House of Mercy (21 page)

“I love you too, Dr. Roy.”

“You should have been calling me just Roy a long time now, hon.”

Beth shot a glance at Jacob, looking for explanation. He’d never objected to
Dr. Roy
before. Jacob was staring at the oily swirls floating on top of his black brew. Probably, she thought, it was the man’s way of offering his condolences.

Dr. Roy said, “That’s some cut there.”

“It’ll be fine once I get it clean.” She washed it with soap a second time, then splashed another shot of peroxide on it.

“Better dump those boots. They’ll never be the same.”

“Levi didn’t tell us about his proposal until just a few minutes ago,” she said, eying the cut. The bleeding just wasn’t going to stop.

“Well, that explains why we didn’t hear it from Rose,” Jacob said to his dad.

Beth glanced up. “Nothing is beneath my big brother, is it? I don’t even think his timing was an accident. Dad hasn’t been gone two days. We haven’t even buried him yet.”

After a long silence Jacob said, “I’ll be there to help dig the gravesite later this morning. Okay if I bring Wally with me?”

“I’d love that. Thanks.” It would be such a relief not to be alone with Levi for that job. She noticed how tense her shoulders and neck were. “How did Emory and Pastor Eric take the news?”

The men sipped their coffee in unison. After a pause, Jacob said, “Eric stuck to his routine for the day, didn’t say anything.”

“He stacked the hay bales three different ways,” Dr. Roy said over his coffee cup.

“I guess that’s Pastor Eric’s response to everything,” Beth observed. “Work harder, work longer.”

“Pretty much.”

“And Emory?”

“Emory smoked two packs of cigarettes.”

“That’s not good. Thanks for not saying anything to Mom.”

Dr. Roy said, “I had a strong hunch things weren’t as they seemed. I think the others did too.”

“It’s really important the associates don’t hear about this,” she said.

“They haven’t yet,” Jacob said.

“Let’s keep it that way for now. A resort here would change everything. For the worse,” Beth muttered. “Except that we could probably guarantee the four of you jobs for life. The others . . .” She sighed.

Jacob said, “I think Eric and Emory were of a mind to escape that kind of living.”

“What kind?”

“The kind where everything’s guaranteed. Where the guarantees cost a lot.”

“And you?” Beth asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s time to find my own place.”

The announcement was crushing. He was more than capable of managing his own place, but she couldn’t imagine him leaving them now. And she couldn’t imagine trying to stop him.

“Well, this is all my fault,” she said. “I did it, I’ll have to undo it. Let me handle Levi.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, hon,” Dr. Roy said.

His gentleness was like a hug from her father, a kindness that softened her.

“I tipped over the first domino,” she said.

Roy shrugged. “I’d say dominoes have been falling all across this land since long before you were ever born. Who’s to say which one was first? Besides, who knows what you really set in motion, little Beth? Tiles are still clickety-clacking all over the place. Make no judgment till they come to rest. There might be some good out of it yet.”

Beth couldn’t imagine any good greater than the awfulness of her father’s death. But she hadn’t come here for argument.

“Do you know a Garner Remke?” she asked Roy.

“Sure, I remember Garner. Mean old bear in real estate down in the valley. Made his fortune years before that, in California I think. Died awhile back, didn’t he?”

“You tell me.”

“How can I?”

“Because no one else will. Is he my grandfather?”

Dr. Roy’s eyebrows both went up. “I didn’t realize your mother felt so strongly about this as to keep that a secret from you.”

“But is he?” she demanded.

“Yes. Rose’s father.”

“Honestly, is he alive?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Why do you need to?”

“My dad said I ought to go find him.”

“Aahhh.” Dr. Roy nodded and let the steam of his coffee rise into his fading gray eyes.

“I know he and Mom had a falling out, and that he’s rich. Or was.”

“Rich enough to try to buy her love for your dad,” Dr. Roy said.

“He tried to pay her not to marry?” Jacob said.

“Tried to send her to Europe, to some top-notch medical school.”

“Med school? Mom wanted to be a doctor?” How had Beth reached the age of twenty-two without knowing this? Beth had wanted to be a vet since she was ten years old. It hurt that her mother hadn’t tapped this shared connection.

“Garner wanted her to be a doctor. At least, that’s how Abel told it. Rose wanted to be a rancher’s wife. Well, Abel’s wife. She picked him over her father’s money.”

“I can’t believe he’d try to pay her out of a marriage. That’s insulting, ancient thinking.”

“Oh, I think the idea appeals to every girl’s father now and then. It wouldn’t have been beneath Abel, but you’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”

“No, I’ve just never had anyone for him to object to,” she joked.

“Good girl. You keep it that way. Watch out for horse thieves like this young man here.” He kicked at Jacob’s knee with a stock-inged foot.

Peroxide bubbles dripped off the side of her foot into the drain.

Quite late, Beth registered Roy’s innuendo that Jacob was a “horse thief ” she needed to keep an eye on. What was that supposed to mean? Jacob was leaning against the wall and looking up at the cracked plastic in the light fixture over the sink, inscrutable.

“If you had to find out whether Garner is still alive, where would you start your search?” she asked Dr. Roy. But she was looking at Jacob, squeezing the skin of her foot and wishing it would stop bleeding already.

“Do a title search, maybe? Find out what properties he owned back in the day, see if he still owns them. Someone down at the courthouse can tell you how to do that, I suppose. You know anything about that, son?”

Jacob snapped out of whatever thoughts were preoccupying him. “I’ll go fetch your shoes,” he said to Beth. He turned toward the doorway.

“Please don’t go,” Beth said.

The men bumped into each other at the door, awkwardly responding to Beth’s request without understanding it. A slop of cooling coffee splashed over Jacob’s hand and onto the floor. He shook his fingers free of the dripping.

