The Riches of Mercy (12 page)

Merritt scrambled in with the paper, which he dumped on Natalie's lap. "I want cereal," he said.

"Me too," Natalie said.

"Oh," Beau said. He got out two more bowls and two more spoons. Natalie took it upon herself to open the Corn Flakes box. Meredith had picked up a boggling assortment of bulk cereals at the Wal-Mart.

"I want Froot Loops," Merritt said.

Beau and Natalie turned on him, growling.

"Or Corn Flakes," he said.

#

Meredith studied herself in the bathroom mirror. Her face was pale and splotchy. She prodded her puffy skin. Noises came from downstairs--the occasional giggle, rustling around, but the happy family below couldn't block out the memory. The blood. Vincent's anger. Heat rising inside her to match it.

The memory was so incongruous with what awaited her downstairs she didn't know which one was real. Death was forever. The rest was transitory. She didn't know how she could face her children.

But Natalie was downstairs. She wanted to see Natalie. Every time she did, she felt lighter. Almost happy. Just from being in the same room.

To be in the same room, she'd have to go downstairs, and face her children, too.

Her eyes stung with fresh tears. She tightened her bathrobe and went downstairs. They were piled onto the couch, reading the comics page. Dirty bowls were stacked in the sink. A cereal box was open and out on the counter, along with eggs and hot sauce.

"We made breakfast!" Merritt said when he saw her.

"I made breakfast. You ate it," Beau said.

"I helped."

"Did not."

"Did too. I brought the paper." Merritt said.

"Boys. Merritt did bring the paper. Beau got the bowls," Natalie said.

Beau and Merritt both looked smug.

Meredith put the eggs and the hot sauce away and poured herself a bowl of cereal.

"Natty's reading us
Garfield
," Beau said.

Natalie cringed.

"Is it funny?" Meredith asked.

"There's lasagna," Merritt said. He began laughing so hard he rolled off the couch and onto the floor. He writhed until Beau kicked him.

"Ow," he said.

Beau laughed.

Hollingsworth shot across the living room, headed toward the French doors.

Beau took off in pursuit.

"Kitty!" Merritt said, joining the chase.

"Cats are evil after all," Meredith said.

Natalie gave her a lazy grin and then flipped the page to
Dear Abby
.

"Sleep well?" Meredith asked, bringing her cereal into the living room.

"Yes, actually. You?"

Meredith shrugged.

"It's Sunday," Natalie said. "Do you go to church?"

Meredith shook her head. "Not anymore."

Natalie nodded. She read the paper.

"Oh, no. Did you want to go? There's a Catholic Church right here in Tarpley. Or, if you're Orthodox or something, I don't know if you are. I think the church is all the way down in Wilmington. We should have left hours ago--"

"And yesterday. Orthodox, and I haven't been to church since I was confirmed."

"It's just--most guests want to go and be a part of their spiritual community, you know? It's like being homesick. Makes people feel grounded."

"I don't know what would make me feel grounded. Why don't you go to church?"

Meredith fiddled with her spoon.

"Sorry, it's none of my business. Forget I--"

Merritt and Beau came back, holding Hollingsworth between them. "We watch church on TV," Beau said.

"We do. We're starting a little late. That's all right." She turned on the TV.

Natalie put down her paper.

"You don't have to--" Meredith started.

Natalie waved her off. "Have to set a good example for the children."

"By watching television on a Sunday morning," Meredith said.

Natalie grinned.

#

"Ready for bed?" Meredith asked, coming into Natalie's sunroom.

Natalie sat on the bed.

"It's only eight."

"It's Sunday night. The boys are tucked in. Something else in mind?" Meredith asked.

"I'm just thinking about my week. Therapy. The hospital. It seems overwhelming, even though I'm not actually doing anything. I would give anything for a shower."

"Anything?"

Natalie closed her eyes. "I can't take a shower."

"It would be difficult."

"Yeah."

"But not impossible."

Natalie opened her eyes and met Meredith's.

"Can't get your leg wet," Meredith said. "The cast."

Natalie nodded.

"We'll use plastic."

