Finding Mercy: The Next Generation Page 17

  “You don’t need to clean, Mama, I’ll hire someone.”

  “No, you won’t.” My mom stopped to gather her emotions. “The family will do it.”

  Family. The people I’d shut out over the last two years.

  “Thank you.”

  “No need to thank us, son. I’m proud of you.”

  “Proud? I’ve done nothing but screw up and push everyone away. There’s nothing to be proud of.”

  “Son, life is all about failures and lessons. If you’re not failing, you’re not dreaming big enough. If you’re not messing up and letting down the people you love, then you’re not living. And if you’re not letting yourself down, you’re not learning. No one’s perfect. Not your dad, not you, not your sisters, and God knows I’m not. It’s all about what you do with the hurt you caused. That’s the sign of true remorse and growth. Are you self-aware enough to recognize your short comings and do you have the strength to own them and fix them? The great part about our family is while we all have our own lives, our own branches, we are bound together by our roots. They are solid, son, unbreakable. We’ve given you the foundation you need to dream and learn and fail. We expect the bumps in the road. No one ever said your path would be without potholes.”

  My mom was right, she always was. It’d taken me into my twenties to realize that when Emily Walker told you something, you’d better listen. If she gave you advice, it was spot on. And if my mom said our family was solid, even after I’d screwed up, then it was.

  “What are these?” My dad had picked up the separation agreement off the counter before I could stop him. “Why do you still have this?”

  It was bad enough telling Mercy I still had those documents and that I’d used them as a way to feed my guilt over the years. I really didn’t want to tell my mom and dad.

  “I actually was getting ready to throw them away.”

  I wasn’t going to explain to him I didn’t need them anymore.

  He handed me the papers and I glanced down at them. The agreement was out of order, the signature page was on the top instead of the bottom. I stared at Kayla’s pretty script and thought it was much like her. Sweet, flowy, and innocent. Nothing like the fiery woman Mercy was. I waited for the normal guilt to hit at comparing the two women, but it was absent. I wasn’t comparing, I was merely making an observation. With my hands on the top of the papers I ripped them down the middle. Turning them, I ripped them again into fourths.

  That was it.

  I opened the lid of the trash can and threw them away. No anxiety, no trepidation, no fanfare. Nothing. Not even relief or a sense of a weight being lifted from my shoulders. I didn’t feel a goddamn thing about throwing away the separation agreement. And, if I was being honest, it was kind of annoying. I’d thought there’d be something. Anything. Not the utter indifference I was feeling.

  “There’s nothing to feel, Bud.”

  “Huh?” Had I said something out loud?

  “Bud, your confusion is written clear as day all over your face. You feel nothing, because there is nothing to feel. You started the process, did the work, and you already know everything you needed to know about your marriage to Kayla. Those papers you just threw away are meaningless. They don’t tell your story. The relationship you had with Kayla could never have been transcribed onto paper. You know what she meant to you, and you’ve always known what you meant to her.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just thought—”

  “We know what you thought, son. The friendship you had with her will always be with you. And it should. But the rest? It’s in the past. And you can’t move forward if you’re stuck rehashing old shit.”

  My dad chuckled like he always did when Mom cursed. It wasn’t often she did, but when she did, especially when she dropped an F-bomb the house came to a standstill.

  “Have anything for us to do for you today?” Mom asked.

  “No, I just wanted to talk.” Mom smiled and I vowed this would be the last time I saw tears in her eyes because of me. “Thanks for coming over.”

  “How’s Mercy?”

  “Tuesday says she’s doing okay. Her doctor’s appointment went well.”

  “Any word from her?”

  “Nope.” I smiled.

  “She’s a tough one, that’s for sure. Fits right in with the rest of the women in the family.”

  “Damn right, she does.”

  “When are you planning on seeing her?”

  “Sunday.”

  “Jason, how are you going to see her if she won’t even talk to you?” Mom asked.

  “Really, Mom? I warned her I was coming for her. What more notice does she need?”

  “Men are nuts. All of you are.” She shook her head, but her smile told me I was doing the right thing.

  “Perfect timing. Barbeque at Nick and Meadow’s in two weeks. They have news to share. And Ethan said he and Honor have an announcement, too. Mercy will be there, right?”

  “Damn right, she will be.”

  “Good luck, son.” Mom patted my shoulder and turned to my dad. “Come on, Jasper, take me home.”

  “With pleasure.”

  “La-la-la, not in my house. Swear to—”

  “Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain.” Mom stopped me.

  “Seriously. You were just telling Dad to take you home, making kissy faces at him, and you’re worried about me cursing?”

  “I’m a fifty-year-old woman. I don’t make kissy faces.”

  “Like hell you don’t, woman. You were making—”

  “Out. Both of you. Leave. Talk about this in the car. Or outside. Pretty much anywhere but in front of me.”

  My dad laughed, and my mom smiled so big my heart melted.

  That was what I wanted—what my parents had. And nothing was going to stop me and Mercy from having it.

  34

  “I’m getting a new phone,” I announced.

  “Why? You only got that one like a year ago,” Tuesday questioned.

  “New phone number,” I corrected.

