Understanding Mercy

by Janelle Ashley

  “Ian,” she whispered, and his head shot up and he stared at her, but didn’t move. Purple and green bruises covered his swollen face and he looked horrible. “Come here. I need to talk to you.”

  He walked to the window slowly, obviously in pain, and then he held onto the bars. “Mercy, what are you doing? Does anyone know you are here?”

  Wrapping her fingers around his, she almost wept at the mere feel of his skin on hers. “I know you have been framed. I know you aren’t capable of embezzling from my father. You could never do that to him. You could never do that to me.” He nodded, but said nothing. “I know this must be overwhelming being accused of something you didn’t do. But don’t worry. The flimsy evidence Mr. Berkeley has planted to make you look guilty will be exposed. The truth will prevail.”

  “Mercy, I’m glad you came, but you should leave before someone sees you here.”

  The harsh voice of the jailor called out, “Magregor, who are you talking too?”

  “Just talking out loud,” he called back and then lowered his voice, “You need to leave, my love.”

  “I don’t want to leave you here,” she replied desperately.

  “Shhh. I’ll be fine. Just go.” She nodded reluctantly and kissed his fingers, not even caring that someone could walk to the back of the building and discover them. He wrenched his hands away and stepped back with despondency in his eyes.

  “Magregor,” the jailor’s voice came closer. Mercy forced herself to leave Ian and with overwhelming anger and emotion she ran as if the devil was at her heals. But he wasn’t, because right now she knew the devil sat in an elaborately beautiful office at the docks. Her blinding rage clouded her mind and without thinking, each step brought her closer to this devil who she intended to stop from his further devious ways.

  She pushed open the door of Mr. Berkeley’s office and the welcoming face of Cecil Branson greeted her with a cheery, “Good day, Miss Creed. What a nice surprise.”

  She liked this man, but she could barely pretend to be friendly. “Yes, good day. Is Mr. Berkeley here?”

  “As a matter of fact, he just got in. Let me tell him you’re here.” He disappeared and then almost immediately returned. “Right this way.” As they walked down the short hallway, he asked, “You look quite winded, Miss Creed. Have you been running?”

  “Yes I have.” Doing her absolute best to force a smile, she swept past him into the office and then closed the door behind her and steeled herself to face evil itself.

  As she turned to look at Mr. Berkeley, he rose from the desk with a smile and prowled toward her with a silky, “What a nice surprise.”

  He reached out to touch her and she slapped his hand with a force that even surprised her. “Don’t touch me. How can you think I would let you touch me after what you’ve done? You are a fiend. A wicked man!” He shook his head in a display of confusion that infuriated her. “Don’t try and act innocent with me. I know what you did.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Creed. I seem to be at a loss. Do you mind explaining to me what I did?”

  “Do you think you will get away with this? Do you think you can frame an innocent man? I know you think you are all powerful, but you will get caught. The net you have set for Ian, you will fall into yourself.”

  “What are you talking about? The only net Ian Magregor finds himself in, he set for himself.”

  “You liar.” She lifted her hand to strike him and he caught it easily and twisted it behind her back bringing her up against him. With revulsion she turned her face, and she could feel the repulsive man’s breath on her cheek, so she tried even more desperately to squirm away.

  “Mercy, calm down. Let me reason with you. I can prove to you that Magregor is guilty. I would never frame an innocent man. You must know that about me.”

  “I don’t know that about you. I don’t know anything about you, but I do know Ian and he isn’t capable of embezzling from my father.”

  “Mercy, please stop it. You’re acting on raw emotion. Your irrational behavior right now will embarrass you later. I’ve done nothing wrong, and you need to let me explain.”

  “I will not listen to your lies, but I want you to know that your treachery will be exposed.”

  She reached for the doorknob and he quickly stepped around her and locked the door and put the key in his pocket. “I will not let you leave until you listen to reason.”

  Hot and angry tears streamed down her face as she fumed, “Open the door right now. I cannot bear to be in the room with you…you…you despicable creature.”

  “Stop it, Mercy. Now.” His voice rising in intensity, he grabbed her shoulders and held on with an iron grip. “If you would just let me speak to you I could explain.” With a ragged breath, he pulled her against him, and whispered in her ear, “Shhh. Mercy, please. You are overwrought.”

  “Overwrought? Overwrought?” Desperately she tried not to lose total control, but her trembling voice barely contained the volcanic fury simmering under the surface. She pushed at him as she cried, “You don’t think I should be overwrought? You are trying to make sure the man I love hangs from the end of a rope. Should I be happy about this? You assume if you can get him out of the way, I will want you. Is that it? Well, I won’t. I won’t ever want you. I hate you. I will hate you forever. I would not ever be with you if you were the last man on earth. You make me sick. And nothing you could say or do would ever, ever, ever change my mind. I hope I never have to see you or speak to you again for the rest of my life. “

  His arms dropped to his side and she stared at the door and seethed, “Let me out.” When he made no motion to move, she pounded on the door and shouted, “Help, Mr. Branson. I’ve been locked in here.”

