

  To make matters worse, the graying sky is warning me that doom will be upon us any moment now. I even checked the weather before we left the house, and there was no mention of rain, sleet, or even snow.

  “Please just be overcast.” Muttering to myself, I look over my clipboard. Everyone is nearly lined up.

  Our legion auxiliary is leading the parade with the flags, followed by our small high school marching band, and then each year of military service. The two World War II veterans are both in wheelchairs and will be pushed by a couple of football players who were able and willing to wear the uniforms of those gentlemen.

  Cheerleaders will be flanking each group, and it won’t be complete without their pom-poms.

  “Mercy.” A panting breath coming from my back has me turning around to find one of my volunteers running to me. I hold my breath, hoping that I don’t hear any more bad news.

  “Yes?”

  “Everyone is ready, but Chase doesn’t have his picture.”

  “Wh-what?” Oh, God. I can’t freak out now. I don’t have the time for this. Chase has agreed to carry Daxon’s picture every year we do this. Him not having it today doesn’t feel right.

  “He said he couldn’t find it. He’s sure it’s in a box somewhere, but his new house is packed with them …” Her explanation trails off as I look out at the crowd gathering down the street. So many people have come to celebrate and honor our veterans. My husband’s image missing from it isn’t going to matter to them.

  Taking a shaky step away, I can only nod. I hope she doesn’t try to say anything else because I am deaf to it all. Thank God I dropped Layla off with her grandparents once they got here. They have her bundled up from the sudden chill and are likely feeding her hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls right now.

  “I need to …” Trailing off, I start to push my way through the groups lining up for the parade. Once I’m on the other side, I look up to find a cheerleader with her nose in her phone. Pom-poms … I need to be looking for those.

  Straightening myself out, I walk up to her. “Have you seen the pom-poms?”

  Her gum pops before she looks up to answer me. “Oh, hi, Mrs. Logan.” Her eyes are widened like she didn’t catch what I asked her. I’m sure she didn’t.

  “Have you seen the pompoms?” Repeating myself doesn’t ease the restlessness I have swarming inside me.

  “Umm … no?” She cringes. “We had breakfast at the brewery, so maybe they are there?”

  “Thanks.” She doesn’t offer to come with me, and I don’t wait for her. Taking off to the next block down, I enter the bustling brewery and search the room. Nothing. It would be easy to spot a mountain of red, white, and blue pompoms anywhere in this building, but they aren’t here.

  Going to the bar, I impatiently wait for the bartender who is serving coffee rather than beer to get to me.

  “Need a top off, Mercy?”

  “Please.” Unscrewing my cap, I slide my mug over to him. “You haven’t happened to see the pom-poms, have you?”

  He isn’t the one to answer me, but the woman sitting next to me. “I was just down at the VFW and there was a pile of them on a table near the back.”

  I push away from the bar top before my mug is filled again. “Really?” She nods, a small smile brightening her face. “Oh, thank you.” After hugging her, I take back my mug and head out the door without paying. I should feel bad about that, but I need to get those pom-poms first.

  Rushing back down the street, I end up sprinting past my family in my rush. Somehow, I manage to keep all my coffee in the mug.

  I don’t pay heed to the fact that someone may be pulling the door open to leave as I burst in. A few people are still here, mainly eating before the parade, as I look around. Scoping out the place, I find them exactly where the kind woman told me they were.

  Smiling and waving at the people still here, I march over to them and somehow scoop all of them into my arms. My clipboard is tucked under my arm, and I’ve had to give up my mug so I can still open the door to head back to the cheerleaders.

  I’m half relieved now that I have located these. Now, if only I could quickly locate a picture of Daxon for Chase, then everything would be perfect.

  Shoulders relaxing, I close my eyes as I turn and breathe a less edgy lungful of air. I have enough time to locate all the cheerleaders and get to my position. Turning back to the door, I shout over to the one staff member I see.

  “Tara Beth, I’ll be back for my mug.”

  “No problem, hun.”

  Without a moment to spare, I push out the door and quickly locate every cheerleader. It’s like one of those picture searches as I find all twelve of them in a matter of minutes.

  Thankfully, each of them has forgone their phones and is looking for me. Once my load is delivered, I return to the VFW for my mug and then take my post next to the podium where our announcer is all ready to go.

  “Morning, Archie.” Setting my mug down, I rub my hands together. “Ready to get this show on the road?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.” Archie is the perfect man for this job. His voice booms even without a microphone. “Thank you for braving this sudden chill for our veterans this morning. We promise not to keep you too long.”

  Cheers sound around us.

  “Without further ado, I’ll hand you over to our wonderful organizer, Mercy Logan, in prayer.”

  I didn’t want to do this. I’m not one for the spotlight, but ever
yone on the committee agreed it should be me.

  “Good morning, everyone. Thank you for your continued support of our local veterans. Seeing how this has grown so much from last year is awe-inspiring.” Once the crowd calms, I say a short prayer for our town, our veterans and their families, and for our active-duty members. The pendant against my chest feels as though it is burning and glowing as I think of Daxon. I thought of him last year when I did this very thing.

  Handing the microphone back over to Archie, I take a step back, collect my mug, and get ready to see our hard work laid out before us. We are toward the end of the parade route, so it will be a while before everyone reaches us.

  The cannon–the very one my dad and father-in-law made–sounds, sending a thrill through each person standing and waiting as the marching band begins to play the national anthem.

  Archie speaks of the pride we have for our veterans—past, present, and future—as the line drags down. I’m certain only the people standing next to us can hear him, but it doesn’t deter him.

  “This year, we wanted to showcase each generation of the military from our sleepy town. All of them are leading up to some of our stateside active duty members. But this year, we have a very special surprise.”

  What is he talking about?

  Frowning, I look up from my mug to see his cheeks are reddened from the chill, but his smile is enough to warm him.

  “As you all know, our fearless leader, Mercy, lost her husband last year.”

  Tears, unbidden, begin to pool in my eyes. I have no clue what is happening. This wasn’t organized to focus on me. I don’t want the recognition or attention. That belongs to our veterans.

  “She’s one of the strongest women I have ever had the honor of calling a friend.” He turns to me, and so do a few others. “So this year, we went behind her back to put something together for her.”

  The band grows louder, and I look up to see the legion auxiliary matching our way with the band at their back, but it is Decker, one of Daxon’s friends, positioned between our two World War II vets who has my attention.