Love, Mercy

by Brooke May

  “I believe a congratulations is in order.” His smile is welcoming, but I’m still unable to relax. From the pelvic exam and taking measurements, I’m struggling to breathe. “Everything looks good. Your urine sample confirmed that you are indeed pregnant.” He snaps the gloves off at the same time the nurse dims the lights. “Now, shall we see your baby and see how far along you are?”

  “O-Okay,” I stammer. I’m not sure what to expect, but when he inserts the probing ultrasound in me after putting new gloves on, I’m shocked at how cold it is.

  “Sorry about that. We’ve been meaning to update these with the built-in warmers.” And then silence. Aside from the tapping of the computer keys as he makes notes, no one says a word. Mom and Tina are on my left side while the nurse stands behind Dr. Wagner. “And there we have it.” Turning my head on the paper-covered pillow, I look at the screen where he is pointing and frown.

  “Wh-what?”

  “That’s your baby, sweetie.” Mom leans forward to whisper. And sure enough, I see movement.

  “Is that … its heart?”

  “Yes.” He taps another key, and then there is a whooshing sound. We listen for a moment before he speaks again. “And by the sounds of it, a good, strong heart.”

  Tears burn my eyes. I’m overjoyed while at the same time I’m sad that Daxon is missing this.

  “You’re measuring around six weeks.” I hear a printer, and then the probe is gone, and so is my baby. “We will set up your appointments once we finish here, and you can take some of these.” He hands me a couple of ultrasound pictures and I’m free to go once I get changed.

  I’m in another universe as I’m guided out. My mind reels with getting these ultrasounds scanned and sent to Daxon. But I don’t need to wait for that. While my mom and Tina take me home, I do my best to take pictures of them with my phone and quickly shoot off an email. I keep it brief, just telling him the baby’s heart rate, when my due date should be, and that I love him.

  Once I send it, I feel a little better.

  “Do you want me to come in with you?” Mom looks back at me once she is in my driveway.

  “We could have a small lunch?” Tina suggests. I took another personal day for this. Thankfully, I have the world’s most understanding and compassionate boss. He has been a wonder through each deployment.

  “Sure. I would like that.” Getting out, I hand my house key over to Tina while I meet the mailman as he pulls up. I feel a little lighter as I walk up to my house, but something causes me to turn around.

  A black SUV is slowly making its way down the street. It causes me to frown as it pulls to a stop at the curb of my house. My legs begin to buckle as I watch a man in Army formals get out and walk around the front of the vehicle while putting on his hat.

  “No.” Shaking my head, I can’t stand any longer. I fall onto my porch as he gets closer. “No.” A wail escapes me as he closes the distance between us.

  “Mrs. Logan?”

  Thunderous steps come from my back, and I know Mom and Tina are there now.

  “No.” It’s difficult to get that single syllable word out with my lungs restricting, making it unbearable for me to breathe.

  “Staff Sergeant Daxon Logan and his team were on a mission that went bad. Our extractions have been unsuccessful, and there has been no communication with any members. We are doing everything we can, but …”

  He is still talking, but I don’t hear any of it. I think my heart has stopped beating. My soul is crying out. And all I can do is clutch the pendant around my neck.

  Today, my world has completely tilted on its axis.

  Daxon,

  I know that its likely you won’t read this, but I need to write. In fact, I’m saying all of this out loud as I type. I just received the news. Well, not just received; it’s been a few hours and a couple of boxes of tissues, but I finally pulled myself together enough to write these words.

  I love you. To the deepest depths on our planet to throughout the universe, I love you.

  I’ve been told that your mission went bad, and the likelihood of you coming home to me isn’t great, but I don’t believe any of that. I know you’ll find your way back to me someway, somehow, Daxon. I know it might sound foolish or something along those lines, but I truly believe it; no matter what others say, you will be home.

  I emailed you earlier today with our news. I feel like I need to say it again on for the off chance you manage to get back to somewhere you can check this. I’m pregnant. You are going to be a father, so you need to hurry home because I don’t want to do this without you.

  I can’t say it enough. I love you, Daxon. Please come home to me.

  Love, Mercy

  Daxon,

  We are having a girl!

  Months have come and gone with no word from you, but my hope isn’t going anywhere. Even if they closed down your email, and gets a returned, I’m still writing to you.

  As you know from my last letter, morning sickness was taking its toll on me. It’s gotten better after I passed the twelve-week mark, but some of it lingers if I’m around certain foods or smells. Our moms were by my side at the ultrasound. It was crazy because I could clearly make out her face.

  As much as I was hoping for a little boy who looked just like you, I’m happy our baby is doing well and growing quickly. She does look like you, though. At least I think she does. The ultrasound was amazing even though it was still a little difficult to make out other parts of her.

  I love her just as much as I love you.

  Please, Daxon. Come home.

  Love, Mercy

  Daxon,

  She’s here!

  A week late, Layla made her entrance to the world. She’s the most beautiful person I have ever seen, babe. She has your nose and skin tone, but she has my eyes and hair. To me, she is the perfect combination of both of us. She is currently sleeping next to me in her bed, and I’m exhausted, but I needed to tell you. I’m sure when we get home, I won’t be getting much rest until I have her on a sleep schedule.

