Authors: Terra Little

Running From Mercy (27 page)

BOOK: Running From Mercy

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“The police . . . the hospital . . . ?” Chad's voice trailed off as he began to understand. He dropped his head in his hands. “Damn . . . what the . . . what are you saying?”

“He hurt her bad. Caught her walking back to the home after she got off work and grabbed her. She said he choked her until she blacked out and when she came to he had her tied up someplace. It was dark and she couldn't see where she was. She couldn't see who he was and we never found out, but wasn't no question about what he did to her. She left work on a Thursday evening and she showed up on my doorstep that Friday night,” Jasper sobbed. “That's how long that bastard kept her, doing things to her before he let her go.

“She wouldn't let me do nothing for her,” he pleaded with Chad to understand. “She told me if I called the police she would run off and never come back and I didn't want her to do that. She took so many baths and scrubbed herself so hard, she made herself bleed. And I couldn't do nothing for her.”

“I came home from school and I was looking for her,” Chad said, remembering. “She was supposed to skip out on school and come up to the university to be with me, like she always did on Fridays, but she didn't show up. I was jealous because I knew Nate was supposed to be coming home from school that weekend and I thought she blew me off to be with him.” He scooted around on the sofa and looked down into her face. “She let me think that's what she did and we argued about it. I thought she didn't want to make love with me because she was angry with me.
God
.”

“She was already pregnant with Nikki when it happened, Chad,” Nate put in. “About eight weeks, if I recall.”

“You
knew
?” Chad was stunned. He gaped at Nate for long seconds. “You knew that some bastard had put his hands on my woman and you didn't
tell
me?”

“She wouldn't let me tell you, Chad. Hell, we fought about it, too. She wanted to forget it happened. Told me she'd kill herself if I told you. If you'd seen what she was like back then you would've believed her, too. Trust me. I had to call Nathaniel and make him come and help me with Pam,” Jasper confided softly. “She was going crazy, screaming and crying, threatening to hurt herself and I couldn't stand to watch it anymore. Nathaniel, he's like a brother to her, and I knew he could get through to her. You, you wasn't nothing like a brother to her and she didn't want you to see what that bastard did to her. She thought she was ruined.”

“Somewhere in this town a rapist is running loose and nobody knows
who he is
?”

Three heads turned in Nikki's direction. “Somebody hurt her like that and got away with it?”

“She couldn't say who it was, Nikki.” Nate's tone was gentle as he reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly. “In her mind it was the mailman or the man at the grocery store or her third period teacher, any man she looked at. Not knowing is what made her leave Mercy. Knowing he was possibly still here is what kept her away.”

“But, why didn't she take me with her? Why, Uncle Nate?”

“She said she was sick and she was. Do you know what clinical depression is, Nikki?” She covered her face and exploded into tears. Nate brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. He'd been by Pam's side as much as he could be during that time and he could attest to the fact that Nikki's tears weren't wasted. “The two years she spent in therapy saved her life. You had to be here with Paris so she could heal. You didn't know Pam when she was younger, but you can ask your dad and he'll tell you that she was a hundred times more alive than she is even today. She was something else and that's the truth.”

“She was,” Chad seconded. A sad smile curved his lips. “I took one look at her and decided I couldn't stand her. Then I took a breath and realized that I wanted her like I'd never wanted anything in my life. She drove me crazy with her smart mouth and those switching hips. I couldn't think straight when she was around.”

“He broke her . . . whoever he was, he broke her,” Jasper hissed angrily.

Nate rolled to his feet, just as angry. “I don't know about anybody else, but I need a drink.” Unable to listen to any more, he escaped to the kitchen without a backward glance.

“Mom wasn't like Aunt Pam,” Nikki caught her father's eyes and said.

“No baby, she wasn't.”

“Then why did you marry her?”

“Because you were someone else I realized I wanted like I never wanted anything in my life.”

In the kitchen, Nate tossed back a shot of cognac and grit his teeth as the liquid burned a path down his throat. He looked at the ceiling. “All right, Paris. If your scheming ass is in heaven, start working some miracles, would you?” He slammed the glass down on the counter and went back into the living room with a purpose. He didn't stop walking until he was standing by the sofa, looking down at Pam's inert form. “All right, sleeping beauty, it's time for you to wake the hell up.” He dropped down on his haunches and eased Pam into a sitting position, held her up with one hand and used the other to slap at her face. “Come on, P. Snap out of it. Open those big eyes and look at me, baby. Come on.”

“Uncle Nate, stop hitting her
so hard
.” Nate shot Nikki a look over his shoulder and kept right on slapping Pam's cheeks.

Pam's arms came awake before her eyes opened. She moaned sleepily and then swatted at Nate's hands, irritated. Her eyes came open slowly and darted around the room. When they landed on Jasper she jumped up from the sofa and almost fell over Nate.

“What the hell is he doing here? Who called him? Did you, Nate? Chad, did you?” Both men shook their heads wearily. Unlike Nikki, if Pam suddenly decided to go wild and start swinging it would take both of them to restrain her, and barely at that. Neither of them had the energy or the inclination to tangle with Pam right now.

