by C. E. Case
"Am I healed?"
"As long as you take it easy at home, especially tonight, I think you'll be fine. Your leg is happy with what we did, even if you can't tell. Have you been taking it easy?"
She blushed. She rubbed her cheek and frowned at him.
"Well? How's the home front?" he asked.
"Come on, Hank. I take it easy. I mean, as well as I can with two boys. But they've been really great--fetching things, being quiet, pushing me around. They feed the cat every morning. I mean, I have to remind them. But we make it a little game. 'Okay, you get to feed the cat now!' They have no idea they're doing chores."
Wheeler stared at her.
"What?"
"You just didn't strike me as a cat and kids kind of person when you rolled up in here."
"I was heavily medicated and you sawed me open. Pissed me off."
He shrugged. "I get that a lot. No one ever likes my technique."
"I'm grateful, you know. You saved my life. Thank you."
"Come on, Nat. Just doing my job."
"When I do my job, people go to jail."
He winced.
"Sorry," she said.
He shook his head. "People like Merry?"
"No, not people like--" She stopped herself. It wasn't fair to say they weren't like Meredith. Maybe Meredith was just poor and desperate and raised wrong and addicted and trapped like the rest of them. Even Roland thought he had no way out. No easy way.
"People just don't seem willing to do what's hard," she said.
"Even you?"
"Especially me. I just wanted not to feel too much. I was just going to get hurt, anyway."
Wheeler sat on the bed.
"Oh, Hank. Not one of the talks."
"Yes, Nat. All part of the service here."
She narrowed her eyes.
He grinned and then turned slightly to gaze out the window. It was only mid-day. Natalie was healed enough to think lying in a bed in the middle of the day was a crime. She stretched. Pain traveled through her leg and up to her abdomen and her chest. She settled back into the bed and frowned.
Wheeler turned back and asked, "You going to be able to go back?"
"To Merry's?"
He nodded.
"Yeah. I want--I want to talk with her. I want to know."
"And if she doesn't want to talk?"
"I guess, then, I guess I'll just sleep and eat there. I'm not afraid, if that's what you mean."
"I didn't think so. And what about the boys?"
"I think--I love those boys. And they had nothing to do with it. Right?"
"No, they didn't."
She squared her shoulders. "Hank, what'd you come here to say?"
"I was thinking about the conversation we had a few weeks ago. About your visitors."
"And the lack thereof."
"Then you remember."
"Yes. You accused me of being--" her words stuttered. She made no second attempt, and only stared at him.
"I didn't--I'm sorry. About making you uncomfortable."
"You were doing something good. I mean, I don't hold it against you. You were being kind."
He nodded.
She reached out and put her hand on his arm.
He covered her hand with his. "I have a favor to ask."
"All right."
"It's a big favor, and I have no right to ask it."
"All right."
"You're being brave," he said.
She shrugged.
He squeezed her hand. "If you can find it in your heart to be Meredith's friend--with all you know--then do it. Try. I could tell before it revolted you. As it does all of us. But please, try."
"Okay."
"It'll be hard. I know you want to leave."
"Of course I do," she said, and tears spilled down her cheeks.
"You can't believe she was who she is. You can't help but see a different person."
She nodded, then shook her head, and squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears.
He didn't say anything more, just sat with her until she could breathe evenly. She let go of his hand and hugged her shoulders. He didn't say anything. She cleared her throat and then found the strength to look him in the face.
He was the same calm, kind man.
"Any more advice, before you send me back into the den of lions?"
"Have faith in your own abilities. I know you feel you can't do this. I can see it. You're just not that kind of person. Who is? We're only human."
"I only have faith in your abilities, Doctor Hank."
"I'm only good with my hands. Merry needs you."
"I'm just a stranger."
"I know." He took her hands in both of his. "Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things."
She squeezed his hands. She met his eyes.
"Don't worry," she said.
