Mercy sensed that Billy Bristol had just given his blessing. And though the matter between her and Michael Malloy wasn’t his to resolve, he had come over to see that she was all right. Just as he’d probably pass along the details to those who sat watching from the benches.
They’d talk about her and Michael anyway. She might as well make it worth their time.
“I was ready to make my birthday wish when you rode in,” Mercy reminded Mike. “But I couldn’t decide what I wanted.”
He heard the shift in her voice, saw the new mood lighting up her pretty face. Malloy’s heartbeat thundered like stampeding cattle. “And?”
“I wish you’d kiss me, Michael.”
He blinked. “Right here in front of God and everybody?”
“Especially in front of God and everybody.”
His eyebrows raised playfully. He slipped his arms around her, holding her so Joel wouldn’t wake up and ruin his big moment. “Don’t toy with me, Mercy,” he breathed. “Is this a yes?”
She laughed—no, she giggled! The light shining in his blue-gray eyes warmed her entire being, after so many months of wondering if she’d ever laugh—and love—again.
Mercy nodded. “In front of God and everybody.”
“She said yes!” Billy yelled. “Mike and Mercy’re gonna get hitched!”
The friends behind them jumped up, clapping and whistling, while Joel raised his head with a questioning, sleepy frown.
“Don’t cry, little man,” Michael said, bussing his temple with a kiss. “It’s working out just like we hoped! We’re going to be a family, Joel. We’re going to be just fine!”
“Fine,” Joel echoed. “Just fine, Papa! Mama fine, too!”
The boy extended an arm toward Michael, giggling when his papa moved in to make Mercy’s wish come true. Joel wrapped an arm around each of their necks, as though he wanted to make very sure this kiss sealed the deal.
With the first brush of his mustache and the silk of his warm inner lips, Mercy tasted heaven; a new flavor of happiness for the life that would soon be hers. Their friends were coming over to congratulate them, but she refused to shorten this moment for the sake of propriety. She was, after all, honoring her final promise to her husband: taking care of herself and his family—with a few extras thrown in for good measure.
Judd would have wanted it that way.
After a spirited worship service, a meal seasoned by hearty best wishes, and a ride home that rocked the three little ones to sleep, Mercy sat down on the stoop beside Michael. Billy and Asa had tended the horses and slipped upstairs—although she’d heard the old cook coax a redheaded eavesdropper away from the open window.
Above them, the stars sparkled like diamonds in the canopy of the night, each gleaming in its ordained place. Mercy felt a profound sense of rightness as the full moon bestowed its special benediction.
“Thanks for a wonderful day,” Michael whispered. “I love you, Mercy. Even though you had me worried there for a while.”
“Oh, I’m not finished with that. I’m a woman, you know,” she replied. “Born to ask too many questions and expect way too much of my man. So let’s review, shall we?”
He wrapped an arm around her, reveling in the sleek feel of her red dress and grateful for the lilt in her voice. This woman had weathered some tough times, and he admired her resilient spirit. “All right. Let’s review.”
“Well, if I recall correctly,” she began, “you fought in the war, and then you drove a stagecoach and brought us two abandoned Bristols. Meanwhile, you’d latched onto railroad land, and then bought the Barstow place—probably with an eye toward acquiring mine all along—and you’ve had the foresight to plant winter wheat, and compassion enough to claim a son. And you built a home for a family you didn’t even have yet. All this, and you’re only twenty-one?”
“Yes, ma’am. Twenty-two in June,” he added.
She brushed a lock of his hair aside, to better see his face. Michael still wore his hair longer than was the fashion, but it fit him. He’d never be a slave to convention, and she admired that in a man.
“So you’re saying you can manage nearly five hundred acres, and our corrals full of horses, plus three little children and Billy? Not to mention me?”
“Yes, ma’am. More than three children, though,” he corrected softly. “Lord willing, we’ll have our own, you know.”
