Understanding Mercy

by Janelle Ashley

  Pastor Thompson appeared. “Are we ready?”

  “I don’t know.” Addison looked down at Cassandra, “Are you ready, sweetheart?” She let out another coo and he nodded. “Yes, she is ready.”

  With a laugh, Pastor Thompson took her in his arms and they walked to the front of the church and Mercy looked out at all the smiling faces staring back at them, and then she looked at her handsome husband as he smiled at her, and then she looked at the little bundle of love being dedicated to God. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine it was possible to be this happy. The same man who’d dedicated her to God, held up her baby and prayed. His words touched and humbled her, and he finished by saying, “May this beautiful little girl grow up to exemplify the characteristics of her middle name—Rose. Just as a rose blooms and spreads its fragrance to the world, may she spread the fragrance of Your love to all who are near.”

  When the christening ceremony was over, all their friends and family gathered at their home, and it made Mercy laugh to see such a boisterous crowd all arguing over whose turn it was to hold Cassandra. Besides feeding her a few times, she hadn’t been able to hold her all day. Priscilla held Cassandra, but with difficulty since her own baby was due any day. Mercy hoped Cassandra and Priscilla’s baby would grow up to be friends.

  Mercy looked up to see Addison approaching. He led her down the hallway into his office, where he pulled her against him and held her face in his hands as he gazed down at her reverently.

  “Mercy, I recall the night after I met your father for the first time. I wondered what it would feel like to have a shipping business, and a fancy black coach, and a beautiful little daughter. Now I know. The only part I didn’t think I wanted was a wife.”

  He took a deep breath and his voice thickened with emotion as he continued, “But you, my darling Mercy, are the best part. I always thought my father’s love for my mother made him weak. But now I know that isn’t true. My mother’s death just exposed a weakness that was already there. In many ways, I was already a strong man when I met you, but my love for you…your love for me only made me stronger. God must certainly love me to have given you to me. I hope you know how much I adore you.”

  Without waiting for her to respond, he walked over to his desk and opened a book and took out a sprig of dried honeysuckle, and then twirled it in his fingers as he walked back to her.

  “That day in your garden when I handed you some honeysuckle, I broke off a piece and put it in my pocket. When I got to my office, I pressed it between the pages of a book of love sonnets. Lately, I’ve been thinking that I want you to understand how much I love you, and since I’m not always good at words, I thought if I looked at some poetry I could get some ideas.”

  His smile held a hint of embarrassment. But he cleared his throat and continued. “When I opened the pages, I saw this dried sprig of honeysuckle. The day I handed it to you in the garden, I told you that the French consider the honeysuckle the flower of ardent and passionate love. Your cheeks turned a hundred shades of pink when I told you. I’ll never forget it. I know I’m not a poet, but that is how I love you. My heart is filled with an ardent and passionate love for you. It always will. You’re the joy of my life.”

  He glanced over at the framed sampler she’d given him for a wedding present that he displayed prominently above his desk. It looked silly in his exquisite office, but he always told her it was one of his most prized possessions. Reaching over, he took the frame off the wall and stared at it intently for several moments and then looked at her and smiled.

  “Everyday I’m at the shipyard where I hear arguing, and harsh voices, and complaints from people about a thousand different things. In many ways it’s a harsh, cold, storm filled world I find myself in, but when I get in my coach and head up Beacon Street, it touches my heart to think of your warm and radiant light welcoming me home to my safe harbor. My whole life I felt adrift. But not anymore. I once thought I wanted a dog to greet me when I got home, but since you are allergic, I can’t. But you are even better than a dog. I love how you look at me every night when I walk in the door.”

  The darling man was trying to be romantic, but as much as she tried, she couldn’t hold back a little laugh. “So I’m better at greeting you than a dog? You’re a shameless flatterer, Mr. Berkeley.”

  His eyes twinkled and he shook his head. “Don’t laugh. I’m trying terribly hard to impress you.”

  “I know. And I truly appreciate the effort. Now pick me up and carry me to the sofa and let’s play heroic pirate for a little while until we are missed.”

  “But I don’t have my black cape on right now.”

  “I’ll overlook it this time.”

  “Thank you for overlooking my inadequacies. I suppose that’s why your name is Mercy.” He placed the sampler upon his desk, then swooped her into his arms with a dramatic flourish, and carried her to the sofa. She giggled the entire way.

  About the author...

  Janelle Ashley has loved books since she was a baby and took a rubber one into the bathtub every night. She won every book-reading contest the library could offer from the time she was four years old. She read Gone with the Wind in two days at the age of nine. As an English major in college she was in her element being exposed to the great works of fiction.

  Janelle loves the encouragements found in the Bible, the education found in historical biographies, and the entertainment found in the compelling characters of the great British classics. She has chosen to combine her love of all three in her hope to create a novel that not only encourages and educates but also entertains.

