The Riches of Mercy (17 page)

"I'm an idiot," she told Harold.

"At least you're a healthy idiot," he said, as he pulled the van into Meredith's driveway. "God bless."

He got out and opened the sliding door and helped her down carefully. She patted his hand when she steadied. "You, too."

#

Natalie called the neighbor and said the boys could come home. Apparently they were swimming in one of those big plastic pools in the backyard, so it would be a while. She planned dinner. She tidied. She convinced herself Meredith's personal life was none of her business. She was just a patient, after all. One who would be going home in a few days. She didn't want to be impolite to someone who'd been kind to her.

She passed the staircase leading to Meredith's room. The stairs were insurmountable. She took her laptop to the front porch, where she could watch the boys come home, and Meredith, and took Patrick's advice. She Googled herself.

"Prosecutor Cleared in Probe" was the headline in the local section of
The Charlotte Observer
. There was a picture of her. She wore a cocktail gown and her dark hair was swept up on top of her head. She'd paid a hundred bucks to her hairdresser an hour before the picture was taken. She wore diamond earrings and she didn't, thankfully, appear drunk.

In the picture she wasn't smiling.

She glanced down the street. No diamond earrings here. No BMW. No mansions housing state attorneys. Maybe before she left--

"Natty!" Beau's voice, as he rounded the corner. His shirt was off, but his shorts were dry. He carried a toweled bundle. He ran straight toward her. She closed the laptop.

Merritt followed with the neighbor, holding tightly onto her hand. He grinned shyly when he saw Natalie, and then narrowed his eyes when Beau climbed into her lap. Natalie reached out her hand to Merritt, around a squirming Beau. He took it.

She locked eyes with the neighbor, Mrs. Cranston. "Thank you for watching them."

"They going to be all right with you?" Mrs. Cranston regarded her suspiciously.

"Sure. I'm used to watching them now."

"You don't have your wheelchair."

"Don't need it as much anymore," Natalie said.

Mrs. Cranston's face softened. "Glad to hear it."

"Me, too. Oh, me, too." She squeezed Merritt's hand. "Merr, go set the table."

Merritt slipped in the door.

Beau climbed off. "What about me?"

"You've got some wet things to hang up in the bathroom. Over the tub. Okay?"

"I don't know how," he said.

"Well, give it a shot, and I'll come help you in a bit."

He frowned, but padded off in bare feet.

"Wipe your feet on the mat."

"Then Merry has to, too," Beau said.

"I'll tell him. You get into the bathroom." Natalie turned up at Mrs. Cranston. "A fight waiting to happen."

"They've been pretty good all day. They know something's up this week."

"And you--" Natalie paused, regarding her. "Know?"

"Whole town does. Some're even going to the hearing." The woman helped herself to the rocker opposite Natalie. Natalie turned to face her, pasting on her best, non-offensive, 'confess everything to the nice prosecutor' face.

"We got one of the most mixed places in 'Carolina, you know. Blacks, whites, Latinos, Laotians, Indians--both kinds. And we're all united around one thing."

"Then why do you take care of the kids?"

"Them boys ain't never harmed anyone," she said.

Natalie nodded.

"And Merry ain't harmed anyone before or since. She's a nurse, you know. Do no harm. I figure it was a crime of passion. Won't happen again. Unless she gets herself another man." The woman made a face.

"Until then?" Natalie asked.

"She'll get hers before God and man. But the boys deserve a normal life. I don't know what they'll do when they take her away."

Natalie's stomach twisted. She felt faint and hot. She kept her expression neutral. Friendly.

"And you?"

"I'm going home next week," Natalie said, and then clarified, "to Charlotte."

"Been nice having you around. For the boys. They were getting kind of isolated."

"Wonder why," Natalie said.

Mrs. Cranston's expression hardened.

Meredith's van pulled into the driveway. Mrs. Cranston got up. "See you later, you hear?"

"I hear."

Mrs. Cranston stepped lightly off the porch and was around the corner before Meredith got out of her car. She locked the door. Natalie stood up. Her leg ached. She cursed it, inwardly, and waited, a smile still plastered on her face. She'd faced bad news before.

And bad people.

Meredith came apprehensively onto the porch. "Wheeler called me."

