Heart of Mercy (Tennessee Dreams) (17 page)

As they moved outside, a blast of warm air greeted them, the sun pushing out from behind the clouds. Wafting up on a gentle breeze were the sweet scents of a nearby rosebush, and overhead, the birds delighted in announcing the rain had stopped. Excited children, John Roy and Joseph included, took off, chasing each other around the church perimeter, their pent-up shouts no longer squelched. Not for the first time, Sam marveled at how well the boys had fallen into their new routine. He wondered if and when reality would come crashing in on them.

“Mercy! Wait a moment.” Coming from behind was an older woman, tall and spry, her green eyes gleaming like two stars, with white wisps of hair poking out from under her wide-brimmed floral hat. Sam recognized her as one of the “protesters” from their wedding day, and a wave of dread swept through him.

“Why, Aunt Aggie!” Mercy gave the woman a quick hug. “I didn’t…I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you attended the Lutheran church.”

“Yes, yes, I do,” the woman said, stepping back to brush herself off, as if the brief embrace had somehow wrinkled her perfectly pressed suit. “But Reverend Tolford went out of town, and one of our church deacons was preachin’ today. I can’t abide that man’s sermons, don’t you know, so long and drawn out…by the time he winds down, I just know my Sunday roast has burnt blacker ’n tar. Not t’ mention he’s got that awful habit of clearin’ his throat at the end of every sentence.” She clicked her tongue before raising her gaze to Sam. “Well, hullo there, Samuel Connors. I hope y’r treatin’ my niece well.”

“Aunt Aggie.” Mercy’s brow crimped.

Sam grinned. “Ma’am.” He offered his hand, and when she extended hers, he took it in both of his. “I’m doin’ my very best. Nice to meet you face-to-face.” As hard as it was to treat her with civility, he knew it would pay off in dividends. “You’re Fred’s wife, correct?”

“Indeed. A scoundrel he is, but then, you already knew that.”

Indeed
was right. Fred Evans never missed an opportunity to fight, and Sam pitied the man who got in his way, especially if he were a Connors. Agatha leaned in. “Your mother’s not much better, if I may say so.”

“Aunt Aggie,” Mercy cut in for the second time, her tone scolding.

“Well, it’s true as the gospel, child. Ever since your weddin’, she’s been creatin’ quite a stir amongst the menfolk. Says Mercy here won’t allow Samuel t’ go visit her, and I says to m’self, ‘That don’t sound like ar Mercy, her bein’ the peacemaker of the family an’ all.’”

Sam felt a ball of fury form in his stomach. “You’re absolutely right. My mother’s spreadin’ falsehoods.”

Mercy’s face wrinkled with concern. “Why, just yesterday, I told Sam he ought to go see her.”

Agatha nodded. “I figured as much. I’m comin’ to terms with the whole notion o’ you two marryin’, but my Fred and our boys are still purty peeved.”

Tension seized Sam’s chest like a balled-up fist. He’d thought that getting through the wedding ceremony would be the worst of it, but it seemed that their relatives—at least some of them—were getting even more riled now that the vows had been said. Would nothing melt the hatred and mend the breach between these two families? He supposed it was something he should pray about.

A few women joined the circle, and the subject changed to the upcoming meeting of the knitting guild, something in which Sam had no interest. Just in time, Carl Redford, a longtime acquaintance from grade school days, wandered over, providing a welcome escape. The two men separated slightly from the group and spent some time catching up, talking about Sam’s blacksmithing and Carl’s job as a clerk at the local drugstore.

Before long, John Roy and Joseph trotted up, red-faced and breathless. “We goin’ soon?” asked John Roy.

Mercy must have overheard, for she stepped away from the circle of women. “Yes, we are, honey. I have a chicken cooking in the oven.”

They bid everyone good-bye and headed for their rig and a very patient Tucker, who stomped and whinnied at their approach. All in all, Sam’s return to church hadn’t been all bad. He was almost looking forward to next Sunday.

***

“What in the world?” Sam muttered as they turned into the two-track driveway.

Mercy glanced up, and fury welled within her. On the front porch, her two lovely planters had been overturned, and both wicker chairs had been tipped on their sides. One of the front windows was also broken. She grew impatient for Sam to rein in his horse so she could jump down and investigate. “I don’t know, but I’m about to find out.”

“Don’t go up there without me,” he said quietly, so the boys wouldn’t overhear. “Might be somebody lurkin’ around.”

