Free The Riches of Mercy by C. E. Case Page A

two going to the big Pride rally? Tweedledee and Tweedledum?"
    Natalie rubbed her cheek and didn't meet his eyes in the rearview mirror.
    The driver started the van. "I'm Harold. You thirsty? I got coffee."
    "No, thank you. How long of a drive is it?"
    Harold grunted. "Ten minutes."
    "I'll just stare out the window, then."
    The van pulled out of the parking lot. Harold turned on the radio, and then turned down the volume, so the country-western music became a faint background sound.
    "Get lost on your way to the beach?"
    "I guess. Yeah. That's what happened."
    "So did I. Hell, I should've stayed in Rocky Mount."
    "What's in Rocky Mount?" Natalie asked.
    "They got a Starbucks."
    Natalie nearly threw herself out of the van. "Tarpley doesn't have a Starbucks?"
    "Welcome to Tarpley, ma'am. We got a nice Hardees."
    The urge to cross herself returned; the urge to ward all of this off and beg for forgiveness. She'd survived the accident and survived surviving the accident so far. Outside the van windows cars and trucks rushed by. Beyond them she saw empty, flat land. She was descending into Hell.
    The van slowed to a stop. A train whistle blew.
    Harold sighed and put the van in park. Past the front windshield, a freight train rumbled by, impossibly slow, right there in the middle of the road.
    "You golf?" Harold asked, distracting her from her horror. "I mean, when you were better?"
    "No."
    "A shame. Not much else to do around here."
    "Would you drive me all the way to the beach?"
    Harold glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Not today. But Wilmington's closer than you think. You'll see it before you know it. Smells like the sea. That's all you need."
    "And a job."
    "Good point, there. What do you do?"
    The van finally began to move again. Natalie glanced around furtively for the train. "I'm an attorney."
    He whistled. "Not many of those around here. Not even in Rocky Mount. You go up to UNC?"
    She shook her head.
    "Oh, Lord. Not Duke?"
    "Wake."
    "Fair enough."
    "Have you always been in North Carolina?" Natalie asked.
    "I was born in Rocky Mount. My parents came from Ecuador. A long journey," he said.
    "Have you ever been there?"
    "Ecuador?"
    "Yes."
    He shook his head. "No. Don't think I ever will."
    The van turned into a neighborhood. He slowed his driving, and asked, "Your people come over on the Mayflower?"
    She shook her head. "During the war."
    "You Jewish?"
    "No, just--" She paused, trying to think of what she was.
    "Just screwed. I got it."
    "Everywhere you turn."
    "Yup. World's a shitty place."
    He stopped the van in front of a two-story cottage. Toys were strewn over the front lawn.
    The house needed new paint and a good window-washing, but there were flowers planted around the mailbox and the porch had a swing.
    Harold pulled open the van door and carefully wheeled her down to Earth.
    "Home sweet home," he said.
    Meredith came onto the porch.
    "I could probably do worse," she said.
    He snorted.
    Meredith stepped onto the front stoop. Two little boys rushed past her. They stopped halfway up the gravel driveway and stared at Natalie.
    Natalie felt her blood drain from her face.
    "Better get used to it," Harold said.
    "I have to get used to it?"
    He didn't say anything more as he pushed her up the driveway. The wheels moved easily over the thin gravel--more like gray and silver packed dirt. The boys scooted backward as she approached.
    "You better say something," Harold said.
    "Um. Shit."
    "Maybe not that."
    She glared at him and then tried to smile at the boys. If she thought of them as the check-forgers and wife-beaters she used to deal with, maybe it would work. She could fake-polite if it was her job. Winning over Meredith's children was her new job.
    "All right," she said. "Which one of you is Beau and which one is Merry?"
    One of the boys giggled.
    "Aren't you Russian?" the other boy asked.
    "Not exactly."
    "Little Merry, why don't you help her carry her basket?" Meredith said from the steps.
    Natalie held out her gift