From Ashes to Honor (23 page)

T
he foreman must have insisted that his men take their coffee and lunch breaks in shifts. The up side? Students and staff could expect air conditioned comfort in their brand new building come fall. Unfortunately, it meant cordoned-off halls filled with sawhorses and coils of thick electrical cords, and toolbelted men in hard hats raising clouds of wood and drywall dust. Only a few more weeks, she reminded herself, before the start of summer vacation.

Unable to concentrate, thanks to the oppressive heat and construction noise, she dialed Leo's cell number and tapped her pencil eraser against her desk blotter as a recorded voice said "Please enjoy the music while your party is reached." Seconds later, the velvet voice was interrupted by a head-pounding, ear-blasting guitar riff.

"Leo, what's gotten into you!" she said, laughing when he picked up.

"Most recently? A liverwurst sandwich." He chuckled."Lovely to hear your voice."

"Sorry," she inserted. "That awful noise distracted me.What's up with that, anyway? I thought you Brits only listened to opera and classical."

"New phone," he explained. "Had the young fellow behind the counter transfer numbers from my SIM card. Guess he thought it would be a hoot to stick me with that frightening greeting, and I haven't had time yet to read the book and find out how to change it." Another chuckle. "So how's my favorite sister today?"

"Good, and I'll be better if you say it's all right for me to come visit."

"Of course it's all right!"

"I was thinking for my birthday next week?"

"Perfect. I'll be home day after tomorrow, so let me know if I can give you a lift from the airport."

"Home? Where are you?"

"Athens, darling. Didn't I tell you? Medical conference. I gave a speech on the proper way to reconstruct nostrils. Then I took a few days to snap a few cliché shots of the Parthenon."

Giggling, Mercy said, "No, you didn't tell me. I'm happy you made time to enjoy the city." Years ago, she'd taken her dad on a Greek cruise. A fond memory, until she remembered they'd gone a mere three months before he was killed. "It's so pretty this time of year."

"So tell me, how are things with your—now, why can't I ever think of his name when I want to?"

"Austin." The image of him flicked in her brain, and she blinked it away. "Austin Finley, and he's fine."
No thanks to the romantic attentions of Eddy's widow.

"I have a feeling we'll have lots to talk about once you arrive."

As always, Leo managed to sweeten her sour mood, and Mercy hung up feeling good and looking forward to getting away from it all.

Somewhere on her cluttered desk she'd put the ad torn from
The Dundalk Eagle,
detailing the services of a fancy cat hotel near the Inner Harbor. She'd stop by on her way home, and, if the place looked as good as it sounded, she'd book a room for Woodrow. He'd love the scheduled playtimes, and she'd love the video feed which promised twenty-four hour Internet access to her four-legged friend. If the round-the-clock medical care checked out, she'd arrange that, too.

After locking in the dates, she retrieved her suits and sweaters from
"Cleaner than New (and Neatly Pressed, Too!)",
then sat down at the kitchen island to adjust her Prepare for England list:

Water houseplants –
check.

Refill prescriptions –
check.

Arrange for Woodrow's care –
check.

Pick up dry cleaning –
check.

Austin –

Her pen hovered above the page as she glanced at the clock—a ticking reminder of the brief voice mail message she'd left, asking him to stop by after his shift ended. "No need to call unless you can't make it," she'd said before hanging up. And since Mr. Punctuality hadn't called, Mercy knew he'd arrive within the hour.

She was halfway up the stairs to freshen up when sadness and regret wrapped around her. Not surprising, really, since she wasn't looking forward to this date. Well, not a
date
so much as a meeting, scheduled for the sole purpose of outlining her intentions to call an immediate and permanent halt to their relationship. Shouldn't be too difficult, since neither of them knew how to classify the relationship. If it
was
a relationship.

That kissing scene at the fundraiser flashed in her head again, and again, she pushed it from her mind. "Seriously," she said to Woodrow, curled up on her pillow, "does he kiss
every
woman he knows like there's no tomorrow?"

The cat didn't move, save the flick of one ear. Mercy kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the bed. "Hey, buddy," she whispered, lying down beside him, "you're awfully quiet tonight."

He puffed out a weak breath and closed his eyes.

"Oh, this isn't like you. Not like you at all." She sat up, leaned on the headboard, then gently gathered him close."What's wrong, sweetie?" she cooed, stroking his soft, striped fur. "Come on. You can tell Mommy."

