Where Mercy Flows (21 page)

I watched the snow all day with a grief so heavy that I could not cry. TJ came in from time to time, rosy-cheeked and wide-eyed
with excitement. “Mom, I made a snowman! Can I have a carrot for his nose?” I hadn’t thought to buy him a snow hat so he wore
a knit cap of Mom’s that drooped down his forehead and almost over his eyes. His mittens were rolled-up wool socks, which
he traded for dry ones every time he came in. I made a late lunch of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. The Judge
came in from hanging Christmas lights and sat at the kitchen table with us. I guess I wasn’t saying much. TJ stopped chattering
for a moment and patted my hand thoughtfully. “Too bad you can’t come out and play in the snow, Mommy.”

I pushed the hair off his forehead like mothers do. There was so much I wanted to do with him, for him, but I had nothing
to give. “I wish I could, baby.” He gave me the look. I was not supposed to call him that. “Maybe we could call Alex to come
over and play tomorrow. Would you like that?”

“Okay,” he said as he pushed back his chair. He went straight to the back door and reached for his boots.

The Judge snapped his fingers and TJ looked up. He sighed, dropped his wet boot to the kitchen floor and came back to the
table. After his plate and bowl were deposited by the sink, he returned with a sponge and wiped soup and crumbs from the table.
“Now can I go, Grandpa?”

“You forgot one more thing.”

TJ stretched his arms around my neck and planted a hurried kiss. “Thanks for the lunch, Mom.” He glanced at the Judge for
his nod of approval and a moment later he was bundled up and gone.

I started to clear the table, but my father reached out and touched my arm. “Sit down. I can do that.”

“So can I. It doesn’t bother me. I’ve got to do something.”

“Talk to me.”

I hesitated and then sat back down. “Okay.”

“Tim wasn’t here very long, was he?”

I shook my head. There was just enough soup in my bowl to smear around with the spoon and make designs. “He just came to bring
divorce papers.”

The Judge was respectfully silent for a moment. “Where are they?”

“Out there on the coffee table.”

He rose from the table and returned with the documents, which he shook open and skimmed through briefly like an attorney.
“Irreconcilable differences. Humph. There’s no such thing.” He removed his reading glasses. “Just people who aren’t willing
to work things out. What ever happened between you two, Samantha?”

I didn’t know what to say. There was too much that couldn’t be told. My spoon rocked back and forth in my bowl. Where was
TJ when I needed his incessant chatter?

“Do you still love Tim?”

I looked my father straight in his eyes. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Well, I can only imagine that there was some sort of love triangle. TJ tells me he doesn’t have a daddy. But you and Tim
and I know differently. Somewhere out there is a dark-eyed ghost that’s going to haunt all three of you for the rest of your
lives if you don’t deal with him. Am I getting warm, Samantha?”

I nodded. “But I don’t know where he is and I don’t care. I haven’t seen him or talked to him in almost six years.”

“So he doesn’t know about TJ?”

“Right. And TJ doesn’t know about him. I told TJ some families have two people, some have four, some have seven. Every family
is different. He seemed okay with that. But he sure was happy to find out he had a grandma and grandpa. Once I told him that,
he just couldn’t get it out of his head.”

“Is that why you came home?”

I nodded. “That was a big part of it. Oh. And I was sick and jobless and broke.”

He laughed. “Well, you came to the right place. I wish you had come home a long time ago. We’ve missed a lot.” I knew he meant
TJ. He glanced out the kitchen window. Darkness was already falling. Snow swirled in the light of the porch lamp. We heard
TJ laugh out loud and both rose to watch him. He hadn’t noticed the dimming light or didn’t care. He was throwing snowballs
at his snowman, who must have come to life and retaliated because we saw TJ recoil from the hit and roll in the snow, clutching
his chest. The Judge chuckled. “He reminds me of you. There’s never a dull moment in his life.”

“I’ve had a few lately.”

“This will pass, Samantha.”

“Or I will.” He raised his eyebrows disapprovingly. “Well, let’s face it. I’m not getting any better. I feel weaker every
day, and now this cough. It makes me just want to sleep. I’ve been waiting for months and not even one possible heart donor
has surfaced.” I was so sorry for myself I almost cried.

