by Robert Elmer
That didn’t sound good. “I’m sorry, Sydney,” Merit said. “I didn’t—”
“Forget I said anything. You wouldn’t understand, and I don’t want to talk about it.” She gave Merit a long look and her shoulders drooped in surrender. “I suppose I should congratulate you. Maybe it’s your karma to help overpopulate the world.”
“Overpopulate? This is your nephew we’re talking about.” Merit swallowed her anger. Arguing with Sydney about this wouldn’t accomplish anything.
“Oh, so you know already.”
“Not officially” Merit stifled a yawn. “Will’s just convinced it’s going to be a boy, so I’ve gotten used to calling him a he.”
“Hmm.” Her sister leaned over and checked Merit’s eyes. “You’re anemic. I have some organic soybeans and spinach extracts you need to take.”
“Anemic?” Merit asked, slightly off balance at her sister’s sudden change in topic. “My doctor didn’t say anything about that.” Of course, she’d said plenty of other things.
“I’m not joking, Merit. Let me get you some dong quai pills, and I’ll make you some gentian tea.”
Merit felt a familiar queasiness and held up her hands. “No. I mean, I appreciate your concern and everything, but if you don’t mind, I’ll just handle it like I did with the other kids.”
“You mean by continuing to eat processed poisons, junk food, and animal products?”
“I’ll cut out coffee and eat plenty of fruits and veggies. How’s that? And meat has iron in it, right? I always eat pretty well.”
“Meat?” Sydney made a face. “Don’t make me ill. And if that’s true, then why do you look so bad?”
They were skating a little too close to the line, and Merit resumed her efforts to get out of the wicker basket. How did she explain this?
“Listen to me, Sydney.” She ran a hand through her hair and willed the tears not to appear. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”
Before her sister could interrupt, Merit gave the condensed version about the cancer and what the doctors had told her. As she talked, her sister’s face clouded over more and more.
“So your religion…” Sydney barely forced out the word. “Your religion forces you to take this insane position?”
Merit gulped. What else had she expected from Sydney?
“No, I wouldn’t put it that way. But it’s true my faith and what the Bible teaches does color my thinking.”
“Colorì Sounds more like it spray paints the sense out of you.” The tint of Sydney’s cheeks matched the doctor’s when Merit had refused the abortion. “In fact, this is more like some crazy, right-wing brainwashing we have to deprogram out of you. Is this what the Pope told you to do? Listen to what you’re saying, Merit!”
“You know I’m not Catholic. But I don’t disagree with the Catholic position on life, if that’s what you’re getting at. In fact, they’re right on the mark, as far as I’m concerned.”
“So you’re going to sacrifice your life for a fetus, leave your children without a mother, and the Pope is just going to sit back in his robes and applaud, is that it?”
“I don’t know why you keep bringing the Pope into this, Sydney. I told you—
“I know, I know, you’re not Catholic.” Sydney jumped to her feet and paced around Merit’s chair, wagging her finger at the air.
“It just kills me,” she went on, “to see someone like you throw her life away—and for what? Keep in mind the gender of the people pulling the strings here.”
“I don’t see it like that.” Merit was surprised how calm her words sounded. How, for the first time, she felt a measure of peace. “And gender has nothing to do with it, unless you consider my gender and what someone of my gender would do to protect her own children.”
“Well, who runs your church then? Men. And they sure as yourhdl have never had to carry any unwanted pregnancies. Ever thought of it thatwzyi”
“First of all he—our baby—is not unwanted. He’s a gift from God. And second of all, you don’t have to curse.”
“I thought you were the religious one.” Sydney’s smile twisted into something unpleasant. “Don’t you believe in a hell where your God sends people who don’t believe exactly the way your men have told them to believe?”
Merit sighed. Wrong battle, wrong time. She let it go.
“It’s all about power, and it’s all about men.” Sydney launched into one of her rants. “Men write your Bible. Men tell you what it says. Men tell you what to think and what to do. And men tell you to die when they’re done with you or when they want you to make a point for them.”
Merit remembered the “men are pigs” comment from earlier and thought about bringing it up again but decided against it.
“The only point I’m making is—”
“The only point worth making,” Sydney interrupted, “is that we don’t need them. Me? I don’t buy into the men’s-only club, and I don’t understand why you do.”
“This is not—”
“Would you let me finish? This is suicide, Sister. Don’t you see that? And your man-God is—”
“That’s enough.” Merit managed to push herself out of the wicker cage and face her sister head-on. Whatever peace she’d felt had heated to the boiling point.
“Finally we agree.” Sydney stood her ground, balanced like a boxer. “Are you really going to let yourself be oppressed like this?”
“First of all, I am not being oppressed. You don’t understand anything about my decision, even after I explained it to you.”
“It’s what I do understand that scares me, Merit.”
“Maybe. But I didn’t expect this from you.”
“If you didn’t want my opinion, you shouldn’t have come here.”
Something else Merit could agree with—she shouldn’t have come.
