The Tolling of Mercedes Bell: A Novel (42 page)

Melanie walked into the room, buoyed by the expression on Mercedes’s face.

“Is there good news?”

Mercedes smiled at her, but it was the grin of someone carrying a dagger. What she had to say would devastate Melanie, but there was no use holding back any longer. She repeated the good news from the hospital and then carefully said: “There’s more you need to know. You’d better sit down, Mel.”

Melanie did so, looking uneasy.

“Jack has pneumocystis and AIDS. The virus is in his brain. He may be rallying now, but it won’t last. He’s dying, Melanie. He’s a dying man.”

The words fell like stones from her mouth and struck Melanie forcefully.

“He has to stop practicing law. The doctor says he shouldn’t be giving any legal advice. He’s mentally incompetent. Even if he sounds reasonable, his judgment is no longer sound. He has AIDS dementia.”

Melanie stared at her in astonished disbelief.

“We have to close down the practice. He has five years to live at the most.”

Melanie swallowed hard. “What about you?”

“I’m expected to be in the same boat, although it hasn’t shown up on a test yet. Germaine must be protected from worrying about my fate for as long as possible, so I haven’t told her. Nor have I told my parents or Darrel or anyone else at work.”

“And Janine?”

“She doesn’t even know Jack is sick, let alone in the hospital.”

Melanie’s face was pale, her expression stunned. “Did Emerson know?”

“Yes. I had to tell him why when I asked if we could count on him to carry the ball on Jack’s cases. I also had some questions about the clients’ insurance policies.”

“You’d think he’d want to help Jack, as much as he admired him. And you’d think he’d have a more professional sense of duty to the clients. What a nightmare!” Melanie exclaimed.

Mercedes watched her sympathetically. She was a few days ahead of Melanie in catching onto things and she knew Melanie would now start to put together some of Jack’s incongruities.

Ironically, Emerson’s disappearance fit perfectly with the cavalcade of calamities. Sometimes everything in one’s life must fall apart.

Mercedes returned some of the files to the bottom drawer and took out others. It was no use trying to work that afternoon, but at least she’d have material on hand for later. She felt desperate to see
Jack, with a noxious mixture of lovesickness, fear, and anger boiling inside. It was as if someone had placed a drop of some lethal drug on her psyche and it was slowly spreading throughout her consciousness.

She had another talk with Melanie. They decided to ask Matthew Spencer, the forensic accountant whose office was upstairs, to go over the accounts and advise them. They would find other probate attorneys to take Jack’s cases. They would call clients together. Then Mercedes took off for the hospital while Melanie stayed behind, left alone to contemplate a future without Jack.

The sight of Jack awake and making sense, and the rich sound of his voice, were the two things Mercedes craved. While he still breathed, she felt an urgency to cling to the love they had, and to be reassured that it had not all been a charade.

T
HE WEATHER OUTSIDE WAS BREATHTAKING.
Fruit trees were in blossom, filling the warm breeze with their heady fragrance. Flower beds packed with impatiens lined the walkways around Jack’s office building. The sky was lapis blue with billowy cumulus clouds. The glorious sun beamed life onto all quarters. Mercedes felt its warmth on her neck and back. She raised her eyes in order to memorize the color of the sky and watch the clouds change shape. She slipped on her sunglasses and took a deep breath. In spite of everything, she felt as she had when she was first enthralled with Jack. The prospect of seeing him soon made her heart race, and made her crazy with desire to forget her misgivings.

She found him in a new room, no longer under an oxygen tent. Instead, tubing connected to an oxygen tank ran up his nostrils. Faint color had returned to his cheeks. His intense blue eyes drank in his wife when she entered the room and followed her long strides toward him.

She took his hand and bent over to kiss his grizzled cheek. He squeezed her hand weakly.

“Remember me?” she asked, eyes filling with tears.

“Do I ever,” he whispered between wheezes.

“It’s so lovely to see you awake! Have you spoken with any of the doctors?”

He nodded. “Hard to talk,” he whispered. “So tired.”

Paul entered, took Jack’s temperature, and adjusted his bedding, rewrapping his long feet in a warm blanket. Jack’s eyes remained glued to Mercedes.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

She sat down close to the bed and stroked his arm. It seemed impossible that soon he would no longer be in this world.

“Jack, do you understand why you’re here?” she asked.

He nodded. “Sick,” he said. “Lungs.”

She glanced at Paul and back at Jack. “Pneumonia almost got you.”

“Getting better.” He said softly.

After a while, when fatigue forced him to close his eyes, Paul motioned to Mercedes. She let go of Jack’s hand and followed the nurse out of the room.

In the hallway, Paul explained to her that the pneumonia was in retreat. Jack’s oxygen levels had come up significantly. He was relatively coherent, but remembered nothing about collapsing at home or coming to the hospital. He’d been told he had AIDS, which he took rather well.

“What you’re seeing is his first rally. He could be back on his feet fairly quickly, if everything goes well. He’s lost weight, so anything that can be done to help him regain it is very important.”

“Our daughter is back from her trip. She wants to see him.”

“Tell her he’s quarantined. That usually works.”

“Has he been this lucid since he woke up today?”

“No. It comes and goes. He asked for you and he asked why he’s here. But don’t be surprised by rapid changes in behavior. He really can’t help it.”

When she reentered the room, Jack turned his head and looked at her with surprise.

She approached the bed. He stared at her with suspicion. The affectionate smile was gone. She attempted to take his hand, but he pulled it away and slid it under the covers. She touched his arm under the blanket, but he glanced at her hand and up at her face as though she were a stranger, and shrugged off her touch.

“Jack, Honey, it’s me—Mercedes.”

He considered the words.

