The Riches of Mercy (16 page)

Then it was all over with her still floating and numb. Colleen took her back to her room and kissed her cheek and pointed to the flowers sitting on the table.

Natalie took the card. "Way to go, champ. Love, Merry."

Colleen grinned and folded her arms.

"Champ?" Natalie asked.

"Want me to scruff your hair?"

Natalie's hair had grown out some since they'd shaved it the first night--the last night--and it was of scruffable length. She made a face.

Colleen winked and went to the door. "I'll bring you lunch. Well, a liquid lunch. You'll love it."

"Hey, Colleen?"

Colleen turned around in the doorway.

"When will the numbness wear off?"

"Oh, about four hours. But you'll be on the painkillers. Don't worry."

"Oh, I'm not worried," Natalie said.

Colleen grinned back and gave her a little wave, and then left her alone with her absence of pain and the card from Meredith. She traced the writing. Champ. She'd have to get Meredith back. She'd have to--

The memory of her conversation with Erica came back to her, filling her mind and pushing out the happiness. Her heart sank. Her hand, holding the card, trembled.

The idea of Meredith being a different person than she'd thought--an evil person--warred with the thought that Meredith might go to prison and Natalie would lose her. She tucked the card back into the flowers. She felt ill. She wanted to go home. She wanted to see the boys--to see they were safe, that everyone was safe--that there was no deer, no Roland.

She rubbed her wrists. Maybe this is what it was supposed to feel like, to be healthy in a hospital. She felt ready to go back to her old life, the one in the sick, sick world. The world Meredith was of. She was just like everyone else.

So Meredith was a murderer.

She turned her head. The flowers were daisies and lilies, arranged in earthy combination. Their scent tickled Natalie's nose. She sighed. She could walk. She could run all the way back to Charlotte. Roland was free of her, and she of him, but Patrick could quietly slip her back into a caseload.

She could take a demotion. She could transfer to Washington, D.C., or Delaware, or Pittsburgh. She could enter private practice. She could run for office. She would never have to see Meredith again.

#

Meredith played cards with Terrance, who was in for his regular dialysis.

"Gin," he said, spreading his cards on the hospital tray.

"I wasn't even close."

"You shouldn't let an old man beat you at cards."

"'Let' had nothing to do with it."

Terrance grinned.

Meredith reshuffled the cards.

Wheeler knocked on the open door. "Nurse?" he said.

'Nurse.' Used in the hospital, it was code for, 'keep cool, keep professional, because something's about to go down.' Or 'Don't scare the patients, but--."

White-faced, she smiled at Terrance and got up. "Next week. I'm going to read some strategy books. You won't know what hit you."

"I'd at least like a challenge."

She winked and went into the hallway with Wheeler.

Wheeler ran his hand over his head. "Merry. I don't know how to tell you this."

Dread washed over her, icy cold, robbing her of senses. Her boys--It could only be--

"It's Natalie," he said.

Relief brought with it confusion. "I heard the surgery went fine. You asked--" He'd asked that she avoid Natalie when she came in for her shift. The memo seemed ominous at the time, but since she never saw Natalie at work these days anyway, she slipped into her routine, comforted when she'd heard Natalie was fine.

"She knows. She knows everything, Merry. Everything about you."

Her mind filled with the things Natalie could possibly know, that she'd kept secret from her without even realizing, Meredith sagged against the wall. Wheeler tried to put his hands on her shoulders. She shook him off.

"What am I going to do?" she asked.

"You're going to go home and talk to her."

"I can't. I can't." Her home hadn't been a home since she'd lost Vincent. Since before --Since he'd come back from the desert. Natalie's coming made it feel like it once had, safe and loving and full of light. She'd known it was just a mirage, but in just days, she had gotten used to it. The absence of pain. The joy that filled her whenever she thought of Natalie.

"I can't go home," she said, knowing she wouldn't be able to make Wheeler understand there would be no home left anymore.

"Take some time. You're off-shift, but take some time. Think. Pray. We're keeping her here for a day or two, but you've got to go home." he said.

