The Riches of Mercy

by C. E. Case

  Was Meredith suing someone? Why wouldn't she say? Why hadn't she asked Natalie for help?

  The reporter staring at her hadn't stormed off yet. "Hey, haven't I seen you before?" Erica asked.

  "In the news, maybe," Natalie said. Her stomach was starting to hurt. She leaned more heavily on the walker. She should have stayed in bed. Wheeler was going to be angry.

  The reporter looked her up and down, the leg, the walker, the fading welt on her face. "You're her. The state prosecutor. You hit a deer."

  "No comment."

  Erica grinned. "I called your office in Charlotte. I tried to get your contact for an interview. I didn't know you were here in Tarpley. I knew you were nearby."

  "Here I am."

  "Are you still involved in the Roland case?"

  Natalie knew she should keep her mouth shut, but she was far away from any recrimination, and she hadn't eaten and she was worried about Meredith. "Administrative leave," she said.

  "Why?"

  Natalie shrugged.

  "So you don't have any active cases?"

  "Not at the moment. They've been reassigned while I do my rehabilitation here. My injuries were too extensive, initially, to transfer me back to a Charlotte hospital."

  "They've got good facilities down here."

  "Yes, ma'am. You can quote me."

  Erica grinned. "How are you liking Eastern Carolina?"

  "It's wonderful. Very peaceful."

  "Remind you of home?"

  "No."

  "Been to Wilmington yet?"

  Natalie shook her head.

  "Outer Banks?"

  "No."

  "Cape Hattaras? The Wright Brothers? Cape Fear?"

  "Isn't Cape Fear on the other side?"

  Erica chuckled. "Sure, but still. Myrtle Beach? Have you just been sitting here?"

  "Massive injuries resulting from deer," Natalie said.

  "Right. But if you ever want anyone to show you around--" Erica took out her wallet and pulled out a business card. "In return for some inside scoop on the Roland case, of course. No one around here cares, but I bet I could make the AP wire."

  "I'll keep that in mind."

  "You didn't curse me out. Surprising."

  "I'm used to reporters."

  "I guess you are."

  "And Rocky Mount's the big city?"

  Erica laughed. "Oh, no. It's just got a supermarket and a couple of Wal-Marts, you know. I'd love to be working in Wilmington or Charlotte."

  "Ambitious."

  "Just want to get out of Nowheresville. The small towns--you can't imagine."

  "I'm learning."

  "This hospital is kind of an oasis. For employment and otherwise."

  Natalie felt kinship with her. She wanted to pursue the conversation. "Where'd you go to school?"

  "Wilmington. Party school. My parents are first generation, they moved from Texas to here to work in the factory. Why, I don't know. They could have made it to middle class by now if they'd stayed in the maquiadoras. They tell me they like the climate better."

  Natalie nodded. "My mother, too. From the old country."

  "The eastern part of the old country?"

  "Yeah." Natalie never said much to a reporter, but Erica's clothes, Erica's accent--Midwestern trim, without a trace of drawl, despite her upbringing--lulled her into trust. She wanted to talk to an old friend. She didn't have many. But here was Erica, smiling, still standing in front of her, just like a work colleague. And Natalie had her number.

  "How's your leg?" Erica asked.

  "It'll be all right. It's better than they expected. They thought they were going to have to saw it off. But I'm even walking." Natalie shook her walker. "Except, I'm exhausted. Mind coming in?"

  "Sure. Can I help?"

  "I'll be all right." Natalie limped back to the bed. Erica stayed silent as Natalie sat down and exhaled.

  "Not walking much?"

  "I actually prefer the wheelchair. At least my leg doesn't hurt."

  Erica nodded.

  Natalie asked, with a lump in her throat, "You were talking about Merry?"

  "You do know her."

  "She's been my nurse. Off and on. When it's her shift."

  "You must know everyone in a small place like this."

  "Pretty much."

  "But you don't know what she did?"

  "What did she do?"

  "It's just like the Roland case," Erica said.

  Natalie's blood ran cold. Her world went gray. She didn't need to hear Erica's next words, but they rang in her ears, above the ping ringing in them.

