The Hero (20 page)

She was at Spencer’s—a pretty typical Saturday night. They played Candy Land with the kids followed by a bowl of ice cream. Then Mercy was tucked into Spencer’s bed while Austin headed for his room to watch a movie. Spencer put on a movie for them. Devon reclined on the couch and Spencer reclined on Devon. They cuddled up for the movie. After about an hour, Devon asked, “Spencer, do you think we’ll last?”

“I hope so,” he said. “Since I can’t even think about giving you up.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he said, kissing her neck and pulling her closer. “I think we give it a little more time then maybe talk about the future? Hmm? If you feel the same way?”

“That would be like a dream come true. But I have to ask something else. If you answer no, that’s completely acceptable.”

“Shoot,” he said.

“Well, I have almost everything I’ve ever wanted. When The Fellowship is finally shut down and there’s no more possible problems from Jacob, it will be like I’ve been completely reborn. I can’t remember being happier and a lot of that is because of you. I love you so much.”

“Was there a question in there?” he asked.

“Yes, there is. If we’re still together and something should happen to me, will you take Mercy?”

“What could happen to you?” he asked.

“Nothing will happen to me,” she said with a laugh. “But there’s no one. Well, there’s Rawley, who I’m sure wouldn’t hesitate and Mercy loves him. I love him. But he’s a sixty-three-year-old man who I’m sure would find taking on a child full-time to be a huge challenge. And I don’t think that would be the best situation for Mercy, no matter how much we love him. But you’re a wonderful parent...”

He was silent and she waited. The arms that held her relaxed a little bit. It was a long time before she said, “Uh-oh. I crossed the line, didn’t I? I asked too much, too soon....”

He pulled her near again. “Of course not. Of course I would do that.”

“Listen, if you want me to back off this question until...well, you know, until later. When we’re more sure of each other.”

“No,” he said. “I’m sure.”

She pulled away a bit and looked at him. “You know, I’d make the same promise about Austin, but Cooper and Sarah might object. He’s set, should something happen to you.”

“It’s all right, Devon. You’re right to ask—you have to watch out for her. Yes, is the answer. Of course I’ll take care of Mercy. Don’t worry about it again.”

But that night, after the movie, rather than trying to wheedle her into staying longer, he carried Mercy to her car and, for the first time, didn’t follow her home. “I shouldn’t leave Austin alone. And you have your phone. If you’re worried about anything or have a problem, call me. I’ll lock the front door and run down the block to help you.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I think I upset you. I asked too much of you. It’s not your obligation.”

He kissed her lightly on the lips and said, “Don’t be silly. You have to think about things like that. We’ll talk more about this later.”

“Okay,” she said.

But she could feel the instant distance between them. And when she called him the next morning he said, “I might be coming down with something. I have a headache and I’m all plugged up. I’m going to take Austin out to Cooper’s and get some rest.”

“Okay. Feel better. I’ll be here all day.”

* * *

Spencer didn’t sleep. His mind was spinning all night and by morning he had a blistering headache. And all this because Devon had asked him to be Mercy’s guardian should something happen to her while they were a couple? It was a logical request. And Mercy was cute as could be; well-behaved and smart. In fact, if he and Bridget had had a second child, he would have loved a daughter like Mercy.

But they hadn’t. Instead Bridget had left him widowed.

He walked with Austin to the beach, got him set up with his fishing pole at the end of the dock, grabbed a cup of coffee and went to the deck to keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t try diving off the dock. He sat on the deck and just watched the sea. And thought about things.

Less than two weeks after arriving in Thunder Point, three months after burying his wife, Spencer had been called to Missouri because his father had passed. It was far from unexpected. His parents had been in the same nursing home, his father suffering from the effects of a massive stroke that should’ve killed him but left him completely incapacitated instead. His mother, suffering from advanced Alzheimer’s and several heart attacks, survived him, but not for long. The last time he took Austin to visit his parents, over a year ago, his mother didn’t recognize either one of them.

But he took his mother in a wheelchair to his father’s burial. There were a few people there from the nursing home, but all their friends and family were gone. And his mother had been on another planet the whole time, gazing off at nothing, making weird little movements with hands that were crippled with arthritis. She had absolutely no idea what was going on.

The nursing supervisor from the nursing home said, “Spencer, you’ve had a very hard year. Let me be completely honest—your mother isn’t going to be with us much longer. In fact, some of us were surprised that your father predeceased her. All the arrangements have been made for her—you made sure of that quite a while ago. Say goodbye to her now. It will be a matter of weeks at the very most. Just take care of your young son. It’s time to get on with your life.”

The call had come a few weeks later. Spencer silently grieved, but he didn’t mention it to anyone except Austin, to whom he said, “Grandma passed away peacefully. She’s with Grandpa now and I believe they’re dancing. When I was a boy, I remember, they loved to dance.”

And Austin who was sometimes a thirty-year-old in a ten-year-old body, asked, “Did she have a happy life?”

And he nodded with a smile. “Until the past few years, after Grandpa had a stroke and Grandma’s Alzheimer’s got the better of her, they were very happy. They laughed a lot. They had fun. They were thrilled when you were born and visited a lot when you were small. But then...”

“I know. Then she went around the bend. And Grandpa stroked out.”

Exactly correct, Spencer thought. His father had been eighty-six, his mother seventy-nine when they passed. Not bad, considering Bridget hadn’t even made it to forty.

After talking about it with Austin, Spencer mentioned it to Cooper, in case Austin ever brought it up with him. And he had said to Cooper at the time, “Let’s not get all emotional about it—I expected it a year ago. I’m relieved. Another chapter of suffering closed.”

