Mercy flopped over on the exam table. “What a disaster.” Coming home from Chet’s last night, she was beyond thrilled at the way things had turned out. “Chet will think I’m some kind of monster—baiting him with cookies and then turning into the Girl from Misfit Island. I might as well grow hair on my back and howl at the moon.”
Cat let out a howl that probably had the receptionist worried, and then burst into giggles.
Mercedes chuckled. “You’re insane.”
“Let’s go home and Google bangs. Maybe we can get yours to swoop over this half of your face.”
“That’s fine.” Mercedes got up, and they wandered out to pick up her prescriptions. “But then we need to fix the sink and build the railing.”
“Be careful with that antihistamine, hon,” said the receptionist. “It can make you drowsy.”
“Thanks.”
They stopped at the mom-and-pop drug store to fill the prescriptions and then went home. Mercy decided to hold off on taking the medicine so she could work with Cat.
That afternoon, she took a long soak in warm water before realizing she hadn’t taken her pills yet. She read the bottle twice, took one pill, and then worked to get her bangs to lie across her face. By the time Chet knocked on the door, she was so nervous she wanted to throw up. If she could just get through the next ten minutes and explain the situation, she was sure the rest of the evening would go well.
Chapter 14
Chet wiped his palms down the front of his pants before knocking on the door. He glanced over his shoulder at his shiny and freshly vacuumed truck and smiled. He was ready. Vicky’s advice still rubbed at the back of his mind, but he hung on to the peace he’d found praying in the hay field for strength.
The door swung open, and Mercedes stood before him. She wore a teal sun dress with a white, light-weight sweater. A dainty charm hung on a thin chain accentuating her long neck. Her hair was down and swooped across half her face … her eyes—or rather eye, as he could only see one, was puffy.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
She gaped. “Yeah, you look … clean!”
Chet laughed and ran his hand through his still damp hair. “I guess a shower does a man some good, huh?”
“I’ll say.” Mercedes blushed and ducked her head. “Now I feel like a total freak.”
“Why?”
She brushed her hair away from her face and lifted her chin to the light.
Chet gasped. He didn’t mean to, and he probably shouldn’t have, but the whole left side of her face, from her forehead to her cheek was swollen. Her usually bright eye was swollen halfway shut. He reached up and brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek. “Is that from the bee?”
She nodded. A look of vulnerability crossed her face.
A feeling of deep responsibility rose up inside Chet. Mercedes was obviously worried about how she looked; but more importantly, she cared about his reaction to her predicament. Just a few careless words could truly hurt her, and he had a desire to protect her from any pain. He once more brushed her cheek with his fingers and said, “Mercedes, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, with or without a bee sting.”
She sighed, and the worry lines on her face disappeared. “You don’t mind going out with Quasimodo’s sister?”
Chet chuckled. “If she was as wonderful as you, I would jump at the chance, Mercedes.”
“You can call me Mercy. Everyone else does.”
“Yeah, but I love the name Mercedes,” he said as he offered her his arm. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Mercedes ducked her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “I don’t mind.”
Mercedes called goodnight to Cat and shut the door behind them. Once in the truck, she relaxed against the seat, her eyes drooping shut.
Chet put the keys in the ignition. Instead of starting the truck, he turned to Mercedes. “You’re not going to fall asleep already, are you? Vicky said not to bore you, but I thought we’d make it through dinner before you nodded off.”
He kept his voice light, but under the teasing was the fear that Vicky was right. He’d never had a girlfriend for longer than a couple of months. Things tended to fizzle out when girls learned how much time he had to spend taking care of the ranch. He prioritized his private life. He’d learned that lesson from watching his dad. Nothing was more important to his dad than Mom and Dad made sure the boys knew it. On the other hand, Mom understood what it meant to be a rancher’s wife and she never made him choose between her and the ranch. Together, they made life sweet for one another. That’s what Chet was looking for and what he felt as they worked on the porch together. It was like he’d found his partner in life, a partner that sent his heart racing.
“Sorry.” She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth to stifle a yawn. “It must be the Benadryl taking effect. The doctor said it could make me drowsy.”
Chet dropped his hand away from the keys. “Do you want to cancel?”
“No!” Mercedes bolted up, her eyes wide. “I’ve been looking forward to spending more time with you. I might just need a minute for this to work through my system.”
“Okay,” Chet said, relieved.
Granny’s Diner wasn’t close, but it was a place where they could talk without interruption. Big C’s would be full of teens, and Tina’s would be full of their parents. At either place, he’d spend the night introducing Mercedes to half of Snow Valley. Maybe he was being selfish, but he wanted her all to himself and therefore, Granny’s was the place to go.
Chet asked about her art, and Mercedes described some of her favorite paintings.
She stifled another yawn. “I’ve always wanted to have my own art show. It’s a lot of work to break into the right circles. Plus, you have to constantly produce new paintings, which is hard to do when you have a sixty-hour-a-week job.”
“Have you painted lately?” Chet wondered if she’d started the painting of him, but he was too embarrassed to ask. He’d never had anyone want to paint him before. It was a strange concept ... but with Mercedes, it didn’t seem strange at all.
