Free Mercy of St Jude by Wilhelmina Fitzpatrick

up.”
    Youngster died, mind you. Not so lucky there.
    â€œGoddamn Byrnes,” Debra grunted. “Sick of them all.”
    â€œThen again, she managed to get a husband out of it,” Sadie added.
    â€œChristsakes.” Debra scratched inside her bra. “Shut up, will you.”
    â€œVwoom, vwoom,” said Mark, driving the truck up his mother’s leg.
    â€œCome here, you, and give me a hug.” Debra swept him up in her arms, tickling his belly and sending him into fits of giggles and shrieks.
    â€œWhat a racket. Keep it down, you two.” Despite her tone, Sadie was smiling.
    Arrested. Hah! Talk about a Christmas present.
    1999
    Gerry sips his tea at the kitchen window, staring out into the black arms of night. A large slanted rock across the street looks over the cliff onto the beach below. As a boy he would lie on that rock, ignoring the smells drifting over from the nearby fish plant, and dream of all the exotic places he’d read about in Mercedes’ books. When he was older, he dreamt about Annie Byrne.
    Every time he came home, he hoped he’d run into her. The only reason he’d returned for Cathy’s wedding was because he figured Annie would have to show up to see her best friend get married. “Annie’s not big on weddings, Gerry,” Cathy had told him. “I figured you’d know that.”
    â€œGerard?” Sadie’s voice is loud.
    He turns guiltily to his mother. “Yeah…sorry, Ma. What is it?”
    She holds the butcher knife suspended above the cold, wrinkled turkey. “I said you want the white or the dark?”
    â€œEither one’s fine.”
    â€œLots here for a plate of sandwiches to bring along tomorrow. Family funeral, after all. Hah! Some family. Should bring something, seeing how much time you spent there with the old bat…” She keeps muttering to herself as she slices the turkey.
    His mother generally hides her resentment of his and Mercedes’ friendship, unless she’s drinking, at which point all Hanns are fair game. Under the influence of one or two, she makes a few digs or snide remarks. More than that and she’ll start to rant, calling Lucinda names like “Yank tart” or “man-robber,” Mercedes “mercy moneybags” or “dried-up old spinster.” The one time Gerry tried to defend Mercedes, who for her part never said a bad word to him about his family, Sadie went into such a rage she scared him. She remembered none of it the next day. He’s grateful she only drinks at home.
    â€œâ€¦they’ll not be saying I don’t do things proper, goddamn hypocrites.”
    â€œSandwiches are a good idea, Ma. That’s really thoughtful of you.”
    â€œHuh? Oh, right, sandwiches,” she says, then after a moment, adds innocently, “I suppose they’ll all be home for it, eh?”
    â€œWhite meat sounds good,” he says, ignoring the question. “So anyway, what’s new with you? How are those bunions?”
    â€œBunions are bunions.” She looks at him. “You’re looking some washed out, though. Travelling is hard on the body, especially for a funeral. Wonder who’ll be there from away,” she says in her most casual voice.
    Gerry smiles to himself. “Quite a few, I suspect. People had a lot of respect for Mercedes Hann.”
    â€œYes. Indeed.”
    â€œI’m really going to miss her.” He’d last seen her when he was back for Cathy’s wedding. Just as he’d done in high school, he read to her from one of her newly acquired books. Unlike the old days, however, when she would pretend her eyes hurt so he could read and at the same time earn money for supposedly helping her, this time she truly was not up to the task. Still, she refused to go to a doctor.
    â€œUm-hmm.” Sadie’s head is lowered over the bird. She carves for a while then turns it around so the breast cavity