I almost stopped posting today...the things people say...
Anyway, thank you for your continued support. I appreciate it.
Standard disclaimer.
What is the meaning of life? All evidence to date, points to chocolate.
After a sleepless night, Mercedes worked a long shift, then took a detour home, and swung by Mrs. Garland's house.
Last night, the HSC had hosted a healthy living seminar, given by a local dietitian, and Mrs. Garland had promised to go.
When Mercedes had looked over the sign-in sheet from the event, she noticed Mrs. G hadn't shown up, hence, the reason she decided to check on her.
Mercedes pulled into Mrs. G's driveway.
The yard was neglected, as was the house.
With a bad feeling, she got out of her car, grabbed the bag of groceries she'd picked up, and knocked at the front door.
No one answered.
So Mercedes knocked again, knowing that Mrs. G, probably wouldn't open the door to her. But something definitely felt off.
She wriggled the handle, and the door opened.
"Mrs. Garland?" she called out. "It's me, Mercedes Jones."
"Go away!"
The voice sounded feeble and weak and somehow arrogant at the same time.
Ignoring the command, Mercedes walked inside the dark house and flipped on a light.
To her horror, Mrs. Garland lay on the scarred wood floor, at the base of a set of stairs.
Mercedes dropped everything in her hands and rushed to her, setting two fingers against her carotid artery, to search out a pulse.
It was strong.
Sagging back on her knees, she let out a breath of relief.
"You got dizzy and fell down the stairs?"
"No, I like to nap here," Mrs. G snapped out. "I told you to go away. You have no right to be here."
'Okay, so little Miss Merry Sunshine, is stringing her words together, just fine, with no obvious disorientation. It has to be her vasovagal syncope then.'
Mercedes ran a hand down the older woman's limbs and found nothing obviously broken.
"Can you stand?" she asked.
"Sure. I just chose to be the rug today," Mrs. Garland snapped. "Why the hell are you here? Don't you ever get tired of saving people? Why do you do it?"
"Well, in your case, I do it for your charming wit and sweet nature."
Plus, there weren't enough shrinks or enough time, to cover why she really did it.
"Can you sit up?"
Mrs. Garland slapped Mercedes' hands away, but didn't move.
'Well, that answered that question.'
Mercedes sat on the floor, next to Mrs. Garland and rifled through the bag of groceries she'd brought.
"What's going to float your boat today? I've got soup, a sandwich, or..."
"Just go away! I'm old. I'm alone. I'm going to die any second now. Just let me."
"You're not old," Mercedes said. "You're just mean. And FYI, that's why you're alone. You could have friends, if you'd just stop snapping at everyone. Lucille would take you into her posse in an instant, if you were even the slightest bit less evil. She loves snark."
"I'm alone."
"Hello," Mercedes said. "I'm sitting right here! You're not alone. You have me." She pulled out a snack-sized box of apple juice. "Your favorite."
"Not thirsty."
"Then, how about some chicken soup?"
Mrs. Garland showed another sign of life, as a slight spark came into her eyes.
"Is it from a can?"
"No," Mercedes said. "I spent all day cooking it myself. After raising the chickens and growing the carrots and celery in my garden."
Mrs. Garland sniffed.
"I don't eat soup out of a can."
"Fine."
Mercedes pulled out a bag of prunes and Mrs. Garland snatched the bag and opened it with shaking fingers.
Mercedes smiled.
"You're enjoying my misery?"
"I knew I'd get you with the prunes."
After a minute or two, with the sugar in her system, Mrs. G glared at Mercedes and said,
"I'd have been fine without you."
"Sure. You'd be even better, if you took care of yourself."
"What do you know? You're not taking care of yourself either."
"What does that mean?"
"In a storage attic?" Mrs. Garland asked snidely, then snorted at the look of shock on Mercedes' face. "Yes, I heard about your little interlude. Someone caught your Mr. Evans, coming downstairs from the auction, and then you following him a few minutes later, looking all telltale mussed up. Either you were practicing for a WWE tryout, or you'd been having some hanky-panky. Don't think just because I'm old, that I don't know these things. I remember hormones."
