The Riches of Mercy (11 page)

Except for the leg, she was stronger. Her wheelchair moved easily under her fingers. She'd learned the tricks and corners of the house. So she made it to the porch and gazed out at the other little porches and two-story bungalows.

The neighborhood had been developed only ten years ago, when golf moved inland and Wilmington real estate shot sky-high. The city seemed suspended between cute and depressingly generic, but none of the grit of Charlotte was there, and none of the crime.

Natalie inhaled deeply. When she felt better, Jake was going to take her on a tour. The water tower, the railroad depot, the farmer's market, the library.

For the first time in weeks, she was energetic enough to be bored. She dug her cell phone out of her bag and called Patrick.

He was at his desk. "Uh, hi, Nat."

"Uh, hi, Pat," she said, trying to be jovial, but miffed at the hesitation. He was her only lifeline, didn't he know?

"I've been meaning to call you. I thought maybe I'd come down and see you on the weekend. When's your surgery scheduled?"

"Patrick, is something wrong at the office?"

"Tell me how you are first."

"No."

He paused, breathing evenly against the phone, and then coughed, and asked, "Have you seen the news?"

"Not really. I mean, sometimes the local stuff here, or CNN on the computer, but I haven't really been up to it."

"Oh, okay."

She was purposely avoiding Roland like a spoiled child. But she assumed everything went on as normal in her absence. Life usually did.

"Roland's lawyers have started these rumors, and you know the blogosphere, and it's just you've been so under the radar--in the hospital, I know--"

"Patrick!"

"Maybe you should talk to the District Attorney directly."

She was so infuriated by his babbling, she wanted to throw the phone on the ground and roll over it with her wheel. She trembled, and whispered into the phone, hoping calmness would bring clarity.

"Patrick. What the heck is going on?"

"They're saying you were drunk."

"What?"

“You were drunk and distraught over having no case and framing poor, innocent Roland you took off for the weekend to drown your sorrows."

She made some sort of squeaking sound.

"We're placing you on administrative leave," he said.

"Agh? What about my vacation leave?"

"It's a good thing. More money than short-term disability, so you can ride this out longer. Once the trial is over--" He paused again.

"Once the trial is over what?" she asked.

"You can come back to your job."

"Not until then?"

"It's only until the verdict comes back and everything's straightened out. A week, maybe two. Nat," he asked. "Were you drunk?"

"No!"

"Can you prove it? The Tarpley police have been very uncooperative with the press."

"Do you want the damn police report? I'll fax it directly to the Observer."

"Have you seen it?"

"Not yet. But I will." She seethed, but at least he was giving her a plan. She could clear her name. Once she stopped being brutally offended she needed to clear her name.

"Nat," he asked, his voice quiet. "Were you speeding?"

"I don't know. I don't remember anything."

"The police report will say."

"I could have been. It was night, and the highway was wide open, and God, I was so angry about the case--"

"I don't want to hear anymore," Patrick said.

"So basically my career is ruined."

"Come on, Nat. Don't be dramatic."

"The case is tainted, the jury will think the city is either laughable or corrupt, and Roland seems like a victim."

"Those are issues we're dealing with. You need to heal," he said.

"He drowned his wife. He drowned her."

"I know."

"I didn't drown anyone."

"Natalie--"

"I didn't drink. I didn't hurt anyone. Just myself."

"It's politics," he said.

"I thought I worked for justice."

He didn't say anything.

She relented, still angry but not at him. "How're the girls?"

"Great." He launched into a story of their fall break, and Natalie listened, red with rage, breathing hard. She listened quietly and wished she could scream, instead.

#

On Saturday, Natalie made dinner, even though it was hard to deal with the stove when she sat underneath it. Macaroni and cheese from a box. On Meredith's instructions she added a vegetable mix from the freezer and set out ketchup on the table. She didn't know if she could watch them eat it.

Hollingsworth followed her around, wary of the metal contraption housing her. Only when she was in bed or on the couch would he leap up to join her. Sometimes when the chair was otherwise unoccupied, she would find him curled up and asleep. Hollingsworth dozing in the wheelchair miffed the boys because they liked to roll the wheelchair through the house. Which miffed Meredith. One big happy family.