“You are going to be fine,” he said with his usual annoying optimism.

“Yeah.” How did he know? How did anybody know how this would all turn out?

The phone rang and as usual I lurched. My father grabbed the receiver off the wall. “Hello.” A smile spread across his face.
“There you are. Are you still in Nordstrom? Oh. What’s the matter, did they run out of shoes?” He glanced toward me. “She’s
fine. We just had lunch. I know. Who says you have to eat lunch at noon? Yes, it’s been snowing all day. He’s playing with
his snowman. Well, I can just drive Samantha’s Jeep if necessary. The tires are good. Don’t worry. Do you think your old dad
hasn’t thought of all this?”

His eyes always lit up when he talked to Lindsey. I couldn’t blame him. Here she was on a shopping spree, the thing that Lindsey
loved best next to David, and she was calling to check on us. My own mother mothered me less than Lindsey. I heard her excited
chatter coming through the phone. My father laughed. “I love you too, baby. Let me talk to your mom.”

He told her they should stay down there a few days if they wanted to. “We’ll be fine,” he said. “I can cook. Samantha made
lunch; we won’t starve. I want you to hire a horse and buggy tonight. Make the driver take you all over downtown until you
have your Christmas shopping done. This is the perfect time for you to get away. I don’t have to be back in court until Tuesday.”

I knew what he meant by that. Someone had to be here at all times to babysit me. To be ready to drive me to the hospital at
a moment’s notice. Mom and Lindsey needed the break.

Having a sister like Lindsey was a blessing and a curse. She would do anything for me. She called me almost every day or just
happened to drop by with a little something to cheer me up. Never a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, but it’s the thought that counts.
She had agreed to raise my son for me after I was gone. What more could I ask—other than an occasional failure or shortcoming?
Nothing Lindsey touched ever went bad. Her husband adored her. The polished cherry tables in her house never saw dust. She
never had a bad hair day, her Lexus didn’t break down, and if she lost a tennis match it was to avoid pulverizing the ego
of her opponent. Next to her I was one of my father’s worms. A pathetic squiggle peeking out of the manure of my life.

I hoped that I would live, and that someday I would make something good of my life. Maybe someday I could make my father proud
of me.

Getting TJ to bed that night was easy. He crawled under the covers without being asked and fell asleep before we had a chance
to read another adventure in the lives of Curious George and the man with the yellow hat. I went to my own room and read until
my eyes burned and then turned out the light. The phone rang. The red numbers on my clock read ten thirty. I sat up and heard
the Judge answer from his study.

“Hello.” I couldn’t hear much, but something made me slip out of bed and into the hallway. “Who is this?” A sudden chill raced
through me and I clutched my flannel pajamas tight. From the study doorway I saw my father sink slowly into his chair. “Why
are you threatening me? Do I know you?” He listened intently, his hand massaging his temples, and then placed the phone back
in its cradle with a sigh. He leaned back in his chair.

“Was it him?” I asked.

He nodded, still shaken. “I know that voice.”

“Who is it?”

“I wish I knew. It will come to me. I know I’ve heard that voice before.”

“You should call the sheriff. Maybe he can trace it somehow.”

“Yes. He asked me to call if it happened again.” He punched in the numbers and got Sheriff Byron on the phone. “Yes, I’m sure
it was the same one who spoke to Samantha. Coarse voice. No, nothing about hanging this time. He seems to be on a new tangent.
Specifically? Well, let’s see. The first thing he said was something about watching my blood melt the snow.” He looked over
at me uncomfortably. I didn’t budge. He turned his back to me and lowered his voice, but I still heard him clearly. “He said
he would nail me up, they’d put me in the ground and if I was really God I would rise again. That’s what he said.”

He and the sheriff discussed the Judge’s recent cases. Nobody seemed to fit. The sheriff said he would check out some possibilities.
When my father hung up, he turned to me. “This is nothing to concern yourself about. Just some crackpot looking for attention.
If the guy was really going to kill me, he’d be on my back porch. Not the telephone.”

