"I have many, actually. Did you think about substitute teaching? Finding a part-time job?"
"Of course I did! I worked at a Family Universe until the damn store closed and I lost my job. I was going to apply for unemployment but this seemed a better option," I answered. "Red brought me along on one of her dates and I saw how much money I could make."
"So, you haven't done this for long?"
"No, Jack, just a few weeks actually,"
"I can give you a loan, if you're that bad off," he said softly. I slapped my pillow against him. He grunted, taking the pillow away and placing it behind his back. "I mean it. I can pay off your loan and then you can pay me back somehow."
"Sex?"
"You place far too much value on your charms."
"I don't need your money. I'm sliding by now that the girls have moved in. Once I get a steady stream of clients, it will be smooth sailing. But you're a sweetheart."
"I can't help it. I like people to like me." He grinned.
"I like you, Jack."
"I like you too, Mercy, even though you are pretty unlikable at times."
"Am I really that bad?" I questioned.
"Yes, you really are, but I still like you," he admitted. Placing my hand on the back of his neck, I pulled his mouth towards mine. Our lips brushed before he pulled away to look down at me.
"Don't tell me you have more questions?"
His eyes widened and he laughed. "Maybe."
"Spit it out," I said, glaring at him.
"When did you marry Moses? The late seventies?"
"That's right. We were married in 1977. Why?"
"Interracial marriages must not have been all that common back then."
Oh, well, isn't this lovely? Jack, like so many others, assumed I was White. In the past, I never hesitated to correct people's assumptions about my race. But I feared Jack would turn away from me if he knew the truth. Would there be any harm in letting him think I was something that I wasn't?
"No, they weren't that common back then," I said, avoiding the truth for just a bit longer.
"Were your parents okay with it?"
"Not at first," I could admit honestly. "They had many objections to our marriage, including our age difference. Moses was older than me by ten years."
"And you give me shit for being younger?" he asked, grinning down at me.
"He was the same age as my brother. You? You're the same age as my...." I wouldn't finish.
"As your daughter," he said. "What was her name?"
"We've been over this."
He placed a finger over my lips, quieting my objection. "I think you need to unlock some of your feelings, stop suppressing them. You lost your brother, husband, and daughter, and now you think you are going to lose me. I'm not planning to go anywhere," he said.
"I don't know you, so why would I worry about that? Anyway, did you forget about Afghanistan?"
He shrugged, not looking too concerned. "You're right. I'm being deployed, but this is a different mission than before. Besides, I meant figuratively. I'll have to set aside a special savings account just for you. You're going to cost me a pretty penny."
"I'm Black, Jack."
"You're blackjack? I don't know what that means."
"No. I'm Black. African American. As some would say, colored."
He gazed back at me with disbelief. He laughed. "You really like to mess with people's heads, don't you, Mercy?"
"I'm not joking, Jack," I said.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"So, was one of your parents White?"
"No, both of my parents were Black," I said. "I guess I had a lot of White ancestors back in the day, and mixed blood continued to marry mixed blood until you have me here. I know people like to pretend that color means nothing, but when I was a girl, it meant a lot. When my parents were young, being light meant certain privileges."
"You don't look Black at all."
"What does a Black person really look like? It's more about culture and family than some strange notion of skin color. I've seen some Asian Indians who are blacker than Moses, but they aren't Black. I could walk around letting people think I was White. I could probably tell people that I was White and they would believe me, but that wouldn't be the truth. It wasn't how I was raised," I said.
"Hot damn. I can cross two things off my list."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I've never been with a Black woman before. I think I might be a bit disappointed."
"Don't talk any longer. You've used up your word allotment."
"Did your daughter take after you or Moses?" he asked.
"I only held her for a few hours. I think all babies come out looking rather pale." I waited, my breath caught in my throat, as I listened for his next question. He remained silent, looking down at me. His fingers grazed my skin, and he scrutinized me as if trying to identify Black features on my face.
He lowered his head, his nose touching mine. I angled my head, kissing his lips. He didn't pull away this time; instead, he deepened the kiss, opening my mouth with a gentle nip. He rested one hand on my hip and with the other he began to tug at the buttons on my blouse.
His lips grazed my neck, stopping to place a kiss on my pulse. He snorted, fighting back a laugh. "This would be a bad time to ask about Moses, wouldn't it?"
"The worst time," I confirmed.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
The sound of the alarm snapped me awake. I hated waking suddenly. It caused either a dreadful headache or a nagging stomachache. I heard singing coming from the bathroom. Another endearing quality of the young man named Jack. I pulled myself from the cloud-mattress and walked over to my suitcase. It was our last morning at the inn, and Jack had mentioned the previous night that he had a special place to show me.
"Good morning," he said, walking out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He bent down, giving me a quick kiss on the lips before sitting down on the edge of the bed.
I knelt down over my suitcase, selecting items to wear for the day. Grabbing my cosmetics bag, I turned towards the bathroom. I heard a snapping sound then felt a sharp sting across my ass. Spinning around, I felt my eyes bulge as I forced a menacing expression on my face. Jack sat on the bed, the towel hanging over his thigh. "Hurry up, sweetheart," he said, standing up, allowing the towel to drop to the floor.
