by Robert Elmer
“Oh! I said ‘California,’ didn’t I? I’ve been told I’m not supposed to do that, or everyone in town will think were evil and just buying up the town to boost real estate prices. You won’t tell, will you?”
Stephanie laughed. “If anyone asks, I’ll just say you’re from south of Boise.”
“Oh dear.” Merit cradled her forehead in a hand. “You heard about that.”
“It’s kind of an old joke around here.” Stephanie didn’t tell her that Will hadn’t been the first to use that line.
Merit got to her feet—slowly. Stephanie could see exhaustion written in lines across her face.
“All right,” said Merit, “I guess I should have known. But I haven’t told you what my condition is yet.”
“You said the flu, maybe.”
“No, no.” Merit laughed. “Not that kind of condition. Maybe we should call it a swap.”
“Oh, I get it.” Stephanie didn’t. Merit motioned for her to follow, and they headed out the door with the painting.
Stephanie had been right; the cloud burst hadn’t lasted long. Already it was heading north along the lake. If the dark storm clouds kept moving the way they had been, they would descend on Sandpoint in less than an hour.
“We’ve got so much work to do before we open.” Merit held the door open to the familiar floating store and snack bar. The glass doors of the coolers in the back hung open, display racks stood jumbled and crooked, and dusty piles of junk littered the floor. Someone had stacked several boxes on the counter, each marked “M books.” Stephanie twirled one of the old vinylcovered stools while Merit examined a tangled pile of life jackets, fishing lures, poles, and who knew what. “But you know Will wants to open in a few weeks, in time for the Fourth of July Fishing Derby.”
“By the Fourth of July?” That sounded pretty optimistic, but Stephanie wasn’t about to say so. She knew where the painting went, though; the little nail was still in the wall. She gingerly reached up and hung the painting in it’s place.
Merit leaned against the counter and smiled. “So I was just wondering if you had another job.”
“Oh, well, I’m kind of between jobs, thinking of going back to school. Not really sure what—”
“Perfect,” she interrupted. “I want you to work for us. That is, if you’re interested, of course. Help us get the place ready, then work in here again, the way you used to.”
“That’s the condition? And that’s okay with Mr. Sullivan?”
“We talked about it already. Not specifically, but I know he’ll think it’s a great idea.”
“You’re sure?”
Stephanie thought for a moment. What else was she doing besides taking long walks, filling up her birdwatching notebook, helping Mom around the house, and generally feeling sorry for herself?
“Don’t act so surprised,” Merit said. “It’s like the painting, Stephanie. People who come back will expect to see you here.”
Stephanie nodded, and the same rock-solid certainty she’d felt about Merit’s weakness now overtook her about her place here. She picked up a broom and dustpan and attacked the mess.
“I guess I’d better get started then.”
fourteen
I went to a general store. They wouldn’t let me buy anything specifically.
STEVEN WRIGHT
Merit smiled as she picked a day-old loaf of bread off the shelf at the little Kokanee Cove Mercantile. Back in California, she hadn’t imagined places like this still existed. Outside of Kokanee Cove, maybe they didn’t—unless you counted reruns of The Waltons or one of those nostalgic small-town Disney movies.
She looked at the shelves, brimming with one of everything she could think of, including chicken noodle soup, bug repellent, ShureTrout fishing lures, and candy bars. She picked up a dozen local brown eggs, a can of refried beans, and another bottle of headache pills. She checked items off her mental list and gathered the rest of her groceries. Summer was already passing too quickly.
Jingle bells draped on the front doorknob announced another customer. Merit peeked over a shelf of cereal and canned fruit to see her sister walk in. It had to happen sometime.
“Oh, hey there, Sydney.” Mr. Mooney peered over his glasses from behind the cash register. He still kept an old 1940s antique register for fun, but he didn’t use it. “Haven’t seen you in here for a while.”
Merit opened her mouth, but she couldn’t speak. Instead she watched for a moment, remembering what Sydney had told Will about never shopping at the Mercantile. Why was she here? Thankfully, Mr. Mooney didn’t reveal Merit’s presence.
“Just needed to drop off this package for the UPS man today.” Sydney set a small parcel wrapped in brown paper on the counter. “Do you mind?”
“Of course not.” Mr. Mooney pulled the package across the counter. “Like I always say, bring your packages by anytime you like. The driver usually checks in just before lunchtime these days. ‘Bout eleven-thirty.”
Sydney rested her hands on her hips and nodded at the injured kestrel that watched their progress from it’s perch.
“You’re not keeping that bird as a pet, are you, Mr. Mooney? Because if you are—”
“Oh no. That’s just the bird Steph brought in some weeks back, shaken out of it’s nest. Hurt it’s wing a bit, but we fixed it up, and I think it’s healing okay but slow. Would have died if she hadn’t brought it by, you know.”
“But it belongs in the wild.”
“No argument from me. Soon as he’s strong enough in a few weeks.
Sydney nodded. “Good.”
“I do have a permit for keeping those birds, Sydney.”
“I know that. One more thing. Uh…” She paused, hands still on her hips. “I saw a car outside that looked familiar, like my brother-in-law’s car. Have you seen him?”
