“No. The mud has some kind of suction on my coat. I just need to slip out of it.” Merle pulled his arms free of his coat and slowly stood in front of the woman. She was standing back from him now, looking less worried for his safety and more afraid of him. Merle peeled his coat out of the mud. It was fully saturated, so he threw it in the bed of his truck and picked his shovel back up. If he hurried he might be able to get the truck loose before he was too cold. “I thank you for the offer of help, but I can get it from here.” Merle didn’t even look at Anne as he shoveled. When he didn’t hear her speak, he assumed she’d left. He shoveled for a good ten to fifteen minutes before realizing that his attempts were futile. He’d have to call someone for a tow. Shit. He was already shivering from cold. “Well old man, you should have just hit the deer. Now you get to walk home freezing your balls off.” Merle muttered to himself, angry that he’d bothered swerving.
“I’ll give you a ride,” Anne said softly. She’d been waiting for him to acknowledge her for the last fifteen minutes or more. Her toes felt frozen and she was shivering, but she refused to leave him out here alone. He’d done so much more than just pull her car out of a ditch last week. He’d pulled
her
out of a ditch. She almost groaned when he jumped again, nearly falling on his back in the mud for the second time.
“Jesus H. Chri…You’re still here?” Merle looked at Anne. She was obviously cold. Her nice boots were covered in mud and muck. He could tell he’d splashed her a few times when he was shoveling, because there were spatters on her slacks, and yet she stood there patiently waiting for him. She’d offered him a ride? After the things he’d said to her she was actually willing to give him a ride? Maybe she was planning on running him over. “I can walk,” Merle started, but stopped at the hurt look in her eyes. Damn. He didn’t want to make her cry. She’d been nice enough to wait for him, to make sure he would make it home. “
But
I’d appreciate a ride if you’re so inclined.”
Anne smiled and started back to her car. She nearly fell as she climbed up the slippery slope, but Merle’s gentle hold on her elbow steadied her as she made her way up the incline. “Where do you live?” She asked when they reached the road.
“About six miles or so down the road.” Merle looked down at himself and mentally felt his body, grimacing as he realized he was soaking wet from the back of his neck to his boots. “Just wait here a minute.” Merle climbed back down to his truck and pulled out an old, sturdy blanket. He didn’t want to get mud all over the interior of Anne’s car. The floorboards were one thing, but the seats were quite another. He put the blanket on her seat before sitting down wearily. He was cold, tired, and sitting next to a woman he’d rudely scorned. Not a good situation. He didn’t know what to say to her. The fact that she was even helping him was a testament of a kinder, softer nature than he would have given her credit for. After leaving her in such a huff on Saturday, he’d come to the conclusion that his first impressions of her had been completely wrong. She wasn’t a sweet woman, but a witch. Her treatment of her son and his fiancé was utterly despicable, and Merle couldn’t fathom any reason for her behavior except that it was merely her true nature. She was a mean, cruel, heartless woman.
“I wasn’t always like this, you know.” Anne said suddenly into the silence of the car, driving slowly down the road. Merle didn’t say a word, just continued looking ahead. “I had an accident, and I just never got over it. Then I got divorced, and I…well…I became bitter and miserable.” Anne didn’t need Merle to say anything. He was her prisoner and she could say her peace. “Anyway, I’ve been pretty awful for the last six years. My kids don’t want anything to do with me, and I don’t blame them,” Anne paused, girding her loins for what she wanted to say next. “I want to thank you, Merle.” That got his attention. He looked at her for a moment as she drove. “You made me realize just how far I’d fallen. I appreciate that.” Anne sat in the silent car holding her breath, wondering what he’d think of her appreciation. More than anything she wanted a friend, and something told her that Merle would make a wonderful friend.
Merle didn’t know what to say. She was thanking him for being cruel and vicious to her. Hmmm. What was he supposed to do with that? “You’re welcome,” he said finally, not sure what else there was to say.
“I’m sorry to hear about your wife. Tammy told me a little about it.”
Merle didn’t look at Anne this time. He refused to acknowledge her comment. After he’d criticized Anne and went to subway, he realized that he was angry for more than just one reason. He was angry with himself for thinking, even for a split second, that Anne might become a friend to him and maybe a companion to help him heal after Martha. He’d been so disappointed to find that Anne had none of the qualities of his late wife that his temper got the best of him and he took it out on her. He’d made the mistake of letting himself imagine Anne being in his life, only to find that she was nothing like what he’d imagined and wanted her to be. “This is my driveway.”
Anne didn’t get upset with Merle for his short, clipped answers. Tammy hinted that Merle hadn’t recovered from the loss of his first wife. Besides, she rather appreciated his short answers and his willingness to listen without interrupting. “How are you going to get your truck out?”
“I’ll call Jim.” Merle didn’t bother explaining who Jim was; she’d met him.
“Well, do you want me to give you a ride back after you call him. My house is in that direction.”
Merle was going to tell Anne not to bother, but he didn’t want to take Jim any further out of his way than necessary. The doctor was starting to think that Jennifer might have to be induced and they were considering doing it tomorrow or the next day. He certainly didn’t want to keep the man up any longer than necessary. “If you’re up for it, I don’t want to impose.” Merle led the way into his home. Taking his boots off on the porch, he let Sherlock out to sniff Anne’s hand. Anne took her boots off and followed Merle into the large kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable,” Merle motioned to the couch in front of the fireplace.
“What a lovely home,” Anne said admiringly as she glanced at the fireplace and the cozy country kitchen. It was quite large, but somehow it had a homely feel to it.
