by Debra Holt
“That’s a plan,” Jan spoke in relief. “Thank heavens you’re here.”
Something about her mother seemed different. Perhaps Mercy had been away too long, or maybe her mom had done something to her hair. At any rate, there was a definite sparkle in her brown eyes and lightness in her step. Dressed in a red-and-white-checkered capri pantsuit with white sandals and earrings and bracelet to match, Jan Smith looked much younger than her actual age. Evidently, her weekly water aerobics classes were paying off.
They parted at the driveway. Mercy headed toward the small strip center south of town. Traffic already headed toward the square. Her luck held, and she found a parking spot directly in front of the pharmacy. Grabbing her shoulder bag, she slid it over her arm and hurried inside.
Klaus’s Pharmacy, a part of the fabric of Lawson for decades, had recently been updated again. Mercy missed the soda fountain that had been the local hangout after school for many of the older school kids. She and her friends had often enjoyed the video arcade her father had added to keep up with the times. It was funny how things seemed to come back around. Soda fountains were in vogue once more, attracting patrons to enjoy some nostalgia. But good times from back then were now bittersweet memories.
Once upon a time, Klaus’s Pharmacy had been Smith’s Emporium, and her dad had been the local pharmacist. Her first “job” had been to help fill the salt and pepper shakers, for which she earned fifty cents a day. Easy money for an eight-year-old, and the task made her feel important. She had grown up knowing almost everyone in town … at least until she was ten. Her father had been a well-liked and respected member of the business community. People said he had a heart the size of Texas. If someone needed a helping hand, he was generally the first to step forward, although he much preferred anonymity in his acts. He also volunteered, mentoring young people at the middle school. And his love of mentoring was what had placed him at a local bowling alley one afternoon.
Four adults took twelve kids from the mentoring class for pizza and bowling. Mercy had begged to go along and had looked forward to the outing. When the afternoon arrived, however, a temperature and tonsillitis kept her home. Her dad promised to bring back her favorite ice cream. She never got the ice cream. Neither did her father return home.
There was an altercation between a recently divorced couple in the parking lot of the bowling alley. The woman sought shelter in the bowling alley. A few minutes later, the ex-husband followed, armed with a gun. Shooting erupted, and her father, ever the first person to respond to a crisis, had charged the shooter to keep him from spraying bullets in the direction of the children. His actions saved the children as well as the ex-wife. Her father had died. The gunman was caught, and her father was hailed a hero. It was a cold and empty comfort for a ten-year-old girl.
Her father had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. How many times had she heard that platitude? Years passed before Mercy could bring herself to go back into the pharmacy, and when she did, much had been changed and modernized. Her dad was no longer there in more ways than the obvious.
“Mercy Smith!” Mr. Kraus exclaimed. “Well, it’s certainly good to see your smiling face in here. We heard you were in Arizona for a while. Those fires looked just horrible on the nightly news. I can only imagine how bad they were in person. Glad to see that you’re back in one piece.”
Mr. Klaus had been the pharmacist for the last fifteen years and knew everything about everyone in the community. His nephew, Randall, had moved back to work in the business with him after graduation from pharmacy school. Her mother had been trying to set her up with Randall recently. Of course, that dinner had been postponed twice already, so she sighed with relief to see only the elder pharmacist behind the counter.
“Thanks, Mr. Klaus. It’s good to see you, too. I’m glad to be back in time for the celebration.” Mercy gave him a bright smile. “Mom forgot to pick up her meds yesterday in the midst of all her errands to get the church booths ready for today. I told her I’d stop by and get them.”
“She did call and say you were on the way. Your mother has more energy than any two women her age. She always has something going on. We sure couldn’t do without her.”
“Yes, she never sits still if she can help it.”
Her cell phone buzzed. Mercy looked at the number and laughed as she answered the call. “Were your ears burning?”
“Ears? What’s that about? I just wanted to see if you could also stop at the church and pick up a couple of pies dropped off there by mistake.”
