The Riches of Mercy (35 page)

"Okay, already. Geez."

"See? You failed the first test."

Luis squared his shoulders and made his face into stone. "I'm ready. Test me again."

"Now you look defiant. What did I say?"

Luis' expression flashed with anger.

"Second test."

Luis exhaled. "This is going to be a huge failure."

"I know."

"It's okay, though." Luis glanced at the door. "I don't know if I want to go to Burgaw."

"Why not?"

"I know I told you I didn't want to see my family, but, my dad's here, and all my friends are here. I'll miss my dad. This is everything I know. I think I've been to Burgaw like, once in my life. The only time I've left Tarpley is when I went to the beach. Or Raleigh on school trips."

"You've never been to Charlotte?"

Luis shook his head. "Seen the skyline in postcards. It's nice."

"It is. Luis, I know there are pluses and minuses to this. But trust me. This is why I'm your lawyer, Luis."

"But you're not my mother."

"Would your mother send you away to Burgaw?" The subject of his mother hadn't come up before. Eduardo had not mentioned her, either.

"Not that far. She's just smack me and lock me out of the house."

Natalie raised her eyebrows.

Luis didn't meet her gaze. "Until I calmed down."

"Ah."

"I'm calmed down, now."

"Remember what I said."

"Don't call them on their bullshit lies. Got it."

"Right. Remember, I used to be a prosecutor. I know exactly what they're thinking. And I know exactly what they're thinking of you. We can use my skills to our advantage."

Natalie pushed open the door for him. He went through and she followed, up to the defendant's table. The first time she'd ever sat on this side of the table had been at Meredith's trial. Meredith needed no coaching on humility. But the lies made her white and paralyzed with rage. "Ignore them, ignore them, ignore them." She directed the thought at Luis' head.

Then she turned and offered her hand to the portly prosecutor.

"Jacob Weinstead," he said, shaking her hand. "I'm the district attorney for one third of everything southeast of Fayetteville. Usually do traffic cases, though. I guess this is a traffic case." He glanced past her shoulder at Luis.

She nodded. "Natalie Ivans."

"I Googled you." He lowered his voice. "If I may ask, what in the hell are you doing?"

"I moved for love."

"So what's in the papers, all true?"

She nodded.

He grinned. "I never like to assume. Take the facts in evidence as they are. Life seems smoother that way."

"I agree."

"Is there anything I need to know before we get started?"

"No."

He nodded.

She sat down next to Luis.

"You two seem chummy," he said.

"One more piece of advice, Luis," she said.

"I'm not sure I can do three things at once, ma'am."

"This one's easy. Don't trust anyone in this room. Not the judge, not him, not the court reporter. No one is your friend."

He nodded. "Then that--?"

"Was just civil discourse."

He studied the empty judge's chair.

"You know, Luis, speaking of civil discourse. A lot of people just call me 'Nat.'"

Luis looked horrified.

She grinned.

The bailiff came in, and then the judge. She set her nameplate out. The Honorable Fran McCoy. The court room filled with defendants awaiting other cases. Mostly traffic infractions, some shoplifting. Natalie had seen the docket. Twelve speeding tickets, four petty thefts, one vandalism, six drug charges--four pot, two meth--and a man suing his neighbor. Weinstead was working them all for the county's side.

McCoy said, "I have before me a petition for transfer to Burgaw Correctional Facility, pending trial. Is this correct?"

Natalie stood. "Yes, Your Honor."

Fran glanced at Weinstead, and then flipped her paper over. "No filing for bail?"

"No, Your Honor."

"Alcohol treatment?"

"No, Your Honor."

Luis twitched.

Fran gestured to Weinstead. "Any objections?"

Weistead stood. Natalie sat.

"My only question is why, Your Honor? Transport will be a considerable expense, and then Burgaw will have to cover his incarceration. Duplin County Jail is just fine. Why the special treatment for the accused?"

Fran glanced at Natalie. She stood. Weinstead sat.

"We're willing to reimburse the city for transportation expense, your Honor. As Luis' father is Sheriff Eduardo Duarte, we feel there could be implications of bias or favoritism at Duplin."