Then he left her, going on to do his rounds, and for long minutes she leaned against the wall, too stunned to cry, too empty to be ashamed.

When she regained her senses, she asked God what to do. Then she asked Vincent. Then she asked her heart. All were agreed on the course of action--the one she didn't want, the one that would be the hardest to face.

Sooner or later, she had to look Natalie in the eye.

#

Natalie stayed in the hospital two days. The first day she slept sedated in between bouts of pain. She didn’t really miss the Vicodin, but she welcomed the new doses. She was familiar with the high.

The second day, of course, the nurses gave her Tylenol instead. She tried not to think about Merry. She tried not to think about anything.

At three p.m. on the third afternoon, Wheeler appeared.

"We're releasing you. The van'll be here to pick you up in about a half hour."

"Am I healed?"

"As long as you take it easy at home, especially tonight, I think you'll be fine. Your leg is happy with what we did, even if you can't tell. Have you been taking it easy?"

She blushed. She rubbed her cheek and frowned at him.

"Well? How's the home front?" he asked.

"Come on, Hank. I take it easy. I mean, as well as I can with two boys. But they've been really great--fetching things, being quiet, pushing me around. They feed the cat every morning. I mean, I have to remind them. But we make it a little game. 'Okay, you get to feed the cat now!' They have no idea they're doing chores."

Wheeler stared at her.

"What?"

"You just didn't strike me as a cat and kids kind of person when you rolled up in here."

"I was heavily medicated and you sawed me open. Pissed me off."

He shrugged. "I get that a lot. No one ever likes my technique."

"I'm grateful, you know. You saved my life. Thank you."

"Come on, Nat. Just doing my job."

"When I do my job, people go to jail."

He winced.

"Sorry," she said.

He shook his head. "People like Merry?"

"No, not people like--" She stopped herself. It wasn't fair to say they weren't like Meredith. Maybe Meredith was just poor and desperate and raised wrong and addicted and trapped like the rest of them. Even Roland thought he had no way out. No easy way.

"People just don't seem willing to do what's hard," she said.

"Even you?"

"Especially me. I just wanted not to feel too much. I was just going to get hurt, anyway."

Wheeler sat on the bed.

"Oh, Hank. Not one of the talks."

"Yes, Nat. All part of the service here."

She narrowed her eyes.

He grinned and then turned slightly to gaze out the window. It was only mid-day. Natalie was healed enough to think lying in a bed in the middle of the day was a crime. She stretched. Pain traveled through her leg and up to her abdomen and her chest. She settled back into the bed and frowned.

Wheeler turned back and asked, "You going to be able to go back?"

"To Merry's?"

He nodded.

"Yeah. I want--I want to talk with her. I want to know."

"And if she doesn't want to talk?"

"I guess, then, I guess I'll just sleep and eat there. I'm not afraid, if that's what you mean."

"I didn't think so. And what about the boys?"

"I think--I love those boys. And they had nothing to do with it. Right?"

"No, they didn't."

She squared her shoulders. "Hank, what'd you come here to say?"

"I was thinking about the conversation we had a few weeks ago. About your visitors."

"And the lack thereof."

"Then you remember."

"Yes. You accused me of being--" her words stuttered. She made no second attempt, and only stared at him.

"I didn't--I'm sorry. About making you uncomfortable."

"You were doing something good. I mean, I don't hold it against you. You were being kind."

He nodded.

She reached out and put her hand on his arm.

He covered her hand with his. "I have a favor to ask."

"All right."

"It's a big favor, and I have no right to ask it."

"All right."

"You're being brave," he said.

She shrugged.

He squeezed her hand. "If you can find it in your heart to be Meredith's friend--with all you know--then do it. Try. I could tell before it revolted you. As it does all of us. But please, try."

"Okay."

"It'll be hard. I know you want to leave."

"Of course I do," she said, and tears spilled down her cheeks.

"You can't believe she was who she is. You can't help but see a different person."

She nodded, then shook her head, and squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears.

