Where Mercy Flows (9 page)

Donnie shook his head. “No, you haven’t. Talk to me. I’m listening.”

I took another swallow. “Well, I finally just reared up and pushed until I thought my guts were going to come out. It was
like I wasn’t in control of my own body anymore—it just took over. And out popped TJ. He just slid into the doctor’s hands
and I lay back on the bed exhausted. I didn’t even ask if it was a boy or a girl at first, I was so worn out. But I saw the
doctor’s face and then Tim’s and I got worried. I asked if everything was okay and the nurse smiled and said I had a beautiful
baby boy. Tim looked like the whole experience had been too much for him. He went and sat down in a chair like he had the
wind knocked out of him. Then they laid the baby on my belly and I knew. I knew the minute I laid eyes on him that he wasn’t
Tim’s. He was as brown as milk chocolate with a head full of coal-black hair.”

“Seems like there’s a big chunk of this story you’ve left out.”

“Tijuana.”

“What?”

“Tijuana. That’s what everyone called the guy who gave me TJ. That’s how I came up with his name.”

“So where’s this Tijuana now?”

I shrugged. “Siberia for all I care.” I felt myself relaxing into the truck’s upholstery. “Maybe we should take a little nap.”

Donnie had other ideas. He slid an orange into each of my jacket pockets and stashed the brown bag containing the six-pack
under his arm. “Come on.” He opened his door and pulled me out on his side.

“Where are we going?” It was unlike me to ask. Usually, I was up for any adventure, but it felt late. I could have crawled
into the back of the pickup with a blanket and called it a night. We walked down a dirt trail through some alder trees to
where the railroad track paralleled the river. The cool night air and the fresh scent of the river revived me, but I took
the tracks in slow double steps. Even in my slightly inebriated state, I remembered that I had to be careful.

The moon had slipped some, but its light still touched the edges of the metal rails. The tracks veered off to our left up
ahead and then spanned the river on a huge suspension trestle whose framework was hazily silhouetted on the sky. I knew then
where we were headed.

“Hey, Donnie! Slow down.”

He stopped and waited for me to catch up. “What’s the matter? You haven’t gone wimpy on me, have you?”

“I can still kick your butt.”

“At what? Scrabble?”

His backside happened to be a good target at the moment, so I kicked it. He grabbed my leg in midair, I lost my balance and
almost went down, but he caught me. He had me by my jacket sleeves and was laughing, until he pulled me up closer to his face.
“You okay?”

I smiled my cocky smile and brushed his hands off my arms. “Of course I’m okay.” I pointed out to the trestle. “Onward!”

Donnie took the tracks in long strides while I walked the rail like a balance beam, but with one hand on his shoulder. The
river swirled below us in the moonlight. The span of the railroad bridge seemed longer than it was when we were kids. We finally
reached the middle and without discussion sat on the edge, our legs dangling high above the current. Long, unbroken spirals
of orange peel dropped into the darkness and disappeared without a sound.

“So . . .” I felt compelled to break the silence. “You never got married?”

“Nope.”

“What’s the holdup?”

“Pretty slim pickin’s around here. Did you see those women playing darts at Fraser’s?” I nodded. “Those are Carter’s most
eligible bachelorettes.”

“Not good,” I said. “Well, you’re not getting any younger. You might want to consider shopping out of town.”

He looked at me funny for a moment. “Yeah. Good idea.”

We drank beer in silence for a while. My light jacket ruffled in the breeze and I shivered. Donnie reached out and pulled
me close to him. “Don’t kick me or anything,” he said, pulling off his jacket and wrapping it around my shoulders. “I promise
I won’t kiss you.”

I settled comfortably into his side like I’d been there before. In the distance we heard the first muted thunder of the train.
“Here she comes.” We listened to the low rumble fade in and out as it rounded hilly bends. Orange juice dripped through my
fingers as I pushed the last whole section into my mouth. I licked my hands clean and wiped them on my jeans. Ten minutes
later, the whistle blew pure and clear, heralding the train’s slow clatter through Dixon, and then the thunder mounted as
the engine picked up speed outside the little town. By the time it neared the trestle, I was trembling from the vibration,
the loud clamor and a rush of adrenaline.

