by Sharon Sala
Mercy smiled. It was an unexpected hello she never thought she would receive.
Stay in bed, Lon. Drink lots of liquids. I am fine.
Then she put the phone in her jacket pocket and headed into the supermarket, still smiling.
Back in Blessings, Lon heard the ding and knew she’d sent something back. He reached for a tissue as he pulled up the text, read it, and sighed. He felt like hell, but she’d called him Lon. He blew his nose, rolled over in bed, pulled the covers beneath his chin, and saw Mercy’s face as he drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 5
Two nights later Mercy was just getting off work. She stopped in the hall of the bar and checked her phone before she headed home. When she saw a text from the cop, she grinned.
It’s me, the cop. I’m still alive. Are you? I’m somewhat better, almost well, and went back to work today.
She never even thought about ignoring it as she sent back a quick answer.
I’m alive. Just getting off work and ready to head home. Glad you are feeling better.
Lon was working the night shift for one of his deputies, who was out sick with what he had just gotten over. When he heard his phone signal a text, his heart skipped. And when he saw it was from Mercy, he grinned. He read the message, delighted that she had answered him, and then realized what time it was and frowned.
At 2:00 a.m.? She gets off work at 2:00 a.m.? He wouldn’t let himself think about her riding through the streets of Savannah at that time of the morning. She’d been taking care of herself long before their paths ever crossed. Still, he said a silent prayer for a safe journey home as he turned around at the end of Main Street and started down the other side of the street, flashing his searchlight and checking storefronts to make sure everything was secure.
* * *
Mercy had been home about ten minutes when her cell signaled a text. She didn’t hesitate anymore, and looked forward to their sparse and irregular communication. Then she read the message and frowned.
It’s me, the cop. Hope I didn’t wake you. It’s been a rough night. Had a house fire on the outskirts of Blessings. A man died. Had to call his daughter in Illinois. Downside of my job.
Mercy’s shoulders slumped as she sat on the side of the bed. She started to send a response and then stopped. What the heck would she say? How do you comfort someone you barely know?
She sat there a minute and then instead of a text, she called, and when she heard the surprise in his voice, she knew she’d made the right move.
“Mercy? Is that you?”
“It’s me. I’m sorry you’re sad.”
Lon was floored. “Well, honey…this call has gone a long way toward cheering me up.”
“I didn’t know what to say, so I thought if I called, you could do the talking, and I would listen. Sometimes you just want to be heard.”
Lon pinched the bridge of his nose to keep from crying. “For a girl, you’re actually pretty smart.”
She frowned and was about to light into him for such an antifeminist remark, and then thought she heard him chuckle. “Are you laughing?” she asked.
“Not quite.”
She sighed, and curled her feet beneath her. “Are you okay?”
“I am now,” Lon said. “Thank you for caring enough to do this.”
“When do you get off work?”
“At 7:00 a.m. I’m covering for one of my deputies. Everyone has the flu.”
“Get a new toothbrush, and wipe down your home with a disinfectant cleaner.”
“What?”
“It’s what one of my foster mothers did when we all got sick at once. She threw away our toothbrushes when we got well and washed away the germs.”
“Thank you for the tip,” Lon said. “It makes sense.”
Mercy smiled, more than pleased that he thought what she’d said was a good idea.
“It’s time you were in bed, so I’m going to say good-bye. This has been an unexpected joy on a really awful day. Thank you. I won’t forget this.”
“You’re welcome,” Mercy said and disconnected.
She sat in the silence of her apartment, thinking about what it would be like to be the constant bearer of bad news and was glad she was not a cop. Then she got beneath the covers and turned out the lights. But even after she closed her eyes, she still saw his face.
She remembered what it felt like to come when he was inside her. She had yet to realize he had long ago laid claim to a tiny little piece of her heart.
* * *
Hope Talbot remembered seeing the pickup truck crossing the center line only seconds before impact, and then nothing until she woke up in intensive care nearly thirty-six hours later.
You nearly died, they told her. A young woman came from Savannah and donated blood that saved your life.
She heard the words, but there was too much pain to focus, and she fell asleep again.
The next time she woke, Jack was standing by the bed, crying.
“Am I dying?” she’d asked.
“No, baby, no. You’re getting well,” he’d said.
She slept again and dreamed of standing on the street in front of a house, watching a car drive away, and the smaller it appeared, the more panicked she became. “Mommy!” she screamed.
“Hope, Hope, you’re okay,” someone said, laying a hand on her forehead.
She tried to wake up, but the pain was still between her and daylight.
It wasn’t until the fourth day after the accident that her doctor had her moved out of ICU. After that, she was able to stay awake for short periods of time, and by the seventh day had improved so much they talked about sending her home.
On the eighth day, Jack was cleaning up the kitchen after breakfast when his cell phone rang. He grabbed a towel to dry his hands, noticed the call was from the hospital, and quickly answered. “Hello?”
“Jack, it’s me.”
He leaned against the cabinet, smiling at the sound of her voice. “Hope! Baby! How are you doing this morning?”
