From Ashes to Honor

by Loree Lough

  She didn’t remember telling Flora that story, which meant Austin had done it. If he’d relayed something that trivial, what else had he said?

  “Maybe he was like that dog from that kids’ movie—I forget the title—going going from pillar to post, staying sometimes and leaving whenever he felt like it.”

  “You could be right, Flor-dee-lee. Makes sense to me.” Bud stroked his chin. “Guess he’s like so many bachelors these days; hangs around until he’s bored, then off he goes.”

  “Yes,” Flora said, “like my sister’s fiancé. Here today, gone tomorrow. That man can no more make a commitment than a giraffe can fly.” She aimed a maternal glare Austin’s way to say it. Aimed a crooked forefinger, too.

  She’d dropped a similar hint the evening Mercy met her, and another on Thanksgiving. It had been a relief to hear he hadn’t taken any relationships seriously, because that left the door open to possibilities. They’d survived a couple of heated debates, and enjoyed warm conversation, hearty laughter, and sweet kisses, yet he hadn’t given any sign that he wanted more.And to be fair, neither had she.

  “You know, I never gave a thought to the possibility that Woodrow had another family—maybe more than one—beyond the boundaries of my minuscule slice of the world. Is my face red thinking I had a singular claim to the little bigamist!”

  The comment invited a chorus of laughter that drowned out Mercy’s aching disappointment. She may never see her precious Woodrow again … yet another beloved thing Austin’s so-called loving God had taken from her.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” he said during the drive back to her place. “You feeling OK?”

  “I’m fine.” She didn’t have the energy to get into a whole “religion thing” with him again. Besides, last time when their debate ended, he’d gone home. This time, she’d be stuck with his pouting self. “Just tired, I guess, and a little down in the dumps about Flora’s condition. And remembering what Bud said about more snow on the way. What if she takes a turn for the worse and Bud can’t get her to the hospital?”

  “Yeah, she looks pretty bad, doesn’t she?”

  She didn’t comment on the fact that he’d ignored her weatherrelated observation. Instead, Mercy said “I’ve only known her a short while, but what I miss most is her vim and vigor. It’s so sad, not hearing that ‘loving life’ music in her voice.”

  He stared straight ahead, working his jaw muscles and gripping the steering wheel so tightly, it was a wonder it didn’t bend. “Did her doctor tell him how long she has?”

  Austin shook his head. “Last I heard, they expect her to hang on until summer. Only God knows for sure.”

  God again. She wanted to shake some sense into him.Because if God gave a fig about what was happening to Flora, then why was it happening?

  The hiss of tires spinning over the wet pavement seeped into the front seat as they rode the next few miles in silence.“Awful as it was seeing her like that, I’m really glad we went.Thanks for taking me.”

  Austin grunted in reply.

  “I’m feeling lots better,” Mercy said. “You wouldn’t have to stay. If you want to get back to work. Or anything.”

  He looked over at her and smirked. “What was that, my ‘Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry’ hint?”

  “Of course not!” she said, though in her head, that’s exactly how she felt. Mostly because she really did feel better, thanks to his nonstop nurturing. “It’s just—you’ve wasted your whole vacation babysitting for me, and—”

  “Wasted? What makes you think I see it as a waste of time?”

  She’d never heard that edgy note in his voice before. Anger, Mercy wondered? Or had she hurt his feelings? Shame threatened to turn her cheeks red, because she didn’t want to provoke either emotion. He deserved better than that. So much better!

  “Of course not,” she repeated, this time with more emphasis.“It’s just that I feel so guilty, taking and taking and taking from you. I’ll never live long enough to repay you for all you’ve done.”

  He swallowed. “I hope you don’t think the only reason I stayed with you was to put together a scenario where you’d end up owing me.”

  How many times did she have to say it? “Of course not. But think about it, Austin. How would you feel if I’d given up every moment of my vacation to hover over you?”