"I'm not." He got up and smoothed down his coat and went to the door.
"Hank?" she asked.
He leaned against the door and gazed back at her.
"Tell me where that was from. I think I'm ready to hear it."
He grinned. "First Corinthians 13:7." Then he shut the door, leaving her in contemplation.
"Great," she said. She stared up at the ceiling. "I heard you. Bastard. There's no way I can do this."
# #
Chapter Nineteen
Natalie crawled into the van, with Harold helping, treating her like Queen Elizabeth. They'd wheeled her to the exit, hospital policy. Fair enough, she wouldn't have wanted to make the walk herself. The walker and the walking cast were coming home with her. Five steps. She could do five steps.
Halfway to Meredith's house, the van always passed a stoplight with a gas station and a strip mall, an area Natalie could squeeze out cell phone reception. She dialed.
Patrick answered. "Hey! I have good news."
"I do, too." She gazed through the window. People were shopping at the Dollar Store across the street. A woman walked two big dogs right past the van. Life continued in the early afternoon, and she was a part of it. She grinned and pressed her cheek to the glass.
"You first," Patrick said. "I want to hear how you are."
"I had surgery a few days ago and I'm doing better than they expected. I can go home this weekend. Be at work Monday."
"Great! We can accommodate you, you know. What do you need? We can move your desk so--"
"Pattypat," she said.
He grunted.
"I can walk."
The words carried as much dramatic weight as when she'd told him she might never again, but these words were joyous, and she told him because she wanted him to be as happy as she was.
He cheered. "Natalie, that's so great! I'm so glad."
"Me too," she said. "What's your news?"
"Oh. I'm glad you're doing better. I didn't want to bother you, you know? When you're trying to heal. I guess you haven't been reading the papers, either. You don't need this shit."
"Pat."
"What?"
"Oh, nothing. I just haven't heard bad language in a while. I was surprised."
"Fuck it, Natalie. The city needs you."
"Tarpley?"
Harold glanced over his shoulder.
"Charlotte, honey. I'll email you some links. Or you could just do a Google search for your name. Nothing ever comes up under my name, unless it's like, paperwork related."
"Uh huh."
"You've been cleared. The police released your report, and they said alcohol and speed were not factors in the crash."
"I wasn't even speeding?"
"Well, maybe you have friends on the force? But no. They said it was a freak accident. Could have happened to anyone. Deer with their timing. And they said you reacted and left a skid ten feet long on the road."
"Woo."
"Right, girlfriend." Static came through the line.
"You're breaking up, Patrick."
"I'll email you. I can't wait to see you!"
he called through the phone, and then the line went dead.
She snapped the phone shut. Harold glanced at her.
"What?" she asked.
"You’re very professional. With the cell phone and all. I guess you're back to normal?"
She frowned and glanced out the window. Trees, now. Power lines. Nothing else. The van was between civilizations.
"I guess so."
He nodded. "It's nice."
"I guess so."
"Your fellow?" Harold asked.
"What? No. My boss."
"Sounds like he's a fan of yours."
"I guess so," she said.
Patrick had always been nice to her. Friendly. Invited her over for Thanksgiving and Christmas and always brought her a card on her birthday. He'd never made any moves on her.
Maybe he just liked her.
Maybe they were actually friends.
She glanced at the phone, wanting to call him back. But the reception was too weak, and anyway, she didn't know what to ask. She didn't even know how to tell who her true friends were.
"I'm an idiot," she told Harold.
"At least you're a healthy idiot," he said, as he pulled the van into Meredith's driveway. "God bless."
He got out and opened the sliding door and helped her down carefully. She patted his hand when she steadied. "You, too."
#
Natalie called the neighbor and said the boys could come home. Apparently they were swimming in one of those big plastic pools in the backyard, so it would be a while. She planned dinner. She tidied. She convinced herself Meredith's personal life was none of her business. She was just a patient, after all. One who would be going home in a few days. She didn't want to be impolite to someone who'd been kind to her.
