Just Mercy: A Novel

by Dorothy Van Soest

  ***

  “I have to help Rae now,” Bernadette said.

  “Rae?”

  She smiled and nodded. “I’m going to find her mother.”

  “You what?”

  “So Rae can make peace with her.”

  When Marty reached for her hands and pressed them to his lips as if they were precious jewels, Bernadette sensed a desperation in him that made her stop talking and pay attention. In the soft glow of the lamp, his cheeks looked sunken and the flecks of gray in his thinning hair much more pronounced than usual. And yet, in the dusk-filled room, the calf muscles in his long, lean legs still looked strong, his body still athletic from years of jogging. Her face flushed with love for him. He was sweet and caring no matter how hard he tried to hide it under all those layers of rationalizing and intellectualizing. There was no one more loyal and devoted than her Marty. He always stood by her side, no matter what. She was sure he would be willing to help her find Rae’s mother now. All she had to do was ask.

  “Bernie,” he said, “you know I love you, don’t you?”

  What an absurd question. She was about to protest that she had never doubted his love, not even for a second, but something in his face made her hang back. Maybe it was the shadows in the room that made his eyes look haunted. But why was his jaw set so tight? She noted the slowness of his motions when he rubbed his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged. Even though the polo shirt and drawstring shorts he was wearing usually gave him a noticeably youthful appearance, right now he looked every one of his sixty years and more, as if the life had been sucked out of him, just like she’d described him to Rae.

  “You’re upset with me,” she said.

  “Not at all.”

  “You think I shouldn’t try to help her.”

  “You need to do what you need to do.”

  “So you don’t think I’m crazy.”

  “I think you’re courageous.”

  “You’ll help me, then?”

  “I don’t want to be a burden,” he said.

  “You a burden? But I’m the one who …” Something in his eyes, something she’d never seen before, made her stop again. He bowed his head and pressed his hands together, then brushed his lips with his fingertips the way he used to at Mass when walking down the aisle to take Holy Communion.

  “I’m sorry, Bernie. I know this isn’t a good time. You have enough to…” His voice trailed off, and he looked up at the ceiling.

  “What is it, Marty?”

  A string of scenarios flashed through her head, each one she discarded immediately replaced by an even more frightening one. Maybe he had something more to say about Rae, but what could cause him this much distress? Maybe state budget cuts threatened his position at the university. But that was impossible. He was a full professor. With tenure. And if something had happened to one of the kids or Patty, how would that make him a burden?

  She frowned and leaned forward, hands on her knees. “Look at me, Marty,” she said, her eyes flashing. “I’m not getting up until you tell me why you said you don’t want to be a burden.”

  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  “Then why has all the blood drained from your face?”

  He bit his lower lip. His shoulders rose and then fell. “I don’t want you to worry.”

  ”Okay, Marty.” She slapped her knees with the heels of her hands. “How about I promise not to worry? Honest. No matter what it is, I will not worry. Just tell me.”

  “I know you,” he said, brushing a tear from his cheek with the back of his hand. “You’ll worry even if I tell you the treatment is successful over ninety percent of the time.”

  “What treatment? For who, Marty? You? Or one of the kids?”

  “Prostate cancer is common for men my age.”

  Cancer? What was he saying? How could she not have known? She twisted a clump of her hair so hard that her scalp stung and the blood throbbed in her head.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She took a deep breath. “How? When?”

  “I should have told you.”

  When Marty hung his head and his shoulders slumped forward, it was more than Bernadette could bear, and she flew across the space between them and threw her arms around his neck. She felt him stiffen.

  “Don’t shut me out, Marty.”

  But wasn’t she the one who had shut him out? Hadn’t she been so obsessed with Rae that she had neglected this beautiful man who loved her and who she loved more than life itself? No wonder he hadn’t told her he was sick. No wonder he didn’t want to burden her. She had made him feel that way.

  “I’m here,” she said. “I’m here now.”