Woodrow paw-walked up her chest and put both paws on Mercy's shoulders. For a long, silent moment, he stared, unblinking, into her eyes.

"Woodie," she sobbed, "what're you doi—" He rubbed his face against Mercy's left cheek, pausing for another glimpse at her face before doing the same on the right side.

"Woodie . . . ."

He'd been a good cat, a wonderful companion, a tidy houseguest who never jumped onto the counters or dug through the trash. He didn't complain when she watched tear-jerkers on the Lifetime channel, and tolerated the mountains of clothes and piles of shoes that ended up in his favorite resting spots every time she got ready for a date.

No judgments were passed if she ate Cheerios for supper; no nagging took place when she skipped breakfast.

It was Woodrow who snuggled up beside her when bad memories made her cry, and he was there, too, when nightmares disturbed her sleep.

He'd been so much more than a pet. With her only living relative all the way on the other side of the Atlantic, Woodrow had become family and best friend, confidant and comforter.She loved him and knew his moods. This warm and cuddly stuff? It was a first, and it scared Mercy to the point of tears.

"Aw, sweetie, soon as I change out of my work clothes, I'm taking you to the animal hospital." And as she made a move to put him down, Woodrow licked the tears from her face, looked into her eyes yet again, and curled up in her lap.

She didn't have the heart to disturb his purring, to move him so that she could change into jeans and a T-shirt, and find a clean towel to stuff into his cat carrier. Her brain wrote a mental list of things she'd do—just as soon as he'd had a moment's rest.

First, call the vet's office from the car, let them know she was on her way over with Woodrow. Describe his symptoms and remind them he'd been diagnosed with feline leukemia, so they'd have the right equipment ready when—

The purring stopped.

So did his steady breaths.

She didn't need to look into his big round eyes to know he'd left her, but that's exactly what Mercy did.

And then she lay down beside him, held him to her breast, and bawled like a baby.

A
ustin stood on her porch, foot tapping as he waited for Mercy to answer the door. When she didn't respond to the bell, he knocked. Then pounded. Rang the bell for the fourth time.

Her car was in the driveway, and lights glowed from nearly every window in the house. He pressed an ear to the front door and heard the TV, and if he wasn't mistaken, The Eagles, singing "Hotel California."

So what was taking her so long to get to the door?

He pulled back his sleeve and pressed the button that lit up his digital watch. Eight-o-five. He'd have waltzed inside at eight sharp if she hadn't kept him out here on the porch all this time.

The slow rain fell harder, and he pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt. OK, now this was getting ridiculous. He'd put up with her chronic tardiness before, mostly without complaint.But did she really expect him to stand here and take a soaking—literally—while she—

What
was
keeping her, anyway?

Austin flipped open his cell phone, and when she didn't answer, worry seeped under his collar along with the wet May

breeze. During her weeks of recuperation, she'd told him stories about how her racing around in a perpetual rush had brought about some hilarious results. Like the time she'd closed her hair in her car door, then slammed it—with the keys still in the ignition. And the day she'd locked herself out of the house and got both hands trapped when the window she'd jimmied open fell. If not for the kindness of strangers, she'd said above his laughter, she might still be under that tall bureau that fell on her when she used the drawers to reach a box stored on top of it.

Yeah, those had been side-splitting stories, but at the end of each—once he'd regained his composure—Austin made sure she understood how each could have had disastrous results.What if she was in there now, trapped under a hulking piece of furniture, or inside a cupboard? What if she'd tumbled down the stairs and—

Heart pounding, Austin looked left and right, and, convinced no one would see him, retrieved the key from her secret hiding spot on the trim surrounding the front door. "Mercy," he called, slamming the door extra hard. "Mercy! Where are you?"

Nothing.

"I think maybe there's a short in your doorbell's wiring."But he knew better than that, because he'd heard the twonote chime every time he'd mashed his thumb on the tiny white button.

"Doggone it, Merc, you're scaring me—" He poked his head into every first floor room, then took the stairs, two at a time.When he saw her curled up in a little ball in the middle of her bed, sobbing into Woodrow's fur, he knew why she hadn't come to the door, why she hadn't answered when he called out.

"Aw, sweetie," he said, drawing them both into a hug. "I'm so sorry."

