“You thought,” he went on, “that you had all the scary boys wrapped around your finger. But you made one very, very big mistake. The scariest boy of all is your son, and you did everything you could to make him hate you.”
She lifted her trembling chin. “You’d kill your own mama?”
“I’d kill a traitorous scheming bitch who sells her pussy to whoever’s got the fastest cash. I’d kill her in a heartbeat.”
One of the pillows was in his hand and he was covering her face with it before Ava could even register what was happening.
She said, “Mercy,” and he froze, as statue-still as a movie put on pause. “That’s enough,” she said, and he stepped back, chucked the pillow across the room, and headed for the door. The pillow crashed into a collection of framed photos on top of the highboy, and sent them toppling to the floor. Ava heard glass break.
When Mercy reached her, she laid a hand on his arm. “Go get something to drink,” she suggested. “And I’ll be right out and we can go.”
“I don’t want to leave you alone–”
“She can’t hurt me.”Not like she’s hurting you, she thought. “Please. I’ll be just a sec.”
His acquiescence spoke volumes about his state of mind. With a distracted nod, he let himself out of the room.
Ava listened to his boots go down the hall and then turned to her mother-in-law. It hit her, as she thought the word: that’s who this woman was. Her mother-in-law.
She shoved her hands in her back pockets and sauntered closer to the bed, just out of arms’ reach.
Dee had been deeply rattled, but was recovering, smoothing her hands down her nightgown, taking big breaths. Her eyes were still too-wide, but were livid as they fixed on Ava’s face. “You’re stupid, girl. You think he won’t try to do that to you? You think you won’t be on the news when he kills you?”
Ava offered her a faint smile. “No, I don’t think. I know. I know he’ll never do anything to me.”
Dee’s eyes narrowed.
“You see,” Ava explained. “I love him. I love him more than anything. He’s my best friend in the world, and he knows that. He’d never let anything happen to me. He’s proved that, more than once.”
Dee twitched a smile. “You poor stupid–”
“I’m still talking,” Ava said, and her tone had the frail woman leaning back against her pillows again.
When she had the floor secured, she continued. “Thank God for him that he won’t ever see you again. But for you – I hope, somewhere, in your black heart – it hurts like hell to know that your own son hates you. Your own flesh and blood wants you dead.
“Go to hell, bitch.”
She was quivering she was so furious as she walked back down the hall. She hadn’t ever, not even with Mason, wanted to hit someone so badly. Her breath trembled in her lungs and her fingers curled and uncurled as she forced herself to walk slowly, without grinding her heels into the hardwood. She wanted to run to Mercy. She wished he was small enough to pull up into her lap and wrap him in her arms. She wanted to be the mother he’d never had.
But she took a deep breath and smoothed her expression as she walked through the kitchen in search of him.
Barbara was at the desk in the bay window up front, sorting mail into pigeonholes, feet just barely touching the floor because the chair was too tall for her. Mercy stood in front of her, arms folded, one boot set ahead in an imitation of casual. There was still a rigid tension in his jaw, the veins standing out in his neck.
“…a shame,” Barbara was saying. “And I’ve told her again and again, ‘That’s your boy, Miss Dee. You ought to try to make nice with him.’ ” She glanced up at Mercy over her glasses. “I’ve tried, honey. I really have.”
Mercy let out a huge breath. “I know, Miss Barb. And I appreciate it. It’s not your fault.”
Barbara’s wise dark eyes cut over to Ava. She asked Mercy, “You taking your new missus to see the sights today?” To Ava: “Tell him you want to see Marie Laveau’s. It’s not really N’awlins till you’ve been into a voodoo shop.”
“I’ll put it on my list,” Ava said. She touched Mercy’s hand and felt it twitch, an automatic defensive reflex that was so unlike him. “You ready?” she asked gently.
“Yeah.” He moved too quick, like he was coming out of a bad dream. He snatched her hand, said, “Thanks, Barbara. Call Bob if you need me for anything; he’ll know how to get in contact.”
She nodded.
Ava was towed out the front door like they were fleeing from a fire. Mercy slammed the door behind them and it rattled on its hinges.
They were fifteen feet down the sidewalk when she dug her heels in and offered resistance, nearly face-planting on the cobbles for her effort. “Merc!”