'Oh good Lord!'
"And what kind of a woman dates a man, who takes her to a storage attic?" Mrs. G wanted to know.
'A red-blooded one,' Mercedes thought.
Sam Evans was seriously potent, and she would defy, even the most stalwart of women, to be able to deny herself a Sam-induced orgasm.
Just thinking it, made her ache, because, in spite of herself, she missed him way too much.
She hoped he missed her too, and that he wasn't planning to fill the void with...Francine.
"Actually," Mercedes said, "It's not really an attic, but more of a storage area. And we're not dating."
"So you're giving away the milk for free?"
"First of all, I'm not a cow," Mercedes said. "And second of all, we're not discussing this."
"You're trying to save him, right? Like you try to save everyone? Surely even you realize, that a man like that, isn't interested in a small town nurse...not for the long term."
The jab hit a little close to home, because, it happened to be true. But Mercedes wasn't trying to save Sam.
She wouldn't have minded keeping him, though.
"Watch it!" she said mildly. "Or the prunes come with me."
"Hmph!"
They sat there on the floor for a few minutes longer, while Mercedes checked Mrs. Garland's vitals again. They turned out to be stronger now.
Then, she glanced up and nearly screamed.
Jack Nicholson from The Shining, was standing in the front doorway...or Mr. Wollenski.
He stepped inside.
"Dear," he said quietly, eyes on Mrs. G. "You all right?"
And the oddest thing happened.
Right before Mercedes' eyes, Mrs. Garland changed. She softened and she...smiled. Or at least, that's what Mercedes thought the baring of her teeth meant.
"Of course," Mrs. G said. "I'm fine."
"Liar!" Mr. Wollenski said, squatting beside her. "You get dizzy again?"
"Of course not."
"Louisa."
Mrs. Garland's eyes darted away.
"Maybe a little. But only for a minute."
Mr. Wollenski nodded at Mercedes.
"Good of you to stop by. She doesn't make it easy. She hasn't figured out, that we take care of our own here in Lucky Harbor."
Mercedes smiled at him, knowing she'd never be afraid of him again.
"It's good to know she's not alone." She shot Mrs. Garland a long look and she rolled her eyes, but shockingly, not a single bitchy thing crossed her lips.
There were more footsteps on the front porch and then another neighbor appeared...Lucille.
She was in a neon green track suit today, which wasn't exactly flattering, on a body that gravity hadn't exactly been kind to.
Her wrinkled lips were in pink and her tennis shoes were black and yellow.
You needed a pair of sunglasses to look at her.
"There you are, Ted," Lucille said, smiling at Mr. Wollenski. "Ready for that walk around the block?"
Mrs. Garland narrowed her gaze.
"He was visiting with me."
Lucille put her hands on her hips.
"You don't even like visitors."
"Out of my house!"
Lucille smiled.
"Make me."
Mrs. Garland narrowed her eyes, just as Lucille held out her hand and said,
"Need help getting up first?"
Mrs. G struggled up by herself, glaring triumphantly at Lucille when she did it.
"I could beat you around the block if I wanted."
"Yeah?" Lucille sized her up. "Prove it."
"I'll do that."
Mrs. Garland moved towards the door, where Mr. Wollenski carefully drew her arm into the crook of his.
Then, Lucille flanked her other side.
And the three of them walked out the door and around the block.
Mercedes went home.
She parked, watered Mrs. Taylor's flowers, her grandma's flowers, and then unlocked her front door.
She glanced at the little foyer desk...as she had every time, since Sam had shown her a whole new use for it...and sighed.
There was chocolate cake in her immediate future.
If she wasn't going to have wild, high-calorie-burning sex, she was going to have to resort to some exercise.
"Meow."
"I hear you."
She fed Sweet Pea and then changed, forcing herself to the pier for a leisurely walk.
The quarter of a mile down to the end nearly killed her, because, she decided to try jogging, so she walked back, holding the stitch in her side.
When she came up on the ice cream stand, she slowed even more.
Lenny wasn't working today, but another friend of his was.