“Sure. Mr. Klaus just handed me your meds, so I’m on my way in a couple of minutes … straight to the church.” She dropped the phone inside her purse and, bag of meds in hand, looked over her shoulder with a farewell wave at the pharmacist. She moved to push through the door, which opened just as she reached for it. She stumbled headfirst into a pair of solid arms.
“Excuse me!” she began, bringing her startled gaze up to the person who still held her forearms in a firm grip to steady her. “I wasn’t looking where—”
“My guardian angel, here in my arms. Now that’s a prayer answered.”
His unexpected appearance coupled with the shock that hit her nervous system where his hands held her in their grasp rendered Mercy speechless. Very little did register in the muddled mess of her mind, except the fact she had been right that first night in the ER. He was tall; at least six-foot-three.
Broad shoulders and a rock-solid chest snugly covered in a white, western-cut shirt; long legs in creased blue jeans and brown lizard cowboy boots; and a cream-colored cowboy hat. All of it blended to create a very attractive image—downright sexy, if she had to be specific. His strong mouth curved into a broad smile that set deep creases into his tanned face as he observed her shock at seeing him.
He had an electrifying smile, minus the pain. Mercy had to fight hard to keep her lips from automatically responding with a wide smile of her own. The gleam in those dark blue eyes deepened as he took in each feature of her startled face. She found it difficult to breathe for some reason and to keep her mind from straying in directions that could only lead to trouble.
Mercy straightened and stepped back from his grasp as another patron approached the doorway. She watched as he smiled at the elderly woman, touched a couple of fingers to the brim of his Stetson, and held the door open for her to pass between them.
“Thank you very much, Sheriff Wellman. It’s good to see that you’re back on duty. You just mind that you take it easy for a while.” Then the woman turned her bright eyes on Mercy. “Good to see you, too, Mercy.” Was that a hint of a wink the woman gave her?
“Pleasure to see you, Miss Mamie. I’ll certainly heed your advice. You have a wonderful day,” the lawman responded. Mercy could only nod.
The brief exchange gave Mercy time to gather her straggling wits about her and paste a noncommittal look on her face. She wished the hammering of her heart would subside as easily.
Remember… he’s taken.
“Who and what do I have to thank for bringing you to our town and in this very spot today?” His voice sounded far more vital than when she’d heard it last. Mercy liked its strong timbre. In fact, there wasn’t much not to like about the whole man standing in front of her. Except that he was quite spoken for by a “cool, leggy, blonde type.”
“I always come to the Fourth on the Square if work permits. I missed it last year, so I’m glad I could come this time,” she supplied in an even voice. “It’s nice to see that you’re back at your job. I trust you aren’t overdoing, and you’re following your doctor’s orders.”
“That sounds very professional of you, Nurse Mercy Smith.” He knew her name. Someone at the hospital must have told him.
“Hazard of the job, I guess,” she responded. Mercy looked at her watch and could picture her mother tapping her foot and wondering where she was with the pies. “I’m sorry, but I’m running late right now. I have people waiting on me. It’s nice to see that you’re doing bett
er.” She headed toward her car door, clicking the lock open with the remote. His stride was faster than hers, and he easily opened the door for her. Mercy kept her attention on getting in and placing her bag on the passenger seat beside her. She gave him a polite smile. “Thanks.”
“I’m sure our paths will cross again soon.” He shut the door and stepped back to stand on the sidewalk, one hand on his hip while the other slid dark glasses from his shirt pocket and onto his eyes.
Way too much of a gorgeous male. Mercy kept her concentration on backing from the parking space and pulling into traffic without mishap. She didn’t venture a glance back, afraid to look anywhere but straight ahead.
Chapter Five
Pies in hand, Mercy picked her way through the crowds gathered around the edges of the courthouse square. Anticipation for the impending parade filled the air. Her mother and Minnie Phelan stood behind the cakewalk booth, placing final numbers on the array of donated baked goods.
