Free Evidence of Mercy by Terri Blackstock

to feed his anger. “Yeah,” he said bitterly. “Send her in. She might as well get a good look.”
    The nurse hesitated a moment, then disappeared. In a few moments, she was back, wheeling Lynda in a wheelchair. He gave her a once-over—she was stitched and bruised, too, but both eyes were intact, and her legs, crossed at the ankles, looked as healthy as his had looked yesterday.
    â€œHi, Jake,” she whispered almost timidly. “How do you feel?”
    He looked at the ceiling. “How do you think I feel?”
    She took that gracefully. “Probably pretty bad.” She watched as the nurse stepped out of the room to give them some privacy, then wheeled herself closer to the bed. “Jake, I’m so sorry.”
    â€œNot as sorry as I am.”
    She swept her eyes down his body, and they lingered on his legs. “We didn’t know if you’d make it. I prayed all night that you would.”
    â€œWhat for? So I could lie here like a vegetable for the rest of my life?”
    â€œI know how you must feel—”
    â€œDo you?” he asked with exaggerated surprise. “Do you really? Tell me how you know how I feel, Lynda. Have you ever been paralyzed? Have you ever had the sight cut out of your eye? Have you had your face maimed beyond recognition? How do you know how I feel?”
    She only gaped at him for a moment, and her fragile expression crumbled. “Okay, I don’t know. But you survived, Jake. Just like I did. We both could have died in that crash, but we didn’t.”
    He turned his head to look at her now. “Are you kidding me? I’m supposed to be happy that I’m useless as a human being instead of dead?” Disgusted, he looked at the ceiling again. “Why did you come in here anyway? What do you want?”
    For a moment, she couldn’t speak. “Just . . . I just wanted to see if you were all right.”
    â€œWell, I’m not. Satisfied?”
    It was clear that she hadn’t expected this reaction from him, and he wondered if she’d expected them to bond from the trauma. Were they supposed to be best friends now and compare notes on what they remembered of the crash and eat lunch together and play cards? Didn’t she realize that the very sight of her made him lament the day he’d laid eyes on her?
    She covered her mouth and started to cry. “I guess I shouldn’t have come. I’ll go now.”
    â€œYeah,” he said. “You need to nurse those poor cracked ribs. I’d call the nurse, but I can’t move.”
    At that, Lynda sprang to her feet. He watched her reach unsteadily for the rail, and with a look of furious determination made softer by the tears on her face, she grabbed the remote control with the nurse’s call button from his bed table and thrust it into his hand. “That’s one less thing you can feel sorry for yourself about,” she said. Then, grabbing the handles of her chair, she walked carefully out of the room, pushing it in front of her.
    Jake watched her go, his bitter anger at her for surviving intact fading as his indignation at her attitude grew.
    A bby, the nurse who had found Lynda in Jake’s room the night before, came upon her again, sitting in her wheelchair in the hall of ICU, weeping bitterly into her hands. Stooping in front of her, Abby tried to raise her face.
    â€œAre you all right, child?”
    Sucking back her sobs, Lynda looked up at her. “Jake just said some things—”
    â€œHe’s hurtin’, darlin’. Don’t put any stock in what he says. When people hurt, they say all sorts of things.”
    But her assurance didn’t help. This was bigger than words. “You want me to push you back to your room, honey?”
    Lynda couldn’t answer. “I went there to comfort him, and he just made me so mad—” She broke off and covered her face again. “I told him he felt sorry for