I looked over his beautifully formed body, taking in his sculpted chest and well-muscled legs. My gaze settled between his legs. His penis twitched slightly, as if reacting to my scrutiny. "I've a hunch. You wanted to know about my Black husband."
He snatched the towel from the floor and I ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I laughed at the sound of the towel hitting the door. I hurried through my morning routine, fearing his intrusion on my quiet time.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, damp from my shower, Jack was gone from the bedroom, but the patio door was open. I walked across the floor, joining him outside.
He sat in a chair, his legs propped up against the railing. His arms were folded behind his head, his eyes closed and his face tilted towards the sky. He took several, long breaths before he opened his eyes and said, "I hope they have sausages this morning."
"What a letdown."
"What?"
"I thought you would have made some comment about how nice the weather is, or maybe ask more questions about my dead family. I certainly didn't think it would be about sausages."
"Don't worry about it, sweetheart. You'll understand me soon enough," he teased. "You packed and ready?"
"Almost, I need to pack a few things. Why don't you go downstairs and get your sausages? I'll join you in a few minutes."
He looked back at me. I expected an objection, but his eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion. He cocked his head to the side, studying my expression. "You look good this morning."
"I look good every morning," I crowed, a smile on my face.
He stood up and rested his hand
s on my shoulders. "No, I mean, you seem like you're in a better place. I'll meet you downstairs." He walked around me, entering our guest room.
I turned to watch as he grabbed his suitcase and rolled it out of the room. He looked back at me and smiled before he left. I sat down on the chair and wrapped my arms around my stomach, my head falling to my chest. I breathed deeply, taking in the cool, salty air drifting up from the bay.
Sitting there for a few minutes with my eyes closed, my mind reeled as I thought about Jack and Moses. I had spent most of my life with Moses. He wasn't here any longer, and I was lonely. And I didn't want to be alone any longer. I had the girls, and Caitlyn, but I wanted Jack, too.
Taking one final deep breath, I lurched from my seat and began packing my things. I took my time completing the task. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was betraying Moses by sharing my life with someone other than him.
Scanning the room, I looked for any items left behind. I grabbed my room key and went downstairs in search of Jack. He sat at a table, his suitcase beside his chair, his fork piercing a sausage link. He saw me, grinned, and lifted the link. He mouthed "sausages" before he bit into it.
I filled a plate with eggs and toast before I joined him at the table. He scowled at my plate, noting the lack of sausages. He speared one from his plate and dropped it onto mine, winking at me.
When I had first met Jack, he had seemed so intense and high-strung that he intimidated me. Now that I had gotten to know him, I recognized how affable and boyish he could be. I beamed at him and said, "Where are you taking me after this?"
"Sweetie, that's a surprise," he said, sipping his coffee. He grimaced and set the cup down. "I hate this weak shit."
"Maybe you can add some sugar or cream."
"That'll make it sweet. I want it dark, bold, and rich," he said.
"What a coincidence? That's how I like my men."
"Wow. I can't say I've ever felt inadequate before, but there really is a first time for everything," he said, glaring into the black coffee.
"Hey now. You sorta fit that model. You're dark in the classical way. You know. Like tall, dark, and handsome," I soothed.
He leaned towards me, his elbows on the table. "I never really thought about that saying before. You think it refers to Black men?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Tall, dark, and handsome. Emphasis on the 'dark' part."
"I think they mean 'dark' as in tanned. Like a man who is outside all the time, doing manly pursuits, scratching his balls, and communing with nature," I said, biting into my toast.
He blinked then wrinkled his nose. "You had me right up until the balls part."
"Some of my students would grab their balls and assert their manhood. I think they needed to hold them to remind themselves that they existed."
"Do you walk around holding your breasts?" he asked.
"Of course not."
"Well then."
"I hold them when I'm sleeping," I said.
"I actually noticed that," he said, his eyes widening with the memory. "Let's get going. Pray that we can find a proper coffee shop between here and home, or I might turn into you." He grabbed our plates and disappeared into the kitchen.
I grabbed our suitcases and began rolling them to the doorway. Jack burst out of the kitchen and walked towards me. He peered over my shoulder, mischief on his face. He placed his hand on the small of my back, pulling me into his chest, his other hand gripping my chin. He kissed me passionately in the doorway. He pulled away, looked down at me and said, "You ready, mom?"
There was an outraged snort from behind me. I tensed, drawing my shoulders up before I turned towards the sound. There stood Paul, looking mortified and appalled.
"I'm not really his mother."
"Stepmother," Jack lied, pulling me out the door.
"No! I'm not," I yelled back at the inn. Through the window, I could see Paul standing there, watching as we climbed into Jack's car.
"Why would you do that?" I screeched at Jack.
He beamed at me. "I warned you that I could turn into you if I don't have my coffee."
"I'm not that ornery," I retorted, laughing.