"Hey Cutie," Jason called out. "I've got a chocolate double with your name on it. Literally. We've just created a new list of specials. Number one is The Good Girl Gone Bad."
Mercedes gave him a long, dark look and he laughed.
"Come on," he said. "It's funny."
'Maybe to someone whose name wasn't Mercedes Jones,' she thought.
"Want one?"
'More than my next breath.'
"No," she replied.
He leaned out the window, all lean, and easy grace, as he took in her sweaty appearance.
"Wow, turning down ice cream. And you're running." His smile spread. "You're on a diet, aren't you?"
Mercedes blew out a breath.
"Just trying to get some exercise and be healthy."
"You look good to me," he said.
'Aw. That was nice.'
She was suddenly thinking, maybe, he'd be a nice addition to the Mr. Wrong list, but then he said,
"And whatshisface should tell you that, in every attic he gets you into."
"Okay, first of all, it's a storage area!" And dammit. She was going to have to move. So she went back to jogging.
Without her ice cream.
It was the hardest thing she'd ever done.
Mercedes went home and glared at her foyer desk.
"Somehow..." she told it, "...this is your fault."
The table had nothing to say in its defense.
"Fine. It's not your fault. It's Sam's."
Her body ached for him, but it was more than that. Her mind ached for him, too.
Shaking her head at herself, she showered, got caught up in a Charmed season six marathon, and then headed over to Eat Me, at the appointed time, for a meeting of the Chocoholics.
As she entered Eat Me, the comforting sounds of people talking and laughing, washed over her, as did the scents of foods, that made her stomach growl.
She'd skipped dinner.
Tonight was very different from their first impromptu meeting. For one, there was no storm. It was fifty degrees outside, clear, and the air was scented with late spring.
For another, it wasn't midnight, so the place wasn't deserted.
She slipped onto the stool next to Quinn and eyed the empty spot in front of her.
"You refraining tonight?"
"Nope. Just waiting on you."
Santana appeared, holding a cake and three forks.
And Mercedes didn't wait, she grabbed a fork and dug in, guilt free, since she'd had a run.
"No less than five customers, have already tried to buy this cake," Santana said. "So you are welcome."
She had to come and go at first, as the diner emptied out.
Then, she stood on her side of the counter, inhaling her third of the small cake.
"God," she said on a moan. "Heaven on earth."
"Amazing," Quinn admitted.
Mercedes couldn't speak. She was too busy stuffing her face.
Santana swallowed and licked chocolate off her lips.
"I'm calling this meeting to order. Mercedes, you're first up."
"Nope. Not my turn."
"We've told you, you're first, until we fix you." Quinn smiled. "So spill. Tell us all."
Mercedes sighed.
"I'd rather talk about San and Sexy Forest Ranger Mark."
Quinn went brows up at this and looked at Santana.
"You putting out forest fires with that hot ranger, who keeps coming in here for pie?"
"We have good pie," Santana said.
"There's all kinds of pie," Quinn said.
Mercedes nearly snorted cake out her nose, and Santana gave her a dirty look.
"This is not about me," she said haughtily and pointed her fork at Mercedes.
But Mercedes stuffed her mouth with some cake.
"Uh oh," Quinn said. "I'm sensing some slow down in Mission...Bad Girl."
"I wore the shoes," Mercedes said. "And it was fun."
"Um...honey, from all accounts, you had more than some fun," Quinn said, licking her fork.
"Accounts?"
"FB." Quinn turned to Santana. "And thanks for the Facebook tip, by the way. It's a little addictive."
"You can't believe everything you read on there." Mercedes sank onto her stool a little bit. "It's only a small percentage of the truth."
"Is that right?" Quinn asked. "So what percentage of that picture with you and Sam looking cozy, would you say is the truth?"
Mercedes blew out a sigh and stabbed into the cake for another big bite.
"We weren't...cozy, then."
Quinn grinned.
"He's got that look. That big, sexy, I-know-how-to-please-a-woman-in-bed look."
Mercedes propped up her head with one hand. With her other, she shoveled in more cake.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Yeah, but see, we do," Santana said.