  Tuesday’s smirk told me she was up to something.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  “No reason.”

  “Bullshit. I know you. Spit it out.”

  “I just think it’s amusing you’re complaining the man you love is blowing up your phone when I can’t even find a man I want to eat more than one meal with, let alone have sex with. And let’s not even talk about men who are relationship material. There are none out there. But you? You have a great guy banging down your door and you’re too stubborn to hear him out.”

  “He crushed me.”

  “He did. But do you know why?”

  “Why? Whose side are you on?”

  “Yours. Always yours. Especially about this. I want you to be happy. I think you need to hear him out. He knows what he did.”

  “What?” Tuesday’s hand flew to her face and she covered her mouth. My eyes narrowed, causing her to step back. “Tuesday? What did you do? Have you been talking to him?”

  “Kinda.”

  What the fuck? My best friend in the entire world was consorting with the enemy? How could she do this to me?

  “There’s no kinda. Either you are or you aren’t.”

  “When you wouldn’t answer his calls or texts, he started blowing up my phone. I ignored the first five thousand.”

  “Five thousand?”

  “Okay, that’s an exaggeration. It was more like ten or fifteen. All he wanted to know was if you were okay. That was it. I told him to fuck off, but he refused to stop pushing. Then he told me why he left. And he knows what he did was wrong and all he wants is the chance to tell you.”

  “So he wants me to give him the courtesy he wouldn’t give me?”

  “Yes.”

  Was she living on a different planet?

  “And that’s fair how?”

  “It’s totally not.” I wanted to throw my hands up in exasperation. Why the hell are we arguing about this if she agre
es it wasn’t fair. “But, Mercy, you need to ask yourself, do you want to be right or do you want to be happy?”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, Jason fucked up. He knows it, you know it, I know it, every-fucking-body knows it. So do you want to hold onto what’s fair or do you want to be happy? Do you want to punish him, in turn punishing yourself, or do you want to be happy? Do you want to be as stubborn as you can be and continue to shut him out because he did it to you, or do you want to hear him out and let him fix what he broke? Because I’m telling you, that man loves you, and one day you’re going to regret not hearing him out.”

  I should’ve been really pissed at my friend. She’d gone behind my back and talked to Jason. Even if it was through texts, she’d communicated with him knowing he’d broken my heart.

  “Why’d you talk to him?”

  “Because I knew you’d do the same for me.”

  “What?”

  “You’d try and stop me if you thought I was making a mistake.”

  That was true. I would.

  “So you think me shutting Jason out is a mistake?”

  “An epic one.”

  “And if it’s not? And he does it to me again. Only this time it’s years from now when I’m so tangled in him I can’t find my way out?”

  “It won’t happen.”

  “How can you know that, Tuesday? I talk a big game about how tough I am. Just move on. Close the boxes up nice and tight and never look back. But you know me. You know how badly I hurt. How hard it is for me. Each time I move on from something bad, it takes another bite out of my sanity.”

  “I know things you don’t about what Jason’s been doing. That’s how I know. But, say you’re right. Say, ten years from now he walks. Then we pick you up, dust you off, and move on. The Mercy James I know does not let fear rule her life. And that’s what you’re doing.” Before I could speak, she continued, “Oh, and I forgot, if Jason ever screws you over, we buy a pig farm in Montana and a wood chipper.”

  “What do you know?” I asked, ignoring her murder plot.

  “Nope. He needs to be the one to tell you.”

  “That’s not—” My phone chirped with an incoming text, pulling me from the conversation. I dragged it out of my back pocket and checked the notification.

  Jason.

  It was the middle of the afternoon. Not his normal time of day to message me. I got a good morning text and a goodnight text. It was in those messages he told me how much he missed me. Little stuff about what was going on around the office. He’d even kept me up to date about Delaney. He obviously didn’t know she and I spoke daily.

  JASON: I was wondering if I could take you on a date Sunday?

  “What does it say?”

  “What? Like you don’t know?” I snarked. “Sorry, that was a little bitchy. He’s asking me on a date.”

  “A date?” Tuesday’s surprise told me she had no idea about his plans.

  “On Sunday.”

  “Are you going to answer?”

  “I need to think about it.”

  “Fair enough. I’m running home to get my mail. Do you want anything while I’m out?”

  “Ice cream?”

  “Got it.”

  Tuesday grabbed her purse and headed for the door. I plopped down on the couch, suddenly exhausted even though I’d done exactly nothing all day. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Tuesday had said. Was I being stubborn? Of course I was, but I was doing it to protect myself. My heart hurt. I never wanted to feel this way again. Though even after a few weeks, it hadn’t gotten any better. Ugh!

  My hands scrubbed over my healing face, and I remembered what Jason told me in the hospital. At the time I’d thought he’d had a look of determination as he left the room. What if I’d been wrong? Had it been love? What if I’d been wrong by not hearing him out? What if I was missing out on the best thing in my life? All these damn what-ifs.

  Guess there was only one way to find out.

  ME: Sure. What time?

  35

  Sweet Jesus, she texted me back.

