The Riches of Mercy (42 page)

"Uh. " Merritt frowned at the cart. "Milk?"

Natalie turned to Beau. "And where is the milk?"

Beau pointed toward the back of the store.

"Let's go." She pushed the cart.

Merritt followed her.

She studied her WIC checks. After milk, they'd get juice. Beau built himself a fort of cereal boxes and tuna cans. Natalie had to keep the carrots away from him, in the actual child seat.

"Milk." Beau pointed.

Merritt got some.

"The bigger one, Merry."

"Which color?"

"Blue."

"They have red at school."

"I know. Blue."

Merritt sighed, but brought her the gallon container.

She stuck it next to Beau.

"Now juice."

Merritt frowned. "I don't know where juice is."

Natalie swung the cart to the left. Juice and eggs were given entrance into the fort.

"What else?" Merritt asked.

"Toilet paper."

Beau giggled. "We always buy toilet paper." He whispered it, as if the words 'toilet paper' were forbidden."

"What else do we always buy?" Natalie asked.

"Peanut butter."

"Right." She pushed the cart.

#

With macaroni and cheese, roast chicken, frozen peas, hot dogs and buns, cookies and crackers and juice packs for lunches, she settled her cart in the checkout aisle. "Boys, go sit on the bench."

Merritt regarded the bench warily.

Beau rushed to it.

"Do not move from that spot. If you do, no hot dogs."

Merritt paled and ran after his brother.

Natalie grinned at the cashier. "Okay, I have WIC, food stamps, and cash items. How do you want to start?"

She was over the shame long ago, but her cheeks still tinted pink as she spoke, trying to maintain eye contact. The cashier, she knew, was dead to the process. But other people could hear. She resisted the urge to glance around.

Merritt shrieked.

She glanced over. They were already anticipating her glare, and sat on the bench, legs swinging, trying to look innocent. She turned back to the cashier.

"WIC first," the cashier said. "It's usually the most pain in the ass."

Natalie nodded and handed over the checks. The cashier took a pen and began to scan the items.

"Hi, Mrs. Cranston!" The boys leapt off the bench and ran over to hug her as she rolled past them toward the exit.

Natalie groaned. So much for anonymity. She smiled politely. "How's your father?"

"He's all right. He's recovering from surgery. The medications make him, well, nicer."

Natalie nodded.

Mrs. Cranston turned away, patted the boys, and left the store.

Natalie exhaled.

"Food stamps?"

Natalie put the divider down between the items she thought qualified and the paper goods. The rotisserie chicken was an extravagance. But even in line, it smelled good. She went to bag and cart the WIC items while the cashier scanned food stamp items, setting aside ones that wouldn't go through.

Two other registers were open--one was express, too far away for anyone to notice or care about her. The other was right next to hers, and the woman waiting for her husband to bag their groceries was staring at her.

Natalie blinked. The woman smiled faintly, and then glanced away. The name came to Natalie before the face registered. Maria Sandoval. From church. She put her head down and kept bagging.

"We're doing cash now," the cashier said.

Natalie nodded.

"Is there a limit?"

Natalie wanted to say no. The urge to be haughty was nearly overwhelming. But she only had $25 in her pocket. "20 bucks," she said, "And whatever the tax is I can cover it."

The cashier nodded.

A hand touched her arm. Natalie glanced sideways.

Maria’s lips were pursed. "Can I help with anything?"

"No, Mrs. Sandoval. Thank you." Natalie's lips felt numb.

Maria nodded. "I'll see you on Sunday."

"See you then," Natalie said.

She went to the register and paid $17.30 for her cash items, finished bagging, and made the boys push the cart out of the store. The relief at being in the cold air again was enormous, until she saw Meredith's station wagon waiting for her. The kids were pushing each other. She chased after the cart to keep it from crashing and gingerly leaned it against the car.

"Get in," she said.

"We can unload."

"I've got it. In you go."

Beau pouted.

Merritt slithered into his booster seat.

"Can we push the cart back to the store?" Beau asked.

"Not on your life."

