Mercy (The Guardians Series 1)

by Wendy Saunders

  With a deep sigh of resignation she grabbed up her jacket, stuffing the envelope into her purse she yanked on her boots and headed for the door pulling out her phone as she went. If she was crazy enough to do this, she was going to need help.

  An hour later she found herself staring at the Riverside psychiatric facility, it looked nice. Surprisingly enough, she didn’t know what she had expected but it seemed like a regular building surrounded by uniformly manicured lawns. There was no perimeter fence, no bars on the windows and no heavily armed security unlike Morley Ridge. She’d only visited that place once and quite frankly she’d found it terrifying, not just the imposing building which looked as if it had been plucked straight out of a horror movie, but even the ground Morley Ridge sat upon felt as if it were stained with violence and death. She wasn’t surprised her father had wanted to escape his imprisonment there. Feeling the familiar sense of panic she shook her head, taking a deep breath and fighting back a sudden wave of nausea, she tried not to think about her father. That was a problem for another day.

  Concentrating instead on the whitewashed building before her, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Riverside had none of the foreboding overtures of Morley Ridge in fact it seemed relatively normal. Clutching her purse tighter on her shoulder she turned towards the main building, making her way past the neatly trimmed shrubbery as she approached the main entrance. She hesitated and for one insane moment she wanted to run away from it all. She wanted to get back in her car and just drive anywhere. Leave everything behind and just be free. Except she wouldn’t be free, she’d tried running for the last twenty years and what had it gotten her? She’d still ended up unhappy, alone and back in the place where it all started. No, this time she had to face it all and deal.

  Starting with Theodore Beckett.

  It was surprisingly easy, getting in to see him after the hoops she’d had to jump though getting in to see her father, which she’d chickened out of in the end anyway. But this was different, this wasn’t a high security facility and Theodore Beckett wasn’t a convicted criminal, as far as the authorities were concerned he was just a guy with amnesia and the quicker they found someone will to take him off their hands and free up a bed the better.

  She signed in, had a brief word with the receptionist, a perky redhead named Jeanette and was told at this time of the day the patients were socialising in the day room which was through the double doors and to the left at the end of the corridor. Smiling in amusement Olivia headed in that direction trying to figure out what on earth she was going to say to him when she found him.

  The day room was large and bright and airy. The bright crisp autumn sunlight filtered in through the large windows surrounding the room, the walls were painted a cheerful yellow with generic art prints screwed to the walls. A TV and couch sat in one corner of the room and tables and chairs were set up around the wide space. Olivia wandered past a tall broad well muscled male nurse wearing white pants and a white polo shirt bearing the Riverside insignia. With his ID and a bunch of keys clipped to his belt he stood watchfully with his arms crossed at his chest.

  Patients milled around the room harmlessly, some sat watching an old re-runs of ‘Cheers’ while a few sat round a rectangular table playing something that looked a lot like checkers, although she was sure in checkers you weren’t supposed to build little towers out of the counters. One patient in particular stood staring at a plastic plant pot swaying silently whilst another climbed up on a stool.

  ‘I have a rash, look; I keep telling them I’m allergic to their toilet paper, look see’

  Olivia almost laughed out loud at the skinny middle aged guy with the moustache, as he dropped his pyjama pants and bent over.

  ‘See, hives. I’m telling you it’s the toilet paper,’

  ‘God damn it Dougie,’ the nurse behind Olivia sighed, ‘Pull your pants up.’

  Olivia stepped out of the way as two of them pulled him down off the stool and yanked up his pyjamas.

  ‘I told you I need Cottonelle I can’t have the cheap brands,’ he protested as they marched him out of the room.

  ‘I know Dougie,’ the burly nurse replied in exasperation.

  Olivia resumed her search of the room and her gaze fell on the tall dark haired guy who had occupied much of her thoughts for the past week. A small smile played on her lips as she watched him. He sat quietly at a table by himself next to one of the windows overlooking the garden. He wore much the same as the other patients, a pale blue cotton robe, blue and white striped pyjama pants and a white vee necked tee shirt which, instead of hanging off him like many of the other emaciated patients, seemed to cling to his broad chest. His dark chocolate coloured hair hung forwards making her fingertips itch to smooth it back from his face as he leaned forwards over what looked like a sketchbook.

  Curious as to what he was doing, her feet were moving before she’d had a chance to consciously think about it. Her gaze fell to the table as she approached quietly. He was painting, a small palette of watercolours lay open in front of him and next to it was a plastic cup half filled with dirty water. He frowned as her shadow fell over his work but he didn’t look up. Pulling out the chair opposite him she sat down and waited, studying his intense expression as he worked.

  Suddenly he stopped and looked up sensing her presence, his brown eyes holding hers, as if surprised to find her sitting opposite him. His expression betrayed nothing and she found for the first time ever she couldn’t read what he was feeling. Growing up in the foster care system, a troubled kid who’d bounced between group homes, she’d learned to read people quickly. It was a deeply honed survival skill but with him, she couldn’t figure him out and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t make her curious as hell.