  "She killed her husband. Vincent Jameison. She pled not guilty. Self-defense. There's an evidentiary hearing tomorrow. We're running something tonight."

  Spots swam in front of Natalie's eyes. She rubbed them, and then could only see black. Like before she'd seen Meredith's face for the first time. She rubbed harder. Haze and light re-entered her vision.

  She'd been in worse spots than this; received worse news. Her principal at school telling her her mother was dead. Defendants lying on the stand. Rape victims telling the truth. The expression in Patrick's eyes, handing her the Roland case.

  The expression she probably wore now. Seven years at her job gave her the conditioning to ask, if not the strength. "What happened?"

  "He was in Iraq. A war hero."

  "I know. I know."

  "You do?"

  Natalie thought of Jake. "It's a small town, remember."

  "Right. Well, things were different when he came back. Her story is he was ill. PTSD. His parents claim she was cheating on him."

  "With who?"

  Erica shrugged. "No one knows."

  "But she's working."

  "She did about six months before she finally got bail lowered. Hardship case. Parent. His parents have been trying to get the kids away from her, but at the moment, they don't even have visitation. The police are too afraid of a kidnapping incident."

  "That seems so--different from how it would play out in Charlotte."

  Not totally different. She thought of all the poor mothers that had come through her doors. She'd never associated Meredith with them. Or with Roland. Another shuddering chill went through her. Roland was an evil, sick bastard.

  "Small town," Erica said. "Her husband had friends on the force. They're sticking by Meredith. Guess they noticed a change, too."

  "Seems that would taint the jury pool."

  "Sure." Erica leaned forward over the chair, dangling her briefcase. "They want to move it down to Charlotte. I'm in favor. More sensational, I think. And I'll definitely get a travel budget."

  Natalie felt sick. She closed her eyes.

  "Are you all right?"

  "Feeling a little weak. Would you mind? I've got your number."

  "Sure," Erica's footsteps retreated. "Give me a call. Even if you just want to go to dinner or something. It's nice to see a kindred spirit."

  Natalie waved but kept her eyes closed, willing her heartbeat to slow. She wasn't sure how many minutes passed with just her quiet, slow breathing and the sense of dread infusing her, but there came a knock on the open door. She didn't open her eyes, but she rolled her head vaguely in the direction of the sound.

  "Nat? You ready?" Wheeler asked.

  She opened her eyes and sat up.

  He met her eyes with a friendly smile and came into the room.

  "Is it true?" she asked.

  "Is what true?" He sat down on the edge of the bed, still gazing into her face. Concerned. Doctorly.

  "About Merry. I talked to Erica."

  "The bitch," Wheeler said.

  Natalie recoiled.

  He took her hands. "I'm sorry. She isn't. I just--Yes, it's true. Everything she told you is probably true."

  "Oh. Oh, Jesus." Natalie couldn’t breathe. Wheeler held her hands, watched her, until she sank into the bed.

  "It's bad. If you care about her--"

  "I do," Natalie said. She wanted Merediths' arms
around her. She wanted Meredith laughing with her at dinner. Her chest hurt. She couldn't see again. The black spots were back.

  "I don't know why she didn't tell you."

  "Seems obvious to me."

  He squeezed her hands. "Maybe so."

  She turned her head away. Her eyes stung with tears. Wheeler scooted closer so he could put one hand on her shoulder.

  "It's okay, Natalie."

  "It's not. How can you say that?"

  He rubbed her shoulder with his thumb in slow, soothing circles. Contact with another human being--not Meredith, but someone connected to her, and to Natalie, and to the whole human race--comforted her.

  "It's horrible and sad, but we'll get through it," he said.

  "Tell me everything."

  "After your surgery. Your health is more important."

  "It's not important at all."

  "It is to me."

  "Well, screw you."

  "Just for that, I'm bringing a mirror to the surgery so you can see everything."

  "You wouldn't," she said.

  "Oh, I'm devious."

  "Just like everyone else around here."

  "Nat--You can only trust yourself. You’ve got to get stronger."

