The Riches of Mercy (4 page)

"I guess after a minute or two in the grass it got easier. My mother drove to the emergency room and they numbed the arm. I don't remember the recovery, the cast, or anything else. I'm sorry. Just the long, aching moments in the grass."

"All right. By the way, your insurance wants to transfer you up to Duke Medical Center." Wheeler said.

"I'd rather stay here," Natalie said.

Meredith's hand involuntarily tightened on Natalie's. She glanced down, her relief unprofessional, shame burning her cheeks. Her heart pounded in her ears. She prayed Natalie wouldn't notice her reaction. She prayed Natalie, too, saw some cosmic reason she'd been sent to Tarpley.

"It's just as well that you do. Transport would be painful. We're going to have one of their specialists come down and examine at your leg and your neck for you," Wheeler said.

"Thanks--Doctor Henry."

He nodded. "Sign these?"

Natalie reached for the papers, and grunted when her shoulder wouldn't let her cover the distance. Wheeler moved them closer, and then took her elbow to cushion her weight.

Meredith let go of her hand.

Natalie signed her life away to Blue Cross Blue Shield. She rubbed at her eyes.

"Are you all right?" Meredith asked.

"Just thinking about my cat. One of the maintenance workers found her in a city sewer and brought her to the government building. She was just a kitten then. Muddy and beautiful."

"She's fine," Meredith said. "I talked to--Susana?"

"My next door neighbor," Natalie said.

Wheeler took the papers. "See? Just fine. I'll come by tonight, when you've processed this all. Write down your questions as they come to you. We'll go over them."

Natalie nodded.

Wheeler patted Meredith's back and left.

Meredith sat on the edge of the bed and wiped Natalie's face with a cool cloth. "You all right? That's a lot to take in."

"I don't know."

Meredith tapped her cheek with the cloth to get her attention. Natalie met her eyes.

"We'll get through this," Meredith said.

"We will?"

"Stick with me."

She said the words the same way to Natalie as she would to a geriatric man facing a liver transplant or a little boy with a pencil up his nose, and the words had the same effect. Natalie relaxed.

Merry sat back. "You've eaten your breakfast and heard the talk. It's naptime. When you wake up, everything will be different."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

# #

Chapter Five

An attorney called ahead to the hospital to see what was to be done about the cat. He got a hold of Wheeler, who passed him to Meredith. Meredith listened abstractly to his tale of woe about his children's allergies and Natalie's strange and distant neighbors. Susana had stopped answering her door. The rest might be cat-murderers for all he knew. It was this or the kennel. He pleaded, but his voice also held authority. He brought the cat carrier with him as he drove down to see Natalie.

Meredith met him in the lobby and received the cat, unable to make it anyone else's problem. The cat's name was Hollingsworth. The attorney, twice her age, took her hand and introduced himself as Patrick. Natalie's boss. Meredith tried to picture Natalie with him at some bland office in the city. She took the cat home and let Patrick go on his way.

She only had a cat once before. An outside cat that strayed too close to her family home. She'd fed it. She'd bought cat food with her own money for weeks until her father caught her. He told her they were a sign of the devil. The cat was trying to seduce her—already she kept secrets for it

She'd been so ashamed she never thought about cats. A dog, maybe. But Vincent was afraid of dogs. Now, God sent her a second cat, by way of a Charlotte attorney.

And a horrific accident.

She didn't know if it was good or bad, temporary or permanent, or if it would change her. She told herself she was just babysitting for a stranger. But when she knelt next to the cat and gazed into its wide, blinking blue eyes, and felt its purr under her fingers when she stroked the long, grey hairs, she figured He had a hand in it somewhere.

If the cat needed her, well, she had love to give. Her neighbors didn't much talk to her. Instead she got hard stares if anyone happened to be out in the neighborhood when she drove through. Sometimes her boys waved at the people they saw. No one waved back.

Even Mrs. Cranston, her babysitter, didn’t speak to her. Though she took Meredith's money. At least she was kind to the children.

