Traces of Mercy (24 page)

Mother Helena digested the news. “By the look of you, I’m guessing that he called it off?”

Mercy sniffed and shook her head. “It was me.”

Mother Helena pushed herself to her feet and sat down next to Mercy. “Shall we talk about why?”

“I’m an awful person,” Mercy said. “An evil, terrible, despicable person.” She dropped her eyes to her lap. “I don’t deserve him.”

“I don’t understand. Did you argue? Have some kind of disagreement that’s left you feeling this way? Did Rand say those hateful things about you?”

Mercy shook her head. “He’s never been anything but kind and loving toward me.” She shifted on the bench so that she was facing the older woman. “That’s the problem. He’s been kind and loving to the woman he thinks he knows. But if he knew the
real
me … he wouldn’t love me at all. He’d hate me. I had to leave him so I’d never see that hate in his eyes.”

Mother Helena stilled. “You speak as though you’ve remembered something, child. Have you? Have you remembered your past?”

Mercy pulled in a deep breath. She wanted to admit it all: that Elijah Hale had threatened to expose her—that she’d set a fire and nearly killed a man because of her own selfish fears. But the bulk of the truth was stuck in her throat, and she couldn’t force herself to push out the words. A version of the truth was all she could muster.

“I’ve remembered … something,” Mercy admitted.

“But isn’t that good news? I know you’ve prayed for your memory to come back to you.”

Mercy’s expression hardened. “Yes, I’ve been praying for that. Only God has seen fit to answer that prayer in part and parcel with information that makes it impossible for me to marry Rand.”

Mother Helena’s brows rose. “You’ve remembered a husband, then?”

Mercy shook her head, eyes filled again with tears. “No. I’ve not even remembered my own name.”

“Then what?”

Mercy hesitated.

“What you tell me won’t leave this room, child,” Mother Helena assured her.

“I was a soldier in the war. A
Confederate
soldier.” Somehow, saying the words out loud eased an ache in her chest. “I was Rand’s enemy.”

Mother Helena turned from Mercy and looked toward the window as her fingers found her rosary beads. Clearly thinking through what Mercy had just confided, she finally turned. “Your hair, the men’s clothing—the binding around your chest. It all makes sense.”

“Rand can never know the truth.”

“The poor boy must have been devastated when you broke off your engagement,” Mother Helena said. “It must have been a very difficult conversation.”

“I couldn’t face him, Mother. I had a servant deliver a note that said I couldn’t go through with the wedding.”

“So you lied.”

Mercy sighed. “Right now it seems the least of my sins.”

“Rand deserves to know the truth about this, Mercy. He may surprise you with his reaction. If he truly loves you, your past won’t matter.”

“I know how he feels about Confederates. I couldn’t bear to have him look at me that way. And what if someone else were to find out? How would it look to have one of the biggest supporters of the Union cause married to a rebel soldier? It would be an embarrassment to his whole family. I won’t do that.”

“He won’t be satisfied with a note, Mercy. He’ll come here looking for you, and when he does, you need to face him.”

“I don’t think I’m strong enough to do that,” Mercy whispered.

“Then pray for the strength,” Mother said firmly. “I’ve told you this isn’t a place to hide. But as long as you face Rand when he comes, you are welcome to stay with us until you know what you want to do.”

Mercy’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank you.”

Mother Helena leaned over and hugged her. Mercy flinched from the pain in her shoulder. The nun pulled back and studied her.

“Are you hurt?”

“Just a little pain in my shoulder from a fall I took,” Mercy said.

Mother Helena offered a sad smile. “’Tis a pain that will heal quicker than your broken heart, I’m sorry to say.”

Mercy nodded. “I know.”

Mother Helena stood. “All right then. See to your horse, and I’ll let Oona and Deirdre know they’ll have company in their room.”

Mercy went outside and busied herself with Lucky’s needs. She put him in the corral, forked some oats into a bucket, and stood with her hand on his neck as he dipped his head for the food and munched contentedly.

“There’s no question that horse loves you,” Deirdre said. Mercy turned to see the young postulant standing a few feet away.

“I suppose that’s true.”

Deirdre approached her. “Mother says you are back to stay for a while?”

“Yes,” she answered, swallowing down the sorrow she felt in the admission. “But I will be the one to sleep on the floor, Deirdre.”

“We can take turns again,” Deirdre said. “Like old times.”

Mercy tried to smile. “Old times.”

“I won’t pry,” Deirdre said, “but when you’re ready to talk about what happened, I’d be happy to listen.”

When Mercy didn’t respond, Deirdre took a step toward her. “Sometimes talking about something makes the burden a wee bit lighter.”

Mercy knew if she told Deirdre, then the rest of the nuns would hear the news and she’d be spared offering the same explanation over and over.

“I’ve broken off my engagement to Rand, Deirdre. We’re not going to be married.”

Deirdre’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry, Mercy.”

“No need to be sorry,” Mercy said. “It’s for the best.”

“’Tis lucky for you to have realized you don’t love him before you were married in front of God and everyone.”

Mercy offered a sad smile. “Yes. Lucky for me.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
S
EVEN

It was Ezra’s first time in the ornate building that housed the Prescotts’ offices in midtown St. Louis. He was ushered by a stern-looking older man into an anteroom off the main lobby and told in no uncertain terms to wait there until he found Mr. Prescott.

It took only a few minutes before Rand opened the door. “Ezra? What are you doing here? Is everything all right at the cottage? There was some serious trouble at Congressman Henderson’s house last night and—”

Ezra thrust the note out in front of him. “I promised Miss Mercy I would give this to you mahself, suh,” he said, interrupting Rand.

“Miss Mercy sent you?”