At first, she only nodded, but then the words poured out in staccato-like bursts, and by the time she finished, his eyes were damp, too. Maybe it wasn't such a great idea to give Ray and Rick a dog, after all. Best case scenario, the cute little mutt would die of old age in eight, maybe ten years. But what if she got hit by a car, or came down with some dreadful disease, like Woodrow had? The boys had no real memory of Eddy, because they'd been so young when he died, but still—

He understood how much Mercy had cared for Woodrow, but he couldn't just let her sit here all night, clinging to the dead cat. "Let me take him, OK?" he said gently. "Maybe you can bring me one of his favorite blankets, and I'll wrap him up, so we can—"

Can
what?
he wondered. She lived in the city, with a brick terrace and a concrete sidewalk. He couldn't very well dig a hole and bury the poor animal for her.

Mercy nodded, gave Woodrow one last kiss to the forehead, and handed him to Austin. "He loved sleeping here," she said haltingly, patting the downy plaid quilt. "I think—" She hiccupped."I think he'd like being wrapped up in it."

Half an hour later, while she sniffled through her second mug of herbal tea, Austin put her phone back into its cradle.He'd called half the cops and firefighters in his cell phone before finding one who knew the right way to handle a— situation like this one.

It was nearly midnight when she dozed off in his arms.Austin pressed a soft kiss to her temple. How odd that he felt more like a parent than a boyfriend—or whatever his part in this relationship was called—especially considering this wasn't the first time she'd roused that protective, nurturing side of him. He'd never been in love before. Thought he had

a time or two, but he'd been wrong, as evidenced by the way things ended up each time. That, and the fact that compared to his attachment to Mercy—

She'd stopped crying hours ago, and her red-rimmed eyes weren't nearly as swollen as when he'd found her. But she'd withdrawn, went all quiet and sad on him, and the only thing he could think about were those long, thin scars on her inner forearms.

He listened to her soft, steady breaths, and thanked God for these moments of peaceful slumber. When Austin thought of all she'd lost and survived in life, it seemed fitting and proper that the Lord rewarded her with gentle dreams.

No sooner did he have the thought than Mercy tensed and began to weep, a soundless sad cry that put a sob in his own throat. Was she reliving the vicious beating, or her last moments with Woodrow? The instant when she learned her mother had drowned, or the awful hour when her father had died in her arms?

None of those, he hoped, pressing a second kiss to her temple."Shh," he whispered. "You're all right. Everything's gonna be fine. I promise."

Almost instantly, she relaxed. The whimpering stopped and she went back to breathing in and out, in and out. He had a crick in his neck and his arm had gone from numb to achy, but he ignored both. He'd sit here all night if he had to. He'd use a sick day tomorrow, too, because no way he'd leave her in this condition.

T
he Dundalk parade turned out to be everything she'd heard about and more, with colorful floats and noisy marching bands, candy-tossing clowns and smirking politicians. As the largest July 4th parade in Maryland, it didn't surprise Mercy that, days in advance, residents plunked down lawn chairs and sawhorses to stake claim to their own stretch of curb.What surprised her was that they trusted their friends and neighbors enough not to collect them all once the last exhibit rolled by.

Mercy wished she'd worn shorts instead of jeans, because already, the oppressive heat had glued the fabric to her legs, and she still had a back yard barbecue and the fireworks to get through before the day ended!

Cora met them at the door, looking especially pretty in a yellow sundress and sandals. She'd pulled her long blond hair into a curly topknot, erasing ten years from her smiling face."Come in, come in!" she said, opening the front door wide.

"I hope your boys like chocolate cupcakes," she said, handing Cora a red and while cooler.

"Are you kidding?" Austin answered in her stead. "Those two would eat rocks if you salted 'em first."

Fingers wrapped around her gold cross pendant, Cora threw back her head and laughed, then relieved Mercy of the cooler. "Austin," she said, shaking a scolding forefinger under his nose, "Didn't you tell her that I didn't need her to bring anything?"

"Yes, I did."

"Ah, one of those 'I do things
my
way' women, are you? Oh, how I envy you. I've never had a talent for saying no to the men in my life!" Another giggle, then, "But don't worry.I'm sure your little cupcakes won't go to waste. Not even with the tiramisu and cheesecake I baked. Or the deep dish cherry pie."

She looked at Austin to add, "All Austin's favorites, you know!"

No, she hadn't known all of Austin's favorites. But Mercy smiled politely, anyway.