Mercedes frowned. “No ...” She shook her head as if she needed to clear it. “I’m sorry, what was I talking about?”
Chet steered the truck onto the highway. “Painting.”
“Oh, right. Well …”
Chet tried to study Mercedes without her knowing he was studying her as she recounted the same information about wanting to have her own show with only a few variations. Did she really not remember telling him this already? She finished her narrative and giggled, pressing her fingers to her lips.
“What’s funny?” he asked, hoping they were on firmer ground.
“You clean up good.” She laughed.
Chet tipped his head to the side. “Why is that funny?”
“You know the phrase—he cleans up good?”
Chet nodded.
“I just noticed you don’t have any dirt under your fingernails, which means you did a good job cleaning up, but you’re also totally hot in your clean shirt and pants, plus, you smell nice—so you also clean up good.” She laughed so hard she fell against the door.
Chet rubbed the back of his neck. Flattering as it may be to be called ‘hot’ by his date, he felt awkward keeping Mercedes out when she was having a reaction to her medication. “Maybe I should take you home to rest.”
“Nooooooo.” She sat up and placed a hand on his arm, sending a jolt straight to his heart and warming his chest. “I promised Cat I would be nice to you so she could borrow your bucket and I’m so hungry. I haven’t eaten all day. Cat rushed me to the doctor first thing and then we worked all the way up until I got in the shower. I’m good. I just feel a little fuzzy. But that could be because I haven’t eated … aten … eaten!” Her eyes lit up when she found the right word.
Chet shook his head. The bucket thing threw him off, but he was more worried about Mercedes’s mental health at the moment than her motives for being nice to h
im. “Let’s go eat, and if you’re still feeling fuzzy, we’ll take you home,” he said as he pulled into Granny’s parking lot.
Chet ran around to open Mercedes’s door. She slid off the seat and swayed a bit, so he offered her his arm. She walked without difficulty, if a little slow. Perhaps she was getting drowsy again.
A bell dinged as they entered the diner. “Love Me Tender” played in the background and the smell of Sunday pot roast made Chet’s mouth water. Maddie, the under twenty-something server who liked to talk when Chet came in alone, greeted the two of them. She wiggled her eyebrows at Chet. “Well, this is new.”
Chet’s cheeks grew warm. He ate here a couple times a month—on those nights when he didn’t feel like cooking or being surrounded by family. Sometimes it was just nice to eat a good meal in quiet. Maddie was a regular here at Granny’s. She was a good waitress and she kept track of her customers. He should have thought she’d notice if he brought someone in.
Mercedes nudged him.
“Maddie, this is my, er, date, Mercedes.”
“Hey! Welcome to Granny’s.” Maddie’s face was open and friendly.
Mercedes grinned. “Thanks. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Follow me.” Maddie grabbed a couple menus from the counter and led the way into the dining area. “Where you from?”
“Boston,” answered Mercedes.
Maddie motioned to a table. “Your accent is adorable.”
“What accent?” Mercedes looked at Chet, her eyebrows raised.
Chet pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.
Maddie looked back and forth between the two of them. “You hear it, don’t you?” she asked Chet.
Mercedes eyes went wide, as if she had worn her shirt inside out and just realized it. Chet reached for her hand and brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “I’ve heard it.” He turned to Maddie. “And you’re absolutely right, it’s adorable.”
Maddie grinned. “I’ll get you two some water and be right back.”
Mercedes leaned forward. “I do not have an accent.”
Chet raised one eyebrow. “Say ‘swerving’.”
“Swurveen,” said Mercedes.
Chet tipped his forehead. “You don’t hear that?”
Mercedes shook her head. “All I hear was you mispronouncing ‘swurveen’.”
Chet laughed.
Mercedes opened the menu with a smile. “What’s good here?”
Chet allowed himself to relax as he looked over the menu. He pretty much had it memorized. Not much changed around here. The cook focused on the basics of comfort food: fried steak, meatloaf, pot roast. There had to be something on here that a refined girl from Boston would like. “My sister likes the cobb salad.”
Mercedes dropped her hand to the table and gave him a glare. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“Um, they have soups …” He really hadn’t thought this through much. Maybe she was a vegetarian. Oh man, that could be a deal killer—even if she was Miss America, pairing him up with a vegetarian would create the ultimate odd couple.
Maddie was back with a pad of paper and a pen.
“How’s the cat?” Chet asked, to buy Mercedes some time to look over the menu.
“I traded up.” Maddie grinned. “The superintendent said I had to get rid of Fluffy so I decided to get a boyfriend instead.”
Mercedes grinned. “And how’s that working out for you?”
Maddie clicked her pen. “It’s not bad. He doesn’t use the litter box, but he buys me dinner.”
They laughed.
“What did you do with Fluffy?”
“My friend took him. She’s got a little girl that just loves the poor darling to death. Last time I was over there, Fluffy was dressed in Cabbage Patch clothes and content to be carried around like a baby.”
“Sounds like he’s in good hands,” said Mercedes.
“He is.” The bell over the door rang. Maddie motioned to the small family that she’d be just a moment and then asked, “Have you had a chance to look things over?”