She'd timed dinner so she was stirring the butter into the noodles when the door flew open and Merritt and Beau bounded through.

"Natty!" they called.

Her name sounded so much better on their lips than Patrick's. The bastard. She shouldn't think about that when the kids were home, hugging her. She pulled Merritt onto her lap so Beau could crowd her good leg without touching her bad one.

Meredith followed more sedately. She held Natalie's gaze, smiling, until Natalie's face ached from smiling back. She wanted to hug Meredith, too, but her arms were full, and Meredith finally reached over and tousled her hair, smoothing locks in front of her eyes.

Natalie blew the hair back. "Thanks," she said.

"Hey, anytime I can beautify you, you just let me know."

"Mommy, you made Natalie ugly." Beau said.

Meredith cringed, but Natalie laughed. "What am I, Clark Kent?" she asked.

"What's your superpower?"

"Making dinner?" Natalie said.

"Right. Good one. All right boys, set the table."

Beau and Merritt climbed off of Natalie and slunk toward the silverware.

Natalie patted her lap. "Space free."

Meredith blushed.

"I got fired today," Natalie said.

"What?"

"That was just for dramatic effect. Kind of. Placed on 'administrative leave.' They said I was drunk when I had the accident."

"You weren't drunk. I saw the toxicology report myself. I just violated HIPAA. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I mean, you're telling the patient."

"Sure, but--Natalie, I'm so sorry." Meredith took Natalie's hand, and Natalie squeezed it, drawing it against her arm.

They stood together until Beau banged his fork on the table, and said, "Hungry!"

"You're raising monsters," Natalie said.

Meredith let her hand go. "Wolves, disguised as sheep."

"We're going to be soldiers, like daddy," Beau said.

Natalie glanced at Meredith, who went to kiss the top of Beau's head. "Yes, you will. And what else did daddy tell you to do?"

"Go to college," Beau said.

Merritt picked up macaroni and cheese with his fingers and put it on his plate.

"Guess he's ready for Stanford," Natalie said.

"I told them they weren't allowed to leave the state for college unless they were real smart and wanted to go to Emory. They had no idea what I was talking about. They're four, you know."

"I finally found the audience for my cooking," Natalie said.

"Aw, honey, if you read the directions on the box, cooking's real easy."

"Don't you think I've tried?" Natalie asked.

Meredith grinned.

Natalie freed the pot of macaroni and cheese from the boys long enough to get some only lightly spittle-covered noodles for herself.

"Hold hands," Meredith said. And then when she saw Merritt's orange-stained hands, she mouthed "Sorry" to Natalie.

Natalie shrugged. Three days with children in the house and she'd already acclimated to parts of her feeling gross. She clasped the slippery, warm hand. Merritt giggled.

Meredith bowed her head. "Dear Heavenly Father, bless this food we are about to eat. We pray it may be good for our body and soul. If there be any poor creature hungry or thirsty walking along the road, send them in to us that we can share the food with them, just as You share your gifts with all of us. Amen."

"Amen," Beau said. Then he got out of his chair and ran to the door.

Natalie blinked.

"Every time I say that he goes to the door to let in the hungry and the thirsty."

"Have any come?"

Meredith called out, "Beau, come back. She's already here."

Beau skittered back. He frowned but climbed back into his chair.

Natalie picked up her fork but waited until the lump in her throat subsided so she could eat.

#

Natalie hadn't talked to her law school friends in nearly a year. They'd all once been close, spending at least two hours a night studying together in the law library. Quizzing each other, memorizing words, eating bad pizza and good Chinese food. After every semester they'd go out for beer, and the second time Natalie puked it all up, she decided after every semester she'd have ginger ale.

Thinking about drinking made her slightly nauseous. But it always made her think of her friends. She'd been a blip on their social networking for a while, and commented on baby pictures or a good book, but she hadn't paid much attention. So it took her a good ten minutes to figure out her blog's password. Then she composed the note. "You'll never guess where I am..."

