Chapter 38
Blaze and Mercy spent from noon until five at The Depot.
Philip and his family had pushed together enough tables to make a banquet table long enough for the thirty-some people who gathered.
After the meal, Blaze and Mercy helped clean up and then worked on a puzzle with Philip’s oldest daughter and a few others.
As dinnertime neared, they carried their now-empty platters back out to the car and headed home.
“You know what I’m grateful for?” Mercy said from the back seat. “That they didn’t have a kids’ table.”
Blaze chuckled. Mercy had been listing things she was grateful for all day. Blaze was having a harder time being so thankful.
“I’m also grateful we know about ADHD,” Mercy said.
“Me too, kiddo.” Blaze steered through town.
Mercy was keeping up with her chores, schoolwork, and friends. It’d been weeks since Blaze had had to drop off a forgotten lunch or instrument. And she was having an easier time at work. An easier time staying on top of the clutter. They’d even shown up on time for the meal today.
If only she could blame ADHD for the rift she’d created between herself and Anson. He’d been so shocked she’d kept a secret from him but so ready to believe Mercy simply because Blaze did.
She never should’ve underestimated him.
Of course, she’d had to do so right before a major holiday. How had his conversation with Carter gone? How was dinner with his parents going? Should she have accepted his offer to travel with him, or would he have rescinded it after she revealed her secret?
She pulled into their driveway and hit the button to lift the garage door. She should’ve texted him to check in—she’d thought of little else, even through all the conversations at The Depot—but she’d chickened out. They’d talk once he got back home, as planned.
“I thought you said Anson was at his parents’ house.”
“He is.” She angled to see Mercy in the rearview mirror.
Her sister was looking over her left shoulder, back toward the street. “Was, maybe. He just parked.”
Foot still on the brake, Blaze turned. Sure enough, a familiar SUV sat at the side of the road. A flurry of nerves swirled in her core. Blaze straightened in her seat and carefully navigated into the garage. “Sweetie, there’s something I should tell you.”
“What?”
“I told him you left the house the night of the fire.” Blaze shut off the car and twisted to look directly at Mercy. “I was wrong to ask you to keep it a secret like I did. I don’t want to put you in that position.”
Mercy fiddled with her seatbelt. “I shouldn’t have gone for that walk.”
“I forgive you. Forgive me?”
Mercy nodded, then quirked an eyebrow. “How long are you going to make him wait in the cold?”
Blaze reached into the backseat to tweak Mercy’s nose, but her sister dodged, giggling. They got out of the car and headed outside.
“I’m going to have to go to my room again, aren’t I?”
“Anson and I do need to talk today, but you don’t have to hide away from us all the time.”
Mercy stepped into the gray afternoon. “You having a boyfriend is kind of boring.”
Boyfriend. Did he still want that title? Her steps dragged as she and Mercy met Anson between the garage and the house.
His smile was muted, but when Mercy got close to him, he tossed her a purple-and-white vegetable the size of a baseball.
Mercy turned it in her hands. “For BunBun?”
He nodded. “Radicchio. You’ll tell him who brought it?”
“You’re kinda weird.”
No, he was incredibly sweet.
Mercy scampered inside and to her room, presumably to give the bunny a snack.
Anson shadowed Blaze into the kitchen. She delivered the tart platters to the sink, but as she reached for the faucet, Anson’s much larger hand covered hers, drawing her back to face him. “I left my parents’ house right after the meal. I can’t stand how we left things.”
“Me neither.” The trouble was, even as she studied their linked hands, she wasn’t sure she could stand where this conversation would lead them.
Still, it was a good sign that he’d come. A good sign that he’d taken her hands with such tenderness. “It’s not too late,” she said.
“For what?”
Tears dropped to her cheeks.
He released her hand to brush them away.
“To change your mind.”
“About?” His fingertips rested lightly against her cheeks and neck as if she were a glass egg.
She could only blame herself for the fragile state of their relationship. “What we talked about before I told you about Mercy.” She couldn’t bring herself to say it more directly. He’d asked to be exclusive, but now that he had more experience with her, would he want that?