Mercedes folded her menu. “I’ll have the pot roast and mashed potatoes—extra gravy.”
Chet grinned. This was his kind of girl. “I’ll have the fish and chips.”
Maddie took their menus, put in their order, and hurried back with a basket of rolls.
“Fish and chips?” Mercedes asked as she reached for some bread.
Chet also took a roll and opened a butter patty. “I eat a lot of beef.” He shrugged.
“I guess you would.” She took a bite and then started to giggle.
Chet shook his head. “What?” he asked with a half grin.
“I guess you could say—you beefed up.”
Chet chuckled. “Okay, that one was kind of funny.”
“Or I could say you’re a beefcake.”
Chet’s cheeks grew warm as he laughed with her. He liked that Mercedes felt free enough to compliment him, but he wasn’t used to this much attention. Sure, he’d gotten looks from girls growing up, but so did all his brothers. It wasn’t a big deal. Still, hearing that Mercedes found him attractive gave him a satisfied feeling.
Their food arrived, and they tucked in. Mercedes ate quickly, and he realized she must have been telling the truth when she said she hadn’t eaten all day. After a few minutes of silence, Mercedes said, “Tell me about your farm.”
Chet chewed thoughtfully. “It’s really more of a ranch.”
“What’s the difference?”
“A farmer produces a cash crop, like corn or wheat. A rancher works with cattle.”
“But you have hay fields and corn fields.”
“The hay is for the horses and longhorn. The corn is a special type for cattle. I’ll bale it and feed it to them over the winter.”
“Oh. What else? I had a whole list of questions …” She dipped her roll in the gravy as she thought. “How many cows do you have?”
“Around four hundred.”
Mercedes let out a low whistle. “I had a hard time keeping track of my hamster. He kept finding ways to get out of his cage.”
Chet smiled. “Cows do that too.” The more Mercedes ate, the more rational she seemed. He’d have to remember to keep her fed. Maybe he should stock his glove box with granola bars or something.
“Where are your parents? I was going to ask Whitney the other day and I forgot. She said you live in their house.”
Chet set down his drink. “I bought the house and the ranch from them last year.” He shook his head. Leaning forward, his arms resting on the edge of the table, he said, “They promised each of us boys could have a cut of the ranch. I’m the youngest and they were antsy to retire, so it was kind of a do-it-now-or-lose-your-chance situation.”
“Where’d they go?”
“See, that’s the crazy thing. They went everywhere.”
“Everywhere?”
“Yeah, they bought a motor home, packed up a few things, and took off on this hippie adventure. They live like nomads, driving from state to state, and chasing whatever whim strikes their fancy.” He dropped his gaze to his nearly empty plate. “Last I heard they were in Maine.”
“That sounds nice. It must be exciting for them.”
“I guess.” Chet pushed his plate away.
“You don’t agree with their decision?” Mercedes placed her arms on the table and leaned forward. Her eyes were bright, at least the eye he could see. The other one was still hidden behind a curtain of heavy bangs. He tried to see if the swelling was going down without staring too hard.
Mercedes ducked her head as if she had read his thoughts, so he said the first thing that came to mind. “I thought they were ranchers, not hippies.”
“That’s the trouble with parents. We only see them from a child’s perspective. It’s hard to picture them as regular people.”
“Regular people don’t abandon their family.”
“You think that’s what they did?”
Chet hooked his hand beh
ind his neck. “I don’t know.”
“Liar. Anytime someone says they ‘don’t know’ it really means they are afraid of the answer. Do you think your parents abandoned their family?”
“No,” was Chet’s automatic reply.
Mercedes raised one eyebrow.
“Okay, maybe.”
She folded her arms across her chest.
“All right—yes, I feel like they abandoned their family.” Now that the truth was out there, Chet felt the relief of finally having someone to talk to and ended up spilling the rest. Mercedes was easy to talk to, and he didn’t feel like she was judging him for judging his parents. What would Pastor John have to say about a woman like that? “They are missing out on amazing things every day. Not big things like new grandkids. But the small things. Like my niece, Andy, losing her first tooth, or Aiden running in his first touchdown. It’s those little moments of celebration that make up a family, and my parents opted out of all of it.”
“How many years did they work the ranch?”
“It was my grandpa’s before it was my dad’s, so he’s been there his whole life.”
“Huh, that’s a long time to be tied to something. I’m guessing there weren’t many vacations.”
“No. We went camping here and there …” Chet caught Mercedes’s eye. “I get what you’re trying to say. They deserve a break.”
“I don’t know that anyone deserves anything in this life. But I’m pretty sure they earned it.”
Chet thought of the long hours he spent working the ranch “You’re right. Ranching is physically demanding and emotionally draining.”
Mercedes nodded for him to continue.
“Like getting that steer out of the fence the other night. I worried the darn thing would hurt itself more than it did, or hurt me or Wade. Not because I’d lose money if the steer died, but because I care about the animals. I feel as though the Lord has entrusted me with a stewardship over the land and livestock. I take that sacred trust seriously and assumed my father had walked away from it without a thought.”
Summer in Snow Valley (Snow Valley Romance Anthologies Book 2) Page 64