"Yeah."

"I--" Meredith met her eyes briefly, and then turned away. "You--"

"I'll start dinner," Natalie said.

"Okay." Meredith went through the front door.

Natalie lingered on the porch and then gathered up her laptop and hobbled inside, one step at a time. She wanted to scream at Meredith, to ask how could she have done it, how could anyone so good have done something so awful.

She wanted to demand to know if it was really true. She wanted to know every detail. She wanted to figure out a solution. She wanted to see the guilt on Meredith's face.

She wanted to run away so much her feet itched.

She went through the front door. Nausea overcame her as she passed the threshold. She swayed into the side bedroom and put her laptop on the bed and sat, breathing in and out, until the energy normalized and her head felt clear.

Merritt peeked around the corner. "I'm hungry."

"Okay," Natalie said.

"Mommy's upstairs."

"I know."

"She's crying," Merritt said. He looked worried.

Natalie pulled herself up off the couch and leaned heavily on her walker. "You know what will make her feel better? Dinner."

"What are you making?" He watched her carefully, like a guard dog, as she made her way out into the hallway.

"Pancakes."

"For dinner?"

"It'll be a surprise."

He cackled.

She was probably not a good influence on the kids.

In the kitchen she found the pan and put it on the stove, heat on low. "Where's the Bisquick?" she asked.

Merritt opened the pantry and pointed upward. She grabbed the box.

"And where's your brother?"

Merritt shrugged.

"Beau!" she shouted.

Beau popped his head up from the arm of the couch. He slid off and came into the kitchen, holding Hollingsworth in his arms. Hollingsworth's feet dangled down to the floor

"Bravo. Could you get the milk?"

Beau dropped the cat. Hollingsworth and Natalie winced. Hollingsworth darted into the hall, toward Natalie's room. Beau got the milk from the refrigerator.

Natalie winked at Merritt.

He scratched himself and frowned at her.

Beau carried the milk over to the table.

"What do you like in your pancakes?" Natalie asked. She got a bowl from the cupboard for the batter and began mixing.

"Syrup!" Beau said.

Merritt made a face. "You're gross."

"You are," Beau said.

"What do you like, Merry?" Natalie asked. She was getting a headache. She sprayed oil in the pan--Meredith had the canola-in-aerosol that was fun to use, but clearly didn't come from Whole Foods. Of course, neither did the Bisquick. She grinned.

Merritt said, "I want mouse pancakes."

"What?"

"Shaped like a Mickey Mouse face," Meredith said. She'd come to the doorway of the kitchen, wearing a bathrobe and smiling wanly at them. Her face was pink and scrubbed but the skin under her eyes was puffy. Natalie's heart ached.

"Mice all around," Natalie said.

"I want syrup." Beau said.

"The boy wants syrup," Natalie said.

Meredith slid past her to the pan. "You know, we have a griddle. But this'll be fine."

"Next time," Natalie said.

Meredith glanced up and met her eyes.

Beau jostled her. "Can we really have pancakes for dinner, Mommy?"

"Yes," Meredith said.

"Every night?"

"Maybe. We'll see if we feel like pancakes tomorrow night."

"Pizza?" Beau asked.

"I like pancakes better than pizza," Natalie said.

"Oh, me too," Beau said.

Merritt climbed onto his seat and leaned on the kitchen island.

Natalie poured the first batter into the pan.

"Can I help?" Meredith asked.

"No. Shush," Natalie said.

Meredith grinned and settled down next to Merritt, wrapping her arm around his waist.

Beau disappeared.

Keeping busy kept Natalie pretending everything was happy. Everything was fine. Still, she turned around and caught Meredith's eye. "Do you have any wine?"

"Mommy doesn't drink," Merritt said.

"No, but our guest might, and we should respect her," Meredith said.

Merritt looked down.

Meredith kissed the top of his head. "You know where the wine is. Why don't you go get it?"

"Okay." Merritt slid off the seat and went to a bottom cupboard.

Meredith got two wine glasses. She glanced questioningly at Natalie.

Natalie mouthed, "I'd like to talk." She'd almost said "know."

Meredith nodded at her, almost imperceptibly.