"And you don't want that?"

"Not in this case, Your Honor. We're not asking for any bail or mandated treatment--" she glanced at Weinstead. "But this small thing would benefit my client immensely, and also separate him from the fabric of Tarpley, so healing could continue."

"Mr. Weinstead?" Fran asked.

He shrugged.

"Transfer will take place as soon as Burgaw is ready to receive. County clerk will notify you of your trial date."

Weinstead shook hands with Natalie again, and then she and Luis headed for the court room exit.

"The police are waiting?" Luis asked, when they were in the lobby.

"They'll take you back to your cell."

He nodded.

"You did good in there."

"That guy was an asshole. I thought the judge was going to say no."

"All part of the fun."

"How come you didn't ask for bail?"

"So I could bargain for Burgaw. Not good to ask for two conflicting things at once."

"Then why am I being charged with felony death and involuntary manslaughter?"

"If you're a defendant, I mean. Prosecutors like to be conflicting."

"Why didn't you ask for drug treatment? Don't you think I need it?"

"Would you want to go?"

"Heck, no." He shook his head. "I've been. It doesn't work."

She tilted her head.

"I'm not an alcoholic. I don't have the problem. They do."

"I'm not going to put you through it for nothing, Luis."

"Thanks. I'm so tired of it. 'Oh, send him off to rehab, he'll come back fine.' You know what rehab's like?"

"No idea."

"It's full of whiny morons hunting for a fix. I'm not like them."

Natalie shook her head.

Luis exhaled. "I think I'm actually looking forward to Burgaw."

"Yeah," Natalie said, rolling her eyes. "Think of it like a vacation."

# #

Chapter Forty

On Thursday Meredith's one-on-one therapist pulled her in for an appointment. Breaking routine.

"How are you, Merry?" Dr. Embry asked. She appeared to be about twelve-years-old, doing her civic duty, getting prison rotation on her resume and out of the way, before moving onto something better by the time she turned 30. Maybe she'd have babies. Maybe she'd publish articles. Meredith didn't much like her. Dr. Embry made her feel like a science project.

"I'm good," she said.

"How was yesterday?" Embry persisted. "The visit?"

"She didn't come."

Embry smiled.

Meredith felt her cheeks grow hot. She sat on her hands.

"And how do you feel?" Embry asked.

"How do I feel?" No pictures, no chance to hold someone in her arms who was from the outside, who smelled of the outside, who smelled like her children. "Pretty rotten."

"Merry, we've talked about work release before."

Meredith shook her head.

"It's time to start thinking about your future."

"My future? Doctor, I've been thinking about my future plenty."

Dr. Embry nodded.

Embry had grown up in North Carolina, which was the only thing that made her bearable, but being from Cary, she didn't have an accent. Not to native ears, at least. Her inflection made Meredith self-conscious.

"I know what you mean. You've got your future. But I'm talking about getting from point A to point B. Reintegration."

A shiver went through Meredith. "I'm not--"

She wanted to say "Not ready." She wanted to say, "I don't want to."

"We need to talk about it. It's going to be uncomfortable."

Meredith sighed.

"Your first probation hearing is in two months. Do you feel ready for it?"

"No."

"Maybe when you first got here you thought six months was going to be nothing. Twice a week with your family was going to be enough. Therapy might kick-start some things for you, you might, with a hint of arrogance, actually do some good in the infirmary."

Meredith's eyes stung.

"I've seen you get more depressed, Merry, as time goes on."

"Don't--"

"I won't give you anything, I promise. But it worries me."

Meredith nodded.

"It worries you, too?"

"Yeah."

"Merry, I know you don't like me, but try and trust me."

"I don't need--"

"Anyone's help?"

Meredith glanced away.

"You don't want anyone's help because you think you're undeserving."

Meredith set her jaw.

"But it’s not the same as not needing it."

Meredith found herself not breathing, and forced it out in a gust.

"Do you know why Natalie didn't come yesterday?"

Meredith shook her head. "She just called and said she wasn't."

"Not why?"

"No."

"Or that she couldn't?"

Meredith replayed the conversation in her mind. "No."