Donnie stashed the remains of our picnic in the paper bag and helped me to my feet. “Okay, it’s showtime!” He pulled himself
onto part of the metal gridwork above the bridge and held an arm down to me. “You coming?”

I shook my head. “No. I want to be right next to it!” The train erupted onto the bridge, a roaring, billowing volcano now,
racing straight for us. Engine lights blazed on the tracks in its path. My whole body was sliced by the warning scream of
the whistle. Feet planted on a railroad tie, I leaned against a girder for support. Donnie became a part of the superstructure
above my head. In seconds the train was upon us. Donnie hollered something, but his voice was strangled by the explosion of
diesel power and the crashing and clanking of each passing freight car. Sparks flew at my feet. I knew if I stretched out
my arm, I’d draw back a bloody stump.

This was the part where we used to hoot and howl with laughter, defying the monster and leaning as close as we dared. The
strange thing was that I was not having any fun. Rhythmic sound blasts beat violently against my chest, pounded inside my
head, shook me like a rat in the jaws of a terrier. My heart ached. I felt it trying too hard. My eyes closed and I tottered
dizzily before grabbing the girder. I wanted the train to pass, but boxcar after boxcar after gondola after flatcar, it torpedoed
on. It was the train from hell. The never-ending train from hell. I backed away. My mind swirled in the darkness like the
river below. When I looked down everything became a blur. I felt myself falling.

The next few seconds were recorded in slow motion in my mind. The clanking of the passing train, the thud and sharp pain in
my shoulder, my body slamming hard against something, the top of my torso hanging precariously over a sharp edge. My arms
flailed for something to hang on to. The train began to sound farther away and then it was the river that roared in my ears.
I threw up.

“Sam! Don’t move!”

My body stopped vibrating as the last freight car left the bridge. I heard Donnie drop to the railroad ties. He pulled me
from the low metal railing, laying my body alongside the warm track. “Sam, are you okay?”

“I think so.”

“What happened?”

The railroad tie was a little rough but it felt cool against my face. “Lie down here and listen to the river with me. Let’s
just rest for a while.”

Donnie hoisted me to my feet. “Come on, you little lush.” He wrapped my arm around his shoulders and started walking down
the railroad tracks. My legs were surprisingly weak.

“I’m not drunk.”

“Yeah. And you just puked your guts out for the fun of it. Dang it, Sam! If I had known, I never would have left you alone
down there. You could have fallen off the bridge—or worse yet, onto the track. You’d be raw hamburger right now.”

“I think it was the orange.” I tried to walk without Donnie’s support but found myself leaning back into him. The labored
pulsing in my chest had calmed, but I felt achy and tired. Donnie got me back to the truck and we drove in silence. Long,
peaceful silence. I think I dozed off. The crunch of gravel under the truck tires roused me and I knew I was home.

“Stop here, Donnie.” We were only halfway down the long driveway. “I’m just going to get out here, okay?”

“Why?”

“I’m not in the mood to talk to anybody.” He shook his head and started to put the truck back into gear. “I
am
a little drunk,” I finally admitted, “and I don’t want TJ to see me like this. If you let me off here, I can just sneak in
the back door without anyone hearing me come home.” Warm light glowed from most of the windows, but I knew my mother would
never have let TJ stay up past nine o’clock.

He studied me suspiciously for a moment before succumbing. “Okay. You’re a grown woman. I guess I don’t have to check you
back in like a library book.”

I slid out on my side and crossed over to his open window. Neither of us knew our next lines. We just stared at each other
for a moment. “Thanks, Donnie.”

His face broke into a grin; he winked and shoved the truck into reverse. I watched him back all the way to the street before
I climbed between the fence rails and headed across the field toward the barn.

T
HE GRASS in my parents’ field was long and cool, but not long enough to cut. No one in the valley ever mowed their hay until
after the Fourth of July. I saw my mother’s shape cross the living room to turn off a lamp. Hopefully they would turn in soon
and so could I. Mom had been fine with watching TJ when I told her I needed to get out for a while, but it had not occurred
to me when I slipped into Fraser’s Tavern that I would be gone so long. I felt a twinge of guilt for not phoning. My foot
sank into a rat hole, sending me sprawling on the dew-laden grass. The earth smelled of the summers of about a hundred years
ago when my biggest worry was whether my creamed peas would be discovered in the spider plant. I rolled onto my back and relaxed,
almost oblivious to the grass clump poking my kidneys, which was one of the advantages of being plastered. A dark blanket
of sky with starry lint fell over me and there was silence except for the lazy sounds of the river and an owl hooting in the
cottonwood grove.

