Free Running From Mercy by Terra Little Page B

stop skipping around and stay on his and slightly angered that she wouldn’t let them. When his fingers itched to reach out and touch her, he smoothed them over his head instead. “I didn’t buy the handbook for this kind of thing, Pam. But somehow I don’t think maintaining a shrine will help either.”
    â€œWhat if I can’t do it?”
    â€œJust do what you can do, okay?”
    She followed him up the stairs on stiff legs and crossed the threshold into the first bedroom on the left, the one Chad gestured to wearily as he continued down the hallway. From the doorway, she watched his back until it disappeared from sight and then felt along the wall for the light switch. Both nightstand lamps flickered on and the room came alive for her searching eyes.
    Pink. Nearly everything was some shade of pink. The drapes and duvet were a deep rose, the chaise and walls a soft pink. The furniture was white washed oak, contemporary in style and functional looking. There was a stack of paperback books on one nightstand and a cordless phone on the other. On the dresser, Paris’s jewelry box was open and various pieces of jewelry spilled out, as if she had been rambling through it just minutes ago trying to decide between a silver pendant and a gold brooch. Pam went over and lifted a slender gold chain from the box. She held it up to the light and noticed Chad leaning against the doorjamb. He had changed into jeans and a polo shirt.
    â€œYou haven’t changed a bit.”
    â€œGained a little weight here and there. I could say the same about you.”
    â€œIt’s different with me. You’ve seen me on television or wherever.” She put the necklace back where she’d found it and looked around the room. “I didn’t know what to expect with you. Didn’t know if you’d gotten fat or gone bald or what. You weren’t in many of the pictures I got, the videos either.”
    â€œI wish I could describe for you what I felt the first time I saw you on television or heard your voice on the radio.” He came away from the doorjamb and moved deeper into the room. “Nikki would be having a fit, jumping up and down and screaming at the top of her lungs and I’d be sitting there like a block of ice, stunned. I always thawed out long enough to tell her to be quiet, so I could hear, though.”
    â€œShe still has the tape I gave her from the time I took her in the studio with me.”
    Nikki was seven and bursting with energy, asking every five minutes to do something. As if walking around the zoo for hours on end until Pam’s feet were throbbing was nothing. After ten o’clock had come and gone and Nikki still wasn’t asleep, Pam had carted her off to the recording studio with her; Snoopy house-shoes, ballerina pajamas, and all. They had spent an hour in the soundproof booth, singing Stevie Wonder’s “I Just Called To Say I Love You” before Nikki finally conked out on a couch and Pam could get down to business.
    â€œShe played it every night for a month. I thought I saw Stevie coming out of her room one night, it got so bad,” Chad joked. They laughed together and some of the tension eased away. “Paris was so proud of you.”
    â€œI was proud of her,” Pam said. “Out of the two of us, she was the one who stuck it out and made a life for herself.”
    â€œYou have a good life.”
    â€œNot the one I wanted.”
    That gave Chad pause. He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything and Pam didn’t seem inclined to elaborate. There was so much she wanted to say and so much he wanted to ask, but time and distance divided them, kept their eyes away from each other’s. Finally, he suggested they start the process of sorting through Paris’s clothing by emptying the closet and drawers and making stacks on the bed. Pam slid the closet door open and stepped inside, grateful for the