“Okay, but I don’t appreciate the way you talk about the Lord. He’s the One who died…”
Sydney rolled her eyes. “Here we go again with the ‘Jesus died on the cross and you’re going to hell if you don’t believe’ thing. You don’t think I’ve heard that on late-night TV? Some of those clowns are funnier than Letter-man reruns.” She pointed at the tiny black-and-white set in the corner of the room, a rabbit ears antenna balanced on the top. “Those hypocrites are just another part of the system that keeps you oppressed. Or didn’t you notice them always asking for your money? Come on, Merit, you’re not that dumb. Or maybe you are.”
“I have a book back at the store I’d like you to read, Sydney. It’s really good, by—”
“By a man with ‘Reverend’ in front of his name, right? That’s even worse. No thanks.”
Merit broke her promise to herself about those tears. She couldn’t keep them from rolling down her cheeks. Sydney was just so…hard.
“You were right about my coming here, Sydney,” she said. “Will said I shouldn’t, that I should wait a few more days. I should have listened to him.”
“A few more days? What would have been different then? Aside from the fact that you’d be that much closer to dying, I mean.”
Merit took a step back in shock. Sydney didn’t have to say it that way.
“And that’s another thing!” Still her sister railed at her. “Does your Will really think this suicide is a good idea? Then he’s as bad as the Pope and all the other religious male medievals who want to keep women in bondage. In fact, these religious fascists—”
“Don’t you ever talk about Will that way!” Merit would have slapped her if she’d had a clear shot. She headed for the door.
A hand grabbed hers, holding her for just a moment.
“Sister.” Sydney’s voice had softened, even after all this. Merit didn’t turn, didn’t look. “I hate what you’re doing. I don’t want to lose you now. Not after you’ve just come back.”
But Merit was done with this, done with the conspiracy garbage and the goddess nonsense. She’d fulfilled her family duty by coming here, and now she wanted to
go home.
She pulled her hand away, stepped out into the sunshine, and slammed the trailer door behind her.
It didn’t feel any better.
twenty-five
It has always been my private conviction that anyone who pits
his intelligence against a fish and loses has it coming.
JOHN STEINBECK
when Merit looked at her floating castle, she could easily imagine how right everything could be.
Stephanie scurried from the store to the gas dock, pumping gas and selling bait and snacks to an unending parade of out-of-towners here for another late summer fishing derby. The pleasant buzz of an outboard motor filled the air as it propelled a boat of eager fishermen out to deeper water. A sailboat fluttered it’s sails just off the dock, preparing for a morning outing. Merit took a deep breath, catching the lakes fresh scent in a breeze that caressed a flag overhead. A pair of mallards whistled by.
Just a normal morning, until one noticed the dark clouds hovering over Bernard Peak. Fishermen and tourists alike tried to forget the storm they knew approached from beyond the mountains, but denial, Merit knew, would not hold it back for long.
She could imagine a hundred other horrible situations in which she would rather find herself, and none of them included a case of acute myeloid leukemia. Why had God dumped this in her lap? She couldn’t keep herself from thinking, I could end this all today if I just took the doctors advice. Or maybe just a small start on her treatment? Who would think any less of her? Who would even need to know?
No no noi Merit grimaced as she leaned against a piling on the dock. She knew exactly where those questions could take her, so instead of answering them, she gently patted her stomach.
“Don’t worry, little guy. Your mommy’s still taking good care of you.”
God knew she could do no less.
All right, then, she told herself, this would be their arrangement—not a deal, just an understanding. She would take care of the life growing inside her, the life God had entrusted to her. No questions, no complaints, no buts. And then, perhaps He could take care of her as well as she took care of the baby. So if she honored her end of the arrangement—
“How are you doing today, honey?” Will broke into her thoughts as he stumbled down the walkway, manhandling a pair of oars and a small outboard for a rental customer. She still wasn’t sure how she’d convinced him to go back to work after everything they’d been through.
“Fine,” she moaned, and the lake’s spell evaporated like morning mist. “Just fine.”
“No headache today?”
“I took a couple of Tylenol. The doctor said it wouldn’t hurt the baby.”
Although she wasn’t sure how much she could trust a doctor’s advice anymore. That thought only made her feel like Sydney, afraid of every conspiracy theory, mistrusting any authority. Pretty soon she’d be drinking that awful tea.
“Well, let me know,” Will added, “‘ cause if you want Stephanie to give you a hand behind the counter today, she said—”
“I can handle it, okay?” She cut him off, regretting it when she saw the stricken look on his face.
“Whoa.” He dropped his load and held up his hands. “I’m on your side, remember?”
She knew he’d only been trying to help, but he didn’t seem to realize how his help was coming off. She turned and escaped across the dock to her post inside the floating snack bar and bait shop.
Merit hadn’t been inside two minutes, pretending to be busy sorting gas receipts, when jingle bells on the door announced yet another customer.
“You’ve got to see this one, Merit!”
She didn’t recognize the younger man, but he obviously recognized her.
“I think we’ve got a winner out here!” he said, waving for her to follow.
Merit reluctantly stepped outside. Out on the dock, the stranger made Fred Martinez hold up his string of three rainbow trout for the camera. They were good-sized, but Merit didn’t know anything about prize-winning fish.