  ‘Mr Beckett.’

  He regarded her for a moment, his liquid gaze focused and intense, making her feel as if they were they only two people in the room. When he spoke his voice was a sexy low rasp.

  ‘I wondered if you would come back.’

  ‘And yet here I am,’ she replied.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because if you want to get out of here, you are going to need my help.’

  He looked around the room before coming back to her.

  ‘There are worse places to be I suppose, besides this is where they send the crazy people, so I’m told.’

  ‘Except you’re not crazy,’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Mr Beckett,’ she sighed.

  ‘Theo.’

  ‘Theo,’ she replied softly, ‘do you want my help or not?’

  ‘I was told I was supposed to help you,’ his mouth curved.

  ‘Before this is over we may just end up helping each other,’ she replied, her eyes refusing to leave his.

  Once again he fell silent, his head tilting slightly as he studied her.

  ‘Theo,’ she interrupted his thoughts, ‘I know the truth about you, I know what you are and where you are from, but regardless of what you have been told about me, I do not want or need to be saved. But the fact remains you are in my world now and if you want to survive you are going to need my help.’

  ‘You accept what I told you about where I’m from?’ he asked curiously, ‘you believe me?’

  ‘Yes I do.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just because,’ she shrugged, ‘but if I help you, there are conditions.’

  ‘What sort of conditions?’ he asked suspiciously.

  ‘For one, you have to have an open mind. The world we are in now is very different to the one you were brought up in. There will be things you have to accept that will go against everything you have been taught.’

  ‘Very well,’ he murmured thoughtfully, ‘an open mind. I think I can agree to that, what else?’

  ‘Honesty,’ she replied seriously, ‘we have been thrown together for whatever reason and while we figure it out there can be no lies between us. There may be things we don’t want to discuss but there
will be no lies.’

  ‘Honesty?’

  ‘Honesty,’ she nodded, ‘trust will come later.’

  ‘Agreed,’ his mouth curved in amusement,

  She fell silent as they stared, each trying to figure the other out. She hadn’t been idle the past week; she had spent every night reading through Hester’s journal looking for any reference to Theo.

  ‘There is something I would like to ask you, but you don’t have to answer, it is quite personal.’

  ‘You may ask,’ he replied curiously.

  ‘Just before you were brought here, there were two little girls. I believe they were arrested on charges of witchcraft, they wouldn’t have been more than maybe eight or nine years old.’

  He remained quiet watching her with an unfathomable expression.

  ‘You let them go?’

  ‘Is that your question?’ he asked after a moment.

  ‘No,’ she shook her head, ‘it was more of a statement. I know that you let them go even though it was against the vows you swore as a court appointed Witchfinder. What I want to know is why?’

  ‘Why does that possibly matter?’ His voice was now hard, ‘why do you care about one insignificant event?’

  ‘Because I do,’ she replied softly. Just for a second his expression had slipped and she’d seen the pain underneath. ‘Why did you let them go?’

  He held her gaze.

  ‘Because I would not murder children in the name of God. No matter what they were accused of in my heart I knew it was wrong.’

  Her whiskey coloured eyes suddenly flared gold.

  ‘Good enough,’ she smiled.

  She stood abruptly but as she brushed past him his hand shot out and grasped her wrist, stilling her movement and forcing her to look at him.

  ‘Tell me why it matters to you?’

  ‘Because she was mine.’

  ‘What?’ he whispered in confusion.

  ‘The youngest girl,’ Olivia told him gently, ‘her name was Hester West; she was my great great great grandmother. If you hadn’t saved her I would never have been born.’

  Caught up in the spell woven around them, without thinking, she reached out and scraped the stubble at his jaw lightly with her fingertips and felt him shiver.

  ‘I have her journals,’ she murmured as she absently stroked the little indentation in his chin, ‘she talks about you. She never forgot you or what you did for her and her sister. What you consider an insignificant event shaped so many lives, mine included and she was forever grateful to you.’

  He drew in a shaky breath and dropped his eyes unable to hold her gaze.

  ‘I’ll go and speak with the doctor about getting you released,’ she told him as he dropped his hand, releasing his grip on her wrist.

  He turned his head and watched her walk away helpless to do anything less. The woman tied him in knots there was no doubt about it, his gaze travelled the length of her body. She wore some sort of tight fitting clothing; he thought he had heard someone refer to them as jeans. There were almost indecent they way they clung to every curve and dip of her body, unlike the long and shapeless smocks and dresses the women of his time had worn. He closed his eyes and turned deliberately away from her retreating form, unable to control his physical reaction to her. His insides churned raw as he fought for control. She was nothing like he imagined, the woman he had dreamed about for most of his life. She was beautiful, there was no doubting that and her body, it was soft and curvy and there was no use denying that he wanted his hands on her desperately, but when she had looked into his eyes, her own eyes burning like molten gold, his heart had almost stopped. She had a core of iron and it was intriguing.

  Her words churned over and over in his mind, she was directly descended from the child he had saved. He had never thought for one moment that such a small act of kindness could have such consequences and it forced him to re-evaluate a lot of things. If he hadn’t saved that little girl, Olivia might never have existed.

  Lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice the time pass until Olivia reappeared with the doctor he’d seen when he was first admitted to Riverside. The short portly man wore a pinstriped shirt tucked optimistically into a pair of pants at least a size too small for his ample frame. His white doctor’s coat was slightly rumpled and the breast pocket bulged with too many pens. He shoved his dark framed glasses up his nose but they just slipped straight back down again as if the gradient of his nose was to steep to hold them up correctly. Approaching Theo he tossed him a small indulgent smile one might give a slightly slow child.

  ‘And how are you feeling today Mr Beckett?’

  ‘Very well doctor, thank you,’ he replied courteously.

  ‘Your sister here insists your memory is recovering quite nicely and would like to take you home,’

  ‘My sister…’ he repeated slowly, his gaze flicking over the doctor’s shoulder to Olivia, who threw him a warning glance. ‘Yes, my sister, I believe my sister is correct I would prefer to return home.’

  ‘Excellent,’ he shoved his glasses back again. ‘Well she has brought your identification with her, everything seems in order I think it will be fairly safe to release you to her care. It’s more likely you’ll recover your memories quicker if you are surrounded by familiar things. If you have any other concerns you can contact us and we will see you as an outpatient.’

  ‘Thank you doctor, we appreciate it,’ Olivia smiled at him.

  ‘Well then,’ he cleared his throat, ‘if you will just come with me, there are a couple of forms to sign. Mr Beckett here can get changed while we sort out the particulars.’

  ‘Ah,’ Olivia frowned, ‘I didn’t bring any clothes with me. I’ve just got back from being out of town, as soon as I found out what had happened I headed here to straighten everything out.’

  ‘Oh well,’ he once again hiked up his glasses, ‘never mind maybe we can find him something.’

  ‘Not to worry,’ she threw him her most winning smile, ‘we don’t live too far, he can just shower and change when he gets home.’

  ‘Well if you’re sure.’

  ‘I am,’ she took his arm companionably, ‘why don’t we go and get those forms sorted out.’

  ‘May I keep the book?’ Theo asked quietly indicating the sketch book in front of him.

  ‘Of course,’ he nodded as he glanced down at Theo’s work, ‘you are extremely talented.’

  ‘Thank you,’ He closed the book and stood.

  Within a short while they were both stepping out of the main entrance. The late afternoon sun was dipping low on the horizon and a cold early evening breeze tugged at Olivia’s jacket. Pulling it closer she turned and regarded Theo with a frown.

  ‘I should have brought you a coat,’ she murmured thoughtfully.

  ‘It’s not that cold.’

  ‘I forget you’re used to harder winters,’ she replied in amusement, ‘No central heating.’

  ‘What is central heating?’

  ‘Never mind,’ she shook her head.

  She descended the few steps onto the main concourse and headed past the gardens at a brisk pace, with Theo right beside her still in his pajamas and slippers, his art book tucked under one arm.

  ‘Where are we going?’ he asked curiously.

  ‘To a friend’s,’ she glanced back at him. ‘You’ll be safe there and we’ll have time to figure this all out.’

  Theo suddenly stopped and glanced around him, taking in the late traffic, several cars passed by and a bus. He just watched taking it all in, whilst Olivia watched him.

  ‘This must be really strange for you,’ she stepped closer to him speaking quietly.

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘Cars,’ she replied, ‘it's the most widely used mode of transport, most people have their own.’

  ‘Cars,’ he repeated, ‘how do they work with no horses to pull them?’

  ‘Come on,’ she smiled, ‘it’s too cold out here fo
r a lesson on the internal combustion engine.’

  ‘The what?’ he frowned in confusion.

  ‘Exactly,’ she laughed.

  He watched mesmerised, her laugh was one of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard. She tugged his arm and they both started walking again.

  ‘You’re going to be busy for a while,’ she told him with a hint of seriousness. ‘You have over three hundred years worth of history to catch up on, but lucky for you I’m an historian so I’ll try to make it as painless as possible.’

  ‘An historian?’

  ‘Someone who makes a living from studying the past,’

  ‘A profession?’

  ‘Yes,’ she nodded.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he frowned, ‘you don’t have a father or a brother to care for you?’

  ‘Oh boy,’ she sighed, ‘I don’t have any brothers or sisters for that matter and as for my father, that’s one thing I’m not prepared to discuss. I specialise in the history of the New England colonies particularly during the seventeenth century so I am well aware of the role women played in your society, but you have to understand there has been three centuries of progression. Women no longer need their men to support them. In my society women have more or less the same social and economic rights as the men. We can inherit, we can vote, we can own property, we can have the right to the same education and we hold positions of authority in many professions. Most of us work for a living and we support ourselves.’

  ‘It sounds lonely,’ he replied as they entered a parking lot.

  ‘Sometimes,’ she shrugged, ‘sometimes not, it’s all about having the right to choose your own path.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ he murmured.

  She stopped beside her car and turned to study him.