The Riches of Mercy (19 page)

"I can't move," Natalie said.

"What hurts?" Meredith came closer.

"My back," Natalie said. "I think it's done."

Meredith laid her hand on Natalie's back. "Hardly."

"It is. Something got weakened by the accident, and now it's shifted and I shall be a hunchback, all the days of my life."

"Feeling poetic, are we?"

"Impressive education at one of the finest law schools in the country. I wish you'd let me help."

"You are helping," Meredith said. She stood behind Natalie and wrapped her arms around Natalie's waist, so she was pressed up against Natalie's back.

Her body heat radiated through Natalie, and turned her to liquid, and without the walker, Natalie would have toppled to the floor, boneless, robbed of her senses.

"Relax," Meredith said.

"Oh, sure."

"I mean it. I know it sounds illogical, but lean forward. Let go." Her hand moved to Natalie's shoulder, crossing her front like a seatbelt, and Natalie didn't need much encouragement to go limp.

Meredith squeezed, giving her back the support to stretch and bring Natalie upright, with her knees bent and her arms braced on the handles.

"Now, stand."

She straightened. Her grip lessened on the handles, and then she let go completely, raising her arms out to her sides. About forty-five degrees. Her shoulder wouldn't allow any more.

Meredith stepped away and rubbed Natalie's back.

"Thanks."

"I knew you had it in you."

"I'm glad someone did." Natalie turned and hugged Meredith, as hard as she could, which was not very hard, but enough Meredith pressed against her, and kept smoothing her back.

"Thank you," Natalie said.

"Any time. You're welcome."

She didn't move back from the hug, so Natalie let it linger, pressing her cheek against Meredith's hair. It felt good to move her arms and her shoulders like this, to be in this position, to feel limber and encompassing.

"Hey. I'm taller than you."

"Sure are, tiger," Meredith said. She laughed and stepped back, moving her hands to Natalie's shoulders to steady her.

"I guess I didn't notice."

"This is the first time you've stood tall. You looked so small in that hospital bed. You should've seen yourself."

Natalie snorted.

Meredith glanced at the clock. "I've got to go. My lawyer's picking me up. My other lawyer."

"We'll be fine."

Meredith glanced at the boys. "I'll try to slip out. I'll be back before you know it."

"Don't worry," Natalie said.

Meredith met her eyes, and there was tension in her face, and her hands moved awkwardly against Natalie's arms. Natalie made a guess, and gave in a little to her own self-interest, and hugged Meredith again, burying Meredith against her.

She did feel tall.

"Don't worry. When you come back, we'll fix everything."

"Just like this," Meredith said, in a small, muffled voice against Natalie's shoulder.

"What?"

"Nothing." Meredith stepped back and gave Natalie a watery smile. "Say hi to Jake."

"He's going to break me in half."

"Good. Then I'll be taller than you, and the boys will each have their own Natalie."

"Oh, God," Natalie said.

Meredith gave her a stern look, and then as a horn honked, headed toward the front door.

Natalie gazed at the ceiling. "These people are going to tear me apart."

Nothing on the ceiling answered her, but a warmth tingled at the back of her neck and down to the base of her spine, and while she was standing there, contemplating it and the possibilities of some sort of sunlight angling into the kitchen, Merritt came and tugged at her hand, sending a sharp pain through her hip and nearly toppling her to the floor.

"Merry?" she asked.

"Read to us!"

"All right. Go get a book. But it'll have to be one you can read to me. I've still got to eat my eggs."

"They're cold."

"All the better to distract me."

He frowned, but went to his room.

"Merry reads better than me," Beau said, coming up to sit next to her and contemplate her eggs with a studious expression.

"That's okay."

"Why?"

"It just is."

Beau frowned.

Natalie put one arm around his shoulders and picked up her fork with her free hand. She wanted to tell him she didn't love him any less for being less eloquent than his brother. He was too young to understand. But she made a mental note. When he got older--

Maybe she'd write him a letter. And in ten years, when he read it, Meredith would have to explain who the hell this crazy woman was, writing to him from the past.

Natalie grinned.

