by Debra Holt
Mercy didn’t hesitate. She ticked off the members of the team, ending with herself.
“I expected as much,” he said and smiled, glancing over the rims of his reading glasses. “You’re ready to get into some field action again, I see. That flood situation you volunteered for in central Texas last year went well under your supervision. I have to warn you though—this may not be just a few days. Crews have been fighting this blaze in two states for over three weeks.”
“That’s why I chose the team members I did. I left those with children and family issues here. These are also seasoned members. We should be just fine, no matter how long we’re deployed. The two teams left here will be just fine.”
“We’ve been blessed with wonderful donors who believe in our air evac program and a board that relishes being able to put our teams into use in other regions when the need is there. Most hospitals couldn’t spare anyone to help. We’ll do our part, as usual. Be ready to depart tomorrow morning, then. Good luck, Mercy.”
She shook his hand and accepted his well wishes. She exited his office suite, her mind already going a mile a minute on what she needed to do before they departed. The first thing was to inform the members who would be going. Then she needed to make sure they had all the equipment and supplies they would need. Not to mention, she’d need to reschedule the remaining teams to cover their absence.
Suddenly, there was too much to do and too little time. But then time management and organization put Mercy in her element.
Two hours later, she looked up from the lists in front of her as the door to her office opened. Expecting to see her crewmembers, she saw a huge bouquet of red roses in the doorway instead. The bouquet was so full that she could only see a pair of legs in blue scrubs until Candy from the ICU peeked around the side of the fragrant mass.
“Special delivery.”
The vase came to rest on the side of Mercy’s small desk and took up most of the space. She pushed back in her swivel chair and eyed Candy as if she had lost her mind.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m playing the part of deliveryman for the hospital florist. They were a tad bit busy, and the sender of these beauties was more than anxious to have them get to you as quickly as possible. So I volunteered to help out on my break.” Candy took a breath. “Aren’t you going to ask who sent them?”
“I suppose there’s a card?”
“Nope. I’m to deliver the message, also.”
Mercy waited. “Well?”
“Try to imagine a gorgeous hunk of man saying this and not me.” Candy hesitated. “I would draw this moment out more, except I see by the not-too-amused expression on your face right now that maybe your patience is in short supply and slipping fast. So here goes.” She took a breath and then recited, “For an angel named Mercy. You promised to return, and angels never break promises. Please come soon.”
Speechless, Mercy stared at the flowers and hoped her face wasn’t as flaming red as it felt.
“I think he wanted to say something else … maybe a bit more personal … but he spared me that. I suppose you’ll want to deliver your reply in person. I’ll tell him you’ll be stopping by soon?”
“No.” Mercy found her voice. “I won’t be stopping by, and there isn’t a reply. I’m going to put these flowers in the reception area where others can enjoy them.”
“Are you serious? Two dozen roses don’t appear every day. The man wanted you to have them. I want you to have them. If for no other reason than you’ll make an appearance and calm my patient down. He becomes more agitated each day that you don’t appear.”
Standing, Mercy picked up the large bouquet. “Then I suggest you enlist the help of his fiancée to settle him down. I also suggest that he limits his flower giving to her.” She left Candy standing in the open doorway of her office, shaking her head.
Later that evening, Mercy finally had time to call her mother and tell her the news. She sounded subdued as Mercy told her the plans.
“You’ll be careful, I know. But it’s my right to say so, so please be careful out there. In a wildfire, things can change in a heartbeat. I’ve watched the television news on those fires. This isn’t what you’re normally used to, Mercy.”
“I’ll be fine, Mom. Don’t take everything you hear or see on the television as gospel, just remember that. We won’t be on the fire lines or anywhere near them. We are flying support missions for people needed in other areas,” she replied. “You sound down, Mom. Is there something going on? Are you feeling okay?”
“Oh … I’m not ill. It’s just, well, a good friend of mine had an emergency with a stepson, and we’ve been worried about him. He’s improving, so that’s an answer to our prayers. In fact, he’s a patient at your hospital. I forgot to mention that when we spoke earlier. I thought you might have met—”
The beeper at Mercy’s waist sounded.
“Oops, sorry! I hate to run, but I’ve got a page. I’m sorry to hear about the friend, Mom. I won’t tell you not to worry while I’m gone because that would be useless. I promise I’ll be careful. When we touch down and get settled, I’ll try to call you. You have my emergency numbers. Lacy, my neighbor, will keep an eye on my house and on Peanut. Got to run, love you!”
“Well, I hope you’ll be back in time for the Fourth of July celebration,” Jan piped up quickly. “I promised the carnival committee and Brother Bob that you would be there to help me with the cakewalk and the kissing booth.”
“Kissing booth? Mother, you promised me you wouldn’t volunteer me for that.” Mercy silently shook her head as she gathered her helmet in her free hand. Her mother’s stubborn determination to find a husband for her was frustrating.
“Brother Bob couldn’t find enough other people, Mercy. At least anyone else who was single and below the age of fifty, that is!” Her mother chuckled and easily evaded her daughter’s censure.