Something wonderful fluttered inside her, but it was too soon to give in to mere kissing—his favorite way to sidetrack her. There was a lot more she wanted to know about Michael Malloy while she was alone with him, and she hoped for many, many years of sharing this kind of quiet talk.
“So how will you keep this little empire running, young man?” she quizzed. “I’m quite a lot older than you—”
“No, you’re not.”
“—yet I stand in awe of all you’ve accomplished.”
“Good.”
He kissed her, because that’s what moonlight was for—and because he knew she loved kissing him more than she let on. “It’ll all work out, Mercy. I’ll hire good help, and I’ll work very hard. And I’ll say, ‘Yes, ma’am, you’re absolutely right,’ every chance I get.”
When she swatted him, he grabbed her hand and held it against his heart. Its beat felt strong and steady, much like Michael himself.
“I don’t talk about such things too often,” he whispered, his eyes alight like the stars, “but I believe that goodness—and Mercy—will follow me all my days. Ma taught me at a tender age, using that verse from the sampler in your front room, about what the Lord requires of us.”
“To do justice . . . to love mercy . . . to walk humbly with your God,” she breathed.
Her heart quivered. For a moment, she was standing beside Judd on a very hot July day three years ago. A dusty driver, Mike Malloy, was asking if they’d look after the Bristol children while he hunted for their mother—and she’d balked, until her husband reminded her of this verse. Her gaze went up the hill to the large river rock marking Judd’s grave. The stone glowed serenely in its own patch of moonlight.
“Honey, have I said something wrong?”
Mercy blinked. The love that radiated from his handsome face warmed her like a love she’d known before. “Not at all, Michael. I just . . . once again, I’ve been reminded that you and Judd are very much alike.”
“Well, now,” he murmured, “there’s a compliment worth living up to. Seems to me Judd was as simple and straightforward—yet as deceptively complex—as that Bible verse. Doing justice means—”
“Taking in helpless children, like Christine and Billy and Joel. To give them a good life when their families can’t.”
Michael paused to kiss her solemnly. “Just as you took Lily and the rest of them into your heart and home. You’re a model of mercy, Mercedes—which is only one reason I love you. But I guess Judd must’ve used that line, too. Long before I had the pleasure.”
“I’ll never tire of hearing it.” She ran a fingertip along the mustache that had just tickled her with its silk, aware of some very sensual differences between Michael Malloy and Judd Monroe. “I don’t want you to live in his shadow, constantly comparing yourself to him, sweetheart. I love you for many wonderful, fascinating traits you do not share with him.”
“Such as?” He arched one eyebrow.
Mercy laughed. “Walking humbly, for one. That’s never been your style.”
“Ah. Humility. You think I need to work on that?”
“Nope. I think your swagger suits you just fine. It gives me something nice to watch when you walk.”
He chuckled. Serious discussion had its place, but so did this playful give-and-take. And who was he to deny her the delight she’d done without for so long?
“Want to know the real secret to my success, pretty lady?” he murmured.
Mercy nodded, her eyes wide with anticipation. He hoped he could put that look of excitement on her face every single day.
“Ma also favored that
verse about ‘Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.’ She was reminding me to go easy on my sisters, because—although I was faster and stronger—the six of them together could put me in my place.”
His mustache flickered pensively. “It works that way in life. You usually get paid back with the same things you’ve given out.”
Michael gazed toward the heavens then, his face aglow with moonlight. “See there, Ma?” he crowed quietly. “I really was paying attention. And I’ve latched onto the best Mercy of all—just like you said!”
Her eyes went wet as a tingle rushed up her spine. Not only was Michael more spiritual than he claimed, but his little prayer bespoke the peace he’d made with his mother’s untimely passing. Any man who confided in his ma while complimenting his wife knew how to appreciate women!
“Blessed are the merciful,” Mercy echoed. “I think that deserves its own sampler for the wall of our new home, don’t you, Michael?”
He kissed her again, deeply this time. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered. “You’re absolutely right.”
A Patchwork Family Page 31