  Understanding Mercy

  Mercy walked to an open window and closed her eyes...

  breathing in deeply of the honeysuckle scented air. She sensed someone standing beside her and instinctively knew who it was. When she lifted her gaze to his, she again felt her heart racing in his presence as it always did—like a timid little rabbit in the presence of a dangerous wolf. The other women in the room might think Addison Berkeley an exotic jungle cat, but she knew he was just a common wolf. His deep voice held amusement as he leaned in and murmured, “The open window seemed a good idea, so I decided to copy you. I can hardly breathe.” She nodded and tried to think of what to say when he added, “The honeysuckle smells wonderful. Of all the floral scents I think I like honeysuckle the best. Well, maybe after roses.”

  “Roses and honeysuckle are my favorite scents too.” He gazed at her with his penetrating blue eyes and she mumbled nervously, “Anyone who likes roses and honeysuckle is all right in my book.” She gave him an appreciative, but shaky smile.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You have a book? Where can I get a copy? I think I would like to read it. I’m sure it’s fascinating.” He teased, “I have to admit I thought you didn’t like me, and I wracked my brain thinking of how I could redeem myself, and now I find all I had to do was like the scent of two particular flowers.” He reached out the window and snapped off a sprig of honeysuckle and handed it to her with a slight smile. “I’m glad that in this book of yours I’m all right.”

  She stammered while trying to avoid his gaze. “I…um…thank you.” Being around him made her head feel fuzzy. Why did this dangerous wolf always have to be so kind? It confused her. People were much easier when you could compartmentalize them into good and bad. But which was he? She’d made up her mind. He was bad, but maybe, just maybe, she was wrong.

  Understanding Mercy

  Chapter Three

  The sun rose with splendor and bathed the city of Boston in a warm, golden light. White, puffy clouds remained immobile in the clear and serene sky. The sails on the ships in the harbor hung limply from lack of the slightest breeze, and the unruffled waters remained as still as a mirror. Addison’s morning at the docks had been pleasant, but as the day wore on, the heat became almost unbearable.

  He looked down at his pocket watch with both hands pointing straight up, glanced at the noonday sun above him and groaned. Boston’s infamous Augu
st humidity hung in the air like a heavy cloak. He wiped perspiration from his brow as he walked toward the tailor’s shop for the final fitting of his ludicrous costume for this ridiculous ball.

  The silly French tailor had insisted he wear a pale pink embroidered silk jacket, but Addison had adamantly refused.

  What man wore pink?

  Addison compromised that the material could be shiny silk and embroidered but had insisted the color be black. The tailor had groaned and refused to make something so out of fashion. He’d compromised again with cream but absolutely no pink.

  As he walked into the shop, the tailor’s pretty little black-haired daughter sashayed over to him. “Oh, Monsieur Berkeley, I’ve looked forward to seeing how handsome you’ll look in your new suit.”

  “Well, it appears you won’t have to wait much longer. Where is it? I would like to try it on and get this over with.” He didn’t want to sound rude, but he had appointments all afternoon and didn’t care to encourage the attentions of this flirtatious girl.

  He was no longer on a ship willing to oblige the anonymous females looking for adventure on the high seas. Now he wanted to be a respectable business man. He now lived in this city of eighteen thousand people and didn’t want to be running into past conquests on a daily basis.

  The little, bony man appeared from a back room holding up the elaborate suit with pride. “ Très magnifique . You’ll look astonishing. A powerful man such as you should wear a suit fit for a prince—”

  He lifted a hand to stop the man. “There’s no need to flatter me. I already paid for the suit. Let me try it on, and then I can get out of your way.”

  Several minutes later, he stood gazing at himself in the mirror. The elegant coat clung to his body with the back of it hanging to his knees. The open front of the coat exposed the tight breeches, making him terribly uncomfortable. With all the shiny cream fabric elaborately decorated with silver thread, he looked as if he belonged in the court of the French King Louis the XVI. It was just too much, but he didn’t have time for a new suit to be made.

  The tailor’s daughter wandered into his dressing room, and her dark eyes roamed his body. “It fits like a glove,” the young girl purred as she stepped closer and gazed at him adoringly.

  “A tight glove,” he mumbled with dismay. Every part of his body seemed to be bursting at the seams.

  “Yes, a tight glove that showcases the glory of the man underneath. All your years as a pirate made you strong,” she gushed, as she ran her hand provocatively across his chest.

  Stepping away, he declared, “I was never a pirate. Where did you hear such a thing?”

  “Everyone knows,” she replied looking hurt.

  He softened his tone as he corrected her. “Well, everyone is wrong.” It frustrated him that the unscrupulous could spread lies, and the gullible believed them as if they were fact.

  He wanted to leave, but he needed to give credit where it was due. The suit was not his taste, but he had to admit that the workmanship was impressive. He stepped into the next room and found the tailor. “You truly are a talented man. Thank you for the suit. I’ll change now and be on my way.”

  The man glowed with pride. “Come again when we can be of service to you.”