“There you are, Mercy.” Her mom sounded relieved. “I thought you had gotten lost. Did you run into traffic problems?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Mercy responded as she turned two cherry pies over to Minnie with an innocent smile. “What’s next?”
“Two numbers on these pies, and then we go take our places for the parade. I sent Jess Turner over to our usual spot with folding chairs a while ago.” They added the last of the pies to the impressive lineup of sweets. Then the trio left the stand to claim their chairs.
Each year since Mercy could remember, they had watched the parade under the large oak tree on the south edge of the square. The location provided great shade and the best view of the parade just before it turned down Main Street. The spot also allowed them to catch the ending of the parade and still have time to get back to their stands and be ready ahead of the crowd.
The late morning air held a bit of a breeze. Mercy thought the breeze would be nice to keep things as cool as possible if it lasted. She wouldn’t bet on it, though. She could already feel the heat of the day building and found herself glad she’d chosen to wear her light-yellow dotted-Swiss sleeveless blouse and a pair of white cotton capris. She’d swept her hair back into a ponytail and secured it with a cheerful yellow ribbon to keep it off her neck. David’s tiny gold studs adorned her ears. She’d noticed a couple of positives left over from her days in the Arizona sun. Her skin had a glowing tan, and the rays had also highlighted the golden streaks in her hair. She settled back into her canvas lawn chair, adjusted the sunglasses on her nose, and got ready to enjoy the parade.
A smattering of applause arose among the crowd as the flashing lights of the motorcycle police escorts came into view. The parade began right on time. Everyone rose to their feet as the national and state colors passed in front of them, carried by local representatives from each of the armed forces. Dozens of parade watchers, young and old alike, waved mini American flags. Fire engines followed; crews waving and tossing candy to the youngsters. Now and then, they sounded their sirens and bells and brought more smiles and giggles from the crowd. Mercy enjoyed watching the excited children along the route—some seated on the curb, others hoisted high on taller shoulders. Her own earliest memories of the parade were from that vantage point—perched atop her father’s shoulders.
The local high school band came next, dressed in their summer uniforms of polo shirts and khaki shorts. They played a rousing rendition of “The Stars and Stripes Forever.” Mercy had participated in marching band in high school, and she always gave a hearty applause to the group’s efforts. She still remembered how much effort went into rehearsals and how hot the parade route could be.
“There are many good memories to be found around this courthouse square,” her mother said, sharing a smile with her daughter.
“Yes, there are … very happy ones.” Mercy agreed. They were both in tune on that one.
“And there are even more to be had; I’m positive of that.”
Something—a tone perhaps—in her mother’s voice, maybe the whimsy in her smile, made Mercy think there might be more to her comment. Her mother turned to talk with Minnie though, so she filed the thought away in the back of her mind. A group of mounted equestrians followed the musicians. She loved horses, and the palominos with their striking silver saddles caught her attention. If she’d had one regret growing up, it was that she’d never had a horse of her own. She’d had to make do with riding the horses of friends who had farms outside of town. Her eyes passed over and then swept back to lock on the rider leading the group. Mercy sat up straight, nearly knocking over her chair.
Sheriff Joshua Wellman waved at the youngsters along the route. He smiled and nodded as he recognized the adults who responded with waves and smiles of their own. He sat easily in the saddle, as though it came naturally to him. He seemed like the embodiment of a classic western screen hero. Mercy’s pulse sped up, and her mouth thinned at the reaction. She sank back into her chair, glad for the protection of dark lenses on her glasses. At least she could look in his direction without seeming to be looking. The odds were he wouldn’t even see her in the crowd.
That didn’t hold true for long. She ventured another look in his direction just as he came even with their row of seats. His gaze swung from the opposite side of the street to land directly on her, as if he knew she was there.
Absurd, she chided herself.
Except … that easy grin lifted his mouth as he dipped his head in a nod to her direction and gave her a wink. He had seen her. Then he passed.