She passed the staircase leading to Meredith's room. The stairs were insurmountable. She took her laptop to the front porch, where she could watch the boys come home, and Meredith, and took Patrick's advice. She Googled herself.
"Prosecutor Cleared in Probe" was the headline in the local section of The Charlotte Observer. There was a picture of her. She wore a cocktail gown and her dark hair was swept up on top of her head. She'd paid a hundred bucks to her hairdresser an hour before the picture was taken. She wore diamond earrings and she didn't, thankfully, appear drunk.
In the picture she wasn't smiling.
She glanced down the street. No diamond earrings here. No BMW. No mansions housing state attorneys. Maybe before she left--
"Natty!" Beau's voice, as he rounded the corner. His shirt was off, but his shorts were dry. He carried a toweled bundle. He ran straight toward her. She closed the laptop.
Merritt followed with the neighbor, holding tightly onto her hand. He grinned shyly when he saw Natalie, and then narrowed his eyes when Beau climbed into her lap. Natalie reached out her hand to Merritt, around a squirming Beau. He took it.
She locked eyes with the neighbor, Mrs. Cranston. "Thank you for watching them."
"They going to be all right with you?" Mrs. Cranston regarded her suspiciously.
"Sure. I'm used to watching them now."
"You don't have your wheelchair."
"Don't need it as much anymore," Natalie said.
Mrs. Cranston's face softened. "Glad to hear it."
"Me, too. Oh, me, too." She squeezed Merritt's hand. "Merr, go set the table."
Merritt slipped in the door.
Beau climbed off. "What about me?"
"You've got some wet things to hang up in the bathroom. Over the tub. Okay?"
"I don't know how," he said.
"Well, give it a shot, and I'll come help you in a bit."
He frowned, but padded off in bare feet.
"Wipe your feet on the mat."
"Then Merry has to, too," Beau said.
"I'll tell him. You get into the bathroom." Natalie turned up at Mrs. Cranston. "A fight waiting to happen."
"They've been pretty good all day. They know something's up this week."
"And you--" Natalie paused, regarding her. "Know?"
"Whole town does. Some're even going to the hearing." The woman helped herself to the rocker opposite Natalie. Natalie turned to face her, pasting on her best, non-offensive, 'confess everything to the nice prosecutor' face.
"We got one of the most mixed places in 'Carolina, you know. Blacks, whites, Latinos, Laotians, Indians--both kinds. And we're all united around one thing."
"Then why do you take care of the kids?"
"Them boys ain't never harmed anyone," she said.
Natalie nodded.
"And Merry ain't harmed anyone before or since. She's a nurse, you know. Do no harm. I figure it was a crime of passion. Won't happen again. Unless she gets herself another man." The woman made a face.
"Until then?" Natalie asked.
"She'll get hers before God and man. But the boys deserve a normal life. I don't know what they'll do when they take her away."
Natalie's stomach twisted. She felt faint and hot. She kept her expression neutral. Friendly.
"And you?"
"I'm going home next week," Natalie said, and then clarified, "to Charlotte."
"Been nice having you around. For the boys. They were getting kind of isolated."
"Wonder why," Natalie said.
Mrs. Cranston's expression hardened.
Meredith's van pulled into the driveway. Mrs. Cranston got up. "See you later, you hear?"
"I hear."
Mrs. Cranston stepped lightly off the porch and was around the corner before Meredith got out of her car. She locked the door. Natalie stood up. Her leg ached. She cursed it, inwardly, and waited, a smile still plastered on her face. She'd faced bad news before.
And bad people.
Meredith came apprehensively onto the porch. "Wheeler called me."
"Yeah."
"I--" Meredith met her eyes briefly, and then turned away. "You--"
"I'll start dinner," Natalie said.
"Okay." Meredith went through the front door.
