The Riches of Mercy

by C. E. Case

  Natalie rubbed her cheek and didn't meet his eyes in the rearview mirror.

  The driver started the van. "I'm Harold. You thirsty? I got coffee."

  "No, thank you. How long of a drive is it?"

  Harold grunted. "Ten minutes."

  "I'll just stare out the window, then."

  The van pulled out of the parking lot. Harold turned on the radio, and then turned down the volume, so the country-western music became a faint background sound.

  "Get lost on your way to the beach?"

  "I guess. Yeah. That's what happened."

  "So did I. Hell, I should've stayed in Rocky Mount."

  "What's in Rocky Mount?" Natalie asked.

  "They got a Starbucks."

  Natalie nearly threw herself out of the van. "Tarpley doesn't have a Starbucks?"

  "Welcome to Tarpley, ma'am. We got a nice Hardees."

  The urge to cross herself returned; the urge to ward all of this off and beg for forgiveness. She'd survived the accident and survived surviving the accident so far. Outside the van windows cars and trucks rushed by. Beyond them she saw empty, flat land. She was descending into Hell.

  The van slowed to a stop. A train whistle blew.

  Harold sighed and put the van in park. Past the front windshield, a freight train rumbled by, impossibly slow, right there in the middle of the road.

  "You golf?" Harold asked, distracting her from her horror. "I mean, when you were better?"

  "No."

  "A shame. Not much else to do around here."

  "Would you drive me all the way to the beach?"

  Harold glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Not today. But Wilmington's closer than you think. You'll see it before you know it. Smells like the sea. That's all you need."

  "And a job."

  "Good point, there. What do you do?"

  The van finally began to move again. Natalie glanced around furtively for the train. "I'm an attorney."

  He whistled. "Not many of those around here. Not even in Rocky Mount. You go up to UNC?"

  She shook her head.

  "Oh, Lord. Not Duke?"

  "Wake."

  "Fair enough."

  "Have you always been in North Carolina?" Natalie asked.

  "I was born in Rocky Mount. My parents came from Ecuador. A long journey," he said.

  "Have you ever been there?"

  "Ecuador?"

  "Yes."

  He shook his head. "No. Don't think I ever will."

  The van turned into a neighborhood. He slowed his driving, and asked, "Your people come over on the Mayflower?"

  She shook her head. "During the war."

  "You Jewish?"

  "No, just--" She paused, trying to think of what she was.

  "Just screwed. I got it."

  "Everywhere you turn."

  "Yup. World's a shitty place."

  He stopped the van in front of a two-story cottage. Toys were strewn over the front lawn.

  The house needed new paint and a good window-washing, but there were flowers planted around the mailbox and the porch had a swing.

  Harold pulled open the van door and carefully wheeled her down to Earth.

  "Home sweet home," he said.

  Meredith came onto the porch.

  "I could probably do worse," she said.

  He snorted.

  Meredith stepped onto the front stoop. Two little boys rushed past her. They stopped halfway up the gravel driveway and stared at Natalie.

  Natalie felt her blood drain from her face.

  "Better get used to it," Harold said.

  "I have to get used to it?"

  He didn't say anything more as he pushed her up the driveway. The wheels moved easily over the thin gravel--more like gray and silver packed dirt. The boys scooted backward as she approached.

  "You better say something," Harold said.

  "Um. Shit."

  "Maybe not that."

  She glared at him and then tried to smile at the boys. If she thought of them as the check-forgers and wife-beaters she used to deal with, maybe it would work. She could fake-polite if it was her job. Winning over Meredith's children was her new job.

  "All right," she said. "Which one of you is Beau and which one is Merry?"

  One of the boys giggled.

  "Aren't you Russian?" the other boy asked.

  "Not exactly."

  "Little Merry, why don't you help her carry her basket?" Meredith said from the steps.

  Natalie held out her gift basket.

  The bashful boy--slightly leaner than his brother--giggled. He took the basket carefully from her and clutched the handle with both hands. He wobbled carrying it to the stoop.

