Mercy's Fight

by T L Gray

  Contentment is all about attitude. Years of working with nonprofits had taught me that.

  Continuing down the short hall, I found a stackable washer and dryer and a compact bathroom. No tub, but the standing shower would do its job.

  Walking back along the hall, I opened the rest of the doors, finding only one usable closet—if the three-foot-wide alcove could even be called that.

  While determined to be on my own without the luxury of my family’s money, I had caved when it came to packing my vast wardrobe. Looking at the closet now, I realized there wouldn’t be enough room for everything I owned.

  Pushing the depressing thought aside, I went back out to my car and started unloading all the things I had stuffed into the sedan. Mostly clothes, shoes, and linens, but I did think ahead enough to pack an air mattress and some kitchenware.

  I’d asked my parents for just $5,000 to help me get the place furnished and keep me fed until I actually started getting a paycheck. They had begged me to take more, but I was determined to pay them back, so I kept the amount reasonable.

  By the time I lugged in the last of my stuff, locked the door, and checked all the windows, I realized it was after midnight. Sure my parents would be worried sick, I grabbed the phone and called just as they had instructed me to do.

  “Gracie Belle?” My dad’s worried tone made me feel guilty for not calling him immediately.

  “Hi, Daddy. I’m here, safe and sound. Sorry it’s so late.”

  “That’s no problem. I’m just glad to hear from you. Your mother fell asleep a little while ago, but I think it was because she didn’t have the patience to wait.”

  I laughed a little at his delicate way of referencing my mom’s fiery personality. She couldn’t stand it when things were out of her control. She was taking my move the hardest because we had always been so close. I had remained in our New York high-rise all the way through college and grad school. It was the only life I’d ever known, and I hadn’t seen any reason to change it . . . until that night.

  “How’s the apartment?” my father asked through the silence.

  “It’s nice. Small. Actually, I think it’s smaller than Mom’s closet, but very clean. It will do just fine.”

  “I’m happy to hear that, although I wish you’d let me purchase you that townhouse your mother found. It’s a lovely place.”

  I sighed. “Daddy, we’ve been through this. I want to be close to the Hartsford Center. It’s bad enough that you got me my job. I want to feel like I’m doing this on my own. I need to find out who I really am without your money.”

  “Honey, I didn’t get you your job. Sam may be a close family friend, but your talent, compassion, and brilliance is what got you the director position. Don’t forget that.”

  Tears stung my eyes. Honesty, love, and godliness defined my father. He adored my mother and me more than his own life, and never missed an opportunity to show us. Stewart looked a lot like my dad on the outside—kind, successful, and generous—but inside he cared only for himself. A strong reminder that the package did not make the man.

  “Thank you, Daddy. You always know what I need to hear.”

  “So when do you officially start?”

  My mind cataloged the plans for the upcoming weekend. “Well, tomorrow I’m going to hit every estate sale in town in hopes of finding a decent couch and TV. On Sunday, I’m going to visit that church I showed you online and try not to freak out that on Monday morning I will take charge of one of the most successful children’s centers in the state.”

  Propelled by nervous energy, I grabbed three of the new suits I had just purchased and hung them as we talked. I’d been volunteering for years, so I had plenty of business attire, but it seemed appropriate to pick up a few more. After all, I was in charge now. Hesitating for a second, I asked the million-dollar question. “Do you really think I’m ready?”

  “Yes, sweetheart, you are. Sam would not have put you there if you weren’t.”

  “The woman I’m replacing is so much older. She revitalized that center. They’re going to think I’m a baby—I’m sure everyone will compare me to her.”

  “Honey, do you remember the verses I gave you before you left?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Say them.”

  Quoting Scripture was the last thing I wanted to do at the moment, but I did as he asked. “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

  “And?”

  “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men.” Despite my reluctance, saying those verses did make me feel better. “Thank you, Daddy.”

  “Anytime. Well, I’m going to bed. Call your mother tomorrow or she’ll skin me alive.”

  I smiled because I knew he was right, then agreed.

  After I ended the call, loneliness crept in. Despite my twenty-five years, this was the first time in my life I’d slept without someone else in the house with me. Wiping the tears away, I reminded myself that crying didn’t solve anything. I wanted this. Truth was, a bird would never learn to fly if she didn’t leave the nest.

  My journey started now.

  Chapter 3

  * * *

  MATT

  “Mom!” I walked down the long hallway to her bedroom, swaying and disoriented. I stumbled, bumping from one wall to the other, searching.

  “Matthew?” She was crying . . . again.

  “Mom?” Entering her room, I was relieved to see she was packing.

  “You were right.” She kept her back to me. “I should never have come home.” She started crying harder, shoulders shaking. I walked toward her and wrapped her fragile body in a hug.

  She cried out in pain and I immediately let go. Gently turning her around, I looked at her face and rage washed over me. Her left eye was a slit, red and swollen. Angry bruises marred her neck and spread down her shoulder.

  “He hit you again.” I grabbed her suitcase and flew around the room stuffing blouses and pants into the bag. “He’s lucky he’s not here.” Shoes. Socks. “Next time he touches you, I’m going to kill him.”