At work no one seemed to know her anymore. There were moments with Colleen where everything felt like it was before, when Vincent was still alive, when the boys were just infants, and everything at work felt right. But Colleen would back off of those moments before Meredith would.

Aside from her children and a stranger who didn't yet condemn her, Meredith had nothing. So when the cat rubbed against her hand, seeking more, she didn't have the strength to resist.

"Where did you come from?" she asked.

The cat merely circled her ankles and stretched out for another touch.

She wished she had more faith.

#

Natalie missed her life. She missed her city. With each long, slow, pain-filled day passing, the accident felt less like a horrible inconvenience and more like her whole life was altering.

She only talked to doctors and nurses. The reality of her empty life was sinking in, and it made her feel terribly cold. She trembled and reached for nurses with icy fingers. She slept endlessly.

Since Wheeler told her about her leg, she preferred to sleep. She would float, at ease and dreamless, for hours. No pain, no past, no future. And then she would wake up, and the panic would set in--always within the first minute. She'd burned through a week of sick leave. She only had two more left.

Roland's trial restarted. The newspapers reported the defense team's argument was making inroads now that Natalie Ivans' steely, cold gaze wasn't there to thwart it.

That was how they thought of her. She wanted to dwell on it, but her head still hurt most of the time and all she could really to do was sleep again.

In this early afternoon, for the first time since waking up in her new life, she had a visitor. Theresa brought Patrick into her room. He'd driven down from Charlotte.

"How's the case?" she asked. She let him kiss her forehead, unable to reciprocate. She felt limp and useless in the hospital bed. Not even her brain worked, and she was starting to get tired again.

"Screw the case," he said.

"Give me a dollar."

"What?"

"They don't like you to cuss around here." She lowered her voice. "I think it's a like, Christian hospital."

Patrick glanced around furtively. "Eastern Carolina. Jesus. A good reason I didn't go to school down here."

"Oh, that's why?" she asked.

"And I thought Atlanta would be really exciting."

Natalie’d worried about what he'd say when he saw her like this, but he was just himself, reminding her of home. She could be herself, too. She could slip into the patterns of her life for the past year, and feel like everything was normal.

"Was it?" she asked.

"Hot."

"Patrick, tell me about the trial. I'm going crazy. I'm atrophying."

"We're hoping you'll be back before closing. It'll have an impact on the jury, to see you strong and--well, vengeful."

"I--I can't, Patrick. My recovery is going to take months."

"Months?" He paled.

She clenched her hands together. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

"It was just a car accident, Natalie. It's not the end of the world. We'll take Casey's car and let you use it as a loaner until you get all this sorted out."

"I'm not taking your kid's car."

"Nat--"

"Please. I'm not ready for much."

"Can I get you a computer?"

"Maybe soon."

"How are you?"

His be-okay tone persisted.

"They don't think I'm going to walk again." She felt like she was going to throw up.

"Oh, God. I didn't--I'm sorry, Nat."

She glanced back.

He tried not to look at her, tried to be brave and see her at the same time. If she ended up disfigured, or limping, or worse, everyone would be seeing her the same way for the rest of her life.

"Most of me will heal. They scooped out some of my insides," she said.

Patrick coughed. He'd always been too sensitive for bravado. He was a nice guy. He didn't cope well with hard edges. Even his job made him nauseous.

She changed the subject. "How's Nancy?"

"Oh." He leaned over and opened his bag, and pulled out a teddy bear wearing a beret and handed it over. "Nancy got you this."

She accepted the bear.

He pulled out a bag of M&Ms. "And the kids got you these. Not sure what you're eating."

"They cook for me."

His eyes widened.

She nodded. "Really. Homemade."

"Wow."

He glanced around, politely. She followed his gaze. No flowers, no cards, no books.

"Natalie, you know you're family." He took her hand. "You are. I just wish you had more. We're taking up a collection at the office, but I'm supposed to, uh, report back on how you're doing and tell them what you need. Everyone asks me every day. God, Natalie."

She didn't say anything, just kept staring at the bear, until her face stopped hurting, and the tears retreated.