Ezra nodded. “Yassuh.”

“So there’s no trouble?”

“Not at the cottage, suh.”

“What is she up to?” Rand muttered. He tore through the wax seal and began to read the note. His demeanor quickly darkened, and he looked at Ezra through disbelieving eyes.

“She’s gone?”

Slowly, Ezra nodded. “Seem like it.”

“Where? Where did she go?”

Ezra shook his head. “Don’t know, suh. She didn’t say.”

“Did she seem upset? Was she crying? Did someone come there and upset her? Did something happen?”

“Nothin’ seemed wrong, Mr. Rand. Nothin’ seemed off. She had Isaac saddle the horse this morning and left. That be all.”

“And you’re just now giving me the note?” Rand asked.

“Doing as the lady tol’ me, Mr. Rand,” Ezra said.

Rand frowned, ran a hand through his hair. “Do you know if she said something to Kizzy or Letty?”

“I know Letty say Miss Mercy had a painful head last night and took to bed early. But she be fine this morning. Miss Mercy even tol’ Kizzy she be a fine cook.”

Rand rubbed a knuckle over his jaw, glassy-eyed and stunned. “Thank you, Ezra. That will be all.”

Ezra hesitated. “I be heading back to the cottage, then.”

Rand nodded and started to close the door. “Let’s keep this between us for now, Ezra. All right?”

Ezra nodded. “Yassuh.”

Numb from shock, Rand shut the door and stared at the note that told him the love of his life was no longer able to marry him. What could have happened to make her change her mind? She loved him—of that he was sure. Why, then? Why call off the wedding—and where would she go? He felt a sudden chill when he realized she might have remembered something. Someone. He thought of the bald-faced lie he’d told his parents the night he declared his intention to marry Mercy.

And if she happens to wake up one morning and remember that she has a husband and a child or two tucked away somewhere? What then?

I don’t believe that is going to happen, but if it does, I will bow out gracefully.

He wasn’t going to bow out. He was going to fight. Fight for the woman he loved. He had to find her—assure her that no matter what had happened, they could work it out together. He knew there was only one place she would go.

The knock on the convent door came more quickly than even Mother Helena might have anticipated. Mercy knew before she opened it that Rand would be standing on the other side. She’d spent the last couple of hours trying to figure out what to say to him. The only thing she knew for sure was that she wasn’t going to tell him the truth, no matter what Mother Helena said. There was nothing in her that would allow the words
I was a Confederate soldier
to pass through her lips.

When she opened the door, Rand stood in front of her with such an expression of pain on his face, she could barely stand to look at him.

“Have you remembered someone else?” he asked. “Is that what this is all about?”

She shook her head. “No.”

He closed his eyes with relief. She hated herself—and she hated Elijah Hale.

Rand reached for her, but she shrank from his touch. “Please don’t.”

“I don’t understand,” he said. He held up her note. “This makes no sense. I’m not calling off our wedding based on some cryptic comments!” He opened the paper and began to read aloud. “‘I cannot be the wife you deserve. I cannot be the woman you need by your side in the future you will have in your father’s business.’ What does that even mean?”

“It means I can’t marry you,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “Please, just go away, Rand. Please.”

“No. Not until you give me a good reason for all this. I don’t understand why you suddenly changed your mind.”

“It wasn’t sudden. I’ve never hidden the fact I’m worried about my past. Or rather, my lack of a past. If someone, or something, should appear …”

“It’s not going to happen,” he said, “and even if it did, there’s nothing we can’t face together. You’re all I care about.”

She felt herself soften, but she had to stay strong for his sake. “It’s not just my past,” she said. “It’s … so many things. The way I have to be coached before social events, the way your mother has to constantly watch me and prompt me to say or do the right things. I can’t be part of your world, Rand. I constantly worry about saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing. Embarrassing your family. I can’t live up to the Prescott name. I’m not the woman your parents envisioned for you to marry. And I never will be no matter how many lessons in etiquette I get or how much you spend on my clothes.”

“None of that matters to me,” he said. “You’re denying our future based on something that’s never happened—or on the off chance that there is some dark secret in your past?”

There is some dark secret
, she almost screamed at him.
Darker than you can live with
. But instead, she looked down, afraid he would see how much she still loved him if he looked into her eyes.

“I don’t accept this,” he said.

“You have to. I’m sorry.”

She started to close the door, but he slapped a palm against the wood.

“We’ll run away together,” he said.

“What?”

“I know you love me, Mercy. And I want to spend my life with you. If the Prescott name and all the trappings and pressure that goes with that is too much for you—then I’m done with that too.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Rand. That’s your family! Your name! I know what losing both of those things would mean to you. I miss my name and my family, and I can’t even
remember
them!”

“I don’t care about that. We’ll start somewhere new where nobody knows us—pick new names.”

“And have you resent me someday? No. I won’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Your parents …”

“I’ll tell them the wedding is off,” he said.

Tears trailed down her cheeks. “Why are you making this so hard? Just go. Go and live your life with someone who deserves you.”

He reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m not leaving here until you agree.”

“I’m completely selfish if I do,” she said.

She saw the triumph in his eyes when he realized he’d won. “I’m the selfish one. I need you in my life.” He grinned. “In just a few days we’ll be Mr. and Mrs. …”

She watched it dawn on him that they couldn’t put their real names on a marriage certificate.

“Coming up with a name isn’t as easy as you may think,” she said. “I should know.”

“We’ll be Mr. and Mrs. Sherman,” he said.

“After your horse?”

“Why not? It’s a good, strong name. A general’s name,” he said.

She tamped down the ripple of unease that he was speaking of a
Union
general and smiled. “Mrs. Sherman. I like it.”