Merle smiled as he dialed a number. He walked deeper into the house as he spoke on the phone, and Anne, exhausted from a long day and little sleep, sank onto the comfortable beige sofa gratefully.
Merle walked into the living room several minutes later to find Anne asleep on his couch. She was curled up in one corner, her legs drawn up underneath her. Her face rested on the palm of her hand. A few stray wisps of hair fell about her temples. She looked at ease in her sleep, younger, almost angelic.
Well, I guess I have time for a shower after all,
he thought as he covered her with a thick wool blanket. Jim would take at least thirty to forty five minutes to get out to Merle’s truck. If he didn’t have to entertain Anne or wait in his cold truck, he’d take a shower and warm up his old bones. It didn’t look like Anne would wake up right away. His back did not appreciate the fall. He could already feel the muscles pulling against him; he was hoping a hot shower would loosen the muscles enough to last through the chore of hooking his truck up to tow cables at the very least.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Anne,” Merle said softly from across the room. She didn’t budge. He nudged her gently, but she still didn’t respond. She was obviously exhausted. He’d have to call Jim’s cell. She couldn’t very well drive when he couldn’t wake her up, and he certainly wasn’t carrying her to her car and driving her home. His back was already killing him. There was no way he’d be able to lift more than fifty pounds. Besides, he didn’t even know where she lived.
Merle waited on the porch for Jim, not wanting to take a chance of waking Anne. For some reason he couldn’t bring himself to force her awake. She looked so peaceful on his couch, almost like she belonged there. He’d get his truck out of the ditch and wake her when he got home. Besides, this way he wouldn’t have to worry about her getting hurt if she felt obligated to help.
“Whose car?” Jim asked nodding in the direction of Anne’s small car when Merle hopped in the truck. “I thought you had a ride back.”
“It’s Anne’s car. She was going to give me a ride, but she fell asleep.” Merle didn’t see any point in trying to lie to Jim. He’d find out one way or another. Jim gave him a curious look and Merle relented, explaining a shortened, abbreviated version of everything that had happened from the moment he donated blood at the Red Cross to the point where he couldn’t wake Anne. He softened Anne’s story a bit and his chastisement wasn’t nearly as crude, but he’d given Jim the basics.
“Wow.” Jim looked at Merle. He couldn’t help the surge of relief that flowed through him. He hoped Merle would start seeing Anne. He needed to see someone. He was going to hurt himself if he didn’t slow down and find a reason to be careful. Jim didn’t really know anything about Anne, but Jennifer said that she was always rather nice during the blood drives. It sounded like Anne had some problems, and Jim could tell that Merle had left out a lot of details, but the fact that Merle was taking any kind of interest in her was nothing short of a miracle. He was anxious to see how things would play out.
It took Jim and Merle a solid half hour to get the truck out of the ditch, between connecting the cables and working her onto the road. She was badly dented in the front, and a little on the passenger side, but started right up; much to Merle’s relief, and he and Jim went separate ways.
Anne was still asleep when Merle got home. As much as he wanted to let her rest, he had to work early in the morning, and he just wasn’t comfortable leaving a stranger in his house alone all day while he was at work. He shook her softly and her eyes opened slowly. Fear registered on her face for a split second before she recognized him. “I’m sorry, are you ready to go?” Anne asked, noticing that he’d changed clothes.
“No, no. Don’t be sorry,” Merle insisted. “I thank you for your help. Jim picked me up; I’ve already gotten the truck out of the ditch.”
“You’re welcome, I’m sorry I fell asleep on you.” Anne took a deep breath before continuing. “You helped me more than you could imagine. I just wish Jason could see it.”
Merle sighed and sat down. He was tired, but he owed the woman a few minutes of his time. She’d helped him when he didn’t deserve it at all. After the way he’d treated her, he would never have expected such kindness and willingness to help. The least he could do was listen to her for a moment. He could tell she had no one else to talk to from the look in her eyes.
Anne told him about her revelation after they’d spoken at the Red Cross. She described her frantic cleaning and the long conversation with Franklin, her ex-husband. She explained how she’d been trying to talk to her son, but he wouldn’t give her a chance. He wouldn’t listen to a thing she had to say, and he kept ending the conversation before she had a chance to apologize. Merle felt sorry for her. She was at least trying to make things better, though she wasn’t sure how. “I don’t dare call Alex,” she said finally.
“Why not?”
“She’s on bed rest. I don’t want to upset her more than she is already and cause her to miscarry. I don’t know her well enough to say that just hearing my voice won’t distress her. I know what it’s like to lose a child; I couldn’t live with myself if I did it to her.” Anne was nearly hysterical, and Merle looked at her in some confusion. She’d miscarried? His wife miscarried once, between the two children. She’d been devastated, but managed to try again a few months later. Anne mistook his confusion for curiosity, and in some embarrassment told him about the baby she’d lost. After her discussion with Franklin, most of her bitterness was gone, but the regret and self-blame was still clear in her voice and Merle felt for her. Martha lost the baby very early on, within weeks, but nearly five months in? He couldn’t even imagine. “I just wish I knew what to do to make things right.”
Merle searched his mind for an idea, anything that might ease Anne’s plight. The pain he saw mirrored in her eyes urged him to come up with some kind of a solution. “Send an anonymous gift to the wedding shower and inside have a heartfelt apology. Alex will read it with friends close by and maybe it’ll be touching to her.” Merle suggested offhandedly. Surely the couple would receive many packages in the mail, one extra would go unnoticed. He told Anne to put Jason’s address as the return address and the address for the shower as the main address; that way it would get to them no matter what.