  Without a word, Mr. Berkeley reached behind her and unlocked the door and pushed it open. She raced out the door and all the way home feeling as if her life had entered into some sort of strange and horrifying nightmare that she just could not wake up from. Her lungs heaved, her feet practically screamed out in agony, her heart felt as if it had been ripped from her chest, and things could not possibly get worse. A terrifying clap of thunder sounded above her as a dark cloud burst open and cold, and pounding rain assaulted her painfully. A gut wrenching moan escaped from deep within her soul…and she ran faster.

  ****

  When Mercy left the room, Addison wanted to kick something, punch something, or throw something. But instead he sank into a chair and let out a low, angry groan. Cecil came into his office tentatively. “What on earth was that?”

  “She is angry.”

  Sarcastically, he murmured, “You think?” When Addison said nothing, he added, “Who would’ve thought such a sweet looking little thing could get that angry?” Cecil came and sat in front of him and looked at him questioningly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.” Cecil nodded slowly and made a motion to stand, but Addison said quickly, “She thinks I did something I didn’t do. But she won’t listen to me. She won’t let me explain.”

  His gentle voice replied, “Give her time to calm down. I’m sure it will all work out.”

  Addison shook his head. “No. It’s over,” he spoke with conviction, and then added wearily, “Although I suppose it never really started.” Putting his face in his hands, he sighed. “I want to leave for Philadelphia as soon as possible.”

  “Will you come back to Boston?”

  Without removing his face from his hands, he nodded. “I have to. I promised Mr. Creed I would help him get a shipping venture started.” He leaned his head against the chair and stared up at the ceiling. “I’ll come back to Boston in a few weeks when Ian Magregor’s trial is over, and Mr. Creed has time to work with me. Then once I get that started with him, I’ll probably head back to France.”

  “For good.”

  “Most likely.”

  “Well, you have a ship leaving for Philadelphia on Monday, but you promised you would come to church with me this Sunday.”

  “That I di
d,” he murmured with a reluctant roll of his eyes. “I’m sure God will be thrilled to have me there.”

  Cecil leaned forward with a sincerity that touched Addison’s aching heart. “Listen to me. You cannot blame God for the way people act. God loves you. Don’t ever doubt that. He created you, and He has protected you, and provided for you every day of your life. Your heart was searching for Him, until that horrible preacher threw you off course. But I believe God is going to bring you back. He wants you for his own, Addison. He is your Heavenly Father and He loves you as His son.”

  Roiling emotions threatened to erupt, and he just could not do that right now. He pushed himself to his feet and went and looked out the window. Somehow the words “Father” and “love” didn’t fit together in his mind, but he certainly liked the idea. For as long as he could remember he wanted to believe God loved him. He wanted to believe his life had a purpose more than just living, dying, and become worm food someday. Slowly he turned to look at Cecil who watched him with concern. “I’ll look forward to going to church with you on Sunday.”

  Cecil’s face broke out in a happy smile and he nodded and left the room, but he poked his head back in and encouraged, “Addison, God has the perfect lady picked out for you. If it’s not Mercy Creed, it’s someone else.” The door closed quietly behind him and Addison turned to look back out the window. He’d never prayed much before, but he closed his eyes and whispered, “God, I know you are there and I need you right now, like I’ve never needed you before. Please take my shattered heart and put it back together.”

  Placing his forehead against the cool glass of the window, his mind wandered back to the vicious words Mercy had flung at him and they seemed to sink through his skin and corrode his soul. Truly, he’d thought Mercy would think of him as a hero, saving her father’s business from a deceiver, and even more importantly, saving her from a deceiver. When he heard she came to see him, he thought she was going to fall into his arms, and thank him, and proclaim her undying love. How could he have been so wrong? If he dwelled on it right now, he would go crazy. He couldn’t think of her words. He couldn’t think of her. If he did, he was sure he would want to just curl up into a ball on the floor and never get up again.

  Taking a deep breath, he set his jaw and made for the door. He would go inspect some of his ships in the harbor and do anything else he needed to do to keep his mind from thinking about the one thing it kept trying desperately hard to wander back to—Mercy Creed. He needed to expel her from his mind once and for all. And he would do it. He would.

  ****

  Mercy paced her bedroom like a caged wild animal, feeling trapped and alone and confused. Ever since she got back the day before from seeing Ian holed up that small jail cell, and telling Mr. Berkeley what she thought of him, her emotions had been raw. Oh, how she wished she knew what to do. She felt completely helpless. A quick knock sounded at the door and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. Her mother poked her head inside and at the look on Mercy’s face she let out a little laugh. “Well, for pity’s sake, sweetheart. It’s just me.”

