Mariah Stewart - Acts of Mercy

The sun had already set when he pulled in the drive at the bungalow. There were no lights on inside and no car in sight, so he turned off the engine and got out and walked to the front steps, where he sat and waited.

It was after ten when she drove up. She slowed when she saw the strange car, but she parked next to it and walked with no apparent concern to the porch. She sat next to him on the step for a while before saying, “Nice night.”

“Umm-hmm.”

“How are you, Sam?” she asked softly.

“Better than I’ve been in a long time.”

“Good,” she said. “That’s good.”

“I stopped to see Don Holland on my way through Indiana,” he told her.

“Oh? How’d that go?”

“It went pretty well, all things considered.” He turned to her. “It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. Apologizing, that is.”

“You apologized to him?” Fiona frowned. “Have you lost your mind?”

“He’s done a lot of really nasty things, but he didn’t kill Carly. He told me that over and over, and I didn’t believe him. For that, I owed him.”

“You’re a better man than I am. I couldn’t have done it.”

“I wasn’t sure I could either, but it worked out all right. One thing he said, though…” Sam leaned back, his elbows resting on the steps behind him. “He said I should go back to the Bureau, that there were a lot of bad boys out there who needed to be caught.”

“Oh, there’s a news flash.” Fiona rolled her eyes. “I picked up a case today-boy howdy, it’s a killer. Pun intended.”

“There’s no end to it, you know?” He exhaled deeply. “I left the Bureau because I had enough of the Don Hollands of this world. I’d seen them all, I’d studied them all. I wanted out so I got out. I used Carly’s death as an excuse to walk away.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on yourself? Sam, your wife was murdered in your home, and at the time you believed she was killed by someone you were tracking. I think you were entitled to take a walk.”

When he didn’t respond, she said, “Did your travels help to clear your head?”

“Some.” He nodded. “It was good to get away, to leave everything behind me. I thought going to all those places, most of them for the first time, would help me to feel again.”

“Did it?”

“Mostly I felt responsible. That I’d let Carly down. That’s pretty much all I felt,” he said. “The best part of the trip was when I got to Italy and spent some time with my parents. They’re happy in their lives and with each other, and it was a very good visit. My mom invited a neighbor-a divorcée-to dinner one night to meet me, and I was not very happy with my mother for doing that.”

“Why? Was she awful?”

“No, she was lovely, she was a very nice woman. But I felt like I was being unfaithful to Carly. Like I’d be betraying her memory if I let myself be attracted to someone else. After dinner was over, I couldn’t wait to drive her home. I dropped her off and came straight back to my parents’ place and Mom and I had a few words over the whole thing. I told her I didn’t appreciate her trying to set me up, and she told me she didn’t appreciate the fact that I was rolling over and playing dead, that I couldn’t spend the rest of my life alone, that there was still light and music to be had.” Sam smiled. “Her words: light and music.” He added, “I was certain she was wrong. I’d just finished traveling through a dozen countries, and there’d been no one I’d felt a connection to. Until now.”

He sat up and put an arm around her shoulders. “I hadn’t felt the light or heard the music until now.”

“So are you saying you’re feeling connected, Sam?”

“Yeah. I guess I am.”

Fiona smiled. “There now. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Sam laughed softly.

She leaned against him and rested her forehead against the side of his head, and they sat together on the steps for a while.

Finally, Fiona said, “So what are you going to do, Sam? Are you sticking with the new job, or are you coming back to the Bureau?”

“I like the Mercy Street Foundation. I like the concept. I like and admire Robert Magellan and the fact that he’s willing to use his fortune for the greater good. You know, he’d offered a million-dollar reward for information leading to Ian’s return. He’s splitting it between the Sisters of St. Anthony and Barbara Cooper, the woman who owned the cabin. He’s a man of his word, and I respect him for that. The world could use more people like him.”

“I hear a but in there somewhere.”

“But-I think I belong with the Bureau.”

“John will be happy to hear that,” she told him. “He’ll take you back like that.” She snapped her fingers.

“He already has.”

“Seriously? You’re coming back?”

“After I talk to the others there in Conroy, yeah. I’m coming back.”

“Good.” She nodded. “That’s good.”

“So I thought maybe we should do something to celebrate,” he told her. “I picked up a bottle of champagne on the way over.” He reached behind him on the porch and held up a tall bag.

“That’s a good start.” She stood and took his hand. She pulled him to his feet and wrapped her arms around him. “Why don’t we go inside and break it open, and dance a little to that music your mama was telling you about…”

What should I do, Trula? He won’t come near me.” Robert’s agony was written all over his face.

“It’s going to take time, son. The women from Children’s Services said we should expect this,” she said softly. “He doesn’t understand where he is or why he’s here, and where… where his mother is.”

“She isn’t his mother. She never was.” His eyes darkened.

“He doesn’t know that, Rob.” He started to protest and she held up a hand. “You may not like it, but that’s the truth of it.”

Robert sat with his arms resting on the kitchen table. Ian was clearly a very unhappy, lost little boy, and it broke Robert’s heart. He’d never imagined his son’s homecoming to be like this. Ian cried all the time he hadn’t been sleeping on Susanna’s lap on their flight back from Erie, and he’d been crying since they set foot in the house. Now, even Susanna wasn’t able to comfort him.

“I feel really helpless,” Suse told him. “I don’t know what he likes to eat.” She looked at Trula. “What do two-year-olds eat, anyway?”

“They can eat pretty much what you do, only cut smaller, softer.”

“He has to be hungry,” Susanna said. “He hasn’t had anything to eat all day. I tried to give him soup, I tried pudding, I tried crackers, but he pushed everything away except the milk I gave him, and he was not happy because I didn’t let him hold the glass himself.”

“We’ll have to run out and pick up some supplies,” Trula told him. “Sippy cups and toys and so on.”

“His old toys are still up in his room,” Robert reminded her. “Maybe we should try one of those. I’ll run up and get something that he used to like. Maybe he’ll remember-”

“He was only three months old when he left,” Trula reminded him, “so don’t be disappointed if he doesn’t seem to recognize anything.”

Robert nodded and headed up the back steps to the second floor.

“Shhhh, Ian, shhhh,” Susanna tried to comfort him. “It’s going to be all right, baby.” Ian continued to wail. “I know, I know. It’s hard for you right now. But you’re back with your daddy who loves you…”

The back door opened and Chloe came in, wiggling a long red piece of yarn behind her to lure Foxy inside.

“Why is that baby crying?” She stopped in the doorway.