Cooper, who many consider a little hard-edged, said, “But, man, buddy, you’ve had a real load this year. I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

He hadn’t thought about it much after that. He was relieved.

He hadn’t cried about it. He wasn’t the crying type anyway. He’d let it all go and embraced his new life, his new town, his team—God, what a team! And there had been that woman, Devon. Despite all adversity, what a fighter she was! She was so alive and, man, had he needed all that life. Especially in the ashes of his buried grief.

And then she’d said, “If something should happen to me...”

Devon thought it was the request that he be responsible for Mercy that had thrown him, but that wasn’t even close. The minute Devon had said that, something roared to life inside him—probably all that grief he hadn’t let see the light of day. And like an arrow through the heart he thought,
I
can’t do it again!
I
can’t bury one more person I love!
I
don’t have any more in me!
Jesus, if he were a country-and-western song all he’d need is a broken-down pickup and a dead dog and he’d get an award.

Cooper came outside a couple of times, sat with him a minute, talked about his new house a little, though it was still just cement and dirt. Cooper asked him what was wrong and needing him to go away, he said, “Could be flu. It’s been running through the school. I’m achy and my head is pounding.”

He sat there, licking his wounds and feeling sorry for himself for at least a couple of hours when he saw her walking across the beach. She held something in her hands and she was almost to the base of the stairs before he could see it was a covered pot that she held. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, looked up at him, then began the climb. When she got to the top she sat down, put the pot in the middle of the table and asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Plugged up,” he said. It wasn’t a complete lie, since he was starting to understand that he was emotionally plugged up. Devon had scared him and he had freaked out.

“Have you taken anything?”

“Advil,” he lied. “I probably need a decongestant. What’s that?”

“I made you chicken soup. By now I’m sure it’s not hot, but Rawley will be glad to warm it up for you. Spencer, I’m sorry.”

He took a deep breath. He leaned forward. “No,
I’m
sorry. Your question—it took me by surprise, but the real surprise was in my head. And I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I want to say two things, two important things. First, whether we’re a couple or not, I will take responsibility for Mercy. I will be sure she’s safe and cared for and loved, no matter what. I promise. I give you my word, and my word is good. And the second thing—when you asked me that, it really hit me just how serious our relationship is and how fast it became serious. Devon, I love you, I can’t help it. But I just buried my wife last spring. I buried my parents last summer. I need a few days to think about things, to be sure I’m not just desperate for some stability, for an answer to some of the aches and pains the past couple of years have given me. I don’t want to rush into anything. I don’t want to rush you. I just want to think about this. For a split second, I felt ambushed.”

She flinched as if she’d been slapped. “But I tried to discourage you!”

“You did. I didn’t realize I might be moving too fast. My feelings haven’t changed. Give me a little time.”

She tapped the pot. “This isn’t going to cure what you’ve got.”

“I know.”

“Here’s what I’m going to do,” she said. “I’m going home. Don’t call me unless you think you know what you want. Because I’m doing this exactly one time.” Then she stood, ran down the stairs and across the beach.

He watched her go and asked himself if he was just some kind of fool or a man being smart. It was reasonable, wasn’t it? They’d met in June. It was September. A few months. When she was out of sight, he sighed and turned his head.

Cooper stood in the doorway from the bar. His arms were crossed over his chest and his heavy eyebrows were furrowed. “What the fuck was that?” he asked.

“If you’re going to eavesdrop, at least pay attention,” Spencer said.

“I was paying attention! You brought your grumpy self out here, claiming to have the start of the flu, but what you were having was idiocy. You’ve been sniffing after that pretty little thing for months! Did you really just cut her loose and tell her you needed
space?
”

“Cooper, I’m warning you—stay out of this. We’ll sort it out in a couple of days....”

“When men say they need to think, that they need space, women know what they mean. When I was a teenager or idiot guy in my twenties, I thought I was getting one over on them, but they always knew—it was an excuse because I couldn’t make a commitment. You’re such a jackass.”

“Fuck you! I’m committed all over the place! I was with Bridget every day while she was dying! I’ll be Austin’s father till he’s old and gray even though he’s got your DNA! I took care of my parents the best I could! I’m a teacher, a coach, a friend! I don’t take this shit lightly!”

“Was one more commitment, the one that actually feels the best, just too much for little you?” Cooper asked. “Because she’s already got a heap of worries and struggles and I think you probably just broke the hell out of her heart.”

“I’ll fix that up,” he said sulkily. “But right now I think I’m getting the flu!”

“Flu of the brain, that’s what. If you don’t run after her right now and beg for another chance, you’re not getting any sympathy from me when you’re too late.”

“I don’t need your sympathy. I also don’t need your advice. It’s not like you’re that slick with women!”

“Listen, Spencer,” he said, pulling out a chair and sitting at the table with him. “I understand you might be a little gun-shy—what you went through with Bridget, that would be rough. But Devon’s a good kid and she’s been through a lot, too. Maybe you’d be better off working on holding each other up than taking a break to think things over.”

“Cut it,” he said, drawing a finger across his throat.

“All right, then, if that’s the way you want it, do it your way. Just trying to share the wealth of my experience. You could be alone a long time. Just trying to be useful, bud.”

“You wanna be useful? How about a beer? And some silence.”

“Whatever,” Cooper said, going into the bar. But he didn’t bring back a beer.

* * *

When Devon got home, Mercy was still napping. Mrs. Bledsoe was sitting on Devon’s couch, reading one of her novels. She slowly stood as Devon came in the house. “How is he feeling?”