A Little Town Called Mercy

by Wendy Saunders

  ‘Jackson pay attention,’ she snapped, ‘you need to get her fever down. If it gets too high she’s at risk of having a seizure. You need to strip her down and get her in the shower. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

  ‘Right…’ he nodded, ‘okay…right then….’

  He hung up the phone and looked down at Shelley.

  ‘Okay love,’ he scooped her into his arms and headed toward his bathroom, ‘Okay…here we go.’

  He stripped away her heavy damp winter coat. Her sweater was next, followed by her shirt which was so saturated with sweat he had to peel it off her skin. He unbuttoned her jeans and peeled them down her legs. Sitting her on the toilet seat he leaned down to unlace her heavy winter boots. Tossing them aside with a heavy clunk he pulled her socks off and peeled her jeans the rest of the way off.

  Trying not to look at the lacy black bra and matching panties she wore he turned the shower on cool. Pulling his t-shirt over his head and dropping his track pants, he kicked them aside leaving him in only his boxers.

  ‘I have to say Shelley,’ he murmured as he hooked his hands under her arms and stood her up, ‘this is not what I imagined when I thought about us naked.’

  Bracing her slight weight against him he turned toward the shower and then eyed the jets of cold water.

  ‘Okay I guess we’re doing this then,’ he stepped into the shower, pulling her in with him. He bit back a manly yelp and gritted his teeth as the icy jets his skin. He turned so he could move Shelley more fully under the water. As soon as the water hit her skin her eyes flew open and she let out a shocked cry.

  ‘It’s okay love.’

  ‘Stop…. stop….’ she struggled weakly against him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he held her tightly, soothing her matted hair as she fell against him, drained and too sick to fight him. Her body burned as it pressed against his. ‘It’s okay, I’ve got you love…’ he soothed her, ‘I’ve got you,’ he murmured.

  ‘Jackson,’ she croaked.

  ‘Yes love,’ he crooned to her softly as the cool water beat down on them both, ‘I’m here.’

  She looked up at him, her gaze slightly more focused.

  ‘Jackson,’ she frowned in confusion as if she couldn’t quite understand how she’d got there.

  ‘Shelley,’ he smoothed her hair back from her face as she continued to watch him, ‘why aren’t you safe at home?’

  ‘Home,’ she repeated, then the memory of Stuart’s naked body and the sounds of his grunts flashed through her mind and her face crumbled.

  Jackson held her as she sobbed against him. He didn’t know what the hell had happened to her between her leaving the pub and him finding her collapsed on his doorstep, but one thing was for sure, he wanted to kill her fiancé. When her tears had finally subsided and she was shivering against him, he judged her temperature low enough that she was out of any immediate danger. He lifted her carefully out of the shower and wrapped her in a big fluffy towel. Snagging another, smaller towel he wrapped it around his hips before lifting her into his arms and carrying her to his bed.

  She watched tiredly as he pulled a couple of clean pairs of boxers and two clean t-shirts from his dresser. Handing a shirt and some boxers to her, he lifted her chin forcing her to look at him.

  ‘Can you manage to get dressed, or do you need some help? I called Louisa, she should be here shortly.’

  Shelley nodded mutely.

  ‘I’m going to get changed and head downstairs to let her in. I’ll be back soon, okay?’

  She nodded again, barely listening to what he was saying.

  Taking one last worried look at her Jackson headed back into the bathroom. Stripping off his towel and wet boxers he threw them into the hamper along with Shelley’s damp clothes. Pulling on his clean boxers and t-shirt he scooped his track pants off the floor where he’d kicked them earlier and pulled them on too. Picking up Shelley’s coat he stepped out into the lounge hanging it over the back of the door to let it dry. By the time he headed downstairs Louisa was already waiting at the door, stamping her feet to keep warm.

  ‘You took you time,’ she breathed as he opened the door and she stepped inside. ‘How is she?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he frowned in concern. ‘I did what you said, and I managed to get her temperature down some, but Louisa there’s something wrong and she won’t say.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  She’s slightly more coherent than she was but she won’t talk. She just cried.’

  ‘Let’s go take a look, shall we?’

