Where Mercy Flows (26 page)

“A prosthetic. You know. One of them plastic fake legs. He pushed his stump into it and strapped it on. It’s amazing what
they can do nowadays.”

Christopher sauntered in wearing his blue cotton scrubs and checked my heart monitor. Lulu reached for her glasses, holding
them to her eyes like opera glasses. Christopher must have felt her intense scrutiny. He looked up from his clipboard and
grinned disarmingly.

“Well, if I’d a known we were having a gentleman caller, I would have put on my hairdo.” She ran her painted fingernails through
her silver fuzz. Her gnarled fingers reminded me of the knotted limbs on our old pear tree. “Aren’t you special?” she exclaimed
to me. “I get Nurse Marshmallow Butt and you get Fabio. What does a girl gotta do around here to get such special attention?”

Christopher leaned toward her and whispered, “She’s flying first class.”

“Well, sign me up, honey. I don’t care what it costs. Insurance company’s paying for it anyway.”

“This is first class?” I held out a plate of half-eaten meatloaf that had stiffened as it cooled. “Then how do you explain
this?”

Christopher raised one eyebrow. “You should see what they got back there in the tail section.” As he scribbled my vital signs
onto my chart, we heard a commotion out in the hall by the elevators. Someone tuned a guitar and soon we heard the first strains
of “Joy to the World.”

Lulu reached for her hair and plopped it on her head. “Carolers. I love it. Isn’t this wonderful? Come in here!” She yelled
it before I could stop her. A face peered tentatively into the room and she motioned the young man in.

“Lulu!” I sank into my bed and pulled the sheet over my chest.

“Oh, lighten up, honey. It’s Christmas.”

They filed in, still singing. About a dozen strangers stood at the foot of my bed staring at us like we were primates in the
zoo.
“Let every heart . . . prepare Him room . . . and Heaven and Nature sing. . . .”
Lulu clapped along, sort of. Her hands were too bent to slap together so they bounced to the rhythm, the loose skin under
her arms swinging merrily along. She mouthed the words, occasionally barking one out, terribly off-key. This, of course, just
encouraged the carolers, who immediately went into an encore of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.” Christopher sat on the edge
of my bed and grinned. When they finished Lulu apologized for having no cocoa and cookies to offer. Several of them went over
and squeezed her hand and one woman actually hugged her. I gave the woman
the look
when she turned toward me. I was not a hugger. She smiled politely and they filed out to spread their cheer down in 404.

I was asleep that evening when the Judge came. When my eyes opened, his were closed. He was slouched in a small overstuffed
chair by my bed, his head bobbing like a buoy in a storm. Watching him made my own neck uncomfortable. “Hey,” I said.

His eyes opened and he smiled. “How ya doin’ in here?”

“Okay, I guess.” I glanced over at Lulu, who was also napping. “I got a roommate.”

“I saw that.”

“I didn’t think anyone was coming today. Didn’t you have court?”

He nodded. “I adjourned early. The defense attorney did more to get his client convicted during cross-examination than the
prosecutor has during his whole case.” He ran his thick fingers through his hair. His eyes were bloodshot. “I had to send
everyone home and give this kid a private tutorial in my chambers. Last thing we need is a mistrial.” He reached out and touched
the tape on my arm that held my IV in place. “Does it hurt?”

“No. It’s just annoying. They make me walk around the hall and I have to drag this thing with me.” I motioned toward the IV
pole on wheels, which also supported my heart monitor.

He glanced at the equipment and then his eyes roamed the room. “We got the Christmas tree. TJ picked it out. He found it down
by the creek.” He chuckled. “I think he felt sorry for it. We’ll have to put the naked side against the wall.”

“I wish I could be there.” I didn’t realize how much until I almost choked on the end of my sentence. It had been seven years
since I’d had Christmas at home.

“Donnie asks about you.”

Donnie. At the mere mention of his name, my throat tightened. I had not heard from him since he said good-bye. I thought he
would always be there for me, but apparently I was wrong. It didn’t take him long to find Rachel, whoever that was. It was
a good bet that she didn’t wear clunky logger boots like me, though. I cried quietly sometimes after the lights were out,
just thinking about him. Remembering his rough and tender ways with TJ and the times he looked longingly into my eyes, but
I had turned away. “Tell him I’ll be home soon. I hope.”