She nodded, but when the rig came to a halt, she couldn’t help it; she hefted her skirts, leaped to the ground, and set off on a purposeful march across the yard.

“Wait here, boys, and keep Tucker company,” she heard him say. “We’ll be right back.”

At least two out of three had listened to him. He ought to be pleased about that. Mercy approached the front porch to assess the damage.

Sam checked out the broken window, peering inside. “Looks like somebody heaved a rock. It’s lying on the floor, and there’s glass everywhere.” He glanced back at the rig. “Better get that cleaned up before we let the boys inside. I’ll check around back, make sure it’s clear, and send them there to play.”

Mercy nodded, for the moment unable to speak. Dread twisted an ugly knot in her gut. Who would do such a thing? Hadn’t the boys been traumatized enough? While Sam led the boys to the backyard, she righted her poor planters, then used her hand to scoop some of the spilled soil back inside. The flowers had lost a few blossoms, too.

Sam returned a few minutes later. “Those swings should keep ’em occupied awhile,” he said.

“Do you think one of our relatives did this?” Mercy asked him quietly.

He lifted one wicker chair, setting it upright again. “I would hate to think that any of our relatives would deliberately damage their own kin’s property.”

“But you heard Aunt Aggie. Both sides are upset with us.”

Sam shook his head. His face read of utter disdain. “I guess I’ll pay my mother a visit. I have to find out if she’s involved in this.”

“Surely, your own mother wouldn’t be party to vandalism.”

“She wouldn’t have been here, no, but she might be at the center of the storm. Your aunt did say she’s been stirrin’ things up. Sorry to say, I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Mercy nodded.

“I’ll pay the sheriff a visit tomorrow,” Sam added. “File a report.”

“I suppose that’s best.”

They ate their lunch in somber silence. Any other day, it would’ve been delicious, the chicken done to perfection, the carrots and potatoes seasoned just right. Today, however, it went down Mercy’s throat with a fight, and she had to keep taking sips of water to settle her stomach. It nettled her to think that Sam’s relatives—or, worse, her own—were in some way responsible for the vandalism, and on the Sabbath, no less.

“Who done broke that window?” John Roy asked after a while.

Mercy looked to Sam. “We don’t know, exactly,” Sam said. “Maybe one of the neighbor boys got a little too rambunctious.”

“They should’a comed to church,” Joseph chided.

Mercy couldn’t help smiling at his naiveté. It helped to lessen the sense of foreboding she felt in her chest.

Sam appeared to have no trouble clearing his plate. He pushed back in his chair and rubbed his hands together. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna ride out to my mother’s place for a visit.”

“Can we come too?” Joseph asked.

Sam smiled ruefully. “Another time, okay?”

“But she invited us!”

“I know she did. And I’ll be sure to take you, just not today.”

Joseph lowered his face and stuck out his lip. It was the first Mercy had observed him in an all-out pout. “I’m going to need your company,” Mercy said, trying to keep her voice light. “We’ll think of a game to play.”

“In the house, though,” Sam inserted briskly, meeting Mercy’s eyes.
Stay inside
, he mouthed.

“Aww!” both boys protested.

“Do we hafta?” Joseph whined.

Mercy forced a smile. “Yes, but you can go outside when Sam returns.” She bristled at having to stay cooped up on such a nice day, but then, that vow she’d made to love, honor, and obey came back to muddle her head.

She had a lot to learn about this matter of marriage.

16

S
am hitched Tucker to a post in front of his mother’s house, climbed the porch steps, and knocked at the door. Getting no response, he strolled around to the side yard to search her out. He found her kneeling in the garden, her back to him, pulling weeds. Her tattered straw bonnet covered her gray hair, which she had pulled into her habitual severe knot at the back of her head. Hot rays of sunlight seared his shoulders as he plodded down the flower-strewn path, yet unnoticed—unless he counted Virgil Perry, whom he spotted watching him from the double doors of the barn. Sam waved but got nothing more than a casual nod before the man vanished into the murky shadows. It was milking time, if the sound of bawling cattle from inside was any indication.

His approaching steps must have alerted his mother, for she glanced over her shoulder, gasped, and then rose to her feet, teetering a tad from having stood too fast. Normally, he would have reached out a hand to steady her, but he didn’t have the most genial attitude at the moment.