He left her with case files, a Blackberry to replace her burned cell phone, and a promise to come back in a week. The Blackberry didn't get reception. She read the cover page of the first document, and then fell asleep.

#

Meredith opened the front door. She heard thuds--an avalanche rumbling down the hallway toward her--before she saw the boys, who yelped and then skidded to a stop. They stared at what she carried.

She shut the door behind her. "Boys, I brought something home."

"But we made lunch," Merritt said.

"I know. I can't wait to eat it."

Every day she worked, she came home for lunch. Ms. Cranston saw to it the boys prepared something for her. Ten minute drive, ten minutes to eat, ten minutes back.

"Is it a cat?" Beau asked.

"Yes. It belongs to a patient. It's not ours. We're going to take care of it for her, okay?"

Beau frowned.

Meredith sat the carrying case on the floor.

"Be gentle," she said.

Merritt nodded.

She opened the cage.

The cat stayed inside.

Merritt knelt, and then stretched out on his stomach, peering into the cage.

Beau gave the case a little kick.

"Beau."

Merritt grinned.

The cat cautiously stepped out and sniffed at Merritt.

Beau stood perfectly still.

Meredith enjoyed the moment of silence. The cat was already a blessing.

Beau lunged.

The cat took off for the kitchen.

Merritt howled.

Meredith shook her head and went in to lunch.

#

Meredith took Natalie dinner. Natalie smiled wanly at her and the mild anxiety Meredith felt whenever she was around Natalie intensified. Natalie didn't look good. Meredith settled the tray and then at Natalie's encouragement, sat on the edge of the bed.

"Thanks." Natalie picked up her fork and then set it down again, sighing.

"You all right?"

"I'm worried."

"About your leg?"

"Not really. Wheeler explained it all. I understand. Stupid leg. I'm worried about what I'm going to do."

Meredith glanced at the briefcase next to the bed. "Seems like you got plenty to do."

"Yeah. But--I don't have the energy. I read a few pages and then have to stop. My head hurts. I'm tired all the time. Oh, hell, do I sound like a four year old?"

"I have four year olds. Twins. You sure don't sound like them. The headache'll go away in a few days. I promise."

"You promise?"

"I do."

"All right then." Natalie leaned back. "I can bear it."

"Those papers look like pretty heavy stuff. Do you want any magazines? Books?"

"I, er. Are you going to bring me Christian literature?" Natalie asked.

"What?"

"I don't--nevermind--It's something I've been wanting to ask and it just came out. No one will tell me anything about this place. I don't know where I am," Natalie said.

Meredith's eyes widened. Natalie was either reaching out or warding her off. But her eyes didn't reveal which way she meant it. Natalie hadn't come into the emergency room wearing a cross or a star. She hadn't asked about Sunday services. She didn't want a chaplain. But outward signs were not always the way to tell something about a person.

Meredith was afraid of answering wrong, and hurting this fragile connection they'd forged. "I--I suppose I could bring you whatever you want. Are you a Christian, Natalie?"

"Are you?"

"I am." She asked, just as carefully, "Have you been depressed?"

"Yes." Natalie glanced away, at a stuffed bear.

Meredith reached out for Natalie's hand, but stopped herself, settling her fingers nervously on the edge of the dinner tray. She said, "You're tapering off some of your post-surgery meds. I can ask Wheeler to give you something mild. Help with the anxiety. The worry. I know it's rough. Believe me, I know."

"Sure. Like it's easy. My car--my life--my leg. Merry, you've seen this before, what--" she hesitated. "What happens?" She studied Meredith's fingers.

"Natalie. I've been praying for you. Rest assured. But God doesn't really say how he's going to heal someone. I just get the feeling He will."

"Thanks. For the praying. Though I don't know what good it will do me."

"Other things will help you heal, too. It's a multi-facted system here at the hospital." Meredith tried to sound jovial. "You should eat."

"I'm not really hungry." Natalie held her gaze, but silence grew between them.

Meredith didn't know what to say. She slid off the bed, to add more stature to her words.

"Just one bite."

"Yes, mom," Natalie said. She picked up her fork.

"It always works."