by Debra Holt
Lifting her chin a bit, she looked at him as they stood at the door of the kitchen. “Josh. Happy now?”
The blue deepened to sapphire in his eyes. The space around them seemed to shrink.
“For now, I’m very happy. Very happy, indeed.”
Mercy escaped on that note, aware that he followed much more slowly. She stepped into the living room and bristled at the soft chuckle Josh tried to hide as the older couple drew quickly apart on the sofa. A man who was always right irked her to no end.
The four of them left the house after dinner and headed back to the square where a country band had set up on the bandstand for a street dance. They took folding chairs and soon joined a large group of mutual friends of the happy couple. To Mercy’s dismay, her mom burst forth with the news, and a general uproar of smiles and laughter and well wishes ensued. She appeared to be the only one who had not joined the cause wholeheartedly. Mercy sat in her chair with a strained smile on her face. She made small talk as needed, very much aware of the man who sat beside her, engaged in conversations with people who sat nearby or stopped to have a word with him.
The townspeople obviously liked Joshua Wellman. Many stopped by to ask about his recuperation and health and to extend their well wishes to him. He smiled and greeted each one warmly. He seemed genuinely interested in them, their viewpoints, and their well-being. He had a gift of putting people at ease.
Suddenly, the thought dawned on her—there was no fiancée in sight. Maybe she’d gone out of town, or perhaps she didn’t live in the area at all. It seemed strange, but then again, it wasn’t her business. The woman certainly trusted her fiancé to leave him alone so much of the time.
“That face is much too solemn for a festive evening like this,” Josh whispered next to her ear. Mercy sat up straighter, not caring for the way the warmth of his breath tickled her sensitive skin. Of course, if she were very honest with herself, it wasn’t that she didn’t care for the sensation, it was the fact that she did care for it. He knocked on doors that she had closed long ago … doors that protected her heart.
“Sorry. I’ve had a long day, I guess.”
The band started to play a mix of old and new country, and by the third song, the crowd was into the music. Larry and her mother surprised Mercy. They started dancing on the first song and didn’t stop. Since when did her mother dance? She could only remember a handful of times seeing her parents dance together. Perhaps there was a lot more about her mother she didn’t know.
Or maybe you just haven’t been paying attention, Mercy. That thought intruded abruptly and gave her pause. Had she been too wrapped up in her own solitary world? Was she out of touch? Had she pushed people too far away in trying to protect herself?
Suddenly, Josh stood and extended his hand toward her. “When in Rome—” he said with a laugh. “Let’s see if angels dance as well as they fly.”
Mercy stared at the hand but didn’t move to take it.
“I don’t bite,” he coaxed. “It’s just a dance, Mercy.”
“I don’t dance,” she responded.
“Tonight, you do.”
He wasn’t going away. She found it difficult not to be aware of all the people around them, noticing the tall sheriff holding out his hand to her. Reluctantly she stood, her hand went into his, and she felt surprised at the warmth and strength she found there. Like Cinderella’s slipper … their hands fit perfectly.
Where did that silly thought come from?
Perhaps she was more tired than she realized. The two-step music stopped just as she moved into his arms. Feeling a blend of both relief and disappointment, Mercy began to move away, but Josh didn’t let go of her hand. The music began again—a beautiful and familiar ballad.
It couldn’t be. Panic filled her as the tune began. Not Dad’s song!
“I-I don’t think I can do this.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No. Not this song.”
“Just look into my eyes and let me guide you.” His arms went around her and drew her closer until her head lay against his shoulder. “Close your eyes,” he whispered, his lips just above her head. “Relax. Feel the music. I’ve got you … I won’t let go.”
The first few steps were rough, but Mercy obeyed and kept her eyes closed. Before too long, she felt herself settling into his embrace. Josh sensed it, too, and he drew her closer to his chest. She found something very comforting about the strong arms holding her, and she listened to the haunting tune, losing herself in memories. She was dancing again. Josh moved them expertly around the dance area, and it seemed natural, like they’d been made to dance together.
Mercy floated in his arms. Maybe dancing was like riding a bicycle. But she didn’t want to dissect the reason for any of it. She simply danced. When the music stopped, so did they. For a few moments, they did not draw apart. Couples moved off, and Mercy opened her eyes to find Josh gazing down at her. His look fairly sucked the air from her lungs. Were the fireworks starting early? She wondered how long they might have stood there if she hadn’t taken the step back and out of his arms.
Mercy danced a couple of dances with Larry, but never another one with Josh. He seemed content to sit and talk with others in the group about local politics, the lack of rain on the crops, and other general topics. Mercy was glad he didn’t ask her to dance again, but she also wondered if maybe he didn’t ask because she was such a terrible dancer. Well, she did warn him.
Why did she care? She tried to tell herself it was because some gossip might find it interesting … Josh without his fiancée and all. Surely, they all knew he had a fiancée. When and if the time presented itself, she might ask her mother about this mystery woman. Or maybe not.
The last tune of the evening died away, and fireworks lit the sky. She had loved fireworks since childhood. The crowd oohed and aahed, and each explosion resulted in something better than the last—a fitting ending to a long and interesting day.
