Mercy (13 page)

“Stuff!” Was that the way Mel thought of it? Just
stuff
? It wasn't like Haley could tell her all of it—the glove, the heartbeat, the writing in the dust, the family tree in her pocket—but didn't Mel get it? What Haley was dealing with? “It's not just
stuff
!”

“I know. I know that, but you can't just—” Mel flapped her gloved hand.

“And I've got something to
do
. It's more important than some stupid Frappuccino! You don't understand!”

“Yes, I do!”

Haley was shocked into silence by the anger in Mel's voice. Mel never got mad. Mel cared about her dead grandmother and about sparrows and about people in jail in faraway countries with unpronounceable names. And now Mel was really mad? Mel was really mad at
her
?

“I do understand, Haley.” Her words were sharp and bright and shiny as knives. “You know I do. Or you would if you spent five minutes thinking about somebody besides yourself!”

And Mel walked down the steps toward Alan and his friends, leaving Haley alone.

So now Haley was going to visit a graveyard for a second time, this time alone, with the sun dipping closer to the horizon than before. Wonderful. In horror movies, this was the kind of thing that got people killed.

But this wasn't a horror movie, Haley told herself. It was her life. Okay, things had gotten a little strange lately. That didn't mean there was any real
danger
in the old cemetery. That monsters were going to leap out from behind a tree and devour her.

No. It didn't. Definitely not. Even if she was all on her own as she leaned her bike against the fence and walked through the wrought-iron gate.

Well, not completely on her own. She did have an eager-to-please golden retriever for protection. After Mel had walked off with Alan, Haley had gone home to get Sunny. At least Sunny, now panting happily after running down the streets alongside Haley's bike, wouldn't dump her for a guy.

She couldn't believe Mel had acted like that. As if she didn't know. As if she didn't care.

A flock of tiny brown sparrows burst up from the grass and zipped past Haley's head. Their little wings moved so quickly they blurred as the birds swooped and dipped toward a nearby tree.

Someone had scattered fresh birdseed on one of the graves. Haley could guess who.

(I do understand, Haley.)

Even so. Even so, Mel didn't have to go off and leave her.

Except that Haley had told her to.

Fine. Haley realized that she'd stopped, staring after the little birds. She pulled Sunny's leash and starting walking again.

Maybe Mel
did
have a point. Maybe it wasn't fair to be so angry at her.

But nothing was fair anymore, was it? So why couldn't Haley get a little mad now and them? At Mel. At her mom, for not doing Thanksgiving properly. At her dad, or Elaine, because all they cared about was Eddie. And that definitely wasn't fair, Haley knew it wasn't fair, and she really, really didn't care.

Because it wasn't like she could be mad at . . .

It wasn't Jake's
fault
, after all. He didn't choose to get sick.

(He chose to pick up that cigarette, though, didn't he? He chose to come home from the hospital.)

Now the light was starting to fade from the cloudy sky in a pale, washed-out sunset of bleached pink and faint peach. Haley's camera was in her pocket. She slipped it out and took a shot of a sad-faced stone angel, with that ethereal light behind her.

The last sliver of the sun melted away behind the trees like butter on a hot skillet. But the sky was still bright, and there was plenty of light to see by. Sunny trotted calmly at Haley's side as she put the camera away and walked on.

(He's only twenty-three. He could have stayed in the hospital. He could have tried . . .)

The old willow leaned over the Brown family headstones, its branches bare and empty against the deepening blue of the sky.

(He said he tried for a long time
.

Not long enough.)

None of the stones were for Patience. Haley worked her way out from Mercy's grave. Edwin, Grace, Mary, George.

(He acts like it doesn't matter. He makes these stupid jokes, like it's all just—nothing. A punch line. Like being gone forever doesn't scare him.)

She looked further, out into distant cousins and aunts and uncles. More Marys. Elizabeth. Anne. Jane and Janet, sisters. Theodore and Allister, brothers. Name after name, cut into old, pale-gray stone. But no Patience.