Merit knew she should step forward, say hello to her sister, and finally put the past behind her. How many years had it been since that horrible argument? Still, she couldn’t open her mouth.
“No ma’am.” Mr. Mooney shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched, like he had a smile hidden. What did he know about the feuding sisters: “Not for a couple of days. You might try down at the resort, though. I hear he spends a lot of time down there.”
“Hmm.” Sydney headed for the door. She scanned the rest of the store as she walked, possibly to check if there was anything else she could criticize. When her gaze rested on Merit, she froze by the door.
Merit took a deep breath. “Well, what do you know!” She smiled shyly. “Small town!”
Sydney made no move closer, letting the door bump her on the backside as she shifted from foot to foot. “I thought I saw your car.”
“Yeah. Just picking up some groceries.” Merit held up a can of peanuts. “Did you know they have one of just about everything here? Even a little pharmacy section. They don’t have stores like this in…”
California. She let her “gee-whiz” comment slide, as did the rest of their conversation. She decided to try a few questions.
“So how are your, uh, cats doing?”
The cats were doing as well as could be expected. To Merit’s surprise, Sydney asked a question of her own. And how were the girls?
“Oh, great. They seem to enjoy living here at the lake almost as much as we do.”
“Good, good.” Sydney inched out the door. “Uh…Will said you had a nice little place up on the hill. Sorry I didn’t get to visit.”
Well, yes, Sydney thought it was just fine. It suited her.
Merit went on. “I never thought we’d live in the same town again.” The can of peanuts slipped out of her hand, hit the floor, and rolled under a shelf. “And now we run into each other at the store.”
Yes, how about that.
A bird screeched in the back room, and Mr. Mooney excused himself for a moment to check on the noise. That reminded Sydney that she’d better run too, before the post office closed for lunch.
“Right, right. Well, com
e visit us soon.” Merit made her way to the front counter, balancing beans, eggs, and pills, as Sydney waved and hurried out the door.
Sure, she would visit. Maybe.
A burly looking guy with a ponytail and three-day beard turned himself sideways to get past her, then headed for the beer cooler. As Merit piled her purchases by the antique register, Mr. Mooney returned to take her money.
“You two really sisters?” He punched in her totals.
“Wouldn’t have guessed it, huh?” Merit said, trying to lighten the situation. “Actually we didn’t really grow up together. She’s a few years older than me. I guess we, uh, didn’t have that much in common when we were girls.”
And we still dorit.
“I would never have noticed,” Mr. Mooney commented.
Merit wasn’t sure whether or not to laugh at Mr. Mooneys playful jab but decided it couldn’t hurt. She hoped he wouldn’t make a big deal about the last item she had placed on the counter hiding it behind everything else.
“You need a bag for that?” He didn’t even wait for her reply before slipping the item into a recycled plastic sack from Target along with the rest of her groceries. Silly thing to buy but oh well. Thankfully, he didn’t make a show of it as the burly man sauntered up behind her and hoisted his twelve-pack on the counter with a thunk. Merit nonchalantly squeezed the top of the bag shut and extended Mr. Mooney her Visa.
“Uh…” The shopkeeper hesitated. “Actually, Mrs. Sullivan, we’re not set up for credit cards yet. Cash and local checks are all I can accept.”
“Oh dear.” She fumbled through her purse and found three wadded ones and a handful of change. Not nearly enough. “I’m so sorry. I left the checkbook at home, and I only…”
“Don’t worry.” He handed over the bag. “You just pay me next time.”
Merit hesitated for a moment, but he nodded his reassurance. She took the bag with a thank you and exited through the door with a jingle of bells, relieved that Sydney was long gone. She only had to sidestep the back end of a pickup and the eager Labrador retriever leaning out for a sniff of her bag as she hurried to her car.
Not now, she prayed silently. Please doni let me run into anybody ehe I’m supposed to talk to.
She didn’t relax until she’d turned the key in the ignition, hit the door lock button, and slumped back in the Rover’s leather seats.
“That went well.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, wondering how she would ever get to know her mysterious, standoffish sister. Of course, to Sydney, Merit may have seemed mysterious and standoffish. She supposed it depended on whose perspective one considered. How had she gathered the courage to try building a bridge now?
But a bigger question bothered her. Had she moved here for this? to repair a once-close relationship, strained over the years? Maybe it was too late after all. She couldn’t help imagining God shaking His head at her wimpy witness just now. At this rate, she and Sydney would get around to discussing spiritual things…when?
“It’S a start, Lord,” she mumbled, pulling the Land Rover into gear. Now she just had to get home before anyone else saw her.
She nearly went through the car roof when someone rapped on the glass.
“Goodness!” She looked out the window, hid her sigh with a smile, and rolled down the window.
“Sorry!” Pastor Bud leaned against her side mirror. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Not at all,” she lied, stuffing the little grocery bag below her legs while trying not to appear overly obvious. “I was just thinking how amazing it is to live in a place where I can’t go anywhere without running into people I know.”
“Not like California, huh?” He smiled. He just wanted to tell her how much he and his wife appreciated the Sullivans hiring Stephanie, how much Steph liked the job, and how much they’d love to see them all at church on Sunday.