Natalie put the first pancakes onto a plate. Meredith poured the wine. The kids squirmed around them like eager, honking seals, reaching for the food before it was cool enough to handle. Beau attacked with the syrup, making a mess. Natalie took an offered wine glass gratefully and drank, the cool liquid tasting shockingly exotic and sinful after a month without alcohol.

Her stomach warmed. Her skin flushed. She set the glass down and poured the next few pancakes. Her back turned, liquor in her, she could safely let her eyes water with how much she loved this family, and how fake and fragile and hopeless the idyllic setting really was. She should have stayed in Charlotte. Being happy was worse than anything she'd experienced before.

She took the spatula, and with blurry eyes, dug at the patties.

"Hurry up," Beau said. His words were garbled. His mouth was probably full of dough, and maple syrup probably stained his face.

She'd be glad to leave, she told herself. Her apathy was helped by the wine and the smell of food and the ability to stand up without crying out in pain. She could turn inward now, and it wouldn't matter what Meredith said to her tonight.

# #

Chapter Twenty

They'd let the boys stay up and watch
The Lion King
. The boys fell asleep on the couch with the movie still flickering in front of them.

Meredith did the dishes. Natalie worked her way from the couch to sit at the kitchen table. She poured a second glass of wine. Meredith settled into the stool opposite hers. She looked tired and for the first time Natalie noticed lines around her eyes and the blotchy, imperfect texture of her skin.

"It's none of my business," Natalie said. She took a sip of wine and found it hard to look at Meredith. But Meredith watched her.

"It's okay. I guess I misrepresented myself. It was just--you were the first friend I had since it all happened. And the first one who didn't know. So I guess I didn't want you to know." Meredith inhaled.

Natalie studied her glass.

"He drank a lot, after he came back. That's why the boys were worried. Soon they won't remember their daddy's bad habits. When they're older, they won't really remember him at all." Meredith's eyes filled with tears.

Natalie wanted to reach out to her, but she didn't know what she should say. She swallowed hard, and kept listening.

"We didn't even keep alcohol in the house before the war. Baptists, you know. And such a church wedding. Punch and pretzels." She chuckled. "It was great."

"But after?" It pained her to hear about Meredith's happy times with Vincent. Maybe that idyllic time was just as fake as dinner had been.

"He'd been sending me letters. He'd met someone--he wanted me to meet them. And the boys, too. He sounded so happy. For the first time in his life--you don't know, but it was hard. I mean, he had Jake, but around here, it wasn't always easy to make friends. Real friends. Not just the people you grew up with. The people you'd resented your whole life. He said the military was different. For the first time, he could see what the world was like, and it wasn't like it was back here."

Meredith smiled sadly at Natalie and took another sip of wine. "He wanted to take us there. Be a part of that life. But his friend was shot. Friendly fire. And Vince felt, I guess, like that was his last chance. He just gave up. Didn't think he could do it again. Handle all the pain. That and the war and being away from the boys, it all messed with his head so bad. And the drinking helped, but it made him weak. He tried to hurt himself so he could come home. Home to this place he hated.

"And once he was home, he kept trying and trying. It just got worse."

Natalie put her hand on Meredith's arm. Meredith cried, turning away from her. Her voice was shaky, and there was hesitation between her words.

"What happened?" Natalie asked.

"We were arguing--shouting. We did that a lot. It scared Beau and Merritt. And the neighbors. Heck, they called the cops on us a couple of times. It wasn't any different that night. But the way Vince was talking--I was afraid he'd hurt the boys. He wanted to go away--He wanted to go back--but it was gone. It was all gone." Meredith patted Natalie's hand with her free one, and then wiped at her cheeks.

Natalie nodded. A lump rose in her throat.

"He hit me and it wasn't--It wasn't the first time. I didn't hate him. He was in agony, and he trusted me--me and no one else, anymore. But--it hurt."

Natalie imagined the bruises on Meredith's cheeks--now faded, but shadowed there, in her past.

"Lots of men do it to control. You know, they get so frustrated their world isn't in the order they'd like it to be--we see it at the hospital all the time. And it was the same with Vince, in a way, but he just wanted it to stop. He wanted it all to stop. I think he hated me for being alive when his true love wasn't. And I was in Hell. I shouldn't have loved him so much, but I did."