“I can’t promise when I’ll be back,” Mercy reminded her. “I’ll try my best not to miss the celebration.”
“Good.” Her mother’s tone sounded a bit odd. “There’s someone you need to meet. The last three or four times we’ve tried to get together with you, something has interfered.”
“No more matches—” Mercy began.
“This is not about you, Mercy Ann. I do have other things to do with my time besides matchmake for you.” Her tone gave Mercy pause.
“Okay, Mother. Look, I really need to run now. Take care of yourself, and I’ll see you soon.”
“Bye, sweetie. Love you!”
“Love you, too,” Mercy replied, then dropped the phone into her bag.
Early the next morning, she walked across the tarmac to the waiting helicopter. The air was cool and clear. The streaked sky glowed with pinks and yellows to the east. Stowing her duffel bag in the outside compartment, she joined her team inside the helicopter and took one final look at the hospital as they made a wide sweep into the western sky. One fleeting moment and she allowed her thoughts to wander to the sheriff in ICU. She had tried not to visit him again, once she knew he had a fiancée—of course, tried was the operative word. She couldn’t control her mind so easily.
Mercy had tried to ignore feeling strange and out of kilter. She’d made excuses for the feelings, but they didn’t abate until, earlier that morning, she found herself on the ICU floor once again. She’d given only a cursory glance toward the nurses’ desk as she passed. They were intent on something else and only offered a quick nod to her. One did look up quickly. Mercy had just passed her but heard the slightly whispered words. “If he’ll calm down and get some rest, the doctor may allow him to go to a regular floor this week.”
Good for him. Mercy imagined his fiancée would be most pleased. The woman should realize her good fortune to have him still around—to still have a future with the man she loved. Some people didn’t get breaks like that one. She brushed away the tiny squeeze in the center of her chest. Stepping into the dim room, she paused and waited to make certain he s
lept. Her eyes took in the numbers on the monitors. He seemed to be asleep, yet it wasn’t a restful one. Moving forward, she noted his color looked better than the last time, but his slight eyelid movements were fitful. Perhaps he was having bad dreams relating back to the shooting incident. Gently, without thought, she reached out her hand and laid it on his upper arm. A compassionate gesture … nothing more. At least, that’s what she meant for it to be.
And yet, when her hand made contact with his body, compassion wasn’t the feeling that overwhelmed her. Assailed by emotions she’d thought long buried, she stood motionless for several long moments. Fighting her way past the memories of things she’d thought lost to her, she became aware that the rise and fall of his chest had grown calmer, more even. Her eyes took in the smoothing of the furrows in his forehead, and his whole body appeared to let go, to relax. The monitors registered the subtle change in the patient. He slept peacefully.
She felt an almost eerie calmness settle within her spirit, and an immediate realization that Josh Wellman was going to be okay. He would return to those who loved him. Without hesitation, she gave silent thanks into the darkened room. Mercy slipped away as quietly as she had come.
Chapter Four
An anticipated short week’s worth of work had turned into five long weeks of smoke, fickle flames, and unbelievable heat around the clock. That’s what Mercy would remember of her time spent in Arizona. She would readily admit she didn’t care if she made a return visit anytime soon.
“Having you all with us here has been so good.” The mayor spoke as Mercy and her flight team entered the emergency command center after completing their last flight of the day.
She gratefully accepted the cold bottle of water a volunteer handed to her. Working long hours and six-day weeks, Mercy and the crew had covered shifts both in the air and on the ground in area hospitals and rescue centers. Hundreds of thousands of acres had burned, and hundreds of people were displaced. The team had evacuated numerous victims with maladies ranging from severe burns to heart attacks, many asthma and respiratory emergencies, and even a couple of babies who apparently could not wait to come into the world.
Mercy smiled in response to the mayor’s words, uncapping the water and taking a quick sip before she spoke. “Everyone has been most helpful and made us feel very welcomed. I’m glad we could help. When we needed some help a few years back, you all were there for us. Just consider us good neighbors helping each other out.”
From the first moment of their arrival, each person had worked as a cohesive unit, drawn into the planning of the massive effort to fight Mother Nature’s fiery temper. The work was exhausting, both physically and mentally. Mercy yearned for a long, hot soak in a bubble bath and to breathe air that didn’t stink or smell of burnt vegetation.
“The news is good,” the mayor reported. “We’re at seventy-percent containment, and there’s rain in the forecast at last from the west. Our crews can take over now and bring things the rest of the way home. We couldn’t have survived without groups like yours volunteering time and equipment. Anytime you’d like to move to Arizona, just let us know. There’ll be a place for you at our medical center.”
“Thank you, Mayor Nelson. We appreciate your words.” Mercy smiled. “I have to admit though, getting home will be good—and just in time for our holiday celebration. That will make my mother happy. I’ll certainly keep the job offer in mind, though.” She finished with a grin as she lifted the water to her lips.
They returned to Texas at noon on Thursday—five and a half weeks after their departure. They stowed their gear and filed their reports and paperwork. No longer faced with the continuing adrenaline-inducing problems of the past few weeks, Mercy felt the weariness in her bones and mind taking over. As her nerves relinquished the knots in her system, she felt herself coming down from a high. She reached for her cell phone and dialed her mother’s number. Jan picked up on the third ring, overjoyed to hear her daughter’s voice again.