  "Do you like dogs?" Beau asked, trying not to stare at her legs.

  She kicked at him with her bad leg. He leapt away. She grinned. He grinned back, showing his teeth. The spell of her appearance seemed broken. She wondered if it would be so easy with everyone else. She would just have to kick them, too.

  "I like dogs," she said.

  "Good. I want a dog, but Mommy won't let me. See, Mommy? She says we can have a dog!"

  Natalie blushed and glanced helplessly at Meredith. She tried to remember how she'd gotten herself into this situation. She'd been driving east. She'd been driving, and it was dark--

  Meredith waved her off. "You know why we can't have a dog, Beau."

  Merritt stopped in the front door and put down his basket.

  "In the corner, Merry," Meredith said.

  Merritt picked up the basket again.

  "Because you're going away." Beau said. He stomped inside the house.

  "You're going away?" Natalie asked.

  Meredith frowned and shook her head.

  The wheelchair's front wheels bumped against the stoop.

  "Here we are," Harold said.

  "And now what?" Natalie asked. Surely he didn't expect her to get up and stroll over the threshold.

  "Watch," Meredith said. "Well, I guess you won't be able to watch, per se, but observe."

  Harold headed back down the driveway. Natalie watched over her shoulder. He got in his van. She waved. He didn't wave back. He just drove away, like she'd never see him again.

  Meredith took the wheelchair handles.

  Natalie started. "Merry, you're not strong enough--Please don't hurt yourself."

  "Hush, I know what I'm doing." Meredith pulled her back and tilted the smaller front wheels over the stoop. Then she rolled forward, and with a heave, the chair rolled up onto the stoop.

  "Holy crap," Natalie said.

  Meredith smacked the back of Natalie's head.

  Natalie ducked her head.

  "Sorry. That's what I do with the boys when they use bad language." She pushed Natalie into the foyer.

  "Your boys use bad language?"

  "You wouldn't imagine what they learn from the neighborhood. Anyway. The boys'll want to push you around some, but you're going to learn to do all that on your own." She let go of the wheels, and Natalie rolled to a stop.

  "Do what?"

  "Up the curb, down the curb. Easier than you think."

  "And then what, enroll me in the basketball league?"

  Meredith frowned.

  "I'm sorry."

  "You've got a right to be bitter, I guess. Let me show you around." She walked in front of Natalie and into a room on her right.

  Natalie rubbed her hands together and then pushed the wheels. The wheels moved. "Hey, cool."

  Meredith chuckled.

  Natalie, emboldened by being able to roll herself, tried intermediate wheelchair maneuvering. She held one wheel still and rolled the other to turn. Physics 101. She spun around and ended up facing Meredith.

  "We converted the dining room into a guest room. Vince put in the doors himself."

  "It's nice," Natalie said.

  The front windows let in light. Through the glass she saw the road she'd come from and other houses along the street. The room was fi
lled completely by one hospital bed, metal arms and all.

  "I'll have to help you in and out for a couple days, probably. I couldn't get one of those bars installed, since you're here temporarily. But the rest is from your insurance company."

  "Amazing."

  "Sure is. Now, there's a full bathroom down here, so you won't have to worry about the stairs. Unfortunately, the kids use it too. They sleep in the den a lot. The kitchen's in the back. There's a porch out there, too. Not too big, but we've got a grill."

  Natalie settled her arms on the armrests and tried to get comfortable. She wasn't. The room was nicer than the hospital's--richly polished hardwood floor, a dresser with a mirror and candles and figurines--A Jesus, a Mary, a clown with balloons, a horse rearing. The windows had lace curtains. Compared to the hospital room, this one was about the same size with the same bed.

  A nicer prison.

  "So. This is my life," she said. Something caught in her throat.

  "There's one more thing. Wait here." Meredith disappeared.

  Natalie heard her running up the stairs.

  When she came back, she had Hollingsworth in her arms.

  "My cat!" She was too shocked to cry, but her chest burned.

  Meredith piled Hollingsworth onto Natalie's lap.