He grinned. “That’s the spirit.” He tousled my hair. “That’s my girl talking.”

His comment surprised me. I always thought of Lindsey as
his girl.
I noticed I got more respect lying there in a bed that bends in the middle with a hose stuck in my arm. The same mother who
used to vacuum around me at home brought flowers and designer chocolates to the hospital. And she drove three hours to do
it. I must say it felt good. I had been without a foundation for too long. No one to hold me accountable. No one to care.
I had been a fool to stay away from my family.

It was dark outside my window. Lulu snored softly. We watched a documentary on penguins. My father laughed at their antics
as they dove down icy banks on their barrel chests into the frigid water. He said I used to look like that when I dove onto
our Slip’n Slide. I remembered spreading the plastic runway on a steep hillside and pretending to be an otter. It was the
next best thing to a mud slide.

When we turned off the TV we heard Christmas melodies playing softly from somewhere out in the hall. I knew most of them by
heart. Lulu stirred. Her breathing grew more labored and her mouth opened and closed as if silently calling for help, but
she did not wake up. My father rose and went to her bedside. He watched the not-so-rhythmic lines on her monitor until he
was sure she was all right. I wondered what he was thinking as he stood there looking down at her. I knew what I was thinking
and I wasn’t proud of it, but thoughts just popped into my head uninvited and there they were. I knew that Lindsey somehow
had a guard posted at the entry to her mind and that no bad thought ever made it past the pearly gate. But here was the thought
in my head: Lulu is too old. She even said herself she had led a full life. I, on the other hand, had a son who would be in
kindergarten next year. Lulu’s kids were grown and gone. She had seen them board the big yellow school bus hundreds of times.
She watched their bodies grow, their faces change and their baby teeth fall out, replaced by teeth too big for their freckled
faces. She had been the tooth fairy, the Easter bunny, den mother, chaperone. She baked them hundreds of brownies and blackberry
pies. She danced at their weddings.

I hoped Lulu didn’t get a heart before me. Even though I liked her. Even though she had waited longer. She told me she had
been on the transplant recipient list for well over a year. She had been in the hospital before, but was allowed to go home
to wait it out when she seemed strong enough. That was a month ago, but now she was back. When we padded through the halls,
our IV poles lending awkward support, we passed other
pole people
, as we called ourselves. Lulu knew most of them. She had asked about Roy. A thin man in a plaid robe shook his head sadly.
“Roy didn’t make it, Lu.” They exchanged a long gaze before Lulu reached out and touched the man’s arm.

“And Curtis?”

“Oh, didn’t you hear? He got a heart three weeks ago. He’s out among the living now. Went to his kid’s soccer game already.”
The man nodded and shuffled his way slowly down the hall.

Lulu watched him turn the corner toward his room. “Hank’s been here longer than the rest of us. At least the ones that are
still walking. He’s been passed up four times. The last time a possible match came in, they got him all prepped for surgery,
but the heart was too small for him. Right blood type, wrong size.” She shook her head. “He was a football coach. Weighed
in at about two-twenty when he came in. Look at him now. It just ain’t fair.”

“Why do they make us walk around like this?”

Lulu chuckled. “Because we’re vultures and that’s what we do. We circle and wait for someone to die.”

“That’s sick,” I had said.

“Oh, lighten up, honey. You gotta have a sense of humor in here or you won’t survive.”

I now watched her tired old face twitch while she slept. With or without a sense of humor, some of us wouldn’t make it. The
buzzard in me swayed grotesquely from an invisible overhead branch.

The Judge finally yawned and stretched. “I’d better hit the road.”

“Tuck in TJ for me. Tell him I’ll call him in the morning.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. He’s staying at Lindsey’s for a few days.”

“Since when?”

“She picked him up last night. They’ve got all kinds of plans. Shopping and Santa—”

“She never told me that!” I jerked forward. “I talked to her this morning. Why wouldn’t she tell me TJ was there?” My chest
grew instantly heavy. I sank back against my pillows. “I’m being replaced. I’m not even dead yet and I’m being replaced.”

The Judge threw his coat onto the chair and leaned over me. “Don’t ever say that again! Not unless that’s what you want. Is
that what you want, Samantha?”