"I broke it off," Mercedes said and sighed, when they gasped. "I told you, I'm not hard-wired for this bad girl stuff. Every time we were together, I would find myself..."
She closed her eyes.
"...Falling."
Quinn reached for her hand and squeezed it. And Santana pushed the cake closer to her.
"Thanks." Mercedes shook her head. "I couldn't keep things light. He's just..." She sighed. "...too yummy."
"He was swimming the other day," Quinn said. "In the ocean. I was sitting on the beach pouting, after spending gas money to get to Seattle, for interviews that went nowhere. Anyway, he swam for like two hours straight. I didn't know anyone but a Navy SEAL could do that. Did you know a Navy SEAL can find or hunt down anyone or anything?"
"So?" Santana said.
"So, I bet a guy like that, could locate a clit without any problems."
At that, both women looked at Mercedes expectantly.
Mercedes choked on her cake, and was still choking, when someone came up behind her and patted her on the back.
She knew that touch. Intimately.
Whipping around, she came face to face with Sam. And her heart clenched at the sight of him.
'Traitorous heart.'
After what Quinn had said, just a few seconds ago, she couldn't help but wonder, had he been a SEAL.
It made perfect sense, because, he absolutely had no problem finding her clit.
Sam's gaze met Mercedes' for an unfathomably long beat, and as always, just at the sight of him, she got a little thrill.
And also, as always, he looked bigger than life, and a whole lot more than she could handle.
But there was something different about him tonight.
Tonight, he seemed weary and a little rough around the edges, and her heart clenched again.
God, she'd missed him.
She didn't understand it, but he'd never looked more appealing. Or real.
She wanted to take his hand in hers and kiss away his problems. She wanted to hold him...to hold a caged lion.
It made no sense, but it was the truth.
She knew he was leaving, and he'd be taking a big piece of her heart along with him, when he did, but that was a done deal.
She also knew something else...that she wanted whatever he had to give her in the meantime.
Because, with him, she wasn't a caretaker. She wasn't a sister. And she wasn't thinking, planning, or overseeing.
She was just Mercedes.
And she felt...alive. So damn alive.
Sam smiled, his pretty eyes sparkling.
He touched the corner of Mercedes' upper lip, then sucked on his finger.
"Mmm," he said. "Chocolate."
Santana's jaw dropped open. And Quinn fanned herself.
Then, Sam looked at them, and they suddenly got very busy. Though Santana did give Mercedes a 'see, meeting interrupted again' look, before she went off to serve a customer, and Quinn suddenly remembered, she had something to do.
But that didn't stop everyone else in the diner from staring at them.
"Oh good Lord," Mercedes said. "Come on." She took the caged lion's hand and led him outside.
The stars were out in full force tonight, like scattered diamonds in the night sky. And the sound of the waves crashing up against the shore, pierced the quiet night.
Sam and Mercedes walked along the pier, passed the dark arcade and the closed ice cream shop. Passed everything, until there was nothing but empty pier ahead and the black ocean.
There Mercedes stopped and leaned over the railing.
"I'm sorry about the other day," she said quietly, facing the water. "I mean, I started this thing between us...I laid out the rules...so I had no right to change them on you without saying so...and then hold it against you."
He didn't say anything, and she turned to him, searching his impassive face, hoping to see understanding, forgiveness, or at the very least, a sign that he understood.
She got none of that, and her heart sank.
After a minute, he mirrored her pose, leaning on the railing to stare out at the water.
"I grew up with military parents," he said. "I went into the military. And when I got out, I went to work for a private contractor to the government, doing...more military-like work. It's my job, it's my life. It's who I am."
She nodded.
"I know."
"It requires things of me," he said. "Being alone, being the protector, keeping myself protected." He lifted a shoulder. "I don't know how to be anyone else."
"I don't want you to be anyone else, Sam. Ever. I like who you are."
He was quiet, as he absorbed that.
"Francine is my boss. She's...proprietary."
To say the least. But he wasn't giving her all of it.
"You've been with her...sexually."