  Mom rushed over to me and took my face in her hands. “Matthew, no. You’re better than this. Better than him. One day I want you to let go of this anger and make a life for yourself.”

  Balling my fists, I made her a promise. “We will make a life. You and me, Mom. He will never hurt you again. I won’t let him.”

  “Such a good boy.” She kissed my cheek before turning around.

  I heard her scream right as the gun went off.

  “Mom!”

  The screams jolted me out of bed, shaking and sweating. My eyes searched the room. No dead bodies on the floor. I was in my house, my bedroom. A flood of tears came as I dropped to my knees, cursing my father.

  When my grief passed, I stood and checked the time—only three in the morning—but sleep would not come again, not when those images awaited me.

  The leather from my journal felt smooth under my fingertips as I pulled the book from my nightstand and wrote down everything I remembered from the dream. Comparing the nightmare to others, I noticed more details surfaced each time. Previously, I only walked down the hall or saw her face before the shots woke me up. But tonight, hearing her voice, feeling her touch my face, the dream felt so real.

  If only it had been real. If only I’d had those last few minutes with my mother to tell her I loved her instead of missing her call for help. Maybe then it wouldn’t be so hard to not look back. I knew that my own guilt drove these nightmares, and once again wondered when they would go away for good.

  My past was supposed to stay buried. Wasn’t that what I had been promised? A new life? I had one now, so why couldn’t I move forward into my future without the scars of my childhood haunting me?

  I finished writing, showered, and got dressed. Saturday had been busy and tense, and I relished that today was Sunday. I needed some time with God
and the fellowship I’d come to crave from other believers. The nightmares depleted me and I felt my closeness with Him slipping.

  Grabbing a cup of coffee and my Bible, I sat on the back porch and read until the sun started peeking out over the horizon. I may have dozed a little off and on, but I wasn’t sure. After the nightmares, my sense of time always felt a little off.

  But staring out into my backyard with its hint of morning did give me peace. Two oak trees stood proudly, like rigid guards, over the area that had become my sanctuary, their leaves filtering the rising sun. Whenever my life felt overwhelming, I would listen to the sounds of nature and sit in awe of God’s amazing mercy.

  This house had been one of those blessings. One look at the thick patches of grass and rows of budding flowers, and I knew this small two-bedroom home would be mine. After spending most of my life in tiny, dingy apartments, I had vowed to one day have my own yard, complete with a hammock. I had strung one up my first night as a homeowner, and had since added a fire pit, outdoor grill, and fishpond. I created my own oasis to escape to when I needed serenity, and today was definitely one of those days.

  Being up so early gave me plenty of time to hit the coffee bar before service began. Having a fully functional café in our church was one of the perks I loved. After getting my usual—a double Americano—I turned to see Jake and his wife, Naomi, mingling near the tables. Jake was Bruce’s former patient and we had become good friends the past year. I even stood up for him at his wedding, a colorful backyard event full of laughter, abundant food, and even some salsa dancing. It was a celebration that fully embraced Naomi’s Latino heritage.

  Smiling to myself as I remembered the lively reception, I walked over to the happy couple. Part of me envied their joy, but I knew family wasn’t in the cards for me. I wouldn’t drag anyone into the life I had lived growing up, and I had already seen that the sins of the father reached well into the next generation. No. I made up my mind long ago that I would be walking life’s journey on my own.

  “Will wonders never cease? You’re actually here before service starts.” I grabbed Jake’s shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. “And Naomi, you are as beautiful as ever.” I gave her a hug, intentionally lingering until Jake pushed me aside and told me with a smirk to back off. I loved getting under his skin.

  It took me a second to register the presence of another person in the circle, but my heart dropped the moment her familiar perfume hit my nose. Natural and sweet, the scent was as beautiful as the girl who had admittedly crossed my mind more than a few times since her late-night visit at the gym.

  She looked more sophisticated than I remembered. Hair down. Shiny, sleek tresses covered her bare shoulders. Her classy sweats had been replaced with a casual yellow sundress that hugged every one of her delicate curves. She looked put together enough to be on the cover of one of those fashion magazines, and I felt pretty certain that the jewelry and handbag she was sporting cost more than a few of my paychecks would cover. The contrast to my jeans and T-shirt reminded me, once again, that we came from different worlds.

  Naomi pulled the girl closer. “Matt, this is Grace. We just met at the coffee bar. She’s new to town and visiting today.”

  Grace looked as surprised to see me as I was to see her, but I had no intention of showing the spoiled rich girl that she got under my skin. Instead, I sent her a cool smile. “I see you found your way.”

  Hiking up her oversized bag as if it offered some kind of security, she stood a little straighter. “Yes, I did.”

  “Have you two met before?” Naomi looked confused as she turned to Grace. “I thought you’d only been in town a couple of days.”

  Grace and I faced off, and I felt the same tingle that had filled my gut the night we met. Irritated by my lack of control, I turned to Naomi. “She got lost and stopped by the gym. Luckily, I was still there.”

  “Yes, he was very helpful,” Grace piped up before turning her eyes back to me. “And not at all rude.”