Mercy took a calming breath. She slid a glance to her right where her mother was still involved in conversation. Thankfully, the woman had been oblivious to the small interaction. It took a while before her pulse rate returned to a normal speed.
The parade lasted another half hour. When the last entry had passed, a row of street sweepers garnering their share of laughter and applause from the crowd arrived. The trio of women arose and folded their chairs quickly.
“Let me have your chairs,” Mercy said. “I’ll put them with mine in the trunk of my car. It’s parked right across the street.”
She collected them and headed through the dispersing crowd, finally reaching her car. Opening the trunk, she stacked the chairs inside. She had just lowered the trunk and slid the keys into the pocket of her capris when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She sensed someone right behind her.
A hot breath moved her hair and sent a shiver along the sensitive skin at the back of her neck. Mercy brought her head around slowly, and then her whole body turned in full surprise. Two huge, dark eyes looked down at her, and a faint snort jangled the silver bit in its mouth as the golden horse stood a foot away from her. The sheriff sat astride the palomino, a lazy smile on his face.
“I told you we’d meet again soon.”
“Yes, you did. Aren’t you supposed to be leading the parade? It’s not finished yet.” Mercy kept her eyes on the horse and away from the man. It felt much safer that way. “Aren’t you a handsome fellow?” Raising her palm slowly, she rubbed her hand lightly up the animal’s forehead. She noted the undisguised wistfulness in her own tone.
“I take it you mean the horse and not me.” He did his best to bring her attention back to him. “There was only a block left to go. They can handle the parade without me. The alley made a good shortcut. I thought my presence was needed elsewhere.”
Mercy kept her gaze on the horse. Best to ignore the man’s words. “What’s his name?”
“Justice. Would you like a ride?”
Her eyes flew to his. As much as she would have loved to take him up on the offer of a ride on the beautiful animal, she would never admit it. That would be playing with fire. She didn’t plan to get burned.
“No, thanks. I need to get to my booth before they send a search party for me. Goodbye, again.” Mercy didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. She could feel his eyes on her all the way across the street. What was his problem, anyway? He needed to remember he had
a fiancée. She certainly hadn’t forgotten.
While her mother and her friends staffed the cakewalk booth, Mercy stood behind her own booth. The hand-painted sign overhead proclaimed, “Kisses for the Kidz—$1.00 each.” For a dollar donation, she would place a light kiss on the cheek of each donor. The donations funded programs for underprivileged children in the county. Those beneficiaries represented the only reason Mercy had agreed to participate. That, and her mother’s continual bombardment of her, of course. By the looks of the line of men, young and old, extending from her booth and down the walkway toward the building, hers was one of the most popular booths. Fortunately, the time went by faster than she thought it would. Almost at the end of her two-hour shift, she looked up to smile at the next person who stepped to the booth, money in hand. She froze with her smile locked in place.
The sheriff stood in front of her, a definite gleam of wicked delight sparkling in his blue eyes. He laid a crisp twenty-dollar bill on the counter. Surely not. Mercy’s eyes darted to other booths and people passing by. She certainly didn’t want to be the subject of local gossip—Did you see that Mercy Smith and our engaged sheriff? Why couldn’t he just go away?
“If one dollar gets me one kiss on the cheek,” he spoke up, leaning one arm on the booth, “what would twenty dollars get me?”
He really was too much of a flirt for an engaged man. Mercy narrowed her gaze on him.
“That would get you one kiss on the cheek and nineteen trips to the back of the line.”
Okay, so his smile was devastating and sexy as all get-out when he turned up the wattage, and now it evolved into a full-fledged grin.
“You drive a hard bargain.” He handed her another folded bill. “Let’s make that thirty-nine trips to the back of the line. After all, it’s for a good cause.” She kept her mind in check as she lifted her lips toward the clean-shaven cheek he presented, but the rules changed in a blink of an eye. With a flash of movement, he replaced his cheek with a pair of male lips that locked onto hers.