  “Interesting word choice, ‘hover.’ “

  She’d never known him to be overly sensitive. Or pouty, either. And Mercy didn’t much like it now that she’d been on

  the receiving end of both. “You’re right. That was a very poor word choice. Blame it on the pain meds. That isn’t how I meant it, and you know—”

  “You haven’t taken any Percocet in days.”

  Ack, that’s right. How’re you gonna wiggle out of this one, Merc? Fortunately, before she had a chance to respond, he said “Who would have taken care of you if I hadn’t had all that vacation time to use or lose?”

  “A nurse, I suppose. But I’m the first to admit that no nurse could have pampered me the way you did.”

  He chuckled. “Pampered. I like that a lot better than hovered.”

  An idea dawned, and it made her smile. “Would it be too big an imposition to ask you to do me one more favor?”

  “Of course not,” he said, mimicking her intonation.“Anything. Name it, it’s yours.”

  She’d had it with feeling helpless, and with seeing Flora helpless. Even Bud had looked helpless, telling them all about “a typical day at the Callahans.” She’d probably never see Woodrow again, and day after tomorrow, once the doctor gave her permission to go back to work for a few hours a day, she wouldn’t see Austin until who knew when!

  Despite it all, she felt hopeful for the first time in ages.Hopeful that Woodrow, wherever he was, had food and shelter and a warm lap to sit in. That Flora would slip into remission and stay there, despite the doctors’ prognosis. And that Austin would remain a part of her life, indefinitely.

  Her sour mood sweetened, and, feeling a little bit playful, said “Really? Anything?”

  This time when he aimed that grin her way, one brow rose on his forehead. He spun the radio dial, found a country station and proceeded to bob his head in time to the music. “Why not just throw it out there, and we’ll see if it sticks.”

  Oh, he was one of a kind, all right! “I’d like a silver Ferrari, and a thatched cottage in Ireland, and a Piper Cub to get me ‘across the pond.’ “

  He was grinning when he said “I don’t know if a Piper Cub can make it all the way across the Atlantic Ocean.”

  “Oh, well, that’s all right. Then I guess it’ll just have to be a jet. Like the one they use on that TV show. You know, the one where FBI agents hunt down serial killers?”

  “Oka-a-ay…”

  She laughed, and it felt good. So good, in fact, that Mercy wished there was a way to guarantee the sensation lasted for a long, long time.

  “What I really want,” she told him on a sigh, “is for you to start thinking of something I can do for you. A favorite dinner, or I can clean your boat. Do your laundry, even press your shirts.” She shrugged, then winced as her shoulder reminded her it hadn’t healed all the way. “I want—no, I need—to do something for you, to show you how much I’ve appreciated all you’ve done for me.”

  “Mercy, really, I know already know that. You don’t owe—”

  “No-no-no! This isn’t a payback. I don’t want to do something for you because I feel as though I owe you. Just—” How would she explain that it was important to her that Austin experience, firsthand, a sliver of what he’d given her?

  “Don’t try to come up with something right now. Take a few days. A week. A month! Promise me you’ll at least think about it, and that as soon as you come up with something you’ll let me know. OK?”

  He breathed in a big gulp of air, and let it out slowly. “All right,” he said, nodding. “I promise to think on it.”

  “I guess I should’ve known that with a gu
y like you I need to be more specific. I should have said ‘Promise you’ll actually come up with something.’”

  The car engine idled and the turn signal tick-tick-ticked as they sat at the traffic light, waiting to make that last left before pulling into her garage. The blue-green numerals of the dashboard clock said one fifty-nine. Time was running out. She’d have him with her this afternoon, tonight, tomorrow night, then he’d drive her to her doctor’s appointment and—

  Mercy couldn’t bear to finish the thought.

  She focused, instead, on the test run she’d conducted day before yesterday, when he ran out to get a few groceries to prepare for the next snowstorm. It hadn’t been easy, hobbling around on her crutches with just one normally functioning arm, but she’d made it upstairs and down again without taking a header. She shambled into the kitchen and munched a slice of Swiss cheese, then poured herself a paper cup of water.And because she’d promised to stay put while he was gone, Mercy buried the cup under a discarded paper plate in the trash bin.