  “Sorry, I guess I’m a little jumpy.”

  “I guess so. Listen I have to go to town to pick up a few things. I want you to come with me.”

  Mercy knew she would not be fit company right now and she started to shake her head, but from mother’s expression she knew she couldn’t refuse. Reluctantly she grabbed her cape and mumbled, “Let’s go.”

  The cold autumn wind stirred up the leaves around them as they made their way toward town. “The snows should be coming soon,” her mother commented with a shiver, as she wrapped her coat around herself. Mercy nodded as she wondered if she could sneak an extra blanket into the jail for Ian. He must be so cold. She would try to figure out a way to do that soon.

  After running several errands, her mother pointed across the street. “I need to get a few things at the bakery and then we’ll head home before it gets even colder.” About fifteen minutes later as Mercy walked out of the bakery with her mother, a smell other than fresh bread assaulted her senses. She placed a restraining hand on her mother’s arm and whispered, “Wait.” She sniffed in the air like a dog. “Do you smell that?”

  Her mother looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “What?”

  “That smell. That sticky, sweet smell.”

  “Cinnamon buns?”

  “No, not a good sticky, sweet smell. A bad sticky, sweet smell.”

  Her mother shook her head. “I don’t smell anything.”

  “Well, I smell it.” Holding her nose in the air, Mercy continued to sniff as she followed the scent. She walked down an alley until at last she stood in the backyard of a dilapidated house. The backdoor stood slightly ajar, and without thinking, she pushed it open and a puff of smoke burst from the room. Squinting her eyes to see into the darkness, she made out at least a dozen people lounging about on the pillow covered floor passing around a bamboo pipe of some sort. Several sets of sleepy eyes registered surprise, but no one seemed to have the energy to actually move. A partially glad woman lying across a man’s lap grumbled, “Close the door. The light hurts my eyes.”

  Suddenly a strong hand clasped around hers and she looked up the see Able Cotton’s concerned face. He covered his lips with his finger and whispered, “Shhh,” as he reached across her to close the door. “Come along.” Without a word, he quickly escorted her and her mother away until they stood in front of the bakery again.

  Shaking her head in bewilderment, she asked, “Able, what was that place?”

  “That is an opium den.”

  “What were they doing?”

  “Smoking opium. It’s a horribly addictive drug. The Brits use the East Indian Trading Company to import opium from India to China because they want the Chinese to get addicted. It has worked and China is crumbling under the addiction. Many of the British sailors smuggle a bit of the opium themselves and unfortunately some of it ends up leaking over here to America. Not much, thank God. It’s a terrible drug.”

  “Is it illegal?”

  “Yes, but the drug is so new to America that most of the law doesn’t even know what it is.”

  She squinted up at him. “How do you know about it?”

  “We learned about it in one of my law classes.”

  “Should we do something about what we just saw?”

  “Yes, I’ll go report this to the justice of the peace right now.”

  “Thank you for explaining that to me, Able.”

  He patted her shoulder. “You are welcome, Mercy. But stay out of trouble. I saw you come out of the bakery and I waved, but you had your nose in the air, literally. It’s a good thing I was curious as to what you were up to. You had no business being there.”

  “I’ve smelled that smell before. That place has been there awhile.”

  “Has it?”

  Her mother gave a worried smile. “Don’t question Mercy’s nose. Years ago, I stuck a piece of chocolate in my mouth before dinner and I didn’t want Mercy to know, but about ten minutes later she said, ‘You’ve been eating chocolate. I can smell it on your breath.’”

  Able chuckled, but then got serious, “Well, don’t let your nose lead you into any more trouble.”

  “I’ll try not to.”

  He glanced behind him and then offered, “Shall I give you a lift? My coach is right around the corner. We’ll stop by the justice of the peace on the way.”

  “Yes,” her mother answered quickly. “That would be much appreciated. It’s getting terribly cold.” They walked around the corner and Able assisted them into his coach, the whole time talking about the frigid weather. On the ride home, Mercy looked out the window, but didn’t notice the passing scenery for her thoughts were fully focused on what she’d just seen. With disturbing clarity, she could picture Ian sprawled across the floor of that opium den as the sticky, sweet smell of the smoke permeated his clothes. She still didn’t believe Ian could be guilty of embezzling from her father, but she would admit
there were alarming aspects of his character that he kept well hidden from her.

  A small flickering of concern began to arise that perhaps Mr. Berkeley was right, and Ian had embezzled the money, but that meant the last two and a half years of her life were a complete and total waste of time and she was the biggest, stupidest, most gullible fool on the planet. The thought of that was way too painful, and she tamped it down immediately.

  The coach pulled up in front of her house and Able leaned forward and asked her mother, “Would you like me to pick up your family Wednesday morning before the trial?”

  Her mother replied, “Oh yes, Able, that would be nice.”