  His trembling fingers gripped her hair and he collapsed against her, clinging to her as if his life depended on it. She felt the beating of his heart next to hers, heard his halting breath in her ear. Then he gasped and, like the sudden bursting of a dam, began to sob, sounding just the way he had at Veronica’s funeral.

  FIFTEEN

  Annamaria tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and her foot on the floor. Here they were, stuck on MoPac—a virtual parking lot as far as the eye could see—and no one to blame but herself. Whatever had possessed her to think that rush-hour traffic would be any less of a nightmare than it was every other Friday? How could she have made such a mistake tonight of all nights, after she’d already had to wait a week for this chance to talk to Mom because she’d apparently been so mad about the governor’s stupid decision that she couldn’t even talk about it on the phone. Now that Mom had finally seen the light, Annamaria didn’t want to wait another minute to see her anger for herself. Whoever would have guessed?

  “Everyone gets to go but me, Mom.” Patty looked up from her iPhone with a scowl.

  “I said no and I mean no.”

  “But, why Mom?”

  “Stop whining. You know why. A sleepover at Kitty’s house is just an excuse for boys to sneak over in the middle of the night. You know I’m right.”

  “You think you’re right about everything.”

  “I usually am. And don’t go dragging Gran into this. Not tonight.”

  Patty threw her body against the passenger-side door and hid her face behind her long hair. Annamaria clicked on the door’s safety lock switch.

  Just then, a car behind them set off a cacophony of honking. “What the hell?” Annamaria yelled as she leaned on her horn with one hand and shook her other hand, middle finger extended upward, out the window. Patty looked over at her, grinning.

  “Never mind,” she said. “And don’t you be doing that, young lady.”

  “Like I’m fixin’ to.”

  “Stop it with the language, already. I won’t have you talking like a Texan.”

  “But I am a Texan. Weren’t you the one that born me here?”

  “You could at least act like an educated one.” Annamaria rolled her eyes, thanking her lucky stars that even though she’d lived in Austin most of her life, she had been born in the Midwest thanks to her dad’s early academic career and therefore would never be considered a real Texan.

  “Whatever,” Patty said.

  People started driving their cars over the grassy strip between the freeway lanes and heading back in the opposite direction. “See that?” she said. “Another example of Texans’ aint nobody gone tell me what to do attitude right there. Don’t ever let me see you crossing the median like that.”

  “So, like, I should just drive in the ditch like you?”

  Annamaria jutted her chin out, just like Patty’s, and kept driving on the shoulder until she reached the next exit, where she escaped the freeway and took West Thirty-Fifth Street the rest of the way to her folks’ house. It had taken forty-five minutes to drive a measly five miles. How ridiculous was that? Well, better late than never. She’d waited years to connect with her mom; she guessed she could wait a few minutes longer.

  ***

  “Glad you could make it,” Fin said as he climbed into Chuck�
��s car. “Thanks for picking me up.”

  “Your folks know I’m coming, right?”

  “I left a message. Besides, you’re like family.”

  “Has your mom calmed down after what happened?”

  “I hope so. She did apologize on my voice mail.”

  “So,” Chuck said with a knowing smile, “I’m your buffer in case she’s still mad.”

  Fin smiled back. How handsome Chuck looked in that short-sleeved magenta button-down shirt and those tan slacks; what a contrast to his own faded Save the Planet tee shirt and worn jeans. Mom would be glad to see Chuck tonight. She always was. Of all his friends, Chuck was by far her favorite. He thought about the time she went on and on about what a handsome couple they would make. Those were her exact words. At least she never did that again.

  Annamaria, on the other hand, had on more than one occasion come right out and asked them what were they waiting for, why not admit they were a couple. Chuck thought it was hilarious. But Fin felt a twinge of sadness whenever his sister said that, which he hid by laughing and telling her to stop worrying about his love life and think about her own—to which she countered that she did not have one of her own and had no intention of looking for one. Which, of course, made him feel sad all over again, this time for her.