  Hollingsworth crawled up her chest and licked at her face and began to purr.

  "Oh my God. You--"

  "Shssh. It's a big adjustment." Meredith squeezed Natalie's shoulders. "I'll call you for dinner, all right? Let me know if you need anything beforehand. I'll keep the boys out. I won't always be able to, but this afternoon is yours."

  Natalie sucked in a breath. She wanted to thank Meredith but a sob in her throat escaped first, drowning out whatever she'd wanted to say, taking over her facial muscles so they contorted in an anguished grimace. She fought as hard as she could against the tears.

  Meredith, still rubbing tense shoulders, leaned over and kissed the top of her head, and said, "It's going to be all right."

  Then she left, shutting the door behind her. Shutting Natalie in.

  Natalie put her face against fur and cried. And then she cried harder, because it hurt so much to cry.

  # #

  Chapter Eleven

  The diet of a four-year-old boy was the same diet as an invalid with intestinal trauma. They were having cinnamon toast at 5:30 in the afternoon. Even at the hospital, Natalie ate later. The afternoon sunlight was turning from orange to dark gray outside the French doors. Natalie contemplated verandas and ate what she could, not hungry and uninterested.

  For the blessing, Natalie felt awkward with Meredith's cold fingers in one hand and Merritt's hot paw in the other. Beau led the prayer, thanking God they got to eat one of his favorite foods when so many other people had to go without or eat gross things. He wasn't sure which was worse, but he thanked God he didn't have to find out. When he started in on how he felt about his glass of apple juice, Meredith finally interjected with, "Darling, He can hear your thoughts, you know."

  "Like Daddy?"

  "Yup. Just like Daddy. They're up there together, hoping you'll eat your dinner and become a big, strong man."

  Natalie squeezed Meredith's hand.

  Meredith squeezed back and gave her a smile.

  After the blessing, Beau ate four pieces of cinnamon toast, but only drank half of his apple juice.

  Merritt ate one piece but drank two glasses of juice, and gazed hopefully at Meredith, and then Natalie.

  "Why is he looking at me like that?" Natalie asked.

  "He wants more juice."

  "But why would--Does he want mine?"

  "How it works."

  "Should I give it to him?"

  "Only if you want to train him like a dog and say it's okay to beg for food from your elders at the table."

  Merritt made a face.

  Natalie picked up her glass, drank it down, and smiled at Merritt.

  He scowled, but he didn't cry or bang the table, which surpassed Natalie's expectations enough she felt guilty.

  "He's good with adversity," Meredith said.

  "I'll say."

  "Merry, go get some juice from the fridge. It's all right."

  He slid off his stool and backed into the kitchen, keeping his eyes on Natalie.

  "Should I make a scary face?" Natalie asked.

  "No."

  Natalie shrugged and went back to picking at her toast.

  "Not hungry?" Meredith asked.

  "Not really. I mean, it's really good--"

  "Please. It's cinnamon toast. There's dessert later, good to save room for it."

  "What is it?" Beau and Natalie asked simultaneously.

  Meredith rolled her eyes. "You'll see. After your bath."

  Beau grumbled.

  "Bath?" Natalie asked.

  "Off with you," Meredith said.

  Beau took his plate into the kitchen. Natalie craned her neck and could see around the door. Beau put his scraps into the trash can, and then put the plate in the dishwasher.

  "How'd you get him to do that? Even I don't do that," Natalie asked.

  "If he completes all his chores before bed, he gets a nickel and a strawberry. We have a checklist."

  Natalie gasped.

  Meredith grinned. "What's that look on your face for?"

  "You bribe your children?"

  "It's positive reinforcement and providing structure and personal motivation."

  "Merry," Natalie said.

  "It was recommended by Focus on the Family. And it works. For Beau. Merritt just wants kisses and hugs."

  Natalie wrinkled her nose.

  Merritt came back and gave the apple juice bottle to Meredith, who poured him half a glass. "You can drink this, and then it's bath time."

  "But Natalie's here," Merritt said.