“I’m so relieved that you’re home, safe and sound! All the news reports were so discouraging. You all have been on our prayer lists at church continually since you left. We are just so thankful you and your team made it through it all. Not to mention, you made it back just in time for the Fourth. I’m so excited!”
“It’s nice to be so missed. I had no idea my return would make you so happy!”
“Everything is coming together just perfectly. This will be the best Fourth celebration ever. Promise you’ll be here early on Saturday?”
“Promise.”
“I’ve got so much still to do on my list for today. You need to get some rest, too.”
“I plan on doing just that as soon as I hang up from this call. I’m heading home for a nice, long bath and a date with my pillow.”
They ended the conversation soon after that. Mercy smiled at the exuberance in her mother’s voice. Being missed was nice, but half an hour later, it was even nicer to be back in her own home. Mercy had a few other things to do before resting—beginning with several hugs for Peanut, who met her at the door of the townhome as soon as he heard the key in the lock.
Next, she took a quick look through the mound of mail that had been piled in the center of her kitchen table—fliers and the usual bills. Those could certainly wait until morning to handle. The most pressing thing now was her date with the bathtub filled with lots of bubble bath and lovely hot water. Closing her eyes and leaning back against the rolled towel cushion serving as her pillow felt so good. She hadn’t been able to relax in weeks. She drew in a deep breath, then allowed it to escape slowly from her lungs as she mentally gave her body permission to stand down.
Peanut guarded the slippers beside the tub, and Mercy’s muscles began to loosen as she emptied her mind of all concerns. She had two lovely weeks ahead of compensatory time for the weeks spent in Arizona. She looked forward to doing not much of anything for a change. Thirty minutes later, wrapped in her comfy robe and soft silk pajamas, she curled up in the middle of her bed with a bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich on the table beside her. She made a mental note to go to the grocery store once she returned from her mother’s. It wasn’t long before the food was forgotten and the television played only to Peanut. Mercy fell sound asleep and remained that way for the next twelve hours.
On Saturday morning, the town of Lawson, population 19,310, was festooned with red, white, and blue bunting. Flags flew from every building, and balloons hovered around the courthouse square. The four-story native-stone courthouse stood surrounded by freshly built, hand-painted stands. Massive pecan trees dotted the green expanse of lawn and gave cooling shade. The stands would soon hold food, drinks, and games to entertain and draw large crowds from the area farms and ranches. City folks seeking the “country” experience—most notably the quaint arts and crafts that would fill their arms and car trunks by day’s end—would be there, too.
Aromas from barbecue pits and meat smokers already filled the air. Soon the smells from cotton-candy machines and corn poppers would join the mix. The gaily-decorated booths would hawk everything from soft drinks to face painting, games of chance, numerous arts and crafts, and the ever popular—and much dreaded by Mercy—kissing booth.
The Fourth on the Square always hit a home run with young and old. Mercy smiled as she drove her small sedan around the square and turned east toward her mother’s home on one of the older, tree-lined streets. The Smith family had called the four-bedroom dwelling with its white stucco walls and red-tiled roof home since the summer before Mercy was born.
She loved the courtyard with its terra cotta pots in all shapes and sizes, filled with flowering, colorful plants, and the trellises covered in climbing vines and roses. A huge pecan tree shared the backyard patio; the same tree where her father had built his sons a treehouse that became the envy of every kid in the neighborhood. Mercy had inherited the retreat when her teen brothers were no longer interested. Many hours she’d spent there lost in her daydreams; a privat
e world away from the earth and life below. Even grown, she still sometimes climbed among the branches and sat pondering the world through the eyes of the adult woman she had become.
Pulling into the driveway, she parked behind her mother’s compact car. By the time she’d retrieved her overnight bag from the trunk, her mother had already rushed down the walkway with her arms open wide. She engulfed Mercy in a bear hug that made them both laugh at the intensity.
“I wasn’t gone all that long,” Mercy said when she could finally replenish the air in her lungs.
“It seems that long,” Jan Smith responded with her distinct lilting laughter. “Let’s get inside. The day’s heating up to be another scorcher. The parade starts at ten, and we need to have the booths open right after it ends.” The older woman had already moved ahead of Mercy and held the door wide for her to enter. “We need to hurry. I’ve already loaded the back of my car. Let me get my purse and—oh no!”
Mercy hastily deposited her bag in the bedroom that had once been hers and moved to stand in the doorway between the living area and the dining room. The look on her mother’s face clearly indicated that something had already interrupted her well-organized schedule for their day.
“What’s wrong?”
“In all the busywork yesterday, I forgot to stop by Klaus’s and pick up my blood pressure medicine. If I go by there first, then we’ll be late picking up Minnie. I told her we’d give her and her cakes a ride down to the square. Oh dear, I should have known things were going too smoothly.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll go pick up your meds and meet you at the square. You go get Minnie and her cakes.”