It seemed to Mercy that time had slowed to a painful crawl, thanks to the heat and humidity and similar comments from Cora. By eight o'clock when they left for the fireworks Mercy wished she hadn't let Austin talk her into riding with him.

Oddly enough, Cora's behavior partnered beautifully with Mercy's plans to play Cupid. As if it wasn't enough that the woman kept a tastefully decorated spotless house, she'd prepared a delicious meal and exquisite desserts, all while looking like a model who'd just stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine, Cora had insisted that Austin say a blessing before they ate and held onto her little gold cross while he prayed.

She was the exact opposite of Mercy, making her the perfect life mate for Austin.

"She means well," he said during the drive back to Fells Point.

Mercy didn't understand what had prompted the comment, because she'd made a point not to react to Cora's remarks.Made a point, too, of complimenting her at every available opportunity.

"Sometimes she tries so hard to please people that it comes off a little—"

"Annoying?"

Austin grinned. "I was going to say 'driven', but I guess she can be that, too."

"The boys seem to love that little dog. And it looks like they're taking good care of her, too."

He nodded. "Yeah. And if I didn't know better, I'd say Aretha had been with them since she was a puppy."

The mention of the dog's name made Mercy snicker. "I asked Rick why he and Ray chose that name."

"I meant to do that, and kept getting side-tracked."

I'm not surprised, considering you had a blond
growth
on your side all day.

"He said the very first time they let her outside to do her business, she wailed like a soul singer to be let back in."

That inspired a round of quiet laughter. "Man. Y'gotta love the pair of 'em. Eddy would have been so proud."

He rarely talked about his partner, so she never knew whether it was all right to ask about him or not.
You'd think a psychiatrist could come up with a few non-harmful questions.
Just as she had every other time the notion popped into her head, Mercy tamped it down with a quick and firm confirmation of facts: She'd been a lousy therapist, as evidenced by the number of failed cases in her files.

Besides, once she dropped the bomb a few minutes from now, he probably wouldn't even want to discuss the weather.That would break her heart, but she'd survived worse. She'd miss him and grow lonely for him. No question about it. And when she did, Mercy would remind herself she was doing the right thing. At least, the right thing for Austin.

"You OK?" he asked as she unlocked her front door.

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

He shrugged. "You were . . . weird today. What's with that?"

This door, you mean? The one I have no intention of opening until you've driven away?
"It was a long, hot day, and I'm pooped." No sense putting off 'til tomorrow. "If you want companionship, Cora's your girl."

Laughing, Austin said "What? I know she behaved like a nut today, with all her fussing and—"

"She's in love with you. And to be honest, I think it'd be a great match."

Now he frowned. "Is that a fact,
Yente?"

Yente? The matchmaker from
Fiddler on the Roof?
Mercy didn't know which was funnier, that he was familiar enough with the musical to pull a character's name from his memory, just like that, or the fact that he'd zeroed in on her intentions just as quickly.

"Are you denying that Cora is a good woman?"

"Of course not. I love her like a sister." He shuddered, grimaced as if he'd inhaled a nose full of skunk spray. "A
sister,"
he repeated, "which is
exactly
why I could never—"

"Never say never," she warned, one finger ticking like a metronome.

He grabbed the finger and gave it a gentle yank, forcing her closer. Then he kissed it. Kissed the inside of her wrist, her shoulder and neck, and her cheek. Pressing his palms to her cheeks, he touched the tip of his nose to hers. She licked her lips, thinking that if he aimed to kiss her, well, she'd let him.That way, she'd have it to remember him by as she sniffled over the plot of an old black and white romance, clinging to a fuzzy afghan and a bowl of buttered popcorn.

"You think I don't know what you're doing? What you were doing all. Day.
Long?"

"I wasn't doing—"

"Yes, you were . . . ," he said again, one side of his mouth lifting in a sexy grin. "
Yente."

Mercy tried to look away, to step out of the protective circle of his arms, but Austin held tight.

"Dumb idea, but sweet." He chuckled. "My only regret is that I wasn't there to watch the gears turn as that amazing brain of yours came up with this whole crazy plot." He smiled, shook his head and exhaled a big sigh. "I don't want Cora, you goofy li'l nut," he ground out. "The only woman I want—the only one I've
ever
wanted—is you."

Well,
she thought as his lips found hers,
looks like you'll have this kiss to remember him by after all.

That is . . . if she ever developed the courage to let this wonderful, honorable, beautiful man go.