"What about--"

But Meredith was out the door before Natalie finished. She heard the water come on in the bathroom with the tiny bathtub across the hall. If she'd needed to use the stairs, her shower would have become impossible. She didn't know what to do. Undress, perhaps. Or start hobbling. Or go get the plastic.

"Don't move," Meredith said from down the hall.

Natalie sighed and gazed at the ceiling.

Meredith came back with a kitchen trash bag, which she split into sheets, and then, with duct tape in her hand, considered Natalie.

Natalie raised her eyebrows.

"Do you mind? Me, uh, seeing you."

"You have before, I guess."

Meredith nodded, not quite looking at her.

Natalie could undress herself. She’d gotten almost okay at it since coming from the hospital. Meredith unbuttoning her shirt made her feel like a child. She swatted. Meredith hesitated.

"Why don't you get things ready in there," Natalie said. Maybe this was a bad idea. "I'll call you."

Meredith nodded and slipped out of the room.

Natalie exhaled and finished unbuttoning her shirt, leaving it and her bra on the bed. She stood, leaning heavily on the wheelchair's arm, and managed to get her pants to drop. Taking off her underwear required sitting back down, butt to leather seatrest, and slowly, inch-by-inch, pushing and leaning. She considered kicking them under the bed, but instead managed, with her good leg, to get them into the hamper.

Her robe was at the end of the bed. She debated attempting to put it on, but decided the struggle wasn't worth it. The boys were asleep, anyway. She covered her lap with her hands, leaving her arms strategically stretched over her breasts.

"I'm ready," she said.

Meredith opened the door. The water was running. Meredith chuckled at her pose. She took up the plastic and wrapped Natalie's leg, and examined at the bandage on her side.

"What do you think?"

"It'd probably be good to wash your side. As gently as you can, then I'll rebandage it."

"I didn't contemplate how much this was all going to hurt."

Meredith went to the bedside table and tapped two pills out of her bottle.

"I never take that much anymore."

"And you never take a shower anymore, either," Meredith said, wrinkling her nose.

"I'm pretty good at the self-sponge baths."

Meredith grinned and handed the pills and water to Natalie.

"All right, all right." Natalie took them and let herself be wheeled into the bathroom. The humidity greeted her and she nearly purred. The vinyl shower curtain was pushed aside, and inside a folding chair sat.

"Your chair's getting all wet."

"You wanna stand in there?"

“Well, no."

Meredith stroked her hair, and then unbandaged her side, examining the stitches. "Time to get up. I'll close my eyes if you want."

"Then we'll both fall over and crack our heads."

Meredith winced.

Natalie latched onto Meredith's arm and pulled herself up, grateful when Meredith hugged her waist and helped lift her. She stepped safely into the tub and sat down on the chair. Meredith handed her a loofah.

"Soap?"

Meredith handed her soap.

"Take your time. When the hot water runs out, call. I'll clean the kitchen."

"You're not going to help?"

Meredith closed the curtain. "I'm going to leave you alone."

Natalie closed her eyes and bowed her head. The spray hit her hair and ran in rivulets down her back and sides. The water hitting plastic made an obnoxious crinkling sound. She felt better immediately, despite the pain, despite being in a strange house, with a family. She'd never known a family. Growing up she'd only had her mother, nervous and foreign and ultimately defeated by cancer, sick where Meredith was healthy, scared where Meredith was smart. The boys—Natalie did love them already—made her feel like she fit in.

It scared her. This outpouring of domestication, of waking up and experiencing Meredith. She wanted to stay, and learn more about Meredith, the better to laugh with her, to play, to raise the children. She'd never before been so drawn.

Her life was reduced to sitting naked in someone else's shower. Nothing was hers anymore.

Meredith never would be.

She was just being nice. She was nice to everyone. Natalie certainly wasn't anything besides bedraggled, taking advantage of some gentle Southern woman's hospitality. Just a thing, not a person. Nothing Meredith could really love.

The feeling was supposed to go away. Meredith assured her. Patients got better. Patients grew less attached. The feeling she'd first felt in Meredith's presence, pulling, hadn't faded. Each smile Meredith granted her, each touch, made it stronger instead.

Natalie bowed her head and cried.

