Heart of Mercy (Tennessee Dreams)

by MacLaren Sharlene

  He lifted his thick, dark gray, scraggly eyebrows and looped a thumb over his belt, his larger-than-life belly spilling over it. “Are you sayin’ I ain’t welcome?”

  “I’m saying you’re my hired hand, and you presume too much.”

  “I would think, after all I’ve done for you, you’d treat me with more respect. Consider me one o’ the family.”

  “Psh. All you’ve done is take my money, you greedy son of a sea serpent.”

  At that, he tossed back his grizzled head and snorted. Oh, but she detested the sardonic sound of his laughter. Always had.

  “Now, Flora, you know I’ve always taken fine care o’ this here farm. Ernest would be mighty pleased, if not proud. The cattle are well fed, the fields are tended, and the milk’s flowin’. You can’t deny that.”

  That much was true, but he’d milked her of most of her money, as well. And she hated the very earth he strode across. “No, but I pay you a far piece more than you’re worth. I could hire someone else for a great deal less who would work circles around you.”

  He flicked his thick eyebrows, arching one higher than the other. “Ah, but your hands are tied now, aren’t they? You know good an’ well what would happen if you tried to fire me. I’d have to spew the truth about you.”

  Her stomach clenched into a tight, grueling knot. “Get out of my house. You have work to do.”

  He laughed and pushed himself off the doorframe, the turkey drumstick gnawed clean to the bone, remnants of meat still sticking to his greedy lips and clinging to his dense mustache. “I’m goin’, I’m goin’. Now, don’t you worry none, Miz Flora. Your secret’s safe with me.” He dipped his chin and flashed her a beady-eyed wink. “Long as you keep doin’ y’r part, I’ll hold up my side o’ the bargain.”

  She growled. “Get out. Now.”

  He turned and ambled none too fast toward the exit, his low chortle resonating off the walls, till he threw open the screen door and sauntered back outside in the direction of the barn.

  ***

  Sam recalled Gladys Froeling’s farm from boyhood. He’d made deliveries there for his father on more than one occasion—tools, horseshoes, shovels, and other various garden implements. Gladys had always been a friendly sort, whereas her husband had always eyed him warily, never once offering a kind word, probably due to his opinion of the Connors clan. Still, theirs had been—and still was—the only blacksmith shop in town, and when folks needed metalwork done, they had no choice but to contract with them.

  With Aunt Gladys’s feast concluded, the small gathering of wedding guests, still rubbing their bellies in satisfaction, began to scatter in different directions—the women to the kitchen, the men to the living room or den. Sam held back, John Roy and Joseph clinging to his sides like little shadows. They’d become noticeably quieter since finishing off their slices of white cake with thick icing, and he wondered what was going through their minds. He knew his own head had set to swirling with all manner of thoughts, so he couldn’t imagine how theirs must be spinning, not to mention Mercy’s. Was she kicking herself up one side and down the other for marring him? During the meal, they’d barely exchanged more than two words, let alone looked at each other, even though they’d sat shoulder to shoulder at the long, extendable farm table, which had seated the entire party comfortably.

  “Can you push us on the rope swings?”

  Sam gazed down into John Roy’s pleading eyes and rubbed the boy’s head. Joseph didn’t echo the plea, but he did shoot him a similar look. “The rope swings, eh? I seem to remember those from my own boyhood, but I never had the pleasure o’ puttin’ ’em to use.”

  “They’s pretty fun,” offered Joseph, though his voice didn’t carry a great deal of enthusiasm.

  Mercy entered the dining room from the kitchen, and they locked eyes at last. “The boys would like me to take them out back to the swings,” Sam told her.

  “I think that’s a fine idea.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  She shook her head and shrugged. “Why should I?”

  He gave a half smile, glad to be out of earshot of almost everyone. “It is our weddin’ day.”

  She frowned. “Yes, and it should be treated as an ordinary day. We married in name only, and for that reason, you shouldn’t feel beholden to me. I, for one, expect no special treatment, and you shouldn’t, either.”

  She could be a cold one. “No regrets?” he asked.

  “About what?”