“The doctor already made his rounds this morning. He said I could go home.”
“Oh wow! That’s the news I’ve been waiting for. I’m on my way!”
Hope smiled. “Don’t forget to bring me something to wear. They burned the clothes and coat I was wearing in the wreck. They were full of glass.”
“I remember. I’ve already got the bag packed.”
“See you soon,” she said, and hung up the phone.
She swung her legs off the side of the bed, steadying herself as she stood. It was a miracle she was alive, and she knew it.
Her spleen had ruptured in the wreck. She’d nearly bled to death before they got her into surgery. One lung had collapsed, and that had to be dealt with as well. After surgery, while she received a transfusion, the doctor and nurses had picked splinters of glass out of her neck and face. She didn’t remember any of that.
Until this morning, she’d had a good dozen staples in her belly from the surgery, and a total of six in two different places on her scalp. She’d seen the bruises on the front of her body, but knew there were bound to be more. Her ribs were sore—two had cracked, but she was healing, and thanks to a skillful surgeon and a stranger’s blood, she was going home.
She made her way to the bathroom, and when she was finished, stopped at the sink to wash her hands. As she was drying, she glanced at the mirror and frowned at her reflection.
It was difficult to see herself beneath the swelling and bruising. Her hair was still black. Her skin still held the color of her Italian heritage, and her eyes were still that dark, fathomless brown. But her face and neck were peppered with tiny scabs from the shattered glass. There were places on her scalp missing hair, but at least they hadn’t shaved her head. The large contusion over her right eyebrow was getting better. The swelling had gone down
enough so she could finally see out of that eye, and her arms and most of her upper body had been somewhat protected from flying glass because she’d been wearing a heavy winter coat. Something else to be thankful for.
She’d been told that a preacher prayed over her, but she didn’t remember. He said the whole town of Blessings had prayed day and night for her recovery. Suddenly struggling not to cry, she took a deep breath. Thank God their prayers were answered. She wasn’t nearly through living.
Hope laid her palm against the glass, partially covering her reflection. She was still Hope, yet not the woman she’d been. She was more. More because of the woman whose blood now ran through her veins—because of the woman who’d saved her life.
Then the door opened. Hope’s friend and fellow nurse, Georgia Frost, came in smiling. “I hear you’re going home today,” Georgia said.
Hope nodded. “Yes, I’ve already called Jack.”
Georgia took her by the elbow. “Come lie back down while you wait. You don’t need to overdo this ‘feeling better’ phase, or it won’t last long.”
“I know, but it’s hard to be still when you’re used to staying busy.”
“You nearly died,” Georgia reminded her.
“Right,” Hope muttered. “So I’m lying down now,” she said as she eased herself onto the bed and stretched out.
Georgia pulled the covers up to keep her from getting cold and then leaned against the side of the bed. “Did you hear about the guy who hit you?”
“I haven’t heard anything. I don’t even know his name. Was he from around here?”
“No. Out of state plates, but this is what burns me. He was driving with a revoked license. He’d just been released from jail for drunk driving. I heard that when he gets out of the hospital in Savannah, he’s going straight to prison. This was the fifth drunk driving charge. I personally hope they keep him. He came close to killing you.” Georgia patted Hope’s leg as she changed the subject. “We just wanted to let you know how happy we are that you will be home, getting well, and that we’ll see you again.”
“Thank you,” Hope said, and then Jack came in, and the visit with Georgia ended.
He gave Hope a quick kiss and smoothed the hair from her forehead. “They’re getting your release papers ready. I told them I’d help you dress. Do you feel okay to do that now?”
“Yes. I just want to get home and sleep in my own bed.”
“I will be glad to have you there.” Hope heard the tremble in his voice as he lifted her fingers to his lips. “I’ve missed you.”
“Someday, this will just be a story we talk about at the dinner table,” she said.
“That’s for sure,” Jack said as he set the bag he’d brought on the foot of the bed and took out all the clothing. “If I help, can you manage panties, or do you want to go home commando?”
She pointed at the clothes he’d laid out. “I’ll take the panties. It’s too cold to be all that airy.”
He grinned, and together they got her dressed. By the time Georgia came back with a wheelchair and release papers, Hope was in sweatpants, a zip-up sweatshirt, and fuzzy house shoes over thick wool socks.
“Ready to go for a ride?” Georgia asked.
“If it gets me home, I sure am,” Hope said.
Since her coat was not salvageable, Jack had brought one of his. The tan goose down jacket was too big, but it served its purpose as he helped her to the wheelchair.
“Georgia, I’ll meet you at the front entrance. I’m going ahead to get the car,” Jack said, blew Hope a kiss, grabbed the empty bag, and left on the run.
Georgia pushed Hope toward the door. “Your husband is a cutie-pie,” she said.
Hope beamed. “I like to think so.”
“He reminds me a little of that actor, Ryan Reynolds, but with darker hair and green eyes.”
“He’ll get a big head if I tell him that,” Hope said as they headed up the hall toward the elevator.