  I stared at her short and to the point message for what felt like an hour before I could get my fingers to type. I hadn’t expected her to respond. I’d thought I’d have to ask her at least ten more times before she answered. Hell, I was expecting to have to go to her house and ask her in person. Now that she’d messaged me, I wasn’t sure what to send back.

  Thanks for answering? What, did I want to sound desperate? Was eight a.m. too early for a date? What the fuck was wrong with me? I was behaving like an idiot.

  ME: Is three okay? I’ll pick you up.

  MERCY: Three’s fine. What should I wear?

  Nothing!

  ME: Casual.

  MERCY: See you then.

  What now? Should I text back and say thank you? Tell her I miss her so damn bad I’d be counting down the hours. I needed to get a grip. Mercy made me lose my mind and act like a teenage boy going on his first car date.

  ME: See ya.

  My phone rang, flashing Carter’s name. Great. I didn’t think this call was going to go well.

  “Hey, man, you stateside?”

  “No. I got an urgent message from my dad to call home, but he’s not answering. Thought I’d call you. He said it was about Delaney.”

  “Did you try her?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “Straight to voicemail.”

  “She ran into some trouble . . .” I told Carter all about my investigation, Delaney following Lowe, his arrest, and all the way to the bloody end.

  “Please tell me you’re fucking with me.”

  “’Fraid not.”

  “You’re telling me this Lowe fuck took my woman and hit her?”

  His woman? Jesus. The two of them were going to be the death of me.

  “So, you finally pulled your head out of your ass and you’re claiming my sister?”

  “What?”

  “You said, my woman. That mean you finally got your shit sorted?” My question was met with silence. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Delaney’s bruises are fading. But, man, there’s something broken in her, and she will not share. It can’t be what she saw, because thankfully, she was unconscious when Mercy blew the fucker’s head off. She’s not uttering a word to anyone, the only thing she does say is she’s fine.”

  “Fuckin’ Walkers. Stubborn to the core.”

  “That’s rich coming from you, friend. My sister has loved you her entire adult life. Yet you push her away because you’re too pig-headed to take what she’s offering you. I’m telling you, she needs you. If you ever loved her, you’ll find a way to get your ass to her as soon as you’re home.”

  “Man, that could be another month.” If he didn’t sound so defeated and miserable, I’d tell him to screw off and leave Delaney alone.

  “Then we’ll see you in a month. But I’m telling you, it’s time. You’ve danced around long enough. It will kill her, but if you don’t want her the way she wants you, rip the scab off and let her move on.”

  “She’s the only woman I’ll ever love. I just—” His statement was cut off by a loud shouting “Hey, I gotta run.”

  “Stay safe.”

  “Tell her . . . fuck. Just tell her I’ll be there when I can.”

  The line went dead and I prayed to all things holy and good my cousin would be safe, wherever he was.

  * * *

  The drive to Mercy’s was short but the wait had been long. Even moving all day yesterday and unpacking well into the night hadn’t made the day go by any faster. We took a load to my new apartment and dropped it off before going back to the house to pick up the rest of the furniture I no longer needed and delivered it to a woman and her two children. No one had said a thing about me moving into an apartment, and when I’d gotten each of my aunts and uncles alone to apologize, they’d each waved me off and told me I was being ridiculous. Everyone except my Uncle Levi. He’d given me some pointers on how to win
back Mercy. He’d reminded me of the begging he’d had to do when he’d screwed up with my Aunt Blake. Apparently, all the men in my family had pulled a bone headed move at least once in their lives, luckily all the women in my family knew how to forgive. But not before they’d cut my uncles down to size and showed them the error of their ways. I didn’t need Mercy to tell me I’d screwed up, I knew I had. I only needed her to give me another chance.

  Surprisingly, when I pulled into Mercy’s neighborhood I wasn’t as nervous as I’d thought I’d be. I couldn’t wait to see her pretty face and great smile. That’s if she did smile. She might give me dirty looks all night. It had been far too long since I’d laid eyes on her, and even longer since I’d had her in my arms. There wasn’t a single thing I didn’t miss about her. I pulled into her driveway and prayed she’d forgive me, if not today, one day soon.

  I wouldn’t take no for an answer. I couldn’t. Nothing in my life felt right without her in it.

  36

  Why had I told Tuesday I didn’t need her to wait around until Jason showed up? He was knocking on the door and I was in a jam. Damn, I was stupid. Tuesday had helped me dress before she’d left, but, of course, after obsessing over my shirt I decided to change it. Getting it off was easy, all I had to do was unbutton it. The new shirt I’d picked out didn’t have buttons. It was a cute tunic that went great with my jeans and boots. But now I was stuck up shit’s creek with no paddle in sight.

  “Come in!” I yelled from the hallway.

  I heard the door open and close before Jason called out. “Hey.”

  “Sorry. I’m running a few minutes late. Make yourself at home.”

  Wait! Did I want him to make himself comfortable? This was just a date. One date to hear him out, not a rekindling. Fuck it. I didn’t have time to dissect my word choices or the meaning behind them. I was currently stuck half in, half out of one of my favorite tops. Too far in to abort and take it off, not even close enough to being presentable. I was going to be really pissed if I had to cut it off to free myself.