  She walked briskly past him and headed through the back and up the stairs.

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘I left her in my room,’ he pointed her in the right direction, ‘it’s through there.’

  Louisa nodded.

  ‘Why don’t you give us some space,’ she told him gently as he hovered protectively. ‘I’ll take good care of her.’

  ‘Okay,’ he reluctantly agreed, ‘you want a coffee or a cup of tea darlin’?’

  ‘That would be great,’ she smiled. ‘I’d love coffee but as it’s late and I’m still breastfeeding, it will have to be tea.’

  ‘Any particular kind?’

  ‘Whatever you’ve got will be fine.’

  He nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, a few moments later she heard the kettle click on. Turning toward Jackson’s room she headed inside and found Shelley curled up in a ball at the end of the bed, on her side, still wrapped in a damp towel and holding a pair of boxers and a t-shirt.

  ‘Shelley?’ Louisa dropped down next to her, pressing her hand to her head as her reddened eyes fluttered open. ‘Hey sweetheart, I heard you’re not feeling well.’

  ‘Understatement,’ Shelley croaked. ‘If someone put a gun to my head right now I’d lie here and take the bullet.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t,’ Louisa smiled.

  ‘Trust me, it would be a kindness.’

  ‘I know you’re hurting right now Shelley, for all kinds of reasons but there’s always a reason to live, even if you can’t see it.’

  Shelley stared at Louisa silently.

  ‘I know Shelley,’ she murmured.

  ‘Know what?’ she ground out, her voice sounding like rusty nails.

  ‘I’ve seen your medical file,’ she told her softly, ‘I know what happened to you.’

  Shelley’s mouth tightened into a thin line.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘I know you probably don’t,’ Louisa nodded in understanding. ‘It’s only been a couple of months, you haven’t had nearly enough time to come to terms with it, but Shelley you didn’t give yourself any time to recover either. You barely took any time off work and I’ll bet the farm you didn’t tell Jackson the real reason you were off work.’

  ‘I don’t want him to know,’ she whispered painfully, ‘I don’t want anyone to know.’

  ‘I know that,’ Louisa replied, ‘but your body hasn’t fully recovered from the surgery and your immune system hasn’t had time to recover either. Then add in the crazy hours you’ve been working and the fact you work with the public. There is a nasty strain of the flu doing the rounds at the moment, so I’m not surprised you caught a virus. You need to take better care of yourself if that loser fiancé of yours isn’t going to do it.’

  ‘Not my loser fiancé anymore,’ she replied quietly.

  Louisa sighed.

  ‘What happened honey?’

  ‘I came home early,’ she breathed. ‘I felt so ill, all I wanted to do was crawl into my own bed and sleep, but he… he…’

  ‘I think I know where this is going,’ Louisa swore, ‘go on, finish it out. You need to say it out loud, so you can start to deal with it.’

  ‘He was fucking another woman,’ she burst into tears.

  ‘Oh honey,’ Louisa pulled Shelley into her arms and let her cry it out on her shoulder.

  She rocked her gentl
y while her tears raged and when she once again ran out of steam Shelley mumbled something unintelligible into Louisa’s shoulder.

  ‘What was that?’ she pulled back.

  ‘They were fucking on my new sheets,’ she mumbled miserably. ‘I really liked those sheets too.’

  ‘Oh baby,’ Louisa laughed in sympathy, ‘he doesn’t deserve you, he never did. You were the only one who couldn’t see it.’

  ‘Yeah well, I’m seeing it now,’ she replied bitterly, ‘and it doesn’t make for pretty viewing.’

  ‘Come on,’ Louisa stood slowly, ‘let’s get you examined and then into some clean clothes and into bed.’

  When Louisa left the room, quietly closing the door behind her, Jackson was pacing the floor anxiously.

  She held her finger to her lips and nodded toward the living room. ‘She’s sleeping.’

  ‘How is she?’ Jackson asked worriedly.

  ‘As I suspected, just a virus,’ she told him, ‘however, she’s not been taking care of herself lately. She tired and overrun, she needs rest. There’s an extremely virulent case of the flu and it’s taken out half the town. I’ve given her a dose of antibiotics, make sure she takes them. She needs rest and fluids, but to be on the safe side keep Miller away from her. I don’t want him catching it too; he’s only a baby and given how premature he was his immune system is still not as strong as I’d like. But you know what Miller is like, the minute he knows Shelley’s here he’ll want her.’