  "I'm an attorney, maybe I could--" she searched for the words. "Help. Maybe I could help."

  "After your surgery," he said.

  She scowled.

  "I promise."

  He stood, and after pausing, leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. "It's time. I'll go get Colleen."

  She closed her eyes and waited for the doctors to come to her and change everything.

  # #

  Chapter Eighteen

  "We'll be going in with laser scalpels," Bhatti said. "You won't feel a thing after."

  "We just got the equipment installed a couple of months ago," Wheeler said.

  Those tools had been available for years--perhaps longer than a decade--in Charlotte. If she'd been transferred, if she'd been injured there, she would have had top surgery at Presbyterian instead of emergency hacking. They wouldn't call a doctor down from Duke Medical.

  Wheeler settled into the chair and the anesthesiologist came in.

  "Usually I'd do this myself, but since he was on site--" Wheeler said.

  "Better for your liability, though it costs more," the anesthesiologist said. "Gotta love insurance, right?"

  Her insurance company told her this would be the last surgery they would pay for, and at the end of the week, she was out the nursing service, too. She'd be on her own.

  "Nat?" Wheeler asked.

  She glanced up, meeting his eyes.

  "You looked pale for a second. You'll be all right."

  "I have good hands," Bhatti said, and wiggled his fingers.

  "I'm ready," Natalie said.

  The anesthesiologist pushed a long, thin needle into her leg, hurting her, but the numbness came after, flooding through her leg, warmth and then incredible lightness. Wheeler poked her leg for her, since she couldn't reach, and there was only the sensation her leg had turned into a giant pillow.

  The anesthesiologist stabbed her several more times, some she felt, and some she didn't, and she began to worry something feeling this incredibly good must be wrong, somehow.

  Wheeler's face was filled with concern.

  "Am I all right?" she asked.

  "We're waiting to see if you're going to swell up like a balloon and stop breathing," Wheeler said.

  The anesthesiologist glanced at his watch.

  "What happens if I do?" Natalie asked.

  "Epi pen, right into the heart," Wheeler said. "You'll be fine."

  "Fabulous."

  The anesthesiologist took her pulse. "She's doing well," he said.

  "We're ready," Wheeler said.

  Bhatti rubbed his hands together. "Let the games begin."

  #

  Wheeler and Bhatti cracked jokes with her throughout the surgery, poking her leg with small metal tongs, going into the side of her abdomen with a tube and a camera, testing stitches. She'd have known earlier if the internal wounds had not healed, if her intestines leaked and poisoned her--as it was, she was eating hot dogs and macaroni with impunity. But now they were medically sure, and they smiled when they told her.

  With her leg numb she was brave enough to glance at the surgical monitor three times. So gross.

  "Take your medicine exactly as instructed. Do not be brave. Do not be bold. Do not be ambitious," Bhatti said. "Then, you won't feel any pain."

  "He's serious. And so am I," Wheeler said.

  "Stay drugged out of my mind. Got it," Natalie said.

  Wheeler patted her good leg. "It'll be a different experience than before. I promise."

  Lighter, then. The light she felt inside her, especially inside her leg and her side, would continue.

  "There's my angel," Bhatti said.

  She smiled, her cheeks warming under his words.

  Then it was all over with her still floating and numb. Colleen took her back to her room and kissed her cheek and pointed to the flowers sitting on the table.

  Natalie took the card. "Way to go, champ. Love, Merry."

  Colleen grinned and folded her arms.

  "Champ?" Natalie asked.

  "Want me to scruff your hair?"

  Natalie's hair had grown out some since they'd shaved it the first night--the last night--and it was of scruffable length. She made a face.

  Colleen winked and went to the door. "I'll bring you lunch. Well, a liquid lunch. You'll love it."

  "Hey, Colleen?"

  Colleen turned around in the doorway.

  "When will the numbness wear off?"

  "Oh, about four hours. But you'll be on the painkillers. Don't worry."

  "Oh, I'm not worried," Natalie said.