  The venture proved that she no longer needed him—at least, not as her round-the-clock helpmate.

  “—that your favorite color is purple,” he was saying, “and your birth sign is Taurus, but I have no idea what kind of music you prefer.”

  “I don’t have a preference,” she said, hoping to hide inattentiveness behind an exuberant tone. “I know, I know. Lots of people say that, but I really mean it. I like music. Any kind of music. Well, except for rap, because I’m too old to ‘get’ the beat and the melody. Though I have to admit, I do appreciate the poetry and the drama that goes into a lot of those songs.”

  He hit the button on the visor above him, starting the garage door on its upward roll. “Reason I ask if you like country is, I won tickets to see Marty Johnson, and I was wondering if you’d like to go to the concert with me.”

  “You won a contest? How exciting! I’ve never won anything.Unless you count the little glider plane my third grade teacher gave as the prize for getting the most hits with a Paddle Ball.”

  “Aw, I hated those things. Couldn’t hit that ball twice without the rubber band getting all twisted around my hand. Or the paddle. Or the ball coming loose from the rubber band.“He switched off the ignition. “How many hits?”

  Mercy lifted her chin and assumed a snooty expression.“Two hundred and seventy-three.”

  “Wow,” he said, “impressive.”

  “That’s what Sister Bertina said.”

  “Wow,” he repeated. “I had no idea you went to Catholic school.”

  “It isn’t something I brag about. Those weren’t my favorite school years.”

  “Did you wear a pleated little skirt and a cross-over tie and saddle shoes with ruffly socks?”

  “Blue plaid, unfortunately,” she said with a groan, “and, yes, a snap-tie. And a matching vest, too.”

  “How many years?”

  “All twelve.”

  Austin climbed out of the car, walked around to her side and opened the passenger door. “Y’know,” he said as she unbuckled the seatbelt, “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who went to parochial school and liked it.”

  “Trust me. There’s a reason for that.”

  He reached into the back seat for her crutches. “The little gilder plane is one of a handful of good memories,” she said as he handed them to her. “I think maybe that’s why I still have it.”

  “You do? No kidding!” She got to her feet. “It’s in my keepsake box on the shelf in my closet.”

  “The rubber-band kind, with the wind-up propeller?”

  “No.” Mercy laughed. “It’s as plain as plain can be.”

  “Ah-ha. The ones we used to call Amish flyers.” A peaceful, happy smile crossed his face as he shoved open the door leading into her kitchen. “Bet I had a couple dozen of those when I was a kid. My grandfather brought one every time he visited.Said he and my dad sometimes spent hours flying them around the yard.”

  She pictured Austin as a boy, happy innocent face turned toward the sky as he followed the course of his plane. If they had a son together, would he have Austin’s golden hair and blue eyes? And near-black lashes that touched his eyebrows when he looked up? She hoped so, because—

  Good grief. Where did that come from! Mercy clomped down the hall, stood on one foot and shrugged out of her coat. Even managed to hang it on the hall tree, all by herself. “So how’d you win the tickets?” she asked, thump-sliding her way to the sofa. “Wait. Don’t tell me. You filled out one of those ‘You Can Win’ cards at the drug store, didn’t you?”

  “Nah. I get enough junk mail and annoying sales calls without giving those pests direct access to me.” He smirked, then winked. “On the way to the station the other day, I dialed WPOC. Never did it before. Never expected to be their ninth caller, either, but I was, and I won.”

  “Congratulations,” she said,

  Had she answered too quickly?

  Not if that smile on his face was any indicator.

  Once she’d settled on the sofa bed, Austin said, “He’ll be at the Convention Center in a few weeks, but the seats are in the nosebleed section. I’m thinking that’s way too soon for you to climb all those stairs. It’s a sure bet we didn’t get aisle seats, which means more climbing to get past the lucky stiffs who are on the end. So—”

  “I can manage. You’ll be right there to lean on—if I need to, that is.”

