Sweet Mercy (8 page)

E
ve!”

“Yes, Uncle Cy?”

“Someone here to see you.”

I paused in my task of setting the tables for Friday's lunch. My hands were full of flatware. I dropped the knives and forks in a clattering heap and headed for the front desk.

I couldn't imagine who had come to see me, though never in a million years would I have guessed Marcus Wiant. Yet there he stood, in grimy overalls, his cap in his hands, a smear of grease over his left brow.

Breathless, I stopped in the archway of the dining room and stared. He misunderstood what surely must have been my shocked expression. Running a dirty hand through his hair, he said, “Sorry. I didn't have time to clean up. I just ran over from the station for a minute.”

I nodded as I searched vainly for my voice.

Marcus glanced hesitantly at Uncle Cy, who at that moment turned away and pretended to be busy behind the desk. “Well, see . . .” He turned his cap around and around in his hands.

“Yes, Marcus?” I said, my tongue loosed at last.

“Well, the carnival has set up a few miles outside of town. Me and Jimmy and Marlene are going tomorrow, and I was wondering whether you'd like to come along.”

“Oh?” Something was knocking at my rib cage. It took me a moment to realize it was my heart.

“We're going to head out around noon. We can pick you up here, if you'd like.”

I nodded again. “Yes. I'd like to go. Thank you.”

His eyes brightened and he smiled. “Great,” he said. He took one step backward. “Well, I'll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yes. Okay.”

Settling his cap back on his head, he took off out the door. My own feet were motionless, as though stuck to the polished threshold between the rooms. I heard Uncle Cy clear his throat. When I looked at him, he was grinning playfully.

“Got yourself a date, do you, darling?”

My cheeks burned and my lips quivered as I tried to suppress the shout of joy that was rising in my throat. I didn't tell Uncle Cy that it was not just a date but my
first
date. I was seventeen years old, and I'd never once before been asked out by a boy.

Uncle Cy gave off a happy sigh. I turned away from him and floated back to work.

Jimmy drove the four of us to the carnival in the old Model T he'd bought third-hand with money earned at his father's gas station. He and Marlene sat shoulder to shoulder up front while Marcus and I kept a modest amount of air between us in the back. Marcus had cleaned up since the day before, the
only grease visible a few stubborn smudges embedded beneath his nails. He wore a white button-up shirt and a neatly pressed pair of brown slacks. He smelled of something good, though whether it was the pomade he used in his sleek dark hair or a type of cologne he'd patted on his cheeks, I couldn't be sure. I made a mental note to ask Mother if I could buy some perfume. Wearing some now might have drawn Marcus's attention away from the faded yellow dress and the white straw sun hat Mother insisted I wear. With my long braid and that silly hat, I felt childish and unattractive. I wasn't nearly as stylish as Marlene, whose rose-patterned summer dress and broad-brimmed hat both looked brand-new. I noticed too that she wore lipstick, something else I'd never used.

I squeezed my hands together in my lap as we rode a few awkward moments in silence. Marcus tapped his fingers on his knee as though keeping time to music no one else could hear. Finally he turned to me and asked, “So, do you like living here in Mercy?”

I felt myself brighten. “Yes, I like it very much. I think it's a wonderful place to live.”

Ahead of us, Marlene laughed and said over her shoulder, “You wouldn't think so if you'd grown up here.”

“Oh, I'm sure I would, Marlene. Why do you say that?”

“Because it's so boring. Nothing ever happens in a small town like Mercy. Nothing fun, anyway. That's why Jimmy and I are going to get out as soon as we can. Right, Jimmy?”

Jimmy nodded. I sat directly behind him and could see nothing but the back of his blond head. “That's right, honey,” he said agreeably.

“We're going to go where life is exciting!” Marlene waved one arm like a cheerleader. “Right, Jimmy?”

Another nod. “You got it, honey.”

Marcus sniffed at that and shook his head. Turning back to me, he said, “So, you say you moved from St. Paul? As in Minnesota?”

“That's right.” We had exchanged small talk on the night we danced, but not much. We'd found it too difficult to hold any real conversation over the music and the hubbub of the crowd, and so we'd been content to slide silently together around the dance floor.

“I've never been to St. Paul,” Marcus said.

“Don't bother to go.”

“Why not?”

“Too much crime. It's where all the gangsters hole up when they want to get away from the law.”

The cheerleader arm flew up. “Jimmy, let's go to St. Paul!”

Jimmy shrugged. “Whatever you want, baby.”

Marcus laughed. “You two are going to end up in trouble, if you're not careful.”

“Well,
somebody's
got to have fun, Marcus, and it's probably not going to be you,” Marlene said. “Tell Eve what
you're
going to be doing in the fall.”

Marcus and I looked at each other. He lifted one shoulder in a lopsided shrug. “I'm going to college.”

“You are? You've been accepted?”

“Sure, I've been accepted.”

“He even got a scholarship,” Marlene said. “Tell her, Marcus.”

“Partial scholarship,” Marcus corrected.

“Academic?” I asked.

“No.” Marcus shook his head. “Athletic.”

“Oh.” I would have been much more impressed with an academic scholarship, but free tuition was free tuition.

Marlene said, “Eve told me she's crazy about sports. Didn't you, Eve?”

I'd said no such thing. But I was willing to pretend I was crazy about sports for a day. Or for the summer. Or for the rest of my life, if need be.

“Really?” Marcus was smiling now.

“Sure,” I answered.

“What's your favorite?”

I thought a moment. “Oh, I like all sports equally,” I said, which was true, as I didn't like any of them at all. “So you want to play a sport professionally?”

“No. I'm going to study civil engineering. I want to build things. Roads, bridges, dams. You know, things like that.”

“I think that's wonderful,” I gushed, though even as I spoke, it dawned on me that Marcus would be leaving Mercy at the end of the summer. Nervously, I asked, “So where are you going to school?”

“The University of Cincinnati.” And then, as though he could read my thoughts, he added, “It's close.”

I smiled. Up ahead, over the next rise, the carnival appeared. First the Ferris wheel, then the larger spread of rides and colorful canopies, the sounds of calliope music and barkers calling, the scent of popcorn and warm dust and grease. If the carnival workers had hoped for a profitable turnout, their wish had been granted. It looked like the population of several counties had converged on those few acres outside of Mercy. We took our place among them, and for the next several hours we strolled about the grounds, riding rides, playing games, drinking sodas, eating popcorn and candied apples.

From time to time I looked at Marcus, not quite believing I was with him. I longed for Cassandra to see me now. The girl she'd called the “luckless wench” had finally stumbled upon a bit of handsome luck! I had a date with Marcus Wiant and that meant, at least for the moment, I wasn't alone. That was the amazing thing. The familiar sense of loneliness was missing as I walked through the hours with Marcus. Instead, I was surprised by a sense of satisfaction.

And that too brought me around to Cassandra. For the first time in my life, I stood with my eye to a peephole into my sister's existence, and I understood that maybe this was why she had relentlessly run with the wrong crowd—to dance halls, to speakeasies, to parties. She'd yearned for this very feeling, this sense of connectedness, however fragile and brief, a blessed reprieve from solitude. It was lovely being outside of oneself, lovelier than I might have imagined.

While Marcus and Jimmy went for hot dogs and drinks, Marlene and I sat down at a picnic table to wait for them. She leaned forward on her elbows and winked. “I didn't do too bad