“Of course not!” Lulu was awake now. “But what am I supposed to think? Last time I checked, I was still TJ’s mother. I think
I have a right to have some say in where he goes and what he does. I have a right to know where he
is
at least. Why wouldn’t she tell me that?”

The Judge scooted the chair up and sat with his elbows on the edge of my bed. “I’m sorry, Sammy.” He sighed and dropped his
head, running his fingers through his dark hair. “You’re right. We should have told you.” He raised his head. His red-rimmed
eyes fastened on mine. “I didn’t want to upset you. . . . Actually, there’s nothing to be upset about. It’s just a precaution.”
He hesitated. “I’ve seen some footprints around the place. A man’s boot print and it’s not mine.”

“Has Donnie been over there? Or Matt or anybody?”

He shook his head. “Sheriff Byron is working on it. Most of the prints are around the barn—coming from the woods. It could
be someone just needed a place to get in out of the rain.”

“Or it could be the guy who wants you dead.”

He shrugged and shook his head unconvincingly. I instantly understood the reason for his bloodshot eyes.

“So you shipped TJ off to Lindsey’s.” My voice was calmer now, but my insides were unsettled. “What about you and Mom?”

“Well, I’ve asked your mother to stay at Lindsey’s too. Just for now.”

“Is there anything else I haven’t been told?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Not that I can think of. Except that your son misses you. He doesn’t fully understand this
process. He thinks the hospital has hearts lined up on a shelf and the doctors are just trying to decide which one fits you.
He said they’d better hurry because he wants you home for Christmas.”

“That’s in a few days. That would be fine with me.”

He kissed my forehead and stood to reach for his coat. “That would be just fine with all of us, Samantha.”

He was almost to the door before I thought to ask. “Wait a minute. Where are you going now?”

“Well, home.”

“Why aren’t
you
staying at David and Lindsey’s? You’re the one who’s been threatened.”

He pulled his leather gloves out of his coat pocket. “Don’t you worry about that. I’m not. You just take care of yourself.”
He winked and walked out the door.

S
LEEP CAME AND WENT that night. So did the nurse who checked our heart monitors and vital stats. Between my dreams, I was vaguely
aware of her presence as well as Lulu’s labored breathing.

I dreamed of the river all night long. And my father. In some ways they were almost intertwined. The river ran through my
soul like blood in my arteries; it had for as long as I could remember. I felt its pulse, craved it somehow there in a hospital
room four stories above the sidewalks of Seattle, just as I had back on the dry plains of Nevada. I thirsted for the river
there, especially when the horses stirred up the red dust, causing it to swirl like ghosts at their heels. I suppose I longed
for my father too—for what he had been to me as a child when I thought that his love for me was as consistent and perfect
as I believed him to be.

At night in my Reno apartment the traffic on the highway two blocks away could sound like the river if I closed my eyes and
visualized cottonwood trees and salmonberry bushes and the water rushing under Carter Bridge. I had to do that sometimes to
keep my sanity. I had to remember how the river was in August—low on its banks from lack of rain, flowing calmly over smooth
stones that twinkled in the sunlight. I saw myself wade out to where it rippled against my thighs, my strong casts slicing
the blue sky. I dreamed of the sudden tug of a fish, the tension on my rod as it pulled the taut line upstream and down in
the bright water. I smelled the sweetness of a trout as I slid it onto an alder switch through its gills. The river in August
was like a thousand tinkling wind chimes.

I preferred these memories to the ones of spring floods. Sometimes when the snowmelt in the Cascade mountains converged with
runoff from torrential Pacific Northwest rains, the river raged without warning. My river could become a stranger—dirty, ominous,
thundering and unpredictable. Twice in my childhood we had to leave our home because the river escaped its banks. It pushed
and spread like stampeding cattle, ripping trees up by their roots and discarding them along its path. The water invaded our
backyard and the field, stranding the barn—a red island in a gray lake. We only had time to grab a few things and Lindsey
sobbed, thinking our house would be carried away. My father drove slowly because of water over the road while Mom hung her
head out the window, straining to see the edges of the road so we wouldn’t drive into the ditch. I knelt backward on the seat
and watched out the rear window as we drove away, confused and frightened. I saw Donnie’s father standing knee deep between
his family, who waited in the truck, and his horses, who had found a high spot in their flooded pasture. Then I knew the river
could not be trusted. I loved the river, but it did not necessarily love me.