“Well, suffering saints, would you look at what the cat dragged home? Wasn’t it just yesterday you said you wouldn’t come visiting if you couldn’t bring that wife of yours?”

“This is not a cordial visit, Mother. I need to talk to you about somethin’.”

“Oh?” She swept a hand across her forehead, leaving a long, dark smudge in its wake. “What other possible reason than cordial could you have for visiting your ailing mother?”

“You’re not ailin’.”

“Of course I am. Most mornings I have so many aches, I can barely rise from bed. And my chest, why, it’s been paining me something fierce. Makes breathing a regular burden.”

It took all his energy not to tell her she’d been saying the same things for years, or that he had it on good authority from her doctor himself that she was hale and hearty. A second glance at the barn revealed Virgil watching from the doorway again. “Let’s go in the house for a minute.”

“Good idea. I’ll get us some sweet tea. I’m parched.”

“I’m not stayin’ long.”

“You’ll stay long enough for a glass of tea, won’t you? I’ve really missed you, Samuel. It’s far too quiet around here with you gone. I still don’t understand why you married that girl.”

“That
‘girl,’ as you refer to her, is my wife, and you’ll do well to keep your opinions about her to yourself.”

She gave a loud wheeze and wiped her hands on her apron, then gazed skyward. “It was right nice of the sun to come out after that morning rain, but did it have to bring such scorching heat?” At least she saw the importance in changing the subject.

“Yeah, it’s hot. Let’s go inside.”
And escape Virgil Perry’s piercing stare.
He glanced at the barn once more, then followed her up the path. “What are you doin’ workin’ on the Lord’s Day, anyway? You never used to let me do anything on Sundays—no baseball, no goin’ down to the water hole, and certainly no playin’ with the neighbor boys.”

“Engaging in worldly pleasurable on the Sabbath is one thing, but chores of necessity are something altogether different.”

“I see.” Of course, he didn’t, but now was not the time for arguing over her convictions. He could tell her they were just a bunch of man-made rules that didn’t line up with the way true Christians ought to live—with hearts of joy and gratitude, overflowing in love for others. Not that he was a good example, but he knew folks who were—Uncle Clarence, for one. And Mercy. Yes, she had a willful spirit, and she could react quicker than a swatted fly if something didn’t set right with her, but she also had a generous heart. Her love for God and others was evident, and he greatly admired her for it.

He opened the door for his mother, who scooted into the kitchen ahead of him. A cool breeze played with the sheer curtains over the sink. He pulled out a couple of chairs from the round wooden table, seated himself, and watched his mother fill two glasses with sweet tea. She started humming, something she rarely did, unless she wanted to cover up a basket of nerves.

He tapped his fingers on the red and white checked tablecloth and watched as she wiped up a small spill on the counter. He’d wanted to wait till she sat, but his patience grew too thin. “I talked to Agatha Evans today.”

With her back to him, his mother went rail-stiff. “Where on earth did you see her?” She gave a half turn.

“At Paris Evangelical Church.”

Now she faced him head-on. “You went to church?”

“That was one of the stipulations of our marriage contract, so to speak, my attendin’ on a regular basis.”

“Humph. You should be going to First Methodist, where your family attends, including your
beloved
Uncle Clarence and Aunt Hester.” She always had resented them, and while he’d never quite figured out why, he supposed it boiled down to jealousy. They had a strong marriage, with three children, all of them married with kids of their own, a strong faith in God, a good number of friends, and Sam’s utmost respect.

“And anyway, what was Agatha Evans doing at Paris Evangelical? Everyone knows the Evanses are all devout Lutherans—well, except for Agatha’s worthless husband, Fred, who hasn’t set foot in church since I don’t know when. And of course, Mercy Evans considers herself too good for the Lutherans.”

He didn’t want to discuss the denominational preferences of the Evans family, but her remark made him curious. “How would you know anything about Fred Evans?”

“Oh, piffle.” She carried over the glasses of tea, then plunked herself down in the chair. “Doesn’t all Paris know the comings and goings of folks?”

“Guess not.” He shrugged and took a few gulps of his tea. It did taste awfully good. “Well, I should get on with my reason for comin’ here. When we got home from church today, we found that someone had thrown a rock through one of the front windows and made a mess of the front porch, overturnin’ planters and upsettin’ the chairs. I plan to stop at Sheriff Marshall’s office tomorrow to report the incident.”