He didn't say anything more, just sat with her until she could breathe evenly. She let go of his hand and hugged her shoulders. He didn't say anything. She cleared her throat and then found the strength to look him in the face.

He was the same calm, kind man.

"Any more advice, before you send me back into the den of lions?"

"Have faith in your own abilities. I know you feel you can't do this. I can see it. You're just not that kind of person. Who is? We're only human."

"I only have faith in your abilities, Doctor Hank."

"I'm only good with my hands. Merry needs you."

"I'm just a stranger."

"I know." He took her hands in both of his. "Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things."

She squeezed his hands. She met his eyes.

"Don't worry," she said.

"I'm not." He got up and smoothed down his coat and went to the door.

"Hank?" she asked.

He leaned against the door and gazed back at her.

"Tell me where that was from. I think I'm ready to hear it."

He grinned. "First Corinthians 13:7." Then he shut the door, leaving her in contemplation.

"Great," she said. She stared up at the ceiling. "I heard you. Bastard. There's no way I can do this."

# #

Chapter Nineteen

Natalie crawled into the van, with Harold helping, treating her like Queen Elizabeth. They'd wheeled her to the exit, hospital policy. Fair enough, she wouldn't have wanted to make the walk herself. The walker and the walking cast were coming home with her. Five steps. She could do five steps.

Halfway to Meredith's house, the van always passed a stoplight with a gas station and a strip mall, an area Natalie could squeeze out cell phone reception. She dialed.

Patrick answered. "Hey! I have good news."

"I do, too." She gazed through the window. People were shopping at the Dollar Store across the street. A woman walked two big dogs right past the van. Life continued in the early afternoon, and she was a part of it. She grinned and pressed her cheek to the glass.

"You first," Patrick said. "I want to hear how you are."

"I had surgery a few days ago and I'm doing better than they expected. I can go home this weekend. Be at work Monday."

"Great! We can accommodate you, you know. What do you need? We can move your desk so--"

"Pattypat," she said.

He grunted.

"I can walk."

The words carried as much dramatic weight as when she'd told him she might never again, but these words were joyous, and she told him because she wanted him to be as happy as she was.

He cheered. "Natalie, that's so great! I'm so glad."

"Me too," she said. "What's your news?"

"Oh. I'm glad you're doing better. I didn't want to bother you, you know? When you're trying to heal. I guess you haven't been reading the papers, either. You don't need this shit."

"Pat."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. I just haven't heard bad language in a while. I was surprised."

"Fuck it, Natalie. The city needs you."

"Tarpley?"

Harold glanced over his shoulder.

"Charlotte, honey. I'll email you some links. Or you could just do a Google search for your name. Nothing ever comes up under my name, unless it's like, paperwork related."

"Uh huh."

"You've been cleared. The police released your report, and they said alcohol and speed were not factors in the crash."

"I wasn't even speeding?"

"Well, maybe you have friends on the force? But no. They said it was a freak accident. Could have happened to anyone. Deer with their timing. And they said you reacted and left a skid ten feet long on the road."

"Woo."

"Right, girlfriend." Static came through the line.

"You're breaking up, Patrick."

"I'll email you. I can't wait to see you!" he called through the phone, and then the line went dead.

She snapped the phone shut. Harold glanced at her.

"What?" she asked.

"You’re very professional. With the cell phone and all. I guess you're back to normal?"

She frowned and glanced out the window. Trees, now. Power lines. Nothing else. The van was between civilizations.

"I guess so."

He nodded. "It's nice."

"I guess so."

"Your fellow?" Harold asked.

"What? No. My boss."

"Sounds like he's a fan of yours."

"I guess so," she said.

Patrick had always been nice to her. Friendly. Invited her over for Thanksgiving and Christmas and always brought her a card on her birthday. He'd never made any moves on her.

Maybe he just liked her.

Maybe they were actually friends.

She glanced at the phone, wanting to call him back. But the reception was too weak, and anyway, she didn't know what to ask. She didn't even know how to tell who her true friends were.