The nausea had passed with the freight train, but the ever-present laboring in my chest still nagged ominously like snapping
branches in the darkness beyond a campfire. I had tried to ignore it all day. Lindsey had come by that morning with frozen
raspberries from last year’s garden. She made a happy face with them on TJ’s cereal and then she and I took our coffee onto
the deck. Mom had gone into town with the Judge and wouldn’t be back until afternoon. Maybe that was why Lindsey was there.
I felt watched ever since the night of the 911 call. Mom or Lindsey was always taking TJ off my hands, or asking if I didn’t
want a sweater or something. I hated that.

Personally, I found most sick people very unattractive. No one knows what to say to them except, “How are you feeling today?”
which of course is a big mistake, especially if it’s Aunt Lilse you’re asking. She used to go on about things you really didn’t
want to hear, like how she had diarrhea all last week and now she can’t eat anything but Cream of Wheat. The worst part was
when she pulled up her pant leg and made you look at how swollen her legs were. Her blue veins had as many tributaries as
the Amazon and her legs just looked fat to me. Other sick people, who are not in it for the pure pleasure of depressing their
loved ones, you just feel sorry for and you hope nothing scary or disgusting happens while you’re visiting them.

I certainly didn’t want it getting out that I had a slushy heart. It didn’t suit my image. What if Donnie had known tonight?
He probably would have driven me home and delivered me to my mother by eight p.m. Out of pity or guilt he might stop off later
with flowers or send a card and that would be the end of that.

I remembered the cigarettes in my pocket. A fresh crisp pack, missing only the one I had savored before Donnie informed me
that his truck was a “no smoking establishment” and I crushed it into the gravel at Fraser’s Tavern. Just one smoke before
bed. Tomorrow I’ll throw them away. I got up and wandered to the barn, where I heard the flapping of wings in the rafters—a
barn owl, no doubt. I hooted into the dark interior of the barn and waited for a reply. The back screen door slammed on the
house, probably Mom setting out a bucket of kitchen scraps for the worms. Just inside the barn door on one side was a pile
of loose hay surrounded by bales. It was TJ’s new fort. I made myself comfortable on one of the ramparts and hooted again.
Still no reply.

Suddenly, I heard a sound to my right and at the same instant the barn was shocked with light. Like a guilty twelve-year-old,
I whipped the cigarette behind my back.

The Judge didn’t see me at first. He started off toward the worm troughs with his pail of scraps.

“Hey,” I said.

He spun around. “Samantha! What are you doing in here? Why are you sitting in the dark?”

I shrugged. “I was getting ready to come in. I’ve been talking to the owls. What are you doing out here so late? Giving your
wormies a midnight snack?”

He scrutinized me for a moment. “We didn’t know where you were. Your mother and I have been waiting for you to get home.”

“Wow, I’m having déjà vu. I’m twenty-four years old now in case you didn’t notice. I’m a grown-up. A mom even. You don’t need
to wait up for me anymore. I’ve been on my own for seven years, you know. Don’t you think I can take care of myself?”

“Well, I would,” he said as he casually picked up the bucket of scraps he had dropped, “but you have a serious heart condition,
you’re drunk and you’re on fire.”

He was halfway to the worm troughs before I noticed the smoke. A curse leaped from my throat. I jumped up and started stomping
on the little blaze I had kindled behind me. Stumbling, my foot scattered a smoldering patch of hay, fanning it into flame.
Dry stubble ignited instantly all around it.

My father calmly dumped his pail of goodies into the worm beds and raked the soil.

“Hello!” I shouted. “Are you going to help me here? Your barn is about to burn down!”

He glanced at me over his shoulder. “It’s just a barn.”

This was not funny. While he played his little game, TJ’s fort was becoming an inferno and burned dangerously close to the
bone-dry planks of the barn. “Water! Do you have any water in here?”