She lifted her handbag off the chair where she had placed it. “Remember this? You gave it to me last Christmas.”

“Okay,” he said, without conviction. His brow furrowed slightly. He watched her every movement.

She pulled an envelope from the purse and took out the photo of him and Damon in their youth.

“Remember this?”

He squinted at the photo and smiled softly. “Damon,” he whispered.

She pulled out another. “And this?”

“Janine,” he said, without hesitation.

“And this?” It was Germaine’s school portrait.

He looked mournful and turned his head away. Then he rolled onto his side, with his back to her and faced the door. She gently stroked his back. He put up no resistance. She felt the weight of their plight pressing down on her. Jack was right here and yet so far away. She missed him. Had the sight of Germaine reminded him of something? Did he realize she was someone he should recognize, but couldn’t?

“Mercedes loves Jack,” she said. No response. She bent over him and put her arms around him lightly, kissing his neck.

His eyes were open. He curled into a fetal position.

“I love you,” she said.

He covered his eyes with his hands. “What is happening to me?”

“You’ve been very sick, so you’ve forgotten a lot of things. You may remember more a little later.”

His hand emerged from the covers and he pulled at her left hand. He looked at the sapphire ring.

“Do you remember buying this ring?”

He smiled slightly. “Jackie did it.”

“How is Jackie doing?”

“Jackie’s a good boy.”

“Yes, he is.” She kissed his cheek and continued holding him, which he seemed to like.

At that moment Dr. Sinclair entered the room in his white lab coat. Jack cringed and clutched the rails of the bed, closing his eyes tightly.

“Jackie’s a good boy!” he cried out. He began to shake, and then buried his head under his arms, still clutching the rails.

Mercedes held him tighter. “It’s okay, Honey. Dr. Sinclair is here to help you feel better.”

“No!” His legs twitched under the covers.

Dr. Sinclair took a step closer. Jack grew more agitated.

Mercedes explained, “His father was a physician and was very cruel to him. Maybe it was your coat that set him off.”

“I’ll be back in a moment,” the doctor mouthed to her before stepping away and drawing the curtain around the bed.

A few minutes passed and Jack opened his eyes. She repeated that she loved him and would protect him, that he was safe. His breathing calmed, and he let go of the side rails. She fought back tears and the tightness in her throat.

Dr. Sinclair returned without the lab coat; he had removed his tie and opened the collar of his shirt. He now resembled a lawyer more than a doctor, despite the stethoscope in his hand, and Jack accepted him without apprehension.

The doctor adapted to Jack’s state of mind as much as possible, not challenging the delusions. He worked with them or around them, whatever was necessary. Mercedes’s presence was obviously calming, at least to the version of Jack who was present at that moment. At this rate of recovery, the doctor said, Jack might be able to go home before long. He would need to be on oxygen around the clock. He would not be fit to drive and would need a home-care nurse. They would be starting him on AZT, the newest weapon in the war on AIDS. Combined with other drugs, it was the most effective treatment available. There were strong side effects, and it was important for Jack to gain back as much weight as possible. He would need ballast for the days ahead. Mercedes and a nurse must stay on top of his medications and food until he could do so for himself. Dr. Sinclair urged her to make the most of their time together.

He looked Jack in the eye and instructed, “You have to wind down your law practice. You can’t be giving people legal advice any longer. Do you understand that?”

Jack nodded, but his comprehension was doubtful.

“I understand, and so does his secretary,” Mercedes said.

The doctor looked at her sympathetically. “I’m sorry about all this.”

Jack looked from one to the other without speaking, as though they were talking about someone he didn’t know.

A tray of food was brought in, and Dr. Sinclair excused himself.

Jack was intent on the food, but his hand shook so much when he held the spoon that he couldn’t manage getting it to his mouth.
Mercedes took the spoon and fed him as though he were a small boy. He ate hungrily. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, but he didn’t appear to notice. Where had he gone? The Jack who first greeted her just that afternoon, her old lover, had been replaced by a child.

When he closed his eyes, she decided it was time to go and began pulling herself together. Suddenly a voice she had not heard in a long time began speaking.

“Phone Melanie and tell her to be here at nine,” the voice boldly ordered. “She can’t be taking any more days off. We need her here
now.”
Jack gestured toward his valise in the corner. “There are tapes to be transcribed, and I need her to make some calls for me.”

Mercedes’s scalp prickled.

“Melanie hasn’t been off, Jack. She’s at the office right now.”

“I haven’t seen her and I’ve been here every morning,” he retorted hotly.

“Where do you think you are right now?”

“At work, of course.”

“I see. And where’s your desk? Why aren’t you wearing a suit?”

“It’s behind that curtain. I just got back from racquet ball.”

“Your voice sounds much better. The food must have restored your strength more than I thought.”

“Lunch at the club always revives me. Did you check out that hot new waiter?”

“I fed you lunch from a spoon.”

His laugh at this was hearty. “Oh, Bella, you’re funny today.”

“You’re pretty funny too, Darling. Do you have any messages for Emerson?”

“He knows what to do. We have a deal coming together, if we can get the client to fund it,” he said with a wheeze.

“Which client would that be?”

“Now, you know I can’t discuss that with you. Frankly, I’m surprised you would ask.” He erupted into coughing.

“Emerson didn’t come in this morning. We don’t know where he is.”

“Court appearance.”

“No, he left the file on his desk.”

“We can sort that out when he gets back.”

“I hope he comes back. When I told him you were sick, he acted rather strangely.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I thought it was in our best interest for him to understand the situation.”

Jack laughed again. “Oh, Bella, you’re cracking me up. Emerson is on top of it. He knows everything.”

“Such as what?”

“Such as where the bodies are buried.”