by Day, P. J.
My dear Mercy,
Never will I stop loving you. I know, even in my ruthless heart, we are meant to be inseparable. I told you, my darling, that I want to be a better man, a truly noble man. But first I must find that man and I must release him from his commitments, his shackles.
This is a time for you to be a good mother and raise your daughter with joy. Perhaps I can be a part of that. But at this moment in time, it would not be wise, for your sake and your daughter’s sake.
So, I must leave for a period of time. I truly hope that the time will be short, and that I can return as someone you would be proud to call your own. I cannot say how long this will take, but know that you will always be in my heart, as I hope I will be in yours.
With everlasting love,
Ariel Caliban
Mercy couldn’t believe the words that stared back at her. She read it, then re-read it. She looked around, gathering the bed sheets around her. She could feel it; he was gone.
“He told me to sleep, and wake up happy,” she said to no one. “Well, that didn’t last long.”
Mercy laid back down, understanding but not fully. Ariel had left, and with an apparent soul-searching purpose. And she knew that he’d put her to sleep. But he’d left her no way to contact him, and that was harsh.
She would stay until just before dawn, she decided. Stay in this bed for as long as she could, until his smell was completely gone, and then she would go pick up Terra. She had her precious Terra, no matter what.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Terra, honey, it’s starting to rain. Would you please close up the windows for me?”
“But Mom, this is my TV time,” Terra whined. She was tired, Mercy could tell.
“Just pause your show, it will only take a minute.”
“Alright,” Terra answered.
Mercy was at her computer, working on a case as usual. She was doing some research for her latest client, whom Joe Patterson had referred to her.
It had been six months since Ariel left, and she tried not to let herself think of him. At times it was as though he’d never really left, but Mercy did her best to carry on as if they had never met. Impossible, but it was Mercy’s grandest attempt at role play so far—besides trying to hide the fact that she was a witch, of course.
She’d made up with Joe, making him understand that she really didn’t have any information for him, since Ariel Caliban vanished without leaving so much as a piece of lint behind. The mansion must have been under another name too. She’d driven by a couple of times the first few weeks after he’d left, and while the grounds were still perfectly manicured, the place appeared empty.
Mercy had also made a commitment to practice her magic under the direction of her Aunt Itzy. She’d made it a part of her daily routine, and felt her intuition and power grow exponentially under Itzy’s tutelage. This pleased her, and she mostly practiced what she preached to her daughter in regards to not tampering with others’ lives. She did, however, use her intuition with cases that had been brought forth since Ariel’s disappearance, and this had brought her great success and notoriety in the last few months. Mercy had become the go-to P.I. in Orange County. But she still found the time to help those without a voice or other means of help.
It was a Thursday night; Mercy was immersed in her research. She glanced at the clock...9:30. It had been raining for about an hour, and it was way past Terra’s bedtime.
She crossed over to their couch, where Terra lay fast asleep. Terra was in first grade now, and doing well. She loved to watch her daughter sleep, Mercy never got tired of it. Eyes closed on an angelic face. Such peace. Mercy laid a hand on Terra’s cheek. Finally, she picked her daughter up, and felt the months of sudden growth weigh on her own slender arms. She laid Terra in her bed, took off her shoes and pants, but the shirt with her favorite cartoon character would stay on.
Just as Mercy came back to her computer, her cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
It was Joe.
“Hope I’m not calling too late,” he said cheerfully.
“No, no, I’m just doing some research. I’ve got some information for you. I’ll e-mail it in a few.”
“Great. Now, how about dinner and a movie? Or a movie and then dinner? That way, we’ll have something to talk about.”
Mercy giggled a little, but didn’t know what to say. The pause led to an awkward silence. “Joe...”
“Alright, I know, I know.” He sounded dejected. “You know, Mercy, one day I’m going to stop asking.”
“I’m sorry,” Mercy said. “It’s just, Terra, and work, and...”
“I’ve heard it all before, Mercy. A hundred times. Listen, just send me what you’ve got. Be in touch tomorrow, alright?”
“Alright, Joe. Goodnight.”
Mercy emailed Joe the required documents and shut down her computer. She poured herself a glass of wine and sat on the couch, changing the channel from SpongeBob Square Pants to her daily recording of Ámamame, Maldito.
Six months. No word. How long would it take Ariel to find himself? Mercy had no clue. He’d said he was much older than her. What did that mean? Was he decades older, or centuries? In the world of magic, witchcraft, and spells, anything was possible. Perhaps his perception of time was different than hers.
Joe Patterson had asked her time and again. Mercy felt bad, but not for Joe, though. After all, he was handsome, nice, and clearly had his act together. No, Mercy felt bad for herself. He’d told her he would always be the perfect gentleman. And Mercy had been alone for a long time.
She wouldn’t fall in love with Joe. Her heart was already taken. So she hoped Ariel would understand, if he ever saw her again, the harmlessness of such an innocent dinner. She paused the telenovela and picked up her cell. Mercy thought twice. Better let Joe take the lead, she thought to herself, as he had always intended. Her eyes slowly closed in repose and with a little magic—Mercy’s Magic—Joe Patterson picked up his phone and called again.
“Did I forget to send you something?” Mercy asked, a sly grin on her face.
“Uh…no, hey,” he stuttered.
“Yeah?”
“I gotta ask one last time. I couldn’t help it. I had this sudden, bizarre urge to call you again—how about dinner, Friday night? Pick you up at seven?”
Before giving Joe his much anticipated answer, Mercy stared at the paused scene of Carmen crying on Margarita’s shoulder upon hearing the news of their granddaughter’s successful birth—a pleasant moment of temporary redemption.
Mercy smiled and said, “Seven…that sounds good, Joe. Seven it is.”
THE END
To Be Continued In…
California Witch (Mercedes Cruz #2)
Coming soon...
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