#

Meredith knocked on Natalie's door.

"Come in."

Meredith opened the door. "Heard you typing. Thought you might want breakfast."

"I do want breakfast." Natalie put the laptop aside.

Meredith chuckled and maneuvered in a tray. Natalie was small under her quilt--tired, still. And yet, something about the way her dark hair shined in the lamplight made Meredith's breath catch. She settled the tray over Natalie's lap, just like at the hospital, except this one was made of wood and the dishes on top were ceramic, not plastic.

The pancakes were homemade, but not as good as Colleen's.

Natalie raised an eyebrow at the water glass with dandelions and clover blossoms.

"Boys picked those for you. But I made them promise not to come in."

"Where are they?"

"In the living room, petting your cat," Meredith said.

"Is my cat all right?"

"When I left he was."

Natalie bit her lip, but gazed at the plate.

"Do you want syrup?"

"Yes."

Meredith tapped the little polished silver vessel.

"What's that?" Natalie asked, tapping a glass.

"Iced tea."

Natalie took the glass and carefully took a sip.

"Unsweetened," Meredith said.

"I see."

"Gotta start you slow."

"We do have tea in Charlotte, you know," Natalie said.

"Is it Lipton?"

Natalie shook her head. She put the glass down and poured syrup on her pancakes.

"Ain't tea," Meredith said.

Natalie snorted.

Meredith eased off the side of the bed.

"Going to work?"

"Day off. We get those sometime. I was thinking of going to Wal-Mart and getting a few things. It's a couple of towns over."

"Want me to watch the boys?"

"They can get pretty wild on you. How about you take one, I'll take one."

"I think I can handle that. Maybe after breakfast."

"Got a preference?" Meredith asked.

Natalie took another bite of pancake, chewed, swallowed, and said, lifting her tea to toast Meredith, "I love them both the same."

Meredith's chest constricted. "Good answer. I'll leave you to your breakfast."

"I really do," Natalie called, as she went through the door.

# #

Chapter Fourteen

Natalie got up early Sunday morning and carefully made her way out of her bedroom. The boys were already awake. Merritt colored in the kitchen. Beau played with blocks. What he was building, Natalie couldn't guess.

"What're you doing?" Natalie asked as she wheeled herself into the kitchen. Her legs itched. Her hips were sore. She wanted out of the chair, but she was pretty sure she'd forgotten how to walk.

Merritt came over and crawled onto her lap. He'd gotten good at avoiding her broken leg by wedging himself against the arm of the chair and her shoulder.

Beau said, "We can't watch TV without mommy. And we have to be quiet. She's asleep."

"What time does she usually wake up?"

Beau glanced at the clock. "Um. Nine."

Merritt began combing his fingers through Natalie's hair. Natalie hoped they weren't sticky.

The kitchen clock read 8:15.

"Should we make Merr--Mommy breakfast?"

"Okay," Merritt said.

Beau put down his blocks.

"What's her favorite food?" Natalie asked.

"She likes eggs," Beau said.

Merritt pushed his face into Natalie's shoulder and giggled. "With hot sauce."

"It burns," Beau said. He wore a dismayed expression.

"Hot!" Merritt shouted.

"Shssh," Natalie said.

Merritt grunted.

"Beau, see if we have any eggs," Natalie said.

Beau scampered to the refrigerator.

"Merry, do we get the paper?" Natalie asked Merritt.

Merritt nodded. "On Sundays."

"Go get it," she said.

Merritt slipped off her lap and wandered in the general direction of the door.

Beau carefully set the hot sauce and the eggs on the kitchen counter and then frowned.

Natalie wheeled over.

Beau said, "We can't reach the stove."

"Good point. Maybe mommy will make everyone breakfast."

Beau nodded. He looked determined and marched back over to the refrigerator, and pulled out the milk.

"We can have cereal," he said.

"Where are the bowls?"

He opened the bottom cabinet and pulled out a bowl, and then more carefully stretched to pull a spoon from the silverware drawer. His triumphant grin faltered when Natalie narrowed her eyes at him. She waited. He gazed down at his bowl.