  When they got to his folks’ house, his mom greeted them both with warm hugs. “I’m sorry again, sweetie,” she said, giving Fin an extra squeeze. “I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you like that.”

  “I understand, Mom. We’re cool. No problem.” He kissed her cheek and ruffled her hair, feeling the coarseness of it on his fingers. She laughed and slapped his hand away good-naturedly, then patted the short strands back into place. Things were right between them again. If only he could convince her now, with the governor’s reprieve, to help him get Raelynn Blackwell’s death sentence commuted altogether.

  “Annamaria’s stuck on MoPac,” his mom said, “but she said to go ahead, and dinner is ready.”

  “Uh-oh,” Fin whispered to Chuck as they walked, arm in arm, to the dining room, ”I have a feeling we better watch out for my sister tonight.”

  SIXTEEN

  The car screeched to a stop at the curb. Annamaria turned off the ignition and yanked the door open.

  “Put that phone away,” she said, “and no texting at the dinner table.”

  Patty ambled out of the car as if she actually might get a move on, but no, there she was, down on the ground picking up God knows what.

  “Look at all these pecans, Mom. The squirrels gone get ’em for sure.”

  “Stop dawdling.” Annamaria motioned with a flick of her hand for her daughter to hurry up as she rushed up the long walk leading to the familiar reddish-brown brick house.

  “It’s all yellow.” Patty ran her hand over the parched grass.

  “No excuse for it. They have a perfectly good sprinkler system.”

  “Gran says water’s for the fishes.”

  It was just like Mom to see it that way instead of admitting how pathetic the lawn looked next to the lush green of all the others on the quiet tree-lined street. She wondered if her mom even appreciated what a delight it had been for them as kids to play in the soft, thick grass, to feel it tickle their bare toes. But, irritated as she was, Annamaria brushed aside her irritation because tonight was going to be different.

  Patty ran up to the porch and, without knocking or ringing the doorbell, pushed open the heavy mahogany door. Everyone was in the dining room already.

  “Hey, like the black polish,” Fin said with a wink as his niece sat down at her usual place across from him at the table. “Did you do your toes, too?”

  “Don’t encourage her.” Annamaria rolled her eyes.

  With a goofy grin, Patty fluttered her fingers in the air, obviously enjoying her uncle’s approval. Annamaria shook her head; so much for her assiduous attempt to pretend she hadn’t noticed the black nails. Well, her kid had attitude. She had to give her that.

  “Here you go, everyone.”

  Bernadette walked in with an oversized pan of homemade lasagna that filled the room with the spicy smell of garlic, oregano, beef, and tomato blended to luscious perfection. To a chorus of oohs and aahs, she lowered the pan onto a cast-iron trivet without spilling a single drop of the bubbling sauce onto the bouquet of red carnations or the red and white-checkered tablecloth.

  “Look! Gran made all your favorites, Mom,” Patty said. “Good thing we got here in time.”

  “We’re not that late.”

  “Like, look at your watch, Mom.”

  Annamaria was too busy ruminating over why her mom had made lasagna to argue with Patty. It wasn’t a summertime dish, and it was so labor-intensive that Mom only made it once a year—on Annamaria’s birthday, come to think of it. And today wasn’t anywhere near her birthday. Could this be her mom’s way of apologizing, her way of saying she wished she’d listened to Annamaria’s warning not to trust Raelynn Blackwell? Was she admitting that she’d been conned? But an apology wasn’t necessary; it was enough to know that her mom was furious, that she now understood what she’d gotten herself into. But why, if her mom was upset, was she working so hard to make things pleasant? She must be trying to cover up or contain her simmering rage, probably didn’t want to upset the others. Well, not to worry. Her anger would show itself soon enough. Everyone knew she was incapable of masking her feelings for long.

  “You didn’t have to do all this, Mom,” Annamaria said with a significant smile and nod meant to let Bernadette know that she understood.

