Where Mercy Flows Read Online Free PDF Page B

hurt?” I immediately swiped at my tears and sat up on the edge of the bed. The lamp was still on and he
     could see the red blotches on my face that always resulted from a good cry. TJ had never seen me in this condition before.
    “No, I’m not hurt, baby.” I managed a sheepish smile. “I just felt like crying tonight. I feel better now.”
    “But why?”
    “I don’t know. I guess grown-ups cry sometimes for the same reasons kids cry. Remember the first time I left you at the new
     day care?” He nodded. “That was a brand-new situation for you. You weren’t comfortable with it and it made you cry.”
    “I wanted you to come back.” He climbed onto the bed. I put my arms around him and we fell back against the pillows. I sighed
     and stared at the ceiling while his finger idly explored the paths of my outer ear. “Maybe you want
your
mommy.”
    I rolled my head to look at him, astonished. One whack and he had driven the nail home. His beautiful dark eyes blinked. He
     was so right. I needed someone to take care of me. I desperately wanted to find healing. I certainly hadn’t found it anywhere
     else.
    “Let’s go home, Teej,” I finally said. “You’ve got a grandma and grandpa to meet.”
    Eight days later and here we were, back in the familiar home of my childhood. I didn’t mention my illness to Mom or the Judge.
     It might have seemed presumptuous after a seven-year absence to show up out of the blue just because I had no other conceivable
     plan to take care of my son, nor, for that matter, myself. I was as helpless and dependent as a toddler again, only not so
     naive. I could never crawl up on my father’s lap again as I once did, believing that he was my daddy and I was his own flesh
     and blood and that his love was as constant and binding as the law of gravity. I wished I could have remained a child forever,
     living and playing along the river’s edge in innocent bliss without knowing what I knew now. Love, it seemed, had its limits.
     And I had a knack for charging beyond them.
    My shames were stacked stone on stone now, a wall between the Judge and me. A monument to the lines I had crossed.
    Oh, he tolerated me. What else could he do? Cast me from his back porch into the pit of hell? Besides, I had brought my angel-faced
     son, his grandson, an offering that seemed to please him, and we were a package deal. If nothing else, TJ had bought me some
     time.
    Just after lunch that first day back at the river, the Judge and TJ had headed for the creek with a can of worms and spinning
     rods. TJ had to half run with a little skip in his step to keep up with his grandpa’s huge stride. I had declined their invitation
     to come along, stating that I hoped to run into Darlington to look up some old friends. That was true, though my primary reason
     was that I was not sure I could make it down the steep ravine and back in my weakened state. The creek was actually high on
     the list of old friends that I wanted to see.
    The old friends were gone, of course. Married and moved away. I wished I could have warned them that there are no greener
     pastures than those in the Stillaguamish Valley. Trudy (according to her mother, whose bread-loaf breasts almost smothered
     me when she hugged me on her front porch) had married a stockbroker and lived in New York, along with two kids and three Persian
     cats who had all won awards at cat shows. Mrs. Simpson wrote Trudy’s new name and address on a recipe card and tucked it in
     my pocket. I apologized for not keeping in touch. How could I have been so thoughtless? I had left town without saying good-bye
     to my best friend.
    The friend I missed the most was Donnie. I had assumed he was a big-city lawyer by now, married to some svelte lady, frequenting
     operas and live theater. That was until the Judge told me otherwise. Donnie was once my best friend—I have to say even better
     than Trudy, though I would never have admitted that to either one of them. It