“I don’t follow. Wait. You mean…?” He grunted. “I’m not sharing you.” His voice came out gruff and possessive, but his touch was gentle as he threaded one hand into her hair and the other around her shoulders, pulling her into a hug.
A hum of relief escaped her as she laid her head on his chest and fit her arms around his waist. She inhaled his scent and relished the solid warmth of his body.
“What does that mean?” Mercy’s voice was like an alarm, jolting Blaze from a dream. “’Cuz I’m a kid, and my sister’s my whole family. You have to share her with me.”
Blaze lifted her head, and Anson stepped away.
Mercy stood halfway between the doorway and the fridge, a slightly smaller head of radicchio in hand. Her lips and eyebrows both skewed with what Blaze assumed was worry.
Blaze put an arm around her sister’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “And you’re my family.”
Anson crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. His lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but he narrowed his eyes. “All right. I’ll share you with Mercy. Beyond that, don’t get any ideas.”
Mercy tipped her head, resting it on Blaze’s shoulder. “What’s he talking about?”
A giddy trill fluttered in her stomach. “He’s talking about being my boyfriend.”
“I thought he already was.” Shaking her head, Mercy crossed to the fridge. “BunBun says thanks for the radish.”
“Radicchio,” Anson said.
“Okay, that.” She placed the remaining portion in the lettuce drawer and padded off again.
Still leaning against the counter, Anson’s gaze rested on Blaze. A half smile lifted his lips.
She wrapped one arm across herself and twisted a lock of hair.
He pushed away from the counter and threaded their fingers together. “You look worried.”
“I made a mistake, keeping my concern about Mercy from you.”
“I’ve thought a lot about that. I wish you’d felt like you could’ve told me, but I understand why you didn’t. You don’t want to lose Mercy the way your mom lost you.”
More helpless tears fell to her cheeks. “That’s what I was focused on.
Losing her. But I shouldn’t have been. What I really want is to avoid hurting her the way Mom hurt me.
By asking her to keep that secret, I was repeating one of Mom’s mistakes.
It’s a tangled mess, trying to stop the generational curse from continuing.
Trying to avoid something led me to actually repeat it. ”
“One mistake isn’t the same as repeating all of them. You are not your mother.”
“It’s still a setback. I thought I was beyond all this.
” She massaged her forehead. “Before I got worked up about Mercy, I almost asked you to call me Jen sometimes. It’s silly.
Blaze is who I am. I know that. But the name came out of bad experiences, and before that, I was Jenny.
I thought going by my given name sometimes would be like … ”
“Evidence of a resurrection.”
Her throat constricted, and she could only stare. He understood?
She tucked herself to his side and wrapped an arm around his waist. “I thought of her again when I finally told you about Mercy.”
“I’m not surprised.” His body shifted, and she felt him lower his face to rest against her head. “It’s a gift to know you, Jen.”
The name settled like warm sunshine. Like a blessing. She turned into him and peered up at his face. “So is knowing you, Anson.”
“Since you know me so well …” He brushed her hair back over her shoulders, then clasped his hands behind her back. “Did you notice?”
She ran a split-second inventory, but he hadn’t gotten a haircut in the last few days or started wearing glasses. “Notice what?”
“That you’re not the only one in process.
I was living out bad habits I learned from my parents too.
Can you imagine the support they would’ve gotten if they’d opened up about Gury?
But they didn’t, and I didn’t, and it hurt my ability to help the students.
When I talked to Carter and Dylan the way you encouraged me to, they opened up in some very necessary ways.
If I’d talked to them more honestly sooner, the church might not have burned down. ”
She stepped back. “I can’t believe I forgot. What did Carter say last night?”
“He suspected Dylan was the church intruder and the one who started the fire.”
This was going to be a long conversation.
She motioned him to follow her to the living room.
He sat in the corner of the couch, and when she lowered to the cushion next to him, he pulled her in, tipping her against his side.
She settled in, her back against his chest, her shoulder under his right arm.
He kissed the top of her head, and she played with his hand using both of hers.