  Jackson nodded.

  ‘I tell you what,’ Louisa decided, ‘why don’t I come by later and take him for a few days. He’ll have fun with Jace and then Shelley can get some rest.’

  ‘She’s not going home?’ Jackson asked. ‘Where is Stuart? Did she say anything to you?’

  ‘I’m sorry Jackson,’ she reached out and squeezed his arm in sympathy. ‘I know you care, but she’ll have to tell you in her own time, though I will say she can’t go home. Are you okay to keep her here with you? I’d take her home with me, but Jace is even younger than Miller and I don’t want him catching it.’

  ‘Of course, she can stay here,’ he turned to gaze at the closed door she slept behind.

  ‘She will be alright Jackson,’ Louisa assured him, ‘it’s just going to take some time.’

  He turned his gaze back to Louisa and realized she wasn’t talking about the virus.

  He nodded again.

  ‘Right then,’ she yawned, ‘I’m heading home, call me if she gets any worse. I’ll be by later to pick up Miller after I’ve had some sleep.’

  ‘Thanks, Louisa.’

  She gave him a small smile and grabbing her bag headed back downstairs. Jackson followed her down locking up the door behind her. He was passing through the kitchen when he stopped at the neat pile of cooking pots and pans stacked in the center of the floor.

  He stood for a moment, contemplating them curiously. There was no way Owen would have allowed his precious utensils to be anywhere but in their place. He was meticulous about his working space, in fact he didn’t even allow others to touch pretty much anything in his kitchen, so he knew it wouldn’t have been Owen.

  He knew he’d checked the kitchen earlier when he’d first locked up and everything had been where it was supposed to be. He had no doubt in his mind that it was the noise he’d heard which had summoned him downstairs, where he’d discovered Shelley collapsed on the doorstep. She hadn’t made it inside the building before passing out, so it definitely wasn’t her.

  It could’ve been the wind? But then it was nowhere near strong enough to lift them off the hooks securing them to the wall and it certainly wouldn’t have stacked them neatly in the middle of the floor.

  That left him with only one uncomfortable possibility. Nearly a year ago his pub had attracted a rather nasty poltergeist. It had not only smashed up the kitchen, throwing the pots and pans everywhere, but it had also pretty thoroughly destroyed the pub itself. God, he hoped he was wrong. He’d only just finished paying off the costs from that little adventure. Half the repairs he’d been unable to claim on the insurance as he wasn’t covered for ‘destructive angry spirit damages’ and he’d been unable to adequately explain to the Insurance Company how the pub had sustained the damage in the first place.

  Dammit, he was going to have to call in Fiona, the crazy old British medium with the army of cats and garden gnomes. He had nothing against Fiona, on the contrary he loved her company, he was just hoping that he was wrong, and he didn’t have another haunting on his hands. He was pretty sure his bank balance, as healthy as that was, couldn’t handle it. For that matter, he wasn’t sure he could either.

  Picking the pots up and placing them back on their hooks he gave the kitchen one last cursory glance before heading back up the stairs. Yawning tiredly, he stopped outside Miller’s room frowning, he could’ve sworn he’d closed that door.

  Peeking his head through he saw Miller sitting up sleepily in his crib, staring at something in the corner of his room. Concerned Jackson stepped more fully into the room and headed toward the crib. At first Miller didn’t seem to notice Jackson, he was so preoccupied with staring at the corner.

  ‘Hey, little man,’ he reached down and picked Miller up, ‘it’s too early for you to be awake.’

  Miller, still tired, laid his head on his father’s shoulder and sleepily pointed to the corner of the room.

  ‘Lady,’ he murmured.

  Jackson’s heart almost stopped. He turned and stared at the corner Miller had pointed to, but he couldn’t see anything.

  ‘Hush wee man,’ he rocked him, stroking his blonde curls soothingly, ‘tis just a dream. There’s no lady.’

  ‘Lady,’ he yawned and pointed again.