Merritt came back and spread his book on the kitchen table.

Beau dug his fingers into her eggs.

#

"Mom's coming home soon. What's her favorite meal?" Natalie asked.

"She likes fried chicken," Merritt said.

"Are you only saying that because you like fried chicken?"

Beau giggled. "Merry hates fried chicken. Crunch. Crunch!" He waved his arms at Merritt.

Merritt screamed.

Natalie wrapped her arms around Beau and held him off. "I still need your advice, boys. I can't make fried chicken."

Merritt pulled up his chair to the counter and climbed first onto the chair, and then onto the counter, and stood, carefully opening the pantry. Natalie winced, imagining him falling. She wanted to warn him, and all the recriminations were on the tip of her tongue, but she held it. He seemed to know what he was doing.

He pulled out a box of Shake 'N Bake and then climbed down. The chair squeaked under his weight.

Beau sighed and gave up resisting against her grip. He leaned in. "There's chicken in the freezer. We're not allowed to touch the freezer."

Merritt smirked.

"Bring me the box, Mare," she said.

Merritt looked sullen. He'd brought it this far.

"Please?"

He grinned and brought her the box. She read the instructions. Seemed doable. "Are you boys allowed to touch the stove?"

Beau's eyes widened.

Merritt shook his head rapidly.

Natalie opened the box. "Is there no Popeyes around here? No KFC?" She'd never had to work for fried chicken before. She wasn't even sure how it was really made.

Beau ignored her in favor of getting milk out of the fridge and then getting a bowl.

"There's a KFC at the beach, but mommy never takes us." Merritt said.

"She takes us to McDonalds, though. Can we go to McDonalds?"

"Tonight we're making a special dinner for your mom," Natalie said.

Beau sulked.

Natalie pre-set the oven, thinking about small towns and having to cook all the time. At least pizza delivered, and Chinese, but she hadn't been to a restaurant since she got here, and Meredith was a good-enough cook she hadn't noticed.

Now she noticed.

#

"Mommy, Mommy!"

Beau and Merritt tore out of the living room as Meredith made it into the foyer. She took off her coat and set down her briefcase. The kids hugged her. She knelt to hug them back. Strands fell around her face and against her neck. She was so relieved to see them. She wanted to see--

Natalie hobbled into view and Meredith smiled. "What's the smell?"

"Fried chicken!" Merritt exclaimed.

"Nat wanted to make something special for you. So we made her make chicken," Beau said.

His words made Meredith want to cry. The day had been awful, away from her family, back out into the world. Even the mood of it, full of dread with an underlying current of hate, coming from everyone in the courtroom except for her lawyer, drained her spiritually and physically.

Coming home washed everything away.

Meredith straightened up and hugged Natalie. "Thank you."

Natalie put her hand on the back of Meredith's head, tightening the embrace. "How did it go?"

Meredith squeezed her before pulling back and said, "We'll talk about it after dinner."

Natalie nodded.

"I can't believe you got Merritt to eat fried chicken."

"Well, he hasn't eaten it yet."

"All right, since you all cooked, I'll set the table."

Natalie limped over to the kitchen.

"Is there just chicken?"

"There's peas in the microwave, ready to be heated, and I made a pot of rice. It's still warm."

"You made rice?"

More and more the day at the courthouse felt like she'd visited another world. She didn't understand how badness and goodness could co-exist in one life.

"There're instructions on the bag. I can cook."

"I just assumed you'd have a rice cooker."

"I do have a rice cooker. But I can improvise."

"Thank you."

Natalie settled in at the table. "Would you mind getting everything? I think I've been standing too long."

"It's my pleasure."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

# #

Chapter Twenty-Two

Meredith put the kids to bed. Natalie put herself to bed, which took nearly as long as making sure two four year olds washed and brushed their teeth, got read a few stories, and whined about glasses of water and more television.

Similarly sponged, minty, and reading, Natalie was engrossed in First Corinthians. She'd remembered what Wheeler said, and found the passage, the words elegant and beautiful in Meredith's New King James, but the rest of the chapter at parts enthralled and irritated her. She hissed in frustration, and would have thrown the Bible across the room if it wasn't Meredith's.