Jack turned the car on. His lips were curled as he drove away from the inn. "You are that bad, Mercy."
"Maybe, but only when people deserve it. Paul didn't deserve it," I said, defending myself.
"If that's what you need to say in order to make yourself feel better, go for it," he said, navigating the winding road.
I closed my eyes and feigned sleep. I tuned out his persistent chatter as I thought about the weekend. It hadn't been what I had initially envisioned but it hadn't been a complete disaster, well, other than that little panic attack that temporarily killed the mood. I was satisfied. If I could be alone and vulnerable with Jack, surely I could open myself up to other men in the future. There was hope for me yet.
An hour later, Jack pulled onto a road somewhat familiar to me. It led to the small church that Moses and I had attended when we first moved back to the District. When we had first joined the church, it had been located in a strip mall. The congregation had been small, but due to the charismatic preacher, the community swelled quickly and moved to the small church out here in the sticks. Well, not really the sticks, but it certainly wasn't in the heart of the city.
I wasn't sure what surprise could be in store all the way out here. As far as I recalled, there weren't any vineyards or fashionable boutiques that would draw Jack's attention. Then again, it had been several years since I'd been out here, and there was no telling what might have changed.
I felt a crushing weight settle on my chest when Jack turned onto the gravel road that led to the church. I shot a glance in his direction as he slowed the car, driving past the church and into the graveyard.
"Where are they buried?" Jack asked as we crept along the car path.
My breath caught in my throat. I felt the pressure build around my neck. I felt like I was suffocating. I grabbed the door handle and unbuckled my belt before falling out of the car, leaving my door wide open.
He parked the car but left the engine running. He moved around the car and knelt beside me. He slid an arm around my waist, but I pushed him away. As ridiculous as it was, I crawled away on all fours, back down the road and away from their graves. Sighing with exasperation, Jack walked beside me, watching me. I stopped and plopped down on my ass, battling tears.
They fell. I felt weak.
"Where are they buried, Mercy?" he repeated, kneeling beside me. He squinted as he looked around the graveyard. The church dated back to the early 1900s, and sections of the graveyard had been reserved for freed slaves. It was old and lovely. That was why Moses had wanted our baby girl to be buried here.
I remained sitting in the gravel, saying nothing, but my mind raced through time. I remembered the day we had brought our baby girl here. Before they lowered her into the ground, I had insisted on adjusting the edges of her little pink dress. I didn't want her to spend eternity in a wrinkled gown.
Then I thought about the day, over three years ago, when I had last been there. The day I had buried Moses. He had been such a finicky man in life, taking such pride in his clothing. Before the coffin closed for the last time, I adjusted his suit jacket, smoothing out the edges as he would have liked it.
As I sat in the dirt, I realized that I had no one to adjust my clothing when I was lying in my casket.
Jack left my side. He began walking through the rows of graves. He called out, "Never mind. I'm sure I can find the spot."
I knew it wouldn't take him long to find them. I had leapt from the car only a few gravestones away from my family. I watched as Jack moved in their direction, noticing the tall grave marker etched with a baby angel and a teddy bear. When he looked back at me, I looked away, knowing he had found them.
Jack walked back to the car and opened the trunk. He pulled out a vase full of white and red tulips. I didn't know when he had purchased and tucked away t
he flowers.
I didn't budge. I refused to move any closer to their graves.
He shook his head, disappointment clear on his face. "I have the car keys and I have the rest of the day. We aren't leaving until you visit with them."
"Visit with them?" I threw back. "You make it sound like we're paying a social call."
"We are."
"Dear God, Jack, this is much more than a social call."
He knelt beside me, grabbed my arm, and pulled me to my feet. He didn't try and force me to walk towards the grave; instead, we stood in the road as he brushed my backside, removing little pebbles stuck to my clothing.
"I've already made my goodbyes," I told him, looking back towards the church.
"You aren't here to say goodbye. You're here to say hello and offer your apologies."
Appalled, I looked back at him. Tugging my arm from his grasp, I shook my head. He crossed his arms and looked down at the ground. His foot swirled in the gravel, raising a small cloud of dust.
"I know your intentions are good, but this really wasn't well thought out," I told him.
"Really?" he asked, no clear emotion in his voice.
I placed my hand on his arm, soothing him even in my turmoil. "This is painful for me; don't you understand?"
"And you don't want to experience pain?"
"No! Do you?"
"It's not something I seek out, but it isn't something I hide from either." He shifted his feet as he lifted the flowers and plucked at the petals. He looked at me with a plea in his gaze, but I didn't understand why. "I'd like to think that if anything ever happened to me, that you'll attend my funeral. Visit my grave. I don't mean much to you, I know, but if I'm to have even the smallest chance, you have to start with them," he said, motioning towards my family.
"Oh God," I said as the emotions overwhelmed me. I hadn't known Jack very long, but it had been long enough that I cared for him and wanted to see him live on. His impending deployment loomed before us, and even though he made assurances to his safety, we both knew that anything could happen.
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