  To Annamaria’s consternation, Patty reached for the wooden salad bowl and plopped a big helping of lettuce, tomatoes, radishes, and cucumbers onto her plate. What the hell? No matter how much she nagged at her about eating vegetables, why was it that her daughter would only eat the ones grown in her gran’s garden? Fin reached for the spatula then—a signal for them all to pass their plates over to him, his chest puffed up like he was special because Mom had placed the pan closest to him. Well, enjoy the moment, Annamaria said to him in her head. It won’t be long now before you and everyone else will see that Mom has finally come to her senses, that she now sees what I saw all along.

  ***

  The pleasing sounds brought a smile to Bernadette’s face: the clink of forks on plates—sounds of chewing, swallowing—random utterances of satisfaction—soft shuffling of feet—Patty licking the butter from the garlic bread off her fingers. They were the sounds of appreciation she always relished, and tonight they had the added effect of lessening her apprehension, if only for a bit, about the dinner conversation they were about to have. She couldn’t believe so much had happened in such a short period of time. There was a lot to tell the kids. She pretty much knew what to expect; Fin would be pleased to hear about what happened with Rae, Annamaria would be angry, and Patty would be curious. Everyone would be upset about Marty’s news.

  Lines pierced Annamaria’s forehead as she leaned forward, her hands resting on each side of her plate, like a cat ready to pounce. Bernadette wondered if it was her imagination or if her daughter was actually sitting there scrutinizing her every move instead of eating. When Marty coughed and cleared his throat, she turned away from Annamaria to give him a smile of encouragement. He was nervous, she could tell. She nodded at him, a silent message that it was okay, that they were in this together. He tapped his glass with a spoon and cleared his throat again.

  “Your mom and I have something to tell you,” he said.

  “First, I want to apologize,” Bernadette said. When she saw a smile widen on Annamaria’s face, she had the crazy idea that maybe her daughter had been anticipating this moment, that she might already know what was coming. But, of course, that was impossible.

  “I should have talked to you before now,” she continued. “At least on the phone. I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going on.”

  “Hey, no problem,” Annamaria said. “I totally understand. I was just as pissed off as you, Mom. S
till am. I can’t believe what Governor Kopecky did. And that old Judge Groundtree, well…”

  “Let me finish, Annie,” Bernadette said.

  “Of course. I just want you to know it’s okay, Mom.”

  Bernadette raised her hand and blurted out her news. “I went back to Gatesville.” Her tone carried the implicit warning that if anyone objected, they shouldn’t even try to go there.

  Annamaria’s mouth fell open. Obviously, this was not what she expected to hear.

  “What happened?” Fin sprang up in his seat, all excited.

  “It was good I went,” Bernadette said.

  Annamaria slumped back in her chair.

  “Rae and I talked for a long time.”

  “Rae? Did you say Rae?” Annamaria shot up, lurched forward.

  “She didn’t know about the letter.”

  “Oh, and I suppose she told you that.” Annamaria snorted.

  “I believe her.”

  “Big surprise.” Annamaria said with a grunt. She gritted her teeth, covered her ears with her hands, and shot daggers at Fin. She wanted to wipe the crooked grin off his face.

  Bernadette, anticipating that Annamaria was about to make a scene, decided that ignoring her would be the best way to head it off. She turned to face the others, leaving Annamaria to quietly sulk as she filled in the details of her meeting with Rae.

  “I was wrong about her,” she finally concluded with a sigh.

  “What happens now, Gran?” Patty asked.

  “They should let her spend the rest of her life in prison,” Fin said. “Give her a chance to atone for what she did.”

  “Right.” Annamaria muttered and rolled her eyes. She shoved her plate of untouched lasagna toward the middle of the table.

  “I feel different about Rae now,” Bernadette said.

  “Could you please stop calling her that?” Annamaria pushed her fingers into her temples hard enough, it seemed, to bore a hole in her head.