  I wish you were here.

  Please, come home safely.

  Love, Mercy

  Daxon,

  I have done my best to keep up with every milestone that Layla has had over the past few months, and I’m hoping I haven’t missed a single one to share with you.

  I haven’t received an undeliverable notice yet for any of my emails, so here I am, writing to you while Layla is going crazy in her bouncer. She has such strong little legs.

  I am still holding on to hope that you are with us and will be coming home soon. I don’t know how to explain it when someone attempts to talk to me about you. They feel that if you were still alive, you would have found your way home by now, but something deep in my soul tells me you are fighting your hardest to return.

  I wait for you every day.

  Love, Mercy

  Chapter Twelve

  A year later

  “What the …?” Jolting upright in bed, I instantly grab my head as pain sears through it. I thought I would be used to waking like this by now. No matter how much time has passed, I still don’t sleep well. It has nothing to do with the crazy toddler with wild blond hair who runs circles around me even on my best day and everything to do with the fact that I still miss her daddy.

  Nightmares have plagued me since the day I was given the news.

  I see Daxon’s handsome face crying out to me as something horrible happens to him, and the pain of that day returns to me full force, waking me from even the deepest of slumber. I have done everything in my civilian power to find out information about my husband. No one will tell me anything except they tried for a long time to get to Daxon and his men before they finally had to give up. This was kept out of the news, and each family had to suffer in silence over their lost loved one.

  I had to find a way to be strong and carry on, not for my own life but for the life I carried within me. Nightmares led to headaches, and headaches led to worry and anxiety tha
t caused issues with my pregnancy. Sleep was too difficult to obtain.

  But this morning seems different.

  The bedroom is cool from the early November chill, and I think it is time to start turning up the heat. Getting out of bed, I hear the ear-piercing squeal coming from somewhere in the house and then the clicking of Trigger’s claws on the hardwood.

  “Momma!” I’m barely a foot out of my bedroom when Layla’s chunky toddler legs bring her to me. My one-year-old hits me like a freightliner before I’m able to grab her.

  “What, baby?”

  Three months ago, I finally had to transform her crib into her toddler bed. She kept escaping, and I didn’t want to risk her falling and hurting herself.

  “Tigger!” Her little button nose wrinkles in disgust. She can’t say Trigger, so he has become Tigger to her. We even dressed him up as the bouncing tiger for Halloween this year.

  “Let’s go see what he did.” Inwardly, I groan as we make our way through the house until we find him by the back door next to a nice pile of vomit, waiting for me to clean it up. “Wonderful.”

  After putting Layla in her high chair, I lay some paper towels on top of the puke, then let Trigger outside. I turn on the radio and then gather the ingredients to start making our breakfast and I can’t fight my smile as Layla begins to dance in her chair the best she can. She is the brightest light in my otherwise dull life. Nothing has ever been the same since Daxon’s disappearance. I leave it at that. He disappeared because, to me, I can’t bring myself to believe he is truly gone.

  There is no grave marker because we didn’t have a funeral for him. Even when others tried to convince me that we needed to so everyone who was in Daxon’s life could move on, I couldn’t do it. Thankfully, those people weren’t the ones closest to him. Our family as well as our friends, agreed with my wishes. We honored Daxon for his service and sacrifice, but no one has gone against me with my belief that he might still be alive.

  My soul still cries out for its other half, and deep down, there is a yearning that feels the echoes of something responding. I don’t tell anyone this because I don’t want them to think I’ve gone crazy.

  And I’m not.

  Aside from our family and friends, everyone else around me thinks of me as a widow who is in denial. That might be so because it has been over a year, but the love Daxon and I shared isn’t something I can move on from. It ran deep and powerful, and that isn’t easy to forget or recover from.

  And that’s why I have donated more time to the committees that help veterans as well as active servicemen and women. Last year, I led the charge in putting together a parade for Veteran’s Day. Our friend Chase carried a picture of Daxon for me in the parade.

  This year, we’re focusing on honoring everyone by setting up a procession that will begin with the only two World War II veterans left in our small town and ending with the active servicemen and women who are currently home.

  I’m thrilled at the community involvement with this.

  “Momma?” Placing her small bowl of oatmeal in front of her, I watch her little toddler legs swing madly under her small table.

  “Yes, baby?” I place my bowl down and then go back to finish cooking my egg.

  “Work?”

  “Yes, that means you get to go play with Gramma and Mimi.” Those two have always watched Layla for me after I had to return to work. They take turns every week with whose house they’ll be at, but they love surrounding their granddaughter with hugs and kisses, and she enjoys playtime with them and the friends she’s made through story time at the library.

  “Yay!”

  “Eat your breakfast, and we’ll get ready to go.” This morning is going to be a little different for me. I’ll drop Layla off, then head to my meeting to finalize the parade, and then I’m off to work.