The thought of him lurking on the back porch made me shudder. I locked all the doors. It was not my parents’ habit to lock
up. I asked my mother about it once. She said someone might need to get in when we weren’t home. Like the UPS lady. She came
in to use the bathroom once in a while. It was a long way out to Carter. Donnie’s mother didn’t drive, so she was always running
out of something. Mom told her if we weren’t home to just come on in and help herself. But my father seemed okay with me bolting
everything up tight that night.

Once the adrenaline drained from my system, I realized I was exhausted. I crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to my
chin. My father tapped his knuckles on the door and poked his head in. “We didn’t finish our talk about you and Tim.” His
silhouette filled the doorway.

“There’s nothing you can do. It’s over.” My words shocked me. It had never been over. Not when he walked away from me at the
hospital, not three years later when I pulled the wedding ring from my finger and placed it in a drawer. Even after making
a fool of myself at his sister’s wedding. Up until this moment I had hoped. I had imagined the broken edges of the mizpah
medallion would fit together again. “He’s going to marry someone else.” The words that came from my throat seemed to release
the tears that I had kept back all day. I rolled over to face the wall before my father could see them.

“Oh, Sam. I’m sorry.” I felt him touch my shoulder.

“I’m very tired.” I knew I couldn’t hold back the sobs much longer.

“Good night, Sammy.” I wanted to cry like his little girl again. I needed him to rock me in his arms, to make this hurt go
away. But something held me back.

“Good night,” I said.

T
HE SNOW FELL for days. From my bedroom, I heard the back door open and close, TJ’s joyful exclamations, the crinkle of grocery
bags, my parents’ voices, footsteps in the hall. The divorce papers lay under my bed like a dead cat; sooner or later I would
have to deal with them. From time to time the phone rang but no one came to say it was for me. The drone of the vacuum cleaner
grew louder as it approached my room and then Mom pushed the door open and cleaned around my bed. She brought in trays of
fruit or sandwiches, a pitcher of juice, an afternoon cup of tea. TJ rarely visited. After preschool on Monday he came in
to show me to his buddy Leon, whom Grandma invited to stay overnight. Pudgy little Leon hugged the doorjamb, surveying me
with wide eyes. He seemed relieved when TJ said, “Let’s go feed the worms.”

Once I got up and grabbed the divorce papers, meaning to sign them just to silence the voices in my head. But when no ink
flowed from my pen, I took it as a sign. Maybe I was giving up too easily. I wrestled with the idea of calling Tim. In fact,
the thought consumed me. Could he really love that frizzy-haired Glinda woman? She was not his type. Definitely not his type.
Besides, I clearly remembered the day he promised to love me forever, for better or worse, till death do us part.

Finally, I brought the phone into my room and closed the door. I dialed his mother’s number and held my breath. “Hello, Mrs.
Weatherbee. This is Samantha. Do you know where I can reach Tim?” There was a short stunned silence before she said he was
right there and she would get him. I started to feel sick and faint while I waited and would have hung up if I had not committed
myself by volunteering my name.

“Hello.”

“Hey. It’s me. Got a minute?”

“Sure.”

I held my chest to keep it from exploding. “I have a problem with these papers,” I said. “I don’t want to sign them.” There
was only silence on the other end. “Um, I was hoping we could talk about this.”

“I don’t know what there could be to talk about.”

“Tim . . . what happened back there in Reno. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I felt myself trembling and took a deep, calming breath.
“I never had a chance to explain. You just disappeared. I tried to find you—for five years I tried to find you. I’ve been
miserable. The least you can do is hear me out.”

“
You’ve
been miserable? You poor little thing. And you think I owe you something for all your suffering?”

“Tim, I screwed up. Don’t you think I know that? I’m asking you to forgive me. Can you . . . will you forgive me?”

I heard a sigh and then silence. I pictured him with his head dropped, fingers pinching his forehead like he used to do sometimes.
“Samantha,” he finally breathed, “I’ve spent the past five years trying—for my own sake. When I saw you again, well, I thought
maybe I could. You don’t know how many times I thought of calling you, of maybe giving it a try. But then I realized it could
never work.”

“But why?”

“Because I could never love that boy of yours.”

I felt like he spat on me. I couldn’t speak.

“I’ve finally found someone I think I can trust. I think I can love again. Don’t screw this up for me, Sam. Just sign the
papers. Please.”