  I was rude? Hardly.

  Leaning against a nearby wall, I met her challenging stare. “I bet I’m the last guy you thought you’d see here.”

  Jake raised an eyebrow at me, but I kept my gaze locked on Grace.

  She glanced among the three of us, visibly uncomfortable.

  Attempting to break up the awkward silence that followed, Jake pointed at me and smiled, but his look told me he’d be asking questions later. “Matt here is what you call a sheep in wolf’s clothing.” He eyed my faded jeans and work boots. “If you’d get yourself a decent outfit once in a while, you wouldn’t scare away all the ladies.”

  I didn’t respond. He knew all about my past, knew that getting ladies to notice me was the last thing on my mind.

  Grace let out a forced laugh and Naomi came to her rescue, giving me the stink eye. “We should go in and find a seat before it fills up. Jake?”

  “Yep.” Jake jumped at her tone. He wrapped his arm around her and stole a kiss.

  I moved to follow, but stopped when I heard Grace hiss, “Why would you say that?” She kept glancing toward Jake and Naomi, obviously not wanting them to hear our exchange.

  Even though she was embarrassed, the air of superiority never left her. I met her eyes, disgusted at myself for letting her get to me. “Oh, come on. I saw how terrified you were of me the minute I opened that door. I don’t exactly look the part of an everyday hero. It’s okay, Duchess, I get it.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and with some satisfaction I watched those large, bright eyes flash. “Is that what you think? Let me assure you that, unlike you, I don’t go around prejudging people, and I certainly don’t have any issue with the way you look. If I did seem afraid when you answered the door, it was because you practically growled at me.”

  The retort I’d planned died on my lips.

  Others walked around us, some bumping our shoulders as they left the café and moved toward the sanctuary doors.

  “You guys coming?” Naomi asked.

  Grace shook her head at me and then turned to go into the sanctuary. Feeling slightly humbled, I took a couple of hesitant steps across the faded carpet and followed her. She sat next to Naomi. Although there was an empty seat to her right, I squeezed by and settled on the other side of Jake. There was no way I’d get anything out of today’s message if I sat that close to her.

  Jake’s curious stare matched his pinched smile. “That was interesting.”

  I didn’t respond.

  “She sure is pretty. Anything you want to talk about?”

  “Shut up.”

  Jake laughed at my irritation, sending more fire up my back. We all stood as the band started the first praise song. Bowing my head, I prayed for God to empty my racing mind so I could properly worship Him. When I looked up, I found myself sneaking a peek in Grace’s direction. She had her eyes closed and her face lifted upward. My heart took on a rapid cadence as I looked at her stunning profile. Closing my eyes, I prayed again. Maybe three seats weren’t far enough.

  When the service was over, I found Grace waiting for me at the end of the row. Jake kept walking with Naomi, giving me a moment alone with her.

  “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” she began. “For some reason I made a terrible first impression, so what do you say we just start over and pretend this is a new day?” She stretched out her hand and smiled. Those darn dimples resurfaced. “Hi, I’m Grace, it’s nice to meet you . . . again.”

  Caught off guard by her humility and kindness, I took her hand. The softness matched its porcelain color, which reminded me of a fragile china doll. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  I rubbed a small circle on her delicate skin, unable to let go. Our eyes locked on each other, an intangible bond forming that defied all logic or reason.

  Chemistry is a sneaky thing, and I appeared to have no weapon against its force. Maybe my reaction was because I had stopped dating years ago, but even before that, I couldn’t remember a time when I had been so completely entr
anced by a woman I barely knew. If just touching her hand drove me this crazy, what would happen if feelings were involved? Nothing good, that’s for sure.

  I hadn’t worked this hard, come this far, to throw it all away on a pretty face.

  Chapter 4

  * * *

  GRACE

  I thought we’d shared a moment, or at least moved past that initial awkwardness. But already Matt was back to his cold stance and terse conversation. Naomi insisted Matt and I both come over to their condo for lunch, and while I enjoyed getting to know her and Jake, Matt’s attitude kept distracting me.

  Even though he was seated across the table, he refused to make eye contact. Every question I asked was met with a yes or no answer. More infuriating was the fact that his apathy was clearly targeted at me. With Jake and Naomi he was casual, talkative¸ and affectionate.

  “So, Grace, what made you decide to move to Asheville?” Naomi asked, ignoring Matt’s rudeness and passing me a plate of soft homemade tortillas.

  “A new job. My first, really, so it’s a little overwhelming. Before this, it was school and then working with my mother doing volunteer events.”

  As my words spilled, Matt just sat there, intensely watching and judging me. A familiar surge of insecurity gripped my stomach. Most people my age had at least worked a part-time job.

  I tried to justify my lack of experience. “My parents didn’t want me working while I was in college, and volunteer work is actually very helpful in my field.”

  Matt simply rolled his eyes.

  Naomi scowled at him before turning back to me. “And what field is that?”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “I work with nonprofits. My degree is in business with some counseling, but mostly I try to help raise money and get support through local governments. It’s a lot of grueling, behind-the-scenes work, but I love seeing what happens when a community rallies around a common goal.”