A feeling of disappointment surprised Mercy as the last sparkles died in the sky. They packed up their chairs and bid goodnight to their friends. Her mom and Larry walked hand in hand toward the parking area. She and Josh followed more slowly, and Mercy suddenly noticed a slight limp in Josh’s gait.
She stopped walking and turned to look at him. “Is your leg hurting?” Her eyes narrowed to assess other things about him, such as the tension in his strong jawline that had not been noticeable before. Fine lines radiated from his blue eyes, and they appeared less bright.
“It’s okay,” he answered, trying to brush her off. He kept walking until she caught up with him. She slowed her steps to match his.
“You’ve overdone things today. I should have known, and I should have stopped you.”
Josh came to a halt at that point and turned toward her. “Not everything is your responsibility, Mercy. If I overdid anything today, it was my decision. I’m just sorry we only had one dance tonight. I’ll make it up to you one day, though.”
So that’s why he hadn’t asked her to dance again. He was in pain. She felt like such an idiot.
“No more dancing for you until the doctor says it’s okay. Do you have pills to take for the pain?”
“You’re cute when you worry about me, but there’s no need. I have pills I’ll take only if I can’t work through the pain. I have my physical therapy session tomorrow, so I’ll be just fine. Stop worrying about me, angel.”
Mercy clamped down on anything else she might have said in deference to this strong, silent, let-me-suffer-in-peace type. Nevertheless, she made her steps fit his and watched him from the corner of her eye until they reached their cars. She and her mom would take hers back to the house, and Larry and Josh had their vehicle. Mercy sent a brief goodnight to both men and seated herself behind the wheel of her car. Her mom followed at a slower pace after a hug and kiss from her fiancé. Mercy tried not to notice. She also tried not to notice how Josh kept his steady gaze in her direction, as if willing her to look at him.
Merc
y woke the next morning to the smells of coffee perking and bacon frying. If she closed her eyes, she could almost believe she was a young girl again, waking up on a Sunday morning, listening for the soft sounds of her parents’ voices in the kitchen as they talked over a quiet cup of coffee before she joined them. She turned over in the twin bed and stretched. Her gaze moved slowly around the room.
Her mother had kept it just as it had always been. The walls, still pale yellow; the curtains and bedspread still the same yellow and white checked gingham with white eyelet on the bed skirt; the same yellow and white pillows. The bookshelves held her collection of books and the Madame Alexander dolls her grandmother had always given her. She had twelve of them, one for each of her birthdays until Granny had passed away. The bulletin board over the desk was cluttered with clippings and awards for her participation in school activities, her high school graduation program. The tassel from her cap hung draped over the edge.
As a girl, she had lain just as she was at this moment, her eyes toward the ceiling, envisioning so much more. She’d had dreams of growing up and going off to college, of what career she might choose, and of whom she would marry one day. All were weighty subjects, but then she had always been a planner, even as a child. The world had seemed large and infinite with possibilities. Until one November day when everything had changed forever.
Thoughts of her dad flooded back, encompassing her mood. He’d only been in her life a brief time. Ten years, one month, and four days to be exact. He had been tall with large hands that swallowed her small ones when he held them. He liked to whistle popular tunes of the day and the golden oldies as he laughingly referred to some of his repertoire. Mercy had tried to learn them but failed. He always kept lemon drops in his pocket just for her. The supply seemed endless.
The boys were older and involved in their world of sports, friends their own ages, and girls. They wanted no part of a little sister tagging along after them. So, when her dad wanted company on fishing trips, she was the one who went along. When people saw the pair around town, they called her little shadow, and her dad big shadow. She had indeed been his shadow. Her steps mirrored his. However, she hated to fish and everything that went along with it. He always had to bait the hook for her, and when she caught one, he took the hook out and placed the poor fish in the basket. Except more often than not, any fish she caught managed to get loose somehow and find its way back into the water. Her father could easily have given up on her as a fishing buddy, but he never did. Looking back on those moments between the two of them, she wouldn’t trade them for anything … not even the fish!
Mercy had another special memory about her father. He had taught her to dance. In the evenings, he often brushed aside his newspaper and turned on the stereo. She stood on top of his large feet as he moved them around the room, usually to the strains of the same beautiful waltz. She’d loved those times, and she’d rarely danced since then.
Except for last night.
The memories came back in a rush of Technicolor, and Mercy realized they represented potentially dangerous ground. She had no plans to venture into that minefield.
“Are you planning to stay in bed all day?” Jan Smith stood in the doorway of the bedroom. “Breakfast is ready.”
“I’m on my way.”
Mercy threw the covers back and grabbed her robe, relegating memories of the previous evening to the past. She caught up with her mom as they entered the kitchen. While her mother poured a small glass of orange juice for herself, Mercy grabbed a slice of bacon from the platter in front of her and took a bite.
“I miss these breakfasts. Why does food always taste better when it’s cooked in this kitchen?” Mercy smiled between bites. A spoonful of scrambled eggs landed on her plate next.
“You need to eat more. You could stand more meat on those bones, and if you cooked more at home, your food would taste just as good. You just need more practice.” Leave it to her mom to try to fatten her up. “Besides, men like a female with curves.”