  While I was pregnant, everyone told me that I would never be on time again once Layla was born. I proved them all wrong. We are always early, even on mornings like this when a wrench is thrown in.

  That’s just something I love to do. Proving people wrong makes me feel good because I can go against what they say and come out smelling like roses.

  I get myself ready for the day after cleaning up and feeding Trigger, start the car, and finally get Layla ready for her day of fun with her grandmas.

  We are out the door in thirty minutes with military precision, but not before Layla does her daily routine of stopping by the picture of Daxon in our living room and kissing him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The wonderful thing about working for my company is the availability of an empty conference room in the mornings.

  After dropping Layla off with her grandmas and having to pull her off me, I’m rushing into the building to make it to the meeting I’m supposed to be running.

  I’ve never had issues with dropping her off before, but for some reason, this morning was different. It’s Friday, so I played it off as her wanting to be closer to me. Since having her, I have cut back on work. I don’t go into the office at all hours of the night and weekends to keep my mind busy. I spend all my extra time with her.

  Exactly how it should be.

  I’m just as ready for the weekend as she is. We’ll be going on a hike tomorrow before helping with things for the parade on Sunday. It’s amazing how much this has grown in recent years. Most businesses are even postponing their opening that morning until afterward. The high school is also excusing seniors to come down and help. I will have the senior cheerleaders marching alongside each generation with red, white, and blue pom-poms.

  Taking a split second to compose my rushed self, I inhale and enter the boardroom we are using this morning. I can see Gretchen already set out the donuts I ordered and put the coffeepot out for any who would like some.

  “Good morning, everyone. I’m so sorry to keep you.” I don’t give an excuse because most of them won’t care.

  Dropping into the seat close to the donuts, I smile at everyone around the table. This committee has grown as well. We went from a few older members of society to fifteen different people. There is one new face this year, my co-worker Marcus. But I’m certain the only reason he joined is to get to me.

  The man is good looking, I’ll give him that, but I’m not attracted to him. My heart still belongs to Daxon. Every other single woman in our building fawn over him, but I’m not one. I reasoned that he seems to think of me as a conquest or some sort of trophy to gain since I’ve turned him down. That’s just the type of man he is, and that is not sexy.

  He carries himself like some sort of god to women, and I’m the only one not feeding into it.

  “No worries, Mercy.” Marcus has somehow secured the seat closest to me. Leaning back in his chair, he presses the end of his pen to his grinning lips. “We were just going over each of our responsibilities.”

  “Thank you.” I do everything I can to keep the bite from my response. I’m not the only one annoyed at his joining, especially since he just so happened to stumble into our first meeting a couple of months ago. After seeing me inside, he’s invited himself to join.

  Pulling out my notebook, I finally look up at everyone. Some are in business attire like Marcus and me while others are in regular clothing, and then there is our sheriff. We all blend for our veterans.

  “Please, continue. I’ll make my notes so everything is clear over the weekend, and we can cover anything that may have been overlooked before Monday morning.”

  For the next half hour, we discuss everything from how traffic will be detoured starting at seven to where refreshment stands will be available for people as well as space heaters just in case it’s cold. I’m in charge of the high schoolers helping out.

  All in all, everything goes perfectly, and we are all out of there in an orderly time.

  Since I don’t have to rush off across town, I take my time to help straighten up the conference room as the others leave. I’m saying my goodbyes and then humming to myself as I put the trash together
for the janitors later when I turn around, and Marcus is right there.

  He’s in my space, and I don’t care for it.

  If I wasn’t at work, but at the Grizzly, I wouldn’t hesitate to put him in his place.

  “Marcus.” I nod to him before ducking and going back to collecting my things only to have him trailing behind me.

  He’s. Too. Damn. Close.

  Biting down on my cheek, I don’t even force a smile. To a man like Marcus, a smile is an open invitation to be even more forward.

  “Thank you.” I’m curt, and my tone brooks no argument as I skirt around him to head out to my office, leaving him holding the door open for me.

  “What do you say you and me get a bite for lunch?” I don’t stop because I know he would only slam into my back, and that would give him the opportunity to touch me.

  “I’m sorry, Marcus, but I’m busy.”

  “That’s what you always say.” He groans. “Come on, one meal.” He touches me. My body has never grown this rigid this quickly. Abruptly, I turn on my heels and shoot a glare up at him.

  “Marcus, thank you for the multiple offers, but I am going to refuse you until you get the hint and leave me alone. There are plenty of other women you can ask, and they would gladly go out with you. I am not one of them.”

  Turning back around, I’m sure he won’t follow me, but his words halt me.

  “You know he’s dead, right? You can’t love a man who is no longer breathing, Mercy.”

  Fury, white-hot and ready to burst from me like I haven’t felt in years, bubbles under the surface of my skin. Turning back around, I am about to rip him a new one when a voice booms in the hallway.

  “Marcus, may I see you in my office, please?”

  Marcus’s eyes grow to the size of saucers at our boss’s request. Wordlessly, Marcus turns around and heads to our boss’s office while I look on to see him glaring and giving me a single nod before following the other man.

  That nods says it all. He has my back, and I’m grateful.