  Colleen grinned back and gave her a little wave, and then left her alone with her absence of pain and the card from Meredith. She traced the writing. Champ. She'd have to get Meredith back. She'd have to--

  The memory of her conversation with Erica came back to her, filling her mind and pushing out the happiness. Her heart sank. Her hand, holding the card, trembled.

  The idea of Meredith being a different person than she'd thought--an evil person--warred with the thought that Meredith might go to prison and Natalie would lose her. She tucked the card back into the flowers. She felt ill. She wanted to go home. She wanted to see the boys--to see they were safe, that everyone was safe--that there was no deer, no Roland.

  She rubbed her wrists. Maybe this is what it was supposed to feel like, to be healthy in a hospital. She felt ready to go back to her old life, the one in the sick, sick world. The world Meredith was of. She was just like everyone else.

  So Meredith was a murderer.

  She turned her head. The flowers were daisies and lilies, arranged in earthy combination. Their scent tickled Natalie's nose. She sighed. She could walk. She could run all the way back to Charlotte. Roland was free of her, and she of him, but Patrick could quietly slip her back into a caseload.

  She could take a demotion. She could transfer to Washington, D.C., or Delaware, or Pittsburgh. She could enter private practice. She could run for office. She would never have to see Meredith again.

  #

  Meredith played cards with Terrance, who was in for his regular dialysis.

  "Gin," he said, spreading his cards on the hospital tray.

  "I wasn't even close."

  "You shouldn't let an old man beat you at cards."

  "'Let' had nothing to do with it."

  Terrance grinned.

  Meredith reshuffled the cards.

  Wheeler knocked on the open door. "Nurse?" he said.

  'Nurse.' Used in the hospital, it was code for, 'keep cool, keep professional, because something's about to go down.' Or 'Don't scare the patients, but--."

  White-faced, she smiled at Terrance and got up. "Next week. I'm going to read some strategy books. You won't know what hit you."

>   "I'd at least like a challenge."

  She winked and went into the hallway with Wheeler.

  Wheeler ran his hand over his head. "Merry. I don't know how to tell you this."

  Dread washed over her, icy cold, robbing her of senses. Her boys--It could only be--

  "It's Natalie," he said.

  Relief brought with it confusion. "I heard the surgery went fine. You asked--" He'd asked that she avoid Natalie when she came in for her shift. The memo seemed ominous at the time, but since she never saw Natalie at work these days anyway, she slipped into her routine, comforted when she'd heard Natalie was fine.

  "She knows. She knows everything, Merry. Everything about you."

  Her mind filled with the things Natalie could possibly know, that she'd kept secret from her without even realizing, Meredith sagged against the wall. Wheeler tried to put his hands on her shoulders. She shook him off.

  "What am I going to do?" she asked.

  "You're going to go home and talk to her."

  "I can't. I can't." Her home hadn't been a home since she'd lost Vincent. Since before --Since he'd come back from the desert. Natalie's coming made it feel like it once had, safe and loving and full of light. She'd known it was just a mirage, but in just days, she had gotten used to it. The absence of pain. The joy that filled her whenever she thought of Natalie.

  "I can't go home," she said, knowing she wouldn't be able to make Wheeler understand there would be no home left anymore.

  "Take some time. You're off-shift, but take some time. Think. Pray. We're keeping her here for a day or two, but you've got to go home." he said.

  Then he left her, going on to do his rounds, and for long minutes she leaned against the wall, too stunned to cry, too empty to be ashamed.

  When she regained her senses, she asked God what to do. Then she asked Vincent. Then she asked her heart. All were agreed on the course of action--the one she didn't want, the one that would be the hardest to face.

  Sooner or later, she had to look Natalie in the eye.

  #

  Natalie stayed in the hospital two days. The first day she slept sedated in between bouts of pain. She didn’t really miss the Vicodin, but she welcomed the new doses. She was familiar with the high.

  The second day, of course, the nurses gave her Tylenol instead. She tried not to think about Merry. She tried not to think about anything.

  At three p.m. on the third afternoon, Wheeler appeared.

  "We're releasing you. The van'll be here to pick you up in about a half hour."