Natalie lingered on the porch and then gathered up her laptop and hobbled inside, one step at a time. She wanted to scream at Meredith, to ask how could she have done it, how could anyone so good have done something so awful.
She wanted to demand to know if it was really true. She wanted to know every detail. She wanted to figure out a solution. She wanted to see the guilt on Meredith's face.
She wanted to run away so much her feet itched.
She went through the front door. Nausea overcame her as she passed the threshold. She swayed into the side bedroom and put her laptop on the bed and sat, breathing in and out, until the energy normalized and her head felt clear.
Merritt peeked around the corner. "I'm hungry."
"Okay," Natalie said.
"Mommy's upstairs."
"I know."
"She's crying," Merritt said. He looked worried.
Natalie pulled herself up off the couch and leaned heavily on her walker. "You know what will make her feel better? Dinner."
"What are you making?" He watched her carefully, like a guard dog, as she made her way out into the hallway.
"Pancakes."
"For dinner?"
"It'll be a surprise."
He cackled.
She was probably not a good influence on the kids.
In the kitchen she found the pan and put it on the stove, heat on low. "Where's the Bisquick?" she asked.
Merritt opened the pantry and pointed upward. She grabbed the box.
"And where's your brother?"
Merritt shrugged.
"Beau!" she shouted.
Beau popped his head up from the arm of the couch. He slid off and came into the kitchen, holding Hollingsworth in his arms. Hollingsworth's feet dangled down to the floor
"Bravo. Could you get the milk?"
Beau dropped the cat. Hollingsworth and Natalie winced. Hollingsworth darted into the hall, toward Natalie's room. Beau got the milk from the refrigerator.
Natalie winked at Merritt.
He scratched himself and frowned at her.
Beau carried the milk over to the table.
"What do you like in your pancakes?" Natalie asked. She got a bowl from the cupboard for the batter and began mixing.
"Syrup!" Beau said.
Merritt made a face. "You're gross."
"You are," Beau said.
"What do you like, Merry?" Natalie asked. She was getting a headache. She sprayed oil in the pan--Meredith had the canola-in-aerosol that was fun to use, but clearly didn't come from Whole Foods. Of course, neither did the Bisquick. She grinned.
Merritt said, "I want mouse pancakes."
"What?"
"Shaped like a Mickey Mouse face," Meredith said. She'd come to the doorway of the kitchen, wearing a bathrobe and smiling wanly at them. Her face was pink and scrubbed but the skin under her eyes was puffy. Natalie's heart ached.
"Mice all around," Natalie said.
"I want syrup." Beau said.
"The boy wants syrup," Natalie said.
Meredith slid past her to the pan. "You know, we have a griddle. But this'll be fine."
"Next time," Natalie said.
Meredith glanced up and met her eyes.
Beau jostled her. "Can we really have pancakes for dinner, Mommy?"
"Yes," Meredith said.
"Every night?"
"Maybe. We'll see if we feel like pancakes tomorrow night."
"Pizza?" Beau asked.
"I like pancakes better than pizza," Natalie said.
"Oh, me too," Beau said.
Merritt climbed onto his seat and leaned on the kitchen island.
Natalie poured the first batter into the pan.
"Can I help?" Meredith asked.
"No. Shush," Natalie said.
Meredith grinned and settled down next to Merritt, wrapping her arm around his waist.
Beau disappeared.
Keeping busy kept Natalie pretending everything was happy. Everything was fine. Still, she turned around and caught Meredith's eye. "Do you have any wine?"
"Mommy doesn't drink," Merritt said.
"No, but our guest might, and we should respect her," Meredith said.
Merritt looked down.
Meredith kissed the top of his head. "You know where the wine is. Why don't you go get it?"
"Okay." Merritt slid off the seat and went to a bottom cupboard.
Meredith got two wine glasses. She glanced questioningly at Natalie.
Natalie mouthed, "I'd like to talk." She'd almost said "know."