  A slow uneasy trickle began at the back of his neck. Picking up Miller’s blanket he switched off the nightlight and headed out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him. Fiona would definitely be getting a phone call first thing in the morning.

  Miller had already curled against Jackson’s chest and was once again snoring softly, like the contented purr of a sleeping cat. Jackson eased himself down on the couch, settling Miller carefully along his body as he slept, then he covered him with his blanket.

  He closed his eyes, but sleep would not come. In the darkness of the room he swore he could feel someone standing over him… watching.

  3.

  Shelley looked over at the soft tap at the door. She didn’t answer, she didn’t have much of a voice and it still hurt to swallow. She watched as the door opened slowly and Louisa stepped inside, closing it behind her with a quiet click. She held a large bag in one hand and Shelley’s purse in the other, which could only mean one thing.

  ‘You went to see Stu,’ Shelley croaked.

  ‘It was unavoidable unfortunately,’ Louisa set the bags down in the corner of the room and headed over to the bed. ‘You needed some clothes and things from your place.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Stuart was there, which is just as well seeing as I didn’t have your keys. I spoke with him briefly. I told him I knew what he’d done and that he was a coward, a selfish asshole and that he didn’t deserve you.’

  ‘What did he say to that?’

  ‘Not much,’ Louisa shook her head, ‘but then again, it’s not me he needs to speak to. I told him you were sick and that you were being taken care of and to leave you alone while you recover.’

  ‘I don’t want to speak to him ever again,’ Shelley’s lips tightened.

  ‘I know you don’t honey,’ Louisa agreed in sympathy, ‘but you will need to. You and Stuart have been together a long time. Trust me, you need the closure. Not only that, you live together so there will be practicalities you need to sort out.’

  ‘I can’t believe it’s come to this,’ her already gravelly voice cracked even more.

  ‘I know you feel bad right now. It’s made worse by the fact you’re ill, but we’re all here for you Shelley. We’ll
make sure you’re okay.’

  Shelley nodded slowly, trying to swallow past the hot hard ball of misery.

  ‘Anyway, I brought over some of your clothes, toothbrush, hairbrush, that kind of thing. I also picked up your make-up for when you’re feeling better. I know how you feel about people seeing you without your make-up on.’

  ‘Stu always said I looked sick if I didn’t wear my make-up. He said I was too pale.’

  ‘Is that why?’ Louisa frowned. ‘You’re one of the only people I know who does look good without her make-up on.’

  Shelley closed her eyes tiredly.

  ‘Get some sleep,’ Louisa told her, ‘I’ll check back in on you.’

  Shelley nodded slowly but she was already drifting off as Louisa got up and quietly left the room.

  She spent the whole day and into the night slipping in and out of sleep. Her body was wracked with violent shudders and the fever raged through her. She was vaguely aware of Jackson hovering on the periphery of her vision, smoothing her damp hair back from her face or lifting a glass to her lips so she could take sips of water. Finally, she passed out solidly and when she jolted violently awake the room was dark and silent.

  She glanced across to the nightstand and slowly her eyes adjusted to the numbers glowing in the darkness. It was 3am. She shifted uncomfortably and realized why she’d woken. Her body was drenched in sweat, to the point where it looked as if she’d just climbed out of the shower. Sweat pooled in the shallow dip at the base of her throat and her pajamas were plastered to her body.

  Her fever must have finally broken.

  She felt gross, there was no other word for it. She probably didn’t smell too good either. She’d have given anything at that moment to have a shower and clean bedsheets, but she just didn’t have the strength. Grabbing the covers she wiped the sweat from her neck and chest, trying to untangle the wet sticky ropes of her hair which had managed to twist themselves around the slick skin of her neck.

  Falling weakly back against the pillow she closed her eyes again. After a few moments she slowly turned to her side. She was just starting to drift off, in that hazy place between dreams and reality, when she felt the bed dip beside her, as if someone had taken a seat on the mattress. Slowly she became aware of a cool hand at her brow, smoothing her hair back from her temple. She tried to open her eyes, but they felt impossibly heavy and before she could register a coherent thought she once again slipped into a deep dreamless sleep.