“Dick Pullman’s got a bigger fish,” Fred told them. “Of course, he’s always got a bigger fish.”
“Then I’ll have to track him down too.” The photographer smiled and adjusted his lens before pressing one of the buttons. Nothing seemed to happen. “Uh, hold on a minute.”
“Nice camera,” offered Fred. “What’d it cost you?”
“Actually, it belongs to a friend.” He wrinkled his nose and squinted at the camera, but it only beeped and flashed in his face. “Shoot. I had it figured out this morning.”
“Here.” Fred reached over. “I think you want to press this one on the top.”
The camera flashed again.
“Hey, thanks.” The stranger smiled, showing offa set of whitened teeth. “Us fishermen have to stick together.”
He didn’t look like a local fisherman with his Boston Red Sox cap and spotless running shoes. He was probably from the derby organizing committee, since he seemed awfully excited about Fred’s catch. Fred didn’t seem to mind the attention, either.
“You want a shot with me and my new pole?” Fred held up his pole in one hand and the fish in the other. “Maybe this is good enough for second prize:
“I think it could be.” The photographer lined himself up for yet another shot, and this time the camera worked the way he wanted.
Merit turned to go back to her post, but the stranger called to her.
“Let’s get the resort owner in the picture with this winner.”
“Oh no.” Merit backed away. “You don’t want a picture of a pregnant lady to ruin things.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” He shrugged, not giving up. “But you do own the place, don’t you?”
“Well…”
“Go ahead, Merit.” Stephanie walked up and gently pushed her to stand next to Fred. Merit looked around for Will, hoping for a rescue, but he was cleaning rest rooms or doing some other glamorous chore. She’d already chased him off.
“Here we go.” The photographer backed up a couple of steps before anyone could warn him about the edge of the dock.
“Hey, uh—” Stephanie held out her hand but not quickly enough.
He tottered on the edge…and barely pulled back.
“Whoa.” The guy never stopped smiling. “Almost took a dip there.”
“No kidding.” Fred chuckled. “That would have been good.”
The stranger recovered quickly and held his digital camera up again. A red light flickered in their faces. Merit tried not to turn her barely-showing profile toward the camera and did her best to smile.
“Cheese.”
Satisfied after three more shots, the photographer released them—only to follow Merit back into the store.
“Can I help you with anything else?” she asked him, noticing he had an eye on her books. “Borrow a book—or a life jacket maybe?”
“Right. Actually…” He selected a bag of chips and set them on the counter in front of the cash register.
“Eighty-nine cents, please,” she said.
“Do you have change for a fifty?” he asked, holding up a bill.
“That kind of cleans out my till. Do you have anything smaller?”
He didn’t, so she counted out forty-nine dollars, a dime, and a penny into his hand.
“So you and your husband are from California, is that right?” He’d been chatting with Stephanie, he said, who had been kind enough to tell him all about them.
Merit nodded, but the furrow on her brow must have given her away.
“I don’t mean to sound nosy!” He held up his hands. “Just getting to know my new neighbors.”
“I see.” Merit relaxed. That was different.
“So…” He headed for the door, munching his chips. “Do you have plans to host another derby next year?”
“We’re not the derby organizers, Mister, er…”
“Chris.” He flashed a smile, one foot out the door. “Chris Davidson. And I just meant, you’ll be a
round, right?”
Merit’s throat went dry. He couldn’t know how his question made her feel.
“Sure,” she mumbled. “We’re planning to be here.”
He nodded his thanks and slipped out into the once-perfect day. She almost followed him to tell him where to find Dick Pullman’s boat, but someone else would help him if he still wanted another photo.
Stephanie entered the store a few minutes later.
“Strange guy, huh?” Merit commented.
“Asked a million questions.” Stephanie tucked a bill into the register and rang up a gas sale.
“Hmm.”
By the middle of the next week, Merit had heard the rumors, just like everyone else: Pastor Bud had reeled in several good-sized trout, none of them record-breaking, but still exciting enough in local fishing circles.
“So how big was it?” Will asked over the cup of coffee Merit poured for him from the snack bar coffee maker.
She held out her hands as if measuring the imaginary prize. “Uh…thirteen inches?” she guessed. “He told me last night. Fourteen?”
“In other words, you’re not quite sure.”
Merit smiled and sipped her gentian tea, then grimaced and nearly spit it out.
Will gave her a worried look. “You sure you want to drink that stuff?” he asked. “I can smell it from here.”
“It’S great.” She nodded and tried not to gag. Her sister would have been proud. “Just wonderful.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to.” She took another sip, longer this time.
Her husband shook his head and shrugged.
The door bells jingled, and Stephanie and her father stepped inside.
“Well, here’s the man who can tell us about that fish.” Will grinned. “Bud, how long was that monster rainbow you caught yesterday morning?”
“Thirty-five inches.” Pastor Bud beamed. “Came to twenty pounds, three ounces. Guess there still are a few big ones out there.”
“Did that fellow from the derby committee get your snapshot?” asked Merit.
Bud’s face went blank. “Don’t know anything about that. But I’ve got to show you something.”