Meredith knocked on the door.

"Come in," Natalie said. She closed the Book.

Meredith came in wearing a nightgown and robe that nearly touched the floor and it took Natalie's breath away. The fabric was satin the color of corn silk, pale and flowing, and Meredith, like the rest of them, had washed her face, so she looked young and sweet and pure with her hair falling against her shoulders.

"May I?" Meredith asked, and Natalie patted the bed. She'd moved over to the other side, to make space, the anticipation buzzing through her so much she'd been driven to pick up the Book, to remind herself just exactly what was going on here--healing.

"How's the Good Book?" Meredith asked.

"Um."

"Not so great? Are you so pagan it burns your flesh?" Meredith grinned.

"It's just--Oh, it really doesn't matter."

"Come. Tell me." Meredith put her hand on Natalie's shoulder. "I don't really get to have adult conversations that don't revolve around basketball. I promise I won't judge."

Natalie considered, biting her lip. Aristotle, she could quote. Machiavelli. Augustine. Solon.

This wasn't even an Orthodox Bible. She shouldn't even care.

Meredith cared.

"Corinthians. The stuff about love is beautiful, right? I mean, it sucks you in. I heard it at a wedding once, when I was a kid. My mother cried--but--"

She took the book back from Meredith and opened it, searching for the passage that had inflamed her. She flipped through several pages and scanned, and Meredith was quiet, still rubbing her shoulder.

Natalie said, "Now I have written to you not to keep company with anyone named a brother, who is sexually immoral, or covetous, or an idolater, or a reviler, or a drunkard, or an extortioner--not even to eat with such a person." She scowled. "You can't even eat with them?"

Meredith moved closer, to see the page. Her shoulder brushed against Natalie's as she pointed. "It does point out the whole world is full of those people, and you'd basically have to die to get away from them."

"How often do I feel like that," Natalie said.

Meredith grinned. She stroked the words with her fingers. "It's really only the good Christians you have to worry about. The ones in your temple, or in your home, who are close enough to poison you."

Natalie shivered at the word 'poison.'

The passage made her burn with something she couldn't express to Meredith, not without confession--not quite shame, but revulsion. "I deal with those immoral perverts every day. They're not bad people. And even if they were, they need help. Compassion. Not to be flicked off like some flea. I mean--" she stopped.

"You mean, if you followed Paul's tenets, you couldn't live in my home. A lot of people around here believe that. Casting out the sick among us so we ourselves are not blighted is a common instinct. Self-protection."

Natalie didn't say anything.

"There are any numbers of ways you could look at it. Paul is merely a servant of God, and not Jesus, and he doesn't even really say he's speaking for Jesus or God here. Or he's just a man, and he's fallible. Or he's frustrated with the founding of the first church."

"But those are cop-outs."

"Maybe. But I'm not trying to give you an excuse. I'm saying what you'd hear in Bible study somewhere. I'm speaking as a Christian. This stuff is complicated, and to be honest, not all of it requires understanding to live."

"Oh, I understand," Natalie said.

Meredith took the Bible from her hands and flipped the pages. She said, "Here. 'Was anyone called to God while circumcised? Let him not become uncircumcised. Was anyone called while uncircumcised? Let him not be circumcised. Circumcision is nothing and uncircumcision is nothing, but keeping the commandments of God is what matters.'"

"The ten commandments?"

"Or the ones Jesus set down--love God and your neighbor."

"And you're illustrating this with circumcision? Ew?"

"Let me read on, lawyer." Meredith read, "Let each one remain in the same calling in which he was called. Were you called while a slave?"

Natalie folded her arms.

"So, if God speaks to you, listen. If you're a slave and he speaks to you, it doesn't matter. If you're a homosexual, or an alcoholic, or in prison, or a jerk--it doesn't matter. You are what you are. So reconcile that with what Paul said about who to eat with."

"I can't," Natalie said.

"Then don't. It's all academics, as long as you understand God loves you."

"Well, I don't understand that either."

"Do you understand that I--" Meredith stopped.