Georgia giggled. “He’s better looking than his brother. Not that Duke isn’t good-looking, you know. But Duke is always frowning, like he’s a little displeased with the world in general.”
Hope had to laugh. “Oh, Georgia, do you ever have Duke pegged. Oh, don’t get me wrong. He’s a great brother-in-law, but he’s really hard to please. Probably why, at the age of forty, he’s still a bachelor.”
Georgia reached the elevator and punched the button to go down. When the doors opened, she rolled Hope inside. Down they went to the ground floor as Georgia wheeled her toward the exit. “There’s Jack-on-the-spot, already waiting,” Georgia said.
Hope sighed. It was such a relief to be going home.
She got in the truck and was safely buckled up as Jack drove away. Hope was seeing Blessings with new appreciation as they drove down Main. They were leaving the city limits when Jack patted her knee, and then tucked in a corner of the blanket he had over her legs. “As you can see, it’s starting to sprinkle. Are you warm enough? I can turn the heater up if you need,” he said.
“No, I’m fine,” Hope said, and then felt her eyes well.
Jack panicked. “Honey? What? Are you in pain? Do I need to turn around?”
“No, I’m just emotional,” Hope said. “We just passed the place where the wreck occurred.”
“Ah…yes, we did,” Jack said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s nothing. It’s silly. I need to get over that because it’s the road we always use to get to and from Blessings.”
Jack turned on the windshield wipers and drove a little further in silence, debating with himself whether to tell her about the woman and the DNA test, then decided she, of all people, had the most right to know. “I have something to tell you. It’s about the woman who donated blood for you.”
“Please do. I can’t get her out of my mind. She’s the reason I’m still alive.”
“She was something to see. She sure took the starch out of old Duke. You know how he is…always trying to boss people around.”
Hope grinned. “Tell me.”
“She rode a Harley all the way from Savannah, and I can only imagine what a ride that was because of the timing. Started out in darkness and then rode into daylight all the way to Blessings, only to get stopped by the roadblock from the wreck. Then Chief Pittman tried to chase her down to give her a ticket for speeding, and she took off through the alleys and outran him to the hospital. By the time he got there, they’d already taken her back to draw blood.”
Hope laughed. “A bit of a hell-raiser. I like that. Maybe some of her daring will rub off on me. I’m a little too passive sometimes.”
“You’re perfect,” Jack said. “But there’s more.”
“Then tell me.”
“They brought her into the waiting room after she’d donated blood. The chief was there. I think he wanted to see her after she eluded him to get to you, and then it was the strangest thing. They realized they knew each other. She sat down to drink some orange juice and eat some sweets before she could leave, so I got her the stuff from the vending machines. The chief left, and Duke and I talked to her while she ate.”
“Was she nice?” Hope asked.
“She seemed very nice. She works at a place in Savannah called the Road Warrior Bar. She’s lived in the city all her life, and she’s not married.”
“Sounds like someone who’s had to take care of herself and is doing a good job of it.”
Jack reached for her hand and gave it a light squeeze. “Duke was telling her that because you’d been adopted out of foster care, there were no blood relatives who might have been a match for your rare blood type. She said you were lucky, because she grew up in foster care and aged out.”
Hope frowned. “That’s tough. I know it happens to a lot of foster kids.”
Jack hesitated again, trying to feel his way through the rest of this story. �
��So after she ate some of the food, she took off her leather coat. Oh…did I tell you she was wearing all leather…tight black pants and a big black bomber jacket? She was so tall and so damn beautiful, she could have been a runway model. But that silver biker helmet she had was bothering Duke. He couldn’t get over the fact that there was no man running herd on her, and of course, Duke being Duke, made a male chauvinist comment. I thought she was going to take the hide off him. If I hadn’t been so worried about you, I would have laughed.”
Hope was laughing just imagining how it all played out. It felt good to be happy again. “I can see that. Lord, I wish I could have met her.”
Jack gave her hand another little squeeze. “That’s part of what I needed to tell you. Hope, when she took off her jacket, there was a birthmark on her neck that looked like a valentine heart lying on its side.”
Hope gasped. “No, oh my God, no. Jack. Tell me you got her name. Where she lives. Something!”
“Thanks to Duke’s insistence, we got more than that. She agreed to a DNA sample. Mark Lyons came up from the lab and took a swab. We’re waiting for results any day now.”
Hope was shaking. “What did she look like?”
“Duke thinks she looks like you, but taller. She has black hair, the same olive complexion, and dark brown eyes. And there was the birthmark, and the fact that she grew up in foster care.”
“What did she say?” Hope asked.
“At first she got angry when the connection was suggested, but I think it scared her. She doesn’t remember having any family. She is about as alone in the world as a person can be. She said she couldn’t be your sister because she’d never changed her name, and since we already knew what it was, and no one mentioned a connection, it surely wasn’t her.”
Jack continued. “But then we told her you never mentioned her given name…at least not to our memory. All we ever remembered was that you called her Baby Girl. She got this funny look on her face and clammed up. She let Mark take the DNA swab and then left. She wouldn’t give Duke her phone number or address. She just told him where she worked.”