What did that prove? Nothing. For all Haley knew there was a grave somewhere else. Maybe Patience got married. Maybe she was buried with her husband's family. Maybe she moved to Alaska to pan for gold or to China as a missionary and was buried there, a neat headstone somewhere far away.

And even if Haley
had
found a grave, what would that have meant? What would she have done then?

(I need him. Doesn't he get that? Dad and Elaine are too busy with Eddie. Mom's off in New York, and maybe she'll really notice me when I'm good enough to have something to hang on the walls of her gallery. And even Mel . . .)

Mel had been Haley's best friend forever. But that didn't mean she was family.

Not like Jake.

S
he doesn't know.

I tried to warn her. But I can't do much. She's the one who will have to do something.

I have to find a way. I have to make her see.

H
aley rested one hand on a tombstone, the cool stone smooth under her fingers.

Family. The same blood in your veins, the same DNA coiled in every cell of your body. Haley remembered the family tree, the branches stretching back through the years. Browns connected to each other, in life and even in . . .

Well. In death. That was what a place like this meant, wasn't it? That family was family, dead or alive.

“Um . . .” She cleared her throat and glanced around to be sure nobody could hear her. The graveyard was deserted.

Sunny sat down on her haunches, wagged her tail once, and looked expectantly at Haley.
What now?
her eyes said.

“Um. Mercy?”

It was stupid. But there was nobody to see her being stupid, so that was okay.

Family was family, a tangled web of connection, blood and nerves and genes and emotion stretching back over years and years. And Mercy was part of Haley's family, just like Jake, so
maybe all the strange things that kept happening meant that Mercy had something to say.

Then, okay. Haley would listen.

“Mercy? I'm here. If you want to . . .”

Nothing. A cold breeze stirred the twigs of the leafless birches and ruffled the long grass at their roots. Haley's fingers and ears and the tip of her nose grew colder. Sunny scratched at her ear, jangling her collar, and the sweet, chilly, metallic sound drifted across the graveyard.

Stupid. This whole thing was stupid.

“Come on, Sunny.” Haley tugged at the leash. Disappointment curdled in her stomach. Disappointment? Why? Shouldn't she be
happy
that she wasn't getting visited from beyond the grave? That her life was just her life, not some idiotic horror movie?

It didn't make any sense for her to feel let down. Just like it didn't make any sense to be mad at her own cousin for something he couldn't help.

She couldn't be mad at Jake. She really couldn't. Because that would make her a horrible person. She couldn't—hate him. For making dumb jokes and smoking—smoking—how disgusting. And for going away and leaving her.

Haley slid the hand that wasn't holding Sunny's leash into her jacket pocket and felt her camera there. She took it out. The light was going, but she'd take one last shot of Mercy's grave. Sort of a good-bye.

She turned on the camera and centered Mercy's headstone in the viewscreen. She tipped the camera a little, and then dropped it. It hit the soft damp grass without a sound.

Haley fell to her hands and knees, scrabbling after the camera.

She'd imagined it. Hadn't she? Some trick of the fading light had created what she thought she'd seen—dark eyes wide in a pale face, a mouth that might sob or shriek.

Haley's trembling fingers closed around the little metal box. She sat back on her heels and raised the camera hesitantly, aiming it at Mercy's grave once more, and then looked into the viewscreen again.

The face was there, framed by dark hair. Haley's gaze went quickly to the actual grave, but there was nothing to be seen. Nothing except the stone that had stood there quietly for more than a century.

But on the viewscreen, the face rushed toward her, the mouth opening, the eyes full of desperation. Haley fell back, flat on the damp grass, her arms flying up to fight off the thing that was leaping on her.

Except that nothing did. Nothing touched her. She sat up and got shakily to her hands and knees, stuffing her camera quickly into her pocket.

And then she felt it. The faint vibrations rose up through the ground. She felt them in her legs, in her outstretched hands.