Natalie loaded the groceries into the back, returned the cart, and settled into the driver's seat. She checked the receipt. The cashier hadn't charged for the chicken. She leaned back and closed her eyes. Something poked her shoulder. She had forgotten to buckle in the boys. She would have to do that before they could go home. But first, she waited for her sight to unblur from the sudden onslaught of tears.

# #

Chapter Forty-Eight

"You're so stiff, Natalie," Jake said, as she did squats, her body screaming in agony.

"Gee, wonder why."

"Let me give you a massage."

"What?"

"I'm working toward my certification. I want to make a little extra money."

"I"m not paying you enough?"

"It's just hard right now."

"Daniel?"

He tsked. "I don't want to talk about Daniel." He guided her to the couch. "Take off your clothes and lie down."

She scowled, but did as he asked.

He began to rub her shoulders. "So, seriously, a vacation. Take the kids. Go away. Anywhere but Tarpley."

"You just said things were so hard."

"My point, my friend. We all need a break. We need to re-center."

"Find our peace?"

His hands moved to her back. "Yes. Doesn't this feel good?"

"Don't stop."

"Where would you go?" he asked.

"Charlotte."

She'd accepted her first paycheck from the Luis case. The income wouldn't last. But it was more than she'd earned in a while, and too little to really matter.

"Come on, Natalie. Listen to your therapist. Go home."

"I'll see what my case worker says."

He chuckled, moving down on the couch. "And now, the gluteus maximus."

"Yeah, Jake. Rub my butt."

#

She'd gotten the kids up early enough so they slept in the car on the way to Charlotte. She got to listen to NPR, which kept the kids sleeping and her happy. Telling the teacher she was pulling them out of school hasn't gone as splendidly.

"They won't learn discipline, they won't learn routine, and responsibility--"

"I promise, I'll teach them the letter C, okay?"

"I may need to report it to your case worker."

"Go ahead. Need her number?"

Rebecca said, "I agree with their teacher. It doesn't seem like a good idea. Want twenty bucks for gas?"

Beau made a groaning sound and sat up straighter. Natalie met his sleepy gaze in the rearview mirror.

"Are we there--" he started, and then his eyes widened. "Whoa." The skyline had come into view. Beau had never seen buildings so tall.

"They're skyscrapers," she said.

"Who lives there?"

"They're banks."

Beau squinted. Then he poked his brother. "Merry, wake up. Skyscrapers!"

Merritt squirmed.

"Look how high we are above the ground," she said, as she took the ramp up over the city.

Beau covered his eyes. "Let me know when we land."

Merritt giggled. "We're flying."

Natalie took her exit and then they were street-level again, driving through buildings. "There you go."

Merritt and Beau glued themselves to their respective windows.

"Where are we going?" Merritt asked.

"The science museum."

"Like last week?"

"A different one."

If she just drove around the city, letting them stare at buildings and parks and fountains, they might have the same experience. She was tempted. They could drive past her old condo.

"And we're meeting friends, right? The friends you had before Mommy and Uncle Hank?"

"Yes. They're still my friends. I just don't get to see them much." She pulled into the museum's parking deck.

"It's dark," Beau said.

"Your eyes will adjust. They're coming here for lunch."

"To the museum?"

"Yes."

Beau gaped. "Are they kids?"

She parked, unbuckled her seatbelt, and turned around to grin at him. "They were once."

#

"My God," Melanie said, looking Natalie up and down.

"What?" Natalie and Melanie sat on the wooden slats of the touching pool. Natalie was making sure Beau didn't splash anyone.

Merritt was gazing at the tide generation machine.

"You seem..." Melanie hesitated. She was tall and lean with dark hair and pale skin, as Irish as they came in Charlotte, and wore a power suit.

Their friend, Clarice, said, "You look like a redneck, Nat. Are those capris?"

Natalie glanced at her legs.

"The cane makes you seem eccentric, though," Melanie said.

"Melanie," Clarice said. She wore slacks and a blouse, though looked as formal and thin as Melanie. Just shorter and with much redder hair.

"I'm trying to help," Melanie said.

"I’m normal." Natalie said.

"Do you wear those things to work?"

"I wear suits to work."

Clarice raised her eyebrows.