  "And she likes little boys better when they're clean."

  "She does?"

  "Yes," Meredith said.

  Natalie nodded.

  Merritt took his glass and drank it all down. Then he set it on his plate and carefully walked with it into the kitchen.

  "Hey. Usually in an hour or so you bring me dinner. What do the boys do?" Natalie asked.

  "I give them their bath and read them a story, and then my next door neighbor comes over and reads them another story and puts them to sleep. Then she hangs out in the living room and does paper work for her business until I get back. She's self-employed."

  "Do you have to pay her?"

  "Natalie, stop looking so guilty. What I do with my home life is none of your concern."

  Natalie glanced away.

  "Though, actually--"

  Natalie froze.

  "I've got to run to the hospital for about two hours tonight, to get all my hours in this week. Once the boys are asleep."

  "Is--Is your neighbor coming over?"

  "Nope. I thought I'd leave them with you."

  "Merry! I can barely move."

  "If there's a fire or a flood, just yell really loud and get them to haul you out. But you'll be fine."

  "Merry, please don't leave me here with your kids."

  "You won't notice a thing."

  Upstairs, a faucet turned on. Beau yelled, "Mommy."

  "Time to get the little rascals clean and sleepy," Meredith said.

  "Should I do something in the kitchen?"

  "No, no. You can watch TV if you want, though it's probably better to start after the boys are asleep."

  "Mommy!" Beau yelled again.

  "Go. I can fend for myself," Natalie said.

  "More than you think," Merry said, patting her shoulder before jogging upstairs.

  Natalie rolled herself back to her room, listening to the laughing and splashing above her. More civilization and home than she'd experienced in years. Perhaps ever, beyond what the television offered.

  Being around people wasn't so bad.

  She prayed she wasn't going to cry again.

  #

  The hous
e was so blissfully quiet after sunset Natalie couldn't be sure there were kids around. The peace wasn't what she'd expected, having not grown up with brothers or sisters or nieces and nephews. She'd been a hellion as a teenager, so she assumed all children terrorized their parents.

  She hoped she wouldn't be there long enough to corrupt Beau and Merritt.

  She dozed, finding sleeping in a bed in a home so comforting she wanted to stay in it forever. Her world in Charlotte evaporated. Patrick and Roland were gone, along with her coworkers and her friends and the memories of her mother. Instead she dreamed about the sidewalk outside and the gravel driveway and the awning of the hospital. She found it hard to believe she had seen it for the first time that morning.

  Her laptop was on the dresser, beckoning to her. She had emails to read and her internal clock was pointing out it was only nine at night. At home, she'd be in the thick of her case files, with dinner packed away and the late night shows far off.

  She tried reminding her body sleep came much earlier every night for the last two weeks. But she wasn't in the hospital any longer, she was in a home. Someone else's home.

  The last time she'd been in someone else's home was a trip out to Utah. Her friend had a ranch. She hadn't talked to her friend in a while. Maybe an email was warranted.

  She scowled at the laptop.

  Trickery!

  #

  Meredith hesitated outside of Natalie's door. She'd gotten home and gotten dessert, but Natalie might be asleep. Natalie might want to be alone. Coming home to someone was harder than Meredith remembered.

  She knocked.

  "Yeah?" Natalie said.

  Meredith poked her head in. "You awake?"

  Natalie smoothed her blanket over her legs. "I was contemplating doing some work."

  "At this hour?" Meredith asked. She ran her fingers through her hair. Natalie was settled in bed, looking sleepy and tousled, and it all suggested to Meredith she could be asleep, too. She yawned.

  "You were working at this hour, weren't you?" Natalie asked.

  "Last hour. Makes all the difference." Meredith came into the room, holding a bowl of strawberries. "Up for dessert?"

  "Absolutely. But I didn't clean my plate or brush my teeth."

  "Or take a bath." The banter removed her apprehension; her friendship with Natalie happened too easily and too quickly to be understandable, but she was glad nothing changed.

  "Hey, I spent nearly an hour in the bathroom. I'm somewhat clean."