She could cry without pain now, and the tears came quickly, and then the heaving sobs, as she tried to contain herself, tried to reach for the soap. She shook until her side began to hurt in earnest, until the loneliness hollowed her out. She was sitting in a folding chair in a shower. Absurd. She steadied, and managed to soap herself, and let the spray fall on her chest, on her legs. With cleanliness came a sense of newness, and peace.

She filled her hand with shampoo, and then reached up. Pain jolted her arm. She lowered it again. She'd never have full motion of the arm, they'd told her. Trying to wash her hair with one hand sent fresh tears to her eyes.

"Merry?" she called. Then coughed, and said louder, "Merry?"

Footsteps, and then Meredith cracked open the door. "Nat?"

"Can you come in?"

Meredith slipped in, shutting the door behind her.

Natalie gave her a wobbly smile, tears now dripping down her cheeks at the sight of Meredith, whole and beautiful and standing so close.

"Can you wash my hair?"

“Sure. Just let me…" She glanced around, and then before Natalie could protest, pulled off her shirt and draped it over the sink, leaving herself in a bra and jeans. She pulled the shower curtain to the side.

"Thank you." Natalie closed her eyes. Then the tears might stop.

"I figured you'd want your hair washed. Water's still warm, even."

Natalie would have preferred nettles stinging her skin. When Meredith touched her scalp, Natalie began to sob. She endured Meredith's hands in her hair, and the smell of conditioner, and the massaging motions should have soothed her, but made her feel wild and exposed.

"Why are you crying?" Meredith asked, her voice quiet, barely audible under the spray.

"I like it here."

Meredith traced her neck. "Don't you miss your home?"

"No."

Meredith didn't say anything, just slipped down to hug her. The water turned cool. Natalie patted Meredith's hands.

"It's okay. We like you here."

Natalie felt Meredith tremble against her. She planned to cry again, becoming a habit, but a laugh came out instead.

"Nat?"

"I think I'm out of tears."

"And out of hot water." Meredith turned off the water and pulled away to get a towel.

"Taking a shower was a bad idea."

"You think?"

Natalie felt cool but limber, no longer in much pain, drained but brave enough to attempt getting back into her wheelchair, naked. To stand, even. She met Meredith's gaze, finding it tremulous. She reached and Meredith took her arm, helping her up. Then she was eye-to-eye with Meredith.

"I think it was a good idea," Meredith said.

"Maybe. But I don't want to do it again for a while."

Meredith gave her a smile. "Maybe not. Maybe just some sleep."

# #

Chapter Fifteen

Harold came to take Natalie back to the hospital, where there was a therapy room and a gym. Merritt and Beau watched in awe from the safety of the front porch.

"How's living with that woman?" Harold asked her.

'Just wonderful' was on the tip of Natalie's tongue, but something in his tone made her hesitate. She said, instead, in measured, lawyerly tones, "Fine. I'm lucky to have nursing care."

Nursing care consisted of fresh flowers in her room and breakfast in bed in exchange for dinner and babysitting. Natalie wasn't even sure it was a fair trade, much less worth what her insurance was paying Meredith. Not that she'd tell the driver. Or the insurance company. She was happy about the arrangements.

"Sure. Just like living with Kathy Bates," Harold said.

Natalie rubbed her nose. She didn't see the resemblance.

Harold didn't elucidate.

Natalie focused on the scenery outside her window. She was sorry when the van pulled up to the hospital entrance. Numbly, she let herself be lowered and then pushed inside.

Jake came out to greet her. He kissed her cheeks and said, "Mon cherie! You have color! You have tone!"

Natalie blushed.

He pushed her wheelchair and leaned over to smell her hair. "Your hair is so clean and shiny. Are they feeding you new oats?"

"Corn Flakes."

"Oh, honey. At least in the hospital we cook for you."

"You came to this job for the food, didn't you? This physical therapy thing is merely incidental."

"Merely incidental." He giggled. "You're such a lawyer."

Natalie lifted her chin.

"I'll put you in your place. Today you're going to walk. Not step from the chair to the bed. Not stand up. Walk."

"What? No. I'm not ready to walk."

He parked her wheelchair next to the parallel bars, and produced crutches. He sprawled on them, swinging one foot forward.

"Jake, I'm still in pain every day. I can't--"