  He bristled like a rooster. “About marryin’ me.”

  “No, of course not. What choice did I have?”

  He stared at her for all of three seconds. “Right. What choice?”

  She must have detected his slight indignation, for she quickly put in, “Don’t get me wrong; I thoroughly appreciate the sacrifice you’ve made for us, and I’m thankful now that you were so assertive.”

  His ire shot up a full notch. Had he been that pushy? In retrospect, he supposed he had. After all, he’d been about as desperate as she. “Well then, we’ll go on out back. Let me know when you’re ready to head to your house.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you’re quite anxious to get settled in your room.” He noted the special emphasis she placed on the word “your.” Should he tell her she need not worry her pretty little head over him demanding his husbandly dues?

  He took both boys by the hand and led them to the side door off the big dining room. “Have fun, boys,” she called after them. Neither reacted to her voice.

  ***

  Aunt Gladys stood with Mercy as she bid the last of the guests good-bye. Sam was still outside with John Roy and Joseph, as he’d been for the past hour. Mercy suspected he didn’t know how to act, so escape seemed his best recourse. Of course, she had no idea how to behave, either, so they made a fine pair. She walked to the kitchen window overlooking the swings but found them vacant, swaying in the soft breeze.

  “Your husband has been noticeably absent.” Aunt Gladys came up beside her and bumped shoulders with her. “And he was more than a little quiet during the meal, although I noted he didn’t lack for an appetite.”

  Mercy chortled. “If that’s a sign of things to come, then I’d better stock my pantry with a few more items.”

  “I’d say.”

  Mercy’s slight mirth turned to conjecture. “He’s probably filled with misgivings. I wouldn’t blame him.”

  Gladys put an arm around her, drawing her close, and Mercy leaned into her embrace.

  “I doubt that, dear. More likely, he’s just tryin’ to process everythin’, and spendin’ time outside with those boys is good for the mind and soul. Speakin’ of John Roy and Joseph, I’ll bet they got a whole lot of questions churnin’ in their heads.”

  Mercy sighed. “It’s going to be a big adjustment for all of us. What if it makes a bigger mess than the problem it was meant to solve?”

  “Only God knows that. All you can do now is trust Him to lead the way. You and your husband need to be a team when it comes to raisin’ those youngsters, and I’ve got no doubt you’ll give it your best shot. Now, stop y’r worryin’. God will give you what you need at just the right moment. Have a little confidence in yourself and a whole lotta faith in Him.”

  She made it sound so simple. Mercy gazed at her through misty eyes. “You’re always full of such good advice, Auntie. Too bad the rest of our relatives who showed up at the church today didn’t share your view. All they could do was try to talk me out of making the ‘biggest mistake of my life.’”

  Gladys flicked her wrist. “Don’t pay them no mind. Your nuptials were none o’ their business, and they should’ve known better than to interfere. If you want the truth, I plan to visit each an’ ev’ry one of ’em next week to tell ’em so.”

  “Oh, Auntie, don’t do that. You’ll just make trouble for yourself.”

  “Pfff. You think I care about that?”

  “I’ve never understood this feud, but some have compared our families to the Hatfields and the McC
oys. I hate the thought of going down in history alongside the likes of them.”

  The older woman pushed a few strands of white hair out of her eyes and gazed straight ahead, where the sunflowers bowed their yellow heads at the back of the garden. “Longstanding feuds have a way of dyin’ slow deaths, honey. But, heaven sakes, let’s not talk about that on your weddin’ day. Matter o’ fact, let’s head outside and see if we can find Sam and those boys. What do you bet they’ve gone an’ found Miss Tabitha and ’er batch o’ kittens?”

  At the back door, they saw Sam and the boys emerge from the barn. Indeed, John Roy and Joseph each carried a squalling ball of black-and-white fur. “What did I tell you?” Gladys asked, nudging her.

  The women stepped onto the back stoop. Mercy crossed her arms, her heart hitching at the sight of her new family. Sam halted his strides when his eyes met Mercy’s, and then he threw her an impish grin, followed by a broad-shouldered shrug.