"Yes," he said, bluntly honest as always. "Before I worked for her, a very long time ago. It's over."
"For you," she said. "It's over for you."
He acknowledged that with a shrug. Not his problem.
'So it wouldn't be mines either,' Mercedes decided.
Turning to her, Sam ran a finger over the dainty gold chain at her neck, then beneath the infinity charm, looking at it for a moment.
"After I lost my team in the plane crash, I spent the first six months recovering alone...by choice."
He let out a breath and dropped his hand from her.
"I couldn't...I didn't want anyone close. I still don't want anyone close."
He'd lost his parents, his friends. Everyone. And Mercedes couldn't imagine how alone he must have felt.
Or maybe she could.
Hadn't she...even surrounded by all the people in her life...still felt alone?
Mercedes scooped her necklace in her palm and tightened her fist on it.
"Kamara gave this to me, right before she..."
She closed her eyes for a minute, and pictured her sister's laughing eyes.
"It's the infinity sign," she told Sam. "Forever connected. She wore it all the time, and I always bugged her to let me borrow it. I wanted to be just like her. It used to drive her nuts. Then one day, she took the necklace off and just put it around my neck. Then, she kissed my cheek and told me to be good, that being good would keep me out of the trouble, that she'd always found herself in.
She made me promise. Then she said she'd be watching me, guiding my way, making sure I was okay. And I thought...I thought how sweet, but then..."
Her throat tightened, almost beyond bearing.
"It was the last time I saw her," she said softly. "The next day she..."
She let out a shuddery breath and shook her head, unable to speak.
With a low sound of empathy, Sam slid his hand to the nape of her neck, drawing her in against him.
And it was her undoing. She fisted her hands in his shirt, as a few tears escaped.
"I know your losses hurt," Mercedes managed. "But you're not alone, Sam." She said this fiercely, choking out the words. "You're not. I mean, the pain doesn't go away, it never goes away, but it gets easier to remember them. And then one day, you'll remember them with a smile. I can promise you that."
Sam tightened his grip on her and nodded. And they stood like that, locked together, a light breeze blowing her hair around.
A strand of it clung to the stubble on his jaw and he left it there, bound to her, liking it...
"I thought maybe you'd left," Mercedes said.
"Not yet."
'But soon…'
Those words, though unspoken, hovered between them.
When he got medically cleared, he'd be gone.
"Maybe you can't walk away from me," she said, meaning to tease, to lighten the moment.
"I can always walk away," he said. "Discipline runs deep."
'Okay, so he's not feeling playful,' she thought.
Shaken, she took a step back and came up against the railing, but he put his hands on her and reeled her back in.
"I need to get back to what I do," he said.
"You aren't your work."
"I am." Maintaining eye contact, he tightened his grip on her. "But I'm not ready to go yet."
"It's the sex," she said.
"It's more than sex."
"Not if, it's still something that can be walked away from," she said.
He held her gaze, his own steady, calm and so sure.
"It's the way it has to be, Mercedes."
She already knew that, oh how she knew it. But the question was the same as always...could she live with it?
Yes...
No...
For now...
Because, the alternative was losing him right now, right this very minute, and she'd tried that, and it didn't work for her.
She wasn't ready to let him go.
Sam pressed his forehead to Mercedes'.
"Your call," he said quietly. "Tell me to fuck off. Walk away from me right now and avoid any more heartbreak, I'm not worth it. Or..."
"Or," she said with soft steel. "I choose the or."
"Mercedes..." His voice was gruff. "You deserve better."
She pulled him farther down the pier, passed the yacht club entrance and around the side of the building, where, no one who happened by could see them.
There she pushed him up against the wall and kissed him.
She took full advantage of his surprise, opening her mouth over his, causing a rush of heat and the melting of all the bones in her legs.
He was a soldier and knew how to turn any situation to his own advantage, and this was no exception.
In less than a single heartbeat, he'd taken complete control of the kiss, stealing her breath and her heart, with one sweep of his finger.
"If the decision is mine to make," she said breathing hard, her voice utterly serious, "Then, I'm keeping you, for as long as I can have you."
Stay safe!