“I’m working on him, Pastor. Will’s just…” She hoped he would understand and leave it at that. “I can tell you, though, that he was really impressed when all of you showed up to help us move in. I don’t know that we’ve ever seen that kind ofthing before.”
“Well, you tell Will that you can always call if you need anything. An extra hand, prayer, whatever.”
Merit studied the man’s face and saw no trace of the spiritual Let’s Make a Deal mentality that would have scared her away immediately. Was Pastor Bud really as sincere as he looked and sounded? She thanked him and started to roll the window back up.
“Now, if we can only get through to your sister,” he said, “that will be the true miracle.”
Amen to that.
fifteen
The grace of God means something like: Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn’t have been complete without you.
FREDERICK BUECHNER
This isn’t possible.” The impertinent pink wording on the pen-shaped instrument told her plainly: You’re pregnant!
The kit she’d purchased at Mr. Mooney’s store must have passed it’s expiration date. This was August, after all. That was the only explanation.
She fished the package out of the trash, replaced her reading glasses, and checked the fine print on the back, but she couldn’t find anything to indicate she’d done something out of order or misunderstood the directions. But who could read all that small print, anyway, without a magnifying glass or eyes that hadn’t passed their fortieth birthday?
Merit closed her eyes. She knew her body well enough to recognize the mounting similarities between the way she had been feeling the past several weeks and the way she’d felt with each of the girls. Though she didn’t remember feeling as weak, achy, or generally ill as she did now.
Father, she prayed, more fervently than she’d prayed in a long time. Is this what You want? at this stage of our lives? Because I’m not at all sure I’m ready for this.
She stared into the mirror over the sink, trying to think of another way to deny what she knew to be true. But how?
Unfortunately, God gave no immediate answer, not like He had with Mary. Merit thought she understood, for the first time in her life, the questions the mother of Jesus had asked.
“How will this be, “Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?”
Merit had never imagined the words in her own mouth.
“How will this be,” she asked the Lord, “since my husband had a vasectomy over a year ago?”
For a moment, she wondered how this would look to her husband—if Will would have a Joseph moment and think the worst. But only for a moment, and the shame of it made her cheeks flush. Will knew her much better than that. Still, she checked the test strip one more time, in case it wanted to change it’s mind. It hadn’t.
She threw the tester into the trash, a bit harder than she’d intended, and stared once more at the pregnant woman in the mirror. This wasn’t supposed to happen to forty-four-year-olds. At that stage in life, didn’t they say there was more risk of complications, more chance of…
She pushed the thought from her mind, stood on her tiptoes, and turned her profile to the mirror, wondering how soon she’d start showing. She told herself not to worry about everything that could happen but wouldn’t. Nothing bad had happened with Abby or Olivia. They had both been enthusiastic womb’ gymnasts. Now there was something to look forward to. The signature nausea she had taken for a flu bug had already started waking her at four or five every morning. Will, bless his snoring heart, slept through it all.
Of course, when she’d found out she was pregnant with Abby—or Olivia, for that matter—the news hadn’t been confirmed by a little plastic stick. Their family doctor had been the one to deliver the good news. Despite that, Merit didn’t need a little test kit to tell her what she knew in her mother’s heart.
She couldn’t deny it anymore. This was real.
She couldn’t forget Mary’s line after the angel explained what would happen as a result of her historic pregnancy. Funny how it came back to h
er now, several years after Merit had heard it at a women’s retreat—back when she and Will still had three good reasons to attend church. She didn’t remember anything else about the retreat, just that line from the Bible the speaker had repeated over and over.
“I am the Lord’s servant,” Merit told the mirror, unable to keep the tears in check. “May it be to me according to Your word.”
If anyone saw her now, they’d know what a hypocrite Merit Sullivan really was. Smiling Merit, always upbeat. Pious Merit, who made Will pray before meals, sometimes, and always at Thanksgiving. Their new employee and her pastor father would be shocked if they knew how shallow and weak-kneed her faith was. But they would never find out. Merit would see to that.
A fluttering of new life reminded her that she and Will had another new beginning on it’s way. She had to tell him.
“Merit?” Will knocked on the bathroom door, which she rarely shut all the way. “Honey? Are you all right?”
“Just a minute!” She dabbed at her eyes and stuffed what was left of the incriminating kit back into her pink bathroom bag, then stashed it in the lower drawer of the vanity. She straightened her hair and wiped the last tear tracks from her cheeks with a tissue before pulling the door open and smiling.
Will stood in the middle of the hallway, arms crossed. He’d have looked like an investigative reporter if not for the gray paint all over his face.
“You still think it’s something you ate?” he asked.
She’d thought so the last time he’d asked, days ago. Now she knew better, but she couldn’t tell him yet. The time had to be just right for news of this magnitude now growing in her womb.
“It’s nothing that won’t work itself out, dear.” That much was true.
He didn’t look satisfied with that answer.
“Well, if you’re not feeling better in a day or two, promise me you’ll call a doctor.”
“I promise,” she said. “And you promised you’d walk up the hill with me this morning before it got too hot.”