  “Looks like you’ll be takin’ home some kittens,” Aunt Gladys whispered.

  “Looks like it.”

  13

  The improvised family made it through the first couple of weeks together without much incident. Even the two kittens, christened Roscoe and Barney, had made the adjustment, neither one objecting to being toted around by John Roy and Joseph.

  Sam tried to make himself at home in the room Mercy had assigned him, located across the hall from her bedroom and just a few steps from the boys’. There was a washroom halfway down the long corridor, with a claw-foot tub, a two-faucet sink, and a toilet chair, the latter of which he refused to use; the outhouse served him just fine.

  Only a few times had he encountered Mercy either coming or going, the most memorable occasion being at two in the morning. Mercy had emerged from the washroom and had let out a gasp to find herself face-to-face with him, bare-chested and wearing Levis, in the dimly lit space. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he’d fumbled, arrested by the sight of her in that long, scoop-necked nightgown. It was the first time he’d seen her dressed in anything other than her daily attire, and the effect had done anomalous things to his innards. She’d recovered quickly, giving him a thin-lipped smile, and scooted back down the hall toward her bedroom, leaving him rubbing his whiskery jaw. Once she’d closed the door, he’d scampered down the stairs and made a beeline for the outhouse.

  He still had trouble viewing himself as a married man, but the continual ribbing he took from the guys at Juanita’s Café provided him all the reminder he needed, and he longed for the day when his marriage would become old news. Thank goodness Uncle Clarence hadn’t made much of a to-do about it. At the shop on Monday following the wedding weekend, he’d merely cast Sam a teasing look and asked him how he liked married life.

  “Haven’t quite got the hang of it yet,” Sam had confessed.

  His uncle had tossed back his head and laughed. “I been married to your aunt for nigh onto forty years, and I still ain’t got the whole business figured out. Women are hard creatures t’ understand, an’ hitchin’ up with one…well, it turns your whole life into one giant puzzle.”

  Sam had not been encouraged.

  At Doc Trumble’s counsel, Mercy had taken a leave of absence from her job. She hadn’t wanted to, but Doc had thought it best for the boys and her, and Sam had agreed, even adding his two cents. “How do you expect those boys to get used to their new surroundings if you drop them in somebody else’s lap every day while you go to work?” he’d asked her one night as they stood together in the parlor after putting the boys to bed. “I make a good livin’ and earn plenty to support us all. Maybe once school starts up again, you can go back to work, but your role has changed drastically. You’re a mother now.”

  She’d lifted her head in one fast jerk and frowned at him. Clearly, he’d hit upon a nerve. “I am not their mother,” she’d stated firmly, “nor will I ever try to take her place.”

  “Sorry, wrong choice o’ words. But you’re their guardian, as am I. And the way I see it, they need as much stability as we can provide.”

  At that, she’d plopped into a chair next to the fireplace and taken to massaging her temples. He’d remained standing, one hand resting against the mantel, while she’d stared down at her lap, probably battling for the last remnants of her independence. In some ways, he’d pitied her. This was not the life she’d bargained for. But neither was it the life the boys had wanted—not by a long shot. He’d mentally prepared his defense, in case it would come to that, but Mercy had let out a long, deep breath and said, “I know you’re right.”

  She could have knocked him over with a sneeze, but he’d tried not to react; he’d just smiled and given a reassuring nod.

  He hadn’t paid his mother a visit since moving out of her house, deciding it best to give her time to adjust and, hopefully, settle down some. And so it took him by surprise when he spotted her in town, two weeks after the wedding. He was on his way to May’s General Store, both boys in tow, and she was approaching them on the sidewalk, her head down, her flower-bedecked bonnet blinding her to everything but her own toes. He figured she could walk in front of a team of horses and never know what hit her.

  “Mother?”

  The hat bobbed as she came to a halt and lifted her chin. The first thing he noticed were the dark circles under her eyes. Had she not slept a wink in the past week?

  “Samuel? Is that you?” Her shrill voice unsettled a flock of birds perched in a nearby tree and sent them soaring across the street, where they congregated on the rooftop of the Paris Bank and Trust building.