“I came to talk to you, Pam. Moira called me and . . .”

“That bitch,” Pam gasped. “Tell her I said to stay the fuck out of my life. And you too, Jasper, you stay out. I trusted you, I believed in you. I thought of you as a father figure and all the time you really
were
my father. I hate you for that, and I never want to see you again.” She looked around wildly for her purse, couldn't find it and heard the ringing start back up in her ears. “Both of you, feeding me cookies and patting me on the head. If Paris wasn't already gone this would kill her for sure. Stay back!”

“Pam, please let me talk to you. I'm still the same Jasper you used to love. That ain't changed. We used to talk about everything and we can talk about this.”

“Still the same? That's a joke, right?” Pam backed away from Jasper's outstretched hands and walked in a wide circle around him. “I thought I knew a man who would never lie to me, who was my friend, but you are a liar, Jasper. A liar and a coward. How did you sleep at night, knowing you had children down the road in a fucking home, standing in line waiting for dinner like slaves?”

“Pam . . .”

“Fuck you. Where is my goddamn purse?”

“Here it is, Aunt Pam.” Nikki came up behind Pam and held her purse and sunglasses out to her. Pam whirled around and reached for them at the same time that Nikki went to push them into her hands. Their hands collided and they both froze. Pam's eyes flickered up to Nikki's face and darted away from what she saw there. She looked at the wall for several seconds and then swallowed audibly.

“I have to go,” she said.

Chad caught up to her at the door. “Pam, you shouldn't drive. Let me get my keys . . .”

“I'm fine, Chad. I learned a long time ago to roll with the punches and get back up swinging, so don't worry about me.”

“If you won't let me drive you, then I'm coming with you.”

“Unless you're coming to California, no you're not.” She spared him one last look and touched her palm to his chest over his heart. “I'll be in touch.” She slipped out the door before he could think to stop her.

Chad returned to the living room looking like he was returning from a trip through the depths of hell. He sat next to Jasper on the sofa and covered his face. Nikki called out to him and he shook his head tiredly, telling her not to bother. He wasn't listening, couldn't listen to another thing. After a few minutes, he got to his feet and climbed the stairs to his room. The sound of his bedroom door slamming shut shook the house. Pam fished her cell phone from her purse as she sped down the road toward the B&B. “Gil, it's me. I need you to make me a reservation on the first thing smoking out of Atlanta.
Yes, tonight
.” She listened for a moment. “I could care less. Coach, first class, the baggage hold, I don't give a shit. Just get me the hell out of here.”

Dear Diary,

Aunt Pam is gone. She must've left in the middle of the night because Uncle Nate said that when he went to the B&B the next morning she was gone. I've never seen my dad so sad looking. It's like Aunt Pam died, instead of my mom. He barely sleeps or eats and he's drinking too much. Uncle Nate keeps saying not to worry, but I can't help it. What if he's not just sad, but so mad at me that he hates me now? What if he thinks I drove Aunt Pam away?

I don't know what to think or what to say. I see now that my dad and Aunt Pam were in love and I'm confused about why my mom would marry him if she knew that. Even if he asked her she should've said no. I asked Uncle Nate why my dad asked my mom to marry him in the first place and he said that it was because I was already two-years-old when my dad found out about me and he didn't want to miss anymore time with me. He knew my mom wouldn't just give me to him.

I don't know if I'm mad with my mom or not. She loved me and took care of me all these years, but I'm not sure it was because Aunt Pam didn't want me, like I first thought. Part of me believes that my mom's reasons were selfish and that Aunt Pam was cheated. I feel guilty for thinking bad things about my mom, but I can't help it.

And, oh my God, what happened to Aunt Pam was terrible! It's like something out of a horror movie, something I can only think of in my worst nightmares. Now I will look at every man in town, wondering if he is the one who did that to her. If he is the one who killed her spirit and made her run away.

Everything is so mixed up in my head. I love Aunt Pam and I miss her, but I don't want to see her again, yet. Does that make sense? I love my mom and I miss her, but I'm angry with her, too. Some of the things she wrote in her diary are starting to make sense to me now, and I don't like how they make me feel about her. I love my dad and I hate that he is so sad, but I don't know if I'll be able to accept seeing him and Aunt Pam together like that if he decides to go after her. It would be weird. Would I go with him, if he went? I don't know.

Dad took the diary in his room with him and he hasn't given it back. Nothing makes sense.

Nikki

PS: How can Aunt Pam expect me to understand what she did if she won't even listen to Moira's and Jasper's side of the story? She said some mean things to Jasper. . . and I said some mean things to her, too, didn't I? I don't know what to do or what will happen next.

NINETEEN

Miles was emotionally wrung out by the time he'd settled Moira down and returned to his hotel room to pack his things. He assumed Pam would be headed back to California the first chance she got, and he was itching to get the hell away from Mercy too. He planned to spend a few more days with Moira at her house before leaving to make sure she was really all right, and then he would go.

