A Matter of Mercy Read Online Free PDF

her lung so she’ll be more comfortable. I was already there most of the day. She’ll be home again tomorrow. She’s on hospice. I’m hoping to be able to keep her at home—I mean, you know, the whole time.”
    He shook his head in sympathy. “You want a beer?”
    Caroline was confused. “You want to go into town?”
    “No. Here. I got it,” he said, interrupting. Rooting again, under his seat this time, he pulled out first one, then a second bottled beer and handed one to Caroline after he flicked off the cap with his thumb. “Warm,” he said, an apology.
    Caroline gave a small shiver. “It’s just as well. Warm’s good.”
    Rid made no comment but started the truck up again and put the heat on. Caroline stuck her hands in front of the vent.
    Fists of rain pummeled the top and hood and the jumble of equipment and nursery bags in the truck bed. No lights at all now from the rise around the bay inlet. Rid sucked a long draw of beer and sighed. “Power’s out. I hope my nets don’t get too fouled.”
    “Weird, isn’t it? I mean logically, you wouldn’t think more water,” she gestured at the rain, “could mess up things that already grow under water.”
    Rid pulled in his chin and looked at her sidelong.
    “What?”
    He rolled his eyes. “God, that’s so woman .”
    “That sounds dangerously like an insult, Mr. Neal. How so?”
    “Using logic to be completely illogical.”
    Caroline smacked his sleeve with the back of her hand.
    They teased that way for several more minutes. Rid drained his beer and when Caroline finished hers, he pulled two more out from under the seat. Again, he popped off the top before handing Caroline hers.
    “Sir, you are a gentleman,” she said lightly.
    “Uh oh. Sounds like a compliment. A minute ago you were as good as calling me a pig.”
    “Okay. A gentlemanly pig.”
    In full darkness now, the rain flogged on. The truck felt like a tank to Caroline, impervious, though every now and then the force of the wind swayed it and occasional debris banged the exterior. Rid glanced at the bay, winced, and looked away. There were breakers, as if they were on the ocean side instead of in the quiet natural harbor.
    The second beer and most of the third and fourth were spent on comparing kids they’d known in high school, cataloging geeks, preps, dopers, drudges. “You were just a baby,” she complained. “You’re naming people who were little brothers and sisters of people in my class.”
    “Oh, yeah, and you are sooo ancient.”
    They went on to teachers, praising a few, trashing more. “Nah,” he said once. “Didn’t take Algebra or Geometry, none of that stuff. General math, and I do believe I failed it, too. Truth is I pretty much fit the stereotype of the dumb local. I was probably the mold for it, in fact. Had a lot of fun, though.” He laughed and shook his head. After that, Caroline was careful not to talk about teachers who’d had only college prep classes. American History, English and Government; everybody had to take those. Not French, not Chemistry, not Anatomy and Physiology.
    When he said no, he hadn’t taken Music and not Art either, she said, “Why didn’t you? I mean, you’re smart, Rid. You could have gone to college. Did you just not want to?”
    “Outta my league. God, I spent more time suspended than I did in class. I could talk a good game, but I never could keep it together to pay attention to all that stuff when it came to taking tests or writing reports. Plus no money for it. Plus it did not sound like fun.”
    Her old teaching mind wondered if he had a learning disability and she asked if he’d ever been tested. Dyslexia? Attention deficit disorder?
    “Prob’ly. Don’t remember, don’t care.” He looked at her then and grinned. “Listen to you. Teacher . Why’d you really quit anyway?”
    There was a strange vulnerability in the question, Caroline thought. Still, she didn’t like his pressing her. She’d already put him off the