  “I will.” Several minutes later, he left the shop with the huge box holding his carefully folded suit. His stomach tightened at the thought of attending this ball of Hancock’s. If he didn’t like the man so much, he would never go. He’d stared down the cannons of enemy ships and didn’t feel as much fear and apprehension as the thought of putting on this suit and pretending to fit in with people who didn’t want him in their midst.

  As he kicked at a pebble in the pathway, he wished it wasn’t so blasted hot and sticky. He’d forgotten how miserable Boston summers were. Suddenly, a shop door swung open, and he stopped abruptly to keep from plowing over two females who walked into his path.

  “My word,” Mercy declared with a smile, “It appears both of us are reckless walkers and narrowly escaped a dangerous collision.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Creed. All of my focus was on a pebble. I must admit it’s a nice surprise however to look up from a little rock and see your pretty face instead.”

  That same delightful pink color stained her cheeks, and she glanced at her mother who he’d forgotten stood next to her. Embarrassed, he bowed and said, “We haven’t met, Mrs. Creed. I’m Addison Berkeley.”

  She seemed speechless for several moments but finally managed, “Yes, Mr. Berkeley. From your description, I knew this must be you. But I have to admit, I wasn’t aware you had met my daughter.”

  “Is that so?” He glanced at Mercy with a teasing smile. “Were you keeping me a secret, Miss Creed?”

  A look of panic and guilt flashed in her eyes which confused him. He’d only been teasing.

  Looking horribly flustered, she said, “I only met Mr. Berkeley once, and I forgot to mention it to you.”

  So apparently he hadn’t made the same impression on her that she’d made on him.

  She pointed to his box and asked, “I see you have been out shopping. Did you get a new suit?”

  “Yes, I did. I needed one for the Governor’s Ball tomorrow night. But I must admit, I think I look ridiculous in it. Too much fancy silk and embroidery for a simple man like me.”

  “We are going to the Governor’s Ball as well.”

  “I thought you might. I hoped I’d see you there.” He watched her cheeks turn pink again. It tickled him. “I’d ask you for a dance, but I don’t know how to dance. So to save your toes, I’ll spare you.”

  Mercy looked at him as if he’d just sprouted horns. “You don’t know how to dance?”

  “No,” he answered with a casual shrug. “I never took the time to learn. Maybe someday I will.”

  “Dancing is fun. You should learn.”

  Her little face looked so earnest that he couldn’t hide his smile. “I’ll keep that in mind. And if I learn, will you promise me a dance someday?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Then it’s settled. I will learn.” He glanced at her mother who stared at him questioningly. He knew he needed to stop flirting with Mercy, so he looked at the little package in her hand and asked, “I can see you are out shopping today as well.”

  “Yes, we just picked up some trimmings to sew onto one of my gowns.”

  He wondered why she only bought trimmings instead of a new gown. He was certain every female attending the Governor’s Ball would want to be arrayed in the latest fashion. Her father must still be in a financial slump. He wished he could buy Mercy a new dress. A dress fit for a princess. But it didn’t matter what she wore. She could dress in a burlap sack and still be the prettiest girl around.

  With enthusiasm, she pulled out some lace and silk flowers. Holding them up proudly, she said, “See. Aren’t these pretty?”

  With amusement, he glanced down at the bobbles and bows in her hand. “Yes, they are pretty, and they will be prettier still on you.” With a gentlemanly bow, he tipped his hat and said gallantly, “Good day, ladies. Until tomorrow night.”

  He quickly walked away and resisted the urge to turn and look at her again. Part of him had hoped Mercy would be at the ball but part of him hoped she wouldn’t. Being around her was like putting a mouthwatering meal in front of a starving man and saying, “Don’t touch.”

  But the thought of not being around her made life seem dull and tedious. Mercy was sweetness personified, but he had to remind himself that she was a sweetness a man like him didn’t deserve.

  He glanced at his roughened hands, thinking of all they’d experienced in this difficult world. Mercy was too pure for a man like him—too young, innocent and untouched. He needed to stay rooted to the ground. Not thinking of reaching to the stars.

  ****

  Mrs. Creed stared at Mercy with a shocked expression which melted into a sly smile. “I heard Addison Berkeley was handsome and charming, but gracious, I had no idea.” She fanned her
self. “Why did you never tell me that you met him?”

  “It slipped my mind.”

  “How could a man like that slip your mind?”

  “Really mother. He has enough women panting after him. He doesn’t need you added to the list.”

  She laughed, embarrassed. “I wasn’t panting, just admiring.” Tapping Mercy’s arm with her fan, she asked, “Did you notice the way he looks at you? I think he might be smitten with you, Mercy.”

  “Don’t be silly. And anyway, I’m not smitten with him. He’s a cold-hearted man and a rake.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I know he is cold-hearted because he doesn’t care that he’s ruining Daddy’s business, and everyone knows he’s a rake.”

  “What makes you think he’s ruining your father’s business?”