He slid his room key card in the slot, saw the light turn green, and heard the automatic lock click. He knew something was different the instant he stepped inside his room and switched on the floor lamp. Nothing was visibly out of place and everything appeared to be just as he'd left it, but something was different.

He went over to the bed and lifted the bedspread, looking underneath for his briefcase. He couldn't really say he was surprised to find it gone. Nor was he surprised, after he turned on his laptop and booted it up, to find that the entire memory had been erased, programs and all. It would have to be professionally rebuilt to even be useful again.

Miles crossed the room and pulled the nightstand drawer open. The standard issue Bible was still there, as was the box of tissues he'd dropped inside the drawer days ago. But the backup disk he'd slipped between the pages of the good book was gone and so was the one he'd pushed down inside the tissue box. He knew without having to look that the information he'd taped to the bottom of a dresser drawer was gone too, but he still checked to be sure.

Cocky idiot that he was, he had brought all the information and notes he'd made on Pamela to Mercy with him. He hadn't bothered to make copies and ship them back to New York for safekeeping, which was his usual modus operandi. Backup, then backup again. Save and separate. He had always meant to, but he hadn't quite gotten around to it.

Miles's shoes were still lined up neatly along the bottom of the compact closet, but they were now pointed toward the door rather than the wall, the way he'd left them, a sign to him that every nook and cranny of his room had been swept clean. He pushed a hand inside a blazer pocket and breathed a sigh of relief as his fingers wrapped around the wad of bills stashed there. He counted the money carefully, decided that all three thousand of it was present and accounted for, then headed to the bathroom.

He came up short in the doorway and stared at the mirror. His visitor had left a calling card.
Back off
was written in red lipstick across the glass. An involuntary smile took his lips.

Miles would bet all three thousand of his spare change money on the fact that Nate Woodberry hadn't left a single fingerprint in his wake. He didn't bother with calling the police to report the fact that someone had stolen from him that which he'd stolen from someone else.

It took Chad two weeks to work his way through Paris's diary. He read late at night, before he rolled over and drifted into restless sleep. He was unable to talk about the things he read, not even with Nikki, who'd already read them. He walked through the endless days thinking about Paris's words, processing them and trying to assimilate them into the image of the woman he thought he'd known.

Paris wrote about his parents, about when his father died years ago, and about Chad's inconsolable grief when he'd had to place his mother in a nursing home after she had suffered from the stroke that ultimately killed her, in such a way that endeared her to him. In her words he recognized his best friend, the gentle and giving person she was. Yet, when she wrote about Pam he thought he could feel hostility propelling her words onto the pages. Almost like she was fighting a battle with herself, like she loved her sister, but couldn't quite figure out why.

He couldn't fathom the closeness and intensity of the relationship Pam and Paris had shared. He was an only child and the closest he'd ever come to being obsessed with someone was with Pam. She had spun a web around him and held him captive for half his life, but he quickly came to the realization that Paris must've been captivated by her long before he had ever come onto the scene. She must've wondered at her sister's electrifying energy, fearless personality, and animal-like sexuality, and craved it for herself.

Chad brought an image of Paris to the front of his mind and looked at it long and hard. She could've been anything she wanted to be, could've done anything she wanted to do. There were times during their years together when he had glimpsed different aspects of her personality, sharp contrasts to the demure, dignified persona she'd always portrayed and he knew that she'd had more than she realized inside of her waiting to blossom. Only she had never accessed it. He was sorry he hadn't cared enough to point those aspects out to her, so she would know they were there. And then he was sorry he was never able to love her the way she had imagined he would.

Paris might've looked like Pam, but he could, to this day, close his eyes and pick his lover out of a room full of clones. It was simple for him and it always had been. He had claimed Pam for his own the moment he set eyes on her. Anything and anyone else had simply been a diversion; temporary pacifiers who, in his mind, were incapable of holding a candle to the real thing.

Paris would have known she wasn't even any of those things to him, she must have. She was a smart woman, and she had to have known that he had never seen what she wanted him to see in her eyes. She had used other things to hold him though. Nikki, for one, and her silence, for another. She could've set him free, but she had chosen not to.

Chad thought he could hate her for that alone. And then for the way she had wronged Pam, he thought he could quite cheerfully murder her. But she was already gone. He remembered and recalled his nasty thoughts. If for nothing else than the fact that Paris had helped him to raise a beautiful, confident, and talented daughter, he wished her a speedy crossing over.

He read the entry immediately following Pam's attack and put his face between the pages to cry. Then he took the book down to the kitchen and out the back door with him. He stood over the incinerator and watched it burn until he could no longer recognize it. He took a step back from the smoke and squinted at Nikki. He hadn't noticed her until just then.

“I burned it,” he told her.

She stepped up next to him and looked where he was looking, nodding slowly. Her fingers closed around his and she rested her head against his arm. “Good,” she said.

“She was crazy about you, you know.”

“I know. You too, Dad. She was crazy about you, too. That's why she did what she did.”

“I know,” Chad said softly.

BOOK: Running From Mercy

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