  “True. But I found out I can swap these tickets for two more, in September, when he’s in New York.”

  “New York City?”

  Austin laughed. “The way you said that reminds me of that old salsa commercial.” The smile faded slightly when he added “That concert is part of the 9/11 tenth anniversary services.I thought—” He shrugged. “I thought since we’d both been away for so long, it might be a good time to reconnect, pay our respect to all the first responders who died, and the ones who were injured, and their families.”

  If anyone else had suggested such a thing, Mercy would have turned it down, flat. Too many negative emotions tied to that date. Too many painful memories. But hers paled by comparison to his. Had he invited her as a friend? Or as a former psychiatrist?

  What did it matter? He’d never asked anything of her. And unless she wanted to look like a clown, offering to do something to show her gratitude—then refusing it even before he’d officially spelled it out—

  “Yes,” she said simply. “It’ll be an honor to go with you.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  “It’s probably going to be a madhouse up there for an event like this.”

  “New York is always a madhouse. At least this time, there’ll be a method to the madness.”

  Mercy nodded because he was right.

  “Mother Nature’s definitely in another snit,” he said. “Looks really threatening out there. I have a feeling we’re gonna get it big time this time.”

  “Well, you just restocked the fridge and pantry, so unless we lose electricity, we’ll be fine until the plows dig us out.”

  “I’ve been freezing empty water bottles and milk jugs, so if the power goes out, we’ll be OK for a few days. Plus, I noticed that big stack of firewood on your terrace. I’ll build us a roaring fire.”

  “Gosh. I almost hope the lights do go out. Almost.““I’m gonna fix myself a snack, get something cold to drink.What can I bring you?”

  “Whatever you’re having.” It’s what she always said, because Austin always seemed to know just what she’d like.

  He bent to kiss her forehead. “Back in a minute.”

  He wasn’t gone thirty seconds before the emptiness set in, deep and gnawing.

  Better get used to the feeling, she told herself. Because day after tomorrow, this is how you’ll feel all of the time.

  31

  The east coast had been slammed by one ferocious blizzard after another, breaking all weather records. By early February, fifty-eight inches had accumulated in three separate even
ts, inspiring the governor to declare a state of emergency.

  The National Guard was dispatched, and they loaded into more than a hundred Humvees to make their way to motorists stranded when traffic came to a dead halt, thanks to three inches per hour that clogged every highway.

  Baltimore-Washington International Airport called off all incoming and outgoing flights. Schools, malls, businesses, and church services were canceled. Those owning four wheel drive vehicles were asked to help deliver doctors and nurses to area hospitals.

  Local TV stations put their news copters in the air to film parades of dump trucks that offloaded the frozen stuff into Baltimore’s harbor, inciting heated debates between environmentalists about the potential hazards to marine life, once the salty snow made its way to the Chesapeake Bay.

  Unlike the experts, ordinary citizens took full advantage of being snowed in, and turned the clearing of side streets into

  block party events, while their kids climbed snow mountains higher than any they’d ever seen.

  Normally, Austin would have hated being cooped up. But living on the water with three-sided views of the bay tamped down any symptoms of cabin fever. Mercy, on the other hand, had sounded at her wits’ end when they talked night before last.

  She’d recovered, but not enough to shovel show from her front porch, sidewalk, and driveway. He chuckled, remembering the way she’d grumbled about the neighborhood association.“What are they doing with the hundreds of dollars they charge all of us?” she’d fumed.

  Fortunately, she and her neighbors now had an escape route—though she wouldn’t go so far as to credit the powers that be in the association office. It sounded to Austin as if Mercy needed the upcoming Super Bowl shindig more than anyone, so it would be a double disappointment if the weather forced the marina to cancel, especially since the managers had decided to celebrate in a bigger-than-usual way when they learned that Flora’s cancer had gone into remission.

  Plus, Bud had organized a silent auction to raise money for the Cancer Society, and knowing this, Austin had spent hours, fashioning a fancy bird feeder as his contribution to the charity.

  And Mercy canceled her trip to London.