"Okay, I wear business casual. Remember Fridays?"

Clarice folded her arms.

"Okay, okay, jeans."

Melanie gasped.

"I can't believe you," Clarice said.

"What?"

"We haven't seen you in like, six months. Not since you sold everything and moved away, like a--cultist, or something--and now here you are. With kids!"

Beau glanced up.

Natalie waved to him.

He went back to daring himself to touch a sea anemone.

"They're cute kids, though," Natalie said.

"Did you borrow them for this occasion?" Clarice asked.

Melanie nudged her.

"Come back to the office. Or get a job in a firm here. It's not too late."

Merritt came over, apparently bored of the waves, and wrapped himself around Natalie's hand.

"I'm never coming back," Natalie said.

# #

Chapter Forty-Nine

The Charlotte traffic going east was unforgiving as rush hour neared. Between watching out for SUVs and watching out for carjackers, she had no concentration for anything in the backseat, beyond checking once or twice to make sure the boys were still alive.

Only when they pulled into a gas station off 74, did Beau speak up.

"Natalie, I don't feel well."

"Are you going to throw up?" she quickly got out of the car and opened his passenger door.

Beau shook his head. "Not that kind."

Natalie examined him. He seemed redder than usual, and puffy. He was breathing with his mouth open.

"Are you having trouble breathing?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Are you itchy?"

He considered. He nodded.

"Jesus, Beau, what did you eat?"

His eyes filled with tears.

"Okay, we're going to get gas, and then we're going to drive to the hospital, okay? Where mommy works?"

Merritt lit up. "Will she be there?"

"No, honey. But maybe Uncle Hank will, okay?"

Merritt looked noncommittal.

Beau scratched at his throat.

"Shit," Natalie muttered. "Shit, shit."

Merritt giggled.

She filled the car with gas, and then she walked into the store, and peered out the window at the boys, and called Hank's cell phone number.

"You've reached Dr. Wheeler at..."

"Shit," she said.

The man behind the counter frowned at her.

"Sorry. Hank, Beau is sick. I think he's having a reaction to something--or maybe the flu--but he doesn't have a fever and he doesn't feel queasy. But he's kind of raspy. I don't know. Maybe it's meningitis." She stopped. "I've become one of those hysterical parents. Please call me back and tell me what to do. Otherwise I'll be in Tarpley in two hours. Or maybe I should go back to Charlotte. There's lots of hospitals there and we're only an hour outside of town, or maybe--"

The voice mail cut off.

"Shit," she mouthed, where the cashier couldn't see her.

Maybe she should await further instructions. Being in the middle of nowhere had to be worse, though, than the cities at either end. Or the city at one end, and the one-horse town with the "regional" hospital thriving on Medicare and chronic outpatient treatment.

She went back to the car and got in. "How you doing, Beau?" she asked, glancing at the rearview mirror.

He shrugged.

"Did you touch one of those fish?"

"I touched lots," he said.

"Gross," Merritt said.

"And frogs. And a snake. And a tarantula."

So he could have been poisoned by some exotic animal and there would be no antidote in Tarpley. Or maybe anywhere. Maybe she should drive to Atlanta, where the CDC was.

"Okay, Natalie, get a grip. When you start talking about the CDC, it's time to check yourself," she said.

She started the car and cautiously pulled out onto Highway 74.

#

An hour outside of Tarpley, the phone rang.

She hit speaker. "Hank?"

"Hi, Natalie. Can I talk to Beau?"

"Sure." She passed the phone back. "Don't drop it."

"Hi, Uncle Hank."

"Hi, Beau. Natalie says you're not feeling well."

Beau shrugged.

"Hey now, I'm going to need verbal answers, okay? Yes or no if you can't think of anything else."

"Yes," Beau said.

Natalie smiled.

"Does your head hurt?"

"No."

"Does your stomach hurt?"

"Kind of."

"What's the last thing you ate?"

"Ice cream."

"At lunch," Natalie said.

"You guys haven't eaten dinner? McDonalds or anything?"

Merritt brightened.

"No, we're just driving home," Natalie said.

"Beau, does your back hurt?"