She had meant that she hoped he wouldn’t leave the Blazing B now. She wanted him to stay, just as he’d stayed after he graduated from college though he could have gone anywhere. She needed him, and even Dr. Roy, to stay here. She needed these trustworthy men to guide her through the additional terrible losses that lay ahead. She imagined Jacob standing by her, holding Levi at arm’s length with scorpions and whatever else was needed to protect her and Danny.

Beth felt the ten years’ difference in their ages as if she were twelve all over again.

“I meant, before you get my shoes, do you have any Super Glue? It’ll hold better than a bandage,” she said.

“Jacob, get this girl to the hospital.”

“They’ll just glue it there,” Beth protested. “I can do it myself in less time.”

“Whatever happened to good old-fashioned stitches?” Jacob asked.

“Progress.”

A cut from a rock would be so simple for God to heal. She didn’t understand anything.

“Won’t it get infected?”

“It’ll be fine. I need to get back to the house. I need to be with Danny.”

Jacob bent again over her shoulder, but this time reached out to take hold of her foot, wrapping his hand atop hers. His palm was warm and his fingers were firm as he turned her ankle to see the cut on the ball under her toes.

Beth turned her head away from the closeness of his beard. Inexplicably, tears poked the back of her eyes.

“Do you have any glue or not?”

“Emory’s got some.”

“Go get it then. Please.”

He didn’t let go right away, and she felt an unexpected impatience toward him rising up in her throat. He should just do what she wanted him to do—what she needed him to do.
Stay with me. Protect me. Love me
.

She shouldn’t have to ask for everything.

He released her foot, and her skin felt instantly cold. He left the bathroom, and the chill of his departure raced over her back.

Beth, feeling Dr. Roy’s eyes on her, reached up and turned off the water.

19

W
hen the Friday morning tour bus pulled up in front of the Burnt Rock post office at precisely nine forty-five, Garner and Hank rose from the bench where they’d been waiting for it to arrive.

Garner extended an envelope to Hank. The legal document inside officially designated eighty percent of Garner Remke’s net worth to the Mathilde Werner Wulff Foundation. The men clasped hands.

“I am beyond words, Garner. Never in the history of the Sweet Assembly has anyone been so . . .” He seemed to have trouble finding the right word.

“Reckless?” Garner provided. “I just want God to know how much I’m expecting to receive.”

Both men laughed from their bellies.

“The distributions should all be final by end of business Monday.”

“That’s mighty quick,” Hank said.

“No time for me to have second thoughts. Dotti Sanders talked me into the worst lunch of my life on Wednesday. She’s a persuasive woman. If she gets wind of this she’ll have me doubting my own name within two minutes.”

“Best she don’t find out then. And that Dr. Ransom too. She’s a fine physician, but we all know she’s not fond of us.”

“What are you talking about? She likes you fine, Hank.”

“I meant the Sweet Assembly.”

“Yes, yes. She has strong opinions.”

“Well, your gift gives us permission to dream big. I can see a paved road in our future, our own buses, international marketing. For a long time Kathy’s been wanting to hire a counseling staff. Do positive-thinking seminars, that sort of thing. We can turn this place into a real destination. Maybe we’ll build a hotel so people can stay as long as they actually need to find peace. There’s no rushing the good Lord, you know.”

The pressurized doors of the bus opened with a sound like a sigh.

“‘You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles,’” Garner quipped. He wanted the conversation to end. Already the stone of remorse was sitting heavy in his stomach. He had never been more thankful for Trey Bateman’s punctuality.

The youthful tour-bus driver was never late. When Garner had first met the college student last year, he expected the kid to wash out of his job quickly. Being a tour-bus driver required a punctuality not often respected by people too young to grasp the preciousness of time.

As it turned out, Trey was both aware of the clock and uniquely able to keep track of his sense of humor. During the summer months he made two round trips to Burnt Rock four days a week and was required, because he lived on his tips rather than his wages, to tell two sets of good canned jokes twice a day without repeating himself. Tourists didn’t like to tip a comedian who was prone to forgetting what he’d already said. When Trey returned to the job this past May after completing one of his college terms, Garner was impressed. He booked a ride on Trey’s bus to evaluate the young man’s skill.

Being a man who was sometimes pressed to remember what day of the week it was, Garner decided the kid was as good at history and trivia as he was at jokes. Trey’s job gave him permission to talk as much as he wanted to about everything that excited him. He was a top-of-his-class wildlife biologist, a regular Jeff Corwin, but more nerdy. His specialty was wildlife of the Rocky Mountains, but Trey was such a story chaser that he had a brain full of worldwide trivia.

On that May day, as Garner disembarked in Burnt Rock, he had asked Trey, “What are you doing in a tin can like this? You should be pitching your own show to the Discovery Channel.”

“I’m not at that point on my ten-year plan,” Trey had answered. “Lord willing, I’ll get there in year eight. Right now, I need to pay for grad school.”

If Trey had any flaw, it was that he was as outspoken about his personal religious beliefs as he was about everything else he liked. Garner found this simultaneously irritating and admirable. He tipped the kid fifty bucks. Trey tried to refuse it, Garner refused harder, and the pair had been on a first-name basis ever since.

Today Trey stepped off the rumbling bus with a clipboard in hand. His careless brown curls were thick and long and covered his ears, but Garner forgave him this sloppiness because the hair stayed out of his eyes, which were always contagiously happy. He wore gray slacks and a maroon-colored vest and a matching bow tie around his throat, which needed a button-down collar to go with it. Instead Trey wore a “Burnt Rock Café” T-shirt underneath the vest, its design stolen by the proprietor Mazy from a more famous café elsewhere in the world.