“Well, you don’t need to worry about that. You have your man.”
“Yes, I do.”
Mercy didn’t have to look up to see the smile on her mother’s face; she could hear it in her voice. “Have you told the boys yet?”
The smile vanished. “I spoke to Steven last night after we got back. I haven’t been able to reach Russ yet, but odds are Steven has already spoken to him. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from them.”
Mercy remembered her cell phone. She had stuck it in the pocket of her robe before coming to breakfast. She withdrew it, and when the phone came on, she saw she had nine missed calls, all from her brothers.
Oh, boy. Something’s hit the fan, for sure.
Mercy decided she would finish her breakfast before facing the drama that would surely follow when she returned their calls.
“We haven’t had time to talk much since you heard the news. Let’s hear what you have to say.” Jan settled across from her at the table.
“Geez, Mom. Get to the point, why don’t you?” Mercy joked as she took a sip of coffee, trying to find an out from the conversation.
“I know you. You’ve never been one not to speak your mind, Mercy Ann. I suppose you agree with your brother. He thinks I’ve lost my mind.”
Mercy looked at the woman across from her. When she’d first heard the news last night, she had thought that very thing. But through the evening, she had watched and listened. She also remembered what Josh had said in the kitchen. While she still wasn’t sure this was the best thing for her mom, she realized her mother seemed more alive than she had been in a long while. But marriage? At her age? She had to think about that one.
“Larry seems very nice, and he does seem to care about you. I’m sure it’s nice to have each other for company and to do things socially together. But you don’t need to get married to go to dinner or the movies and have fun.”
“No, you don’t. That’s true enough,” her mother agreed, her eyes gazing steadily at her daughter. “But you do if you want to share a house and the same bed. Or at least in my book you do. Call me old-fashioned, if you like.”
Mercy didn’t move fast enough to keep the coffee in her mouth from sputtering back down the front of her robe as her mother’s words registered.
“Mom! Please! Too much information, too early in the day!”
“People our age are still alive, Mercy. We’re not dead. We can think about it and even do it.”
“Well, I don’t need to hear about it! I need to get dressed and hit the road.”
Mercy dropped the last slice of buttered toast on her plate and hastily left the kitchen. She didn’t stop until she reached the bedroom and shut the door behind her. Leaning back against the door, she finally let out her breath. That had been a narrow escape.
She sent dark thoughts to both brothers. They’d left her here to deal with this while they enjoyed their lives far removed from this part of the world. Dropping her robe and gown, she turned on the shower. Stepping beneath the hot jet spray, she kept all additional thoughts at bay.
Chapter Seven
Mercy had almost reached the Lawson city limits when she saw flashing lights in her rearview mirror. Immediately, she looked at the speedometer. No, not over the speed limit. She knew she hadn’t run a stop sign or a red light. What was the problem?
She pulled onto a side road and shifted into PARK. The SUV pulled in behind her. Mercy watched in her side mirror as the door opened. When she saw the tall figure emerge from the vehicle, she shook her head. Are you kidding me?
“Why are you stopping me?” She took the initiative and spoke first, leaning her head out her window as the tall figure approached. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
He stopped beside her door. Removing his sunglasses, he folded them and stuck them in his shirt pocket. The brim of his hat partially shaded his face in the glare of the morning sunlight. His smile looked just as bright as he ignored her terse tones.
“I didn’t
say you did anything wrong.”
“Then why would you turn on your lights and treat me like a lawbreaker?”
“A lawbreaker? Turning on my lights can mean other things.”
How obtuse. He seemed to enjoy playing games with her, and that irritated her even more. She held on to her rising temper, counting to ten before she spoke again.
“Okay … let’s try this again. Is there a reason you felt the need to turn on your lights and stop me as I try to leave town this morning?”
“I’m glad I caught you before you left. Your mom said you’d probably be along anytime when I called.”
“You called my mom? She told you where and when I would be coming by here?”
“She did indeed. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t miss you.”
“Didn’t miss me? Why?”
“I just wanted to say thanks again for a very nice evening—including the dance. And I know the news of the engagement hit you out of left field. I guess I wanted to make sure you’re doing okay this morning. After all, we’re practically family.” He finished with a dimpled grin she might have found cute, under other circumstances.
“That’s why you stopped me.” Deep breath … count to ten. “Yes, you are indeed right about the engagement. I was not prepared for that news, but I’ll deal with it. In the future, just send an email or text me. Don’t pull me over with flashing red and blue lights. Now, I have to be going.”
He didn’t seem to take the hint. “Well, that sounds promising. You said, ‘in the future.’ We can build on that.”
She put the car in gear and gave him a clearly skeptical look. “We won’t be building anything. Goodbye, Sheriff.”
Moments later, she rolled toward the main highway and home. It took determination not to look in the rearview mirror.
Mercy made it back home before noon. Not quite used to having so much free time on her hands, she faced the quandary about what to do with the rest of the day. That’s when she remembered the book she’d heard some nurses discussing in the break room. She could pick it up and maybe some others, also. It had been a while since she’d had time to sit down and enjoy a good book. She planned to change that during this free time.