  He didn’t much feel like hugging her, so he rested his hands on both boys’ shoulders. “Have you met John Roy and Joseph?”

  She peered down her nose at them, and he noted the lack of warmth in her eyes, not to mention the absence of a smile. “I saw them the night of the…you know. How do you do?” She made no move to shake their hands.

  “Boys, this is my mother. Can you say hello?”

  “Hello,” Joseph answered for both of them, standing taller and jutting out his chin. “We don’t gots parents anymore, so Mercy an’ Sam took their place.”

  His heart must have stopped for all of two beats. “We didn’t ‘take their place,’ Joseph,” he hastened to reply. “We just….” He looked to his mother, wishing she would offer a word of consolation. Of course, she stood stock-still and silent, whether because she was unable to find the proper words or because she was completely aloof, he couldn’t say. “We just want to give you a home to grow up in…a place to feel safe.”

  “I felt safe in my other house, but it burned down. What if Mercy’s burns down, too?”

  If he were a regular church attendee, Sam might have had an apt response, something borrowed from a wise preacher. “That’s not goin’ to happen, Joseph,” was all he could say, despite knowing he shouldn’t make any such promise. Houses and businesses went up in flames all the time. How did one explain to a six-year-old that the things in which you placed your hope and trust sometimes vanished in a moment? Even adults struggled to come to terms with this fact. If Mercy were here, she would say that God was in control of the universe, even when tragedy struck and hearts shattered, and that those who placed their trust fully in Him would not be disappointed.

  Sam glanced at his mother again, for once wishing she would speak. For crying out loud, the boys’ parents had perished in a fire, and all she could do was stand there and bite on her lip? He wanted to give her a good shake.

  “Do you gots any kitties?” John Roy asked in a quiet, somber tone.

  “What’s that?” His mother leaned in.

  “Kitties. Do you gots any kitties at your house?”

  “Oh, cats?” She cast Sam a long look. “No. Well, yes, I suppose there are cats out in the barn. Virgil—er, Mr. Perry always keeps them out there, for the mice, you see. They’re not pets, though. No.”

  “We gots two kitties. They’s named Barney and Roscoe. Roscoe’s my kitty. Mercy lets him sleep with me.”

>   “Oh, dear.” She wrinkled her nose.

  Sam might have laughed, had he been more in the mood. His mother detested animals of all types, which was uncanny, considering she lived on a farm that bred cattle for milk and meat, grazed horses and goats, and raised a few chickens for eggs. Of course, Virgil Perry had always manned the farm, taking more ownership of it than even his father had. Sam often wondered if his mother planned to transfer the deed to him someday. He supposed it wouldn’t bother him, one way or the other, although he’d never liked Virgil Perry. The fellow had an arrogant air that chewed on Sam’s last nerve.

  “We got ar kitties at that Gladdie lady’s house.”

  “That—who?” his mother asked.

  Sam shook the clogged thoughts from his head. “Gladys Froeling.”

  “Oh.” His mother’s forehead crumpled. “Her.”

  “Mercy’s aunt.”

  “Yes, yes, I know who she is. Good gracious, I’ve lived in these parts a lot longer than you have.”

  “Yes, you have, Mother.” He turned to the boys. “Well, we’d best move on.” He cast his mother one last look. “It was nice seein’ you.”

  As they proceeded past her, she reached out and touched his arm, sending a quivering chill right up his back. She had never been very demonstrative. “When am I going to see you again?”

  He lifted both eyebrows. “I thought you didn’t want anythin’ to do with me.”

  “Where would you get that idea?”

  “You didn’t come to my weddin’.”

  “Well, of course I didn’t, and I think you know why. I would like for you to visit, but I made it clear I don’t want you bringing…her.”

  “I see.” He issued a brief smile and sighed. “Then, I suppose we won’t be seein’ much of each other.” He turned and urged the boys onward, hastening his steps at the sound of his mother’s heels clipping frantically along the wooden planks after him.

  “Surely, you don’t mean to say you’re cutting off all ties,” she said to his back. “How could you do such a thing to your own mother? Have you no sense of decency?”