"Because she didn't want to lie to you. Not even for your own good. Or to be nice. That's rare, Merry."

"I know it's rare--" Meredith stopped.

Embry leaned forward. "Tell me."

Meredith shook her head.

"The words are all there. Just let them out."

"I know it's rare. I've seen hundreds of patients, cared about dozens of them, fallen in love with a handful. Do you know how many looked back? Do you know how many even saw me? One. Just one. Of course she's trying so hard to be good. It's just--"

"You think there's a point where people stop trying? Effort is finite?"

"She made a mistake. One in a hundred is an anomaly. A fluke. An outlier. And those get discarded."

"And she'll go back to being normal."

"To her own life."

"If I may," Isle said, with Meredith red-faced, breathing hard, gazing away from her, out the window. "Go another level deeper."

Meredith closed her eyes.

"You hate yourself for not letting her go, am I right? For still needing her to come up, despite the burden it places on her. It makes you feel selfish."

"I feel selfish all the time."

"You didn't used to feel this way."

"Selfish?"

"Alone."

Meredith tried to think of a time when she didn't feel alone. When Vincent was sending her letters from overseas. Just like she and Natalie were sending letters now. Words forming crazy dreams for the future. She had seen it manifest. Vincent's friend killed in war, his hopes crashing down. His home life, his children, his town, suddenly and irrevocably fake.

"This isn't the life she wants," Meredith said.

"Where is God in all of this, Merry?"

Meredith gave a short laugh. "Yeah. Where is He?"

Embry offered Meredith a sheet of paper. "I know why Natalie wasn't here yesterday."

"Why?"

"She's coming today. You've been granted 24 hour family leave, for good behavior as part of your pre-parole program."

"What?"

"You'll be released at three o'clock. Go, get ready."

"How do I get ready?"

"How do you feel like getting ready?"

"I feel like throwing up."

"Well, that's a start. And then maybe a shower?"

"Yeah, okay." She'd have to shave her legs. And brush her teeth like never before. And--She gave Embry a panicked look.

Embry waved her off. "Go, go."

#

Meredith changed into jeans and a white blouse. Her own clothes, which they had on file for her at the prison, but she wasn't allowed to wear unless leaving. The guard handed over her wallet. She opened it to study her driver's license. She nearly cried. There she was, free and granted the right to operate motor vehicles by the state of North Carolina.

The wallet still held twenty-five dollars and a picture of Vincent and the boys. She closed it and put it into her pocket.

"I'm ready," she said.

But she wasn't, not for the blinding sunlight of the September day. Not for the gates sliding open. The guard walked her to the entrance and then let her go.

"Really?" Meredith asked.

"Really, Merry. Go on. Get out of here."

Meredith scanned the parking lot and the row of trees beyond the gate. Her own car was there, the old station wagon under an oak tree. Natalie leaned against the hood, smiling. Not moving. Just smiling.

Meredith resisted the urge to run toward her. She didn't know what she'd do once she got there. Natalie kept smiling and when Meredith neared, opened her arms. Meredith flung herself at Natalie, hugging her.

"How did you--" she asked against Natalie's shoulder.

Natalie rubbed her back with firm circles. Meredith had missed those hands.

"I pulled some strings," Natalie said.

"You..."

Natalie only held her.

"I don't deserve this," Meredith said.

Natalie cupped her head and gently drew her back, to smile into her face.

Meredith felt her heart opening, easing.

"I don't care," Natalie said, and kissed her.

Meredith sighed into the kiss, reveling in the feel of Natalie's lips sliding against hers. Her heart pounded, first in fear--but as seconds passed and no one stopped her, no one condemned her, she parted her lips, straining to deepen the kiss. Natalie responded, and then Natalie's tongue moved against hers and her heart pounded.

Natalie's fingers were in her hair, scratching lightly. Meredith broke the kiss. She laughed.

Natalie raised her eyebrows.

Meredith reached up to trace them. "I thought I'd be nervous."

"Me, too."

"I have to go back in there tomorrow."

"Don't think about it."

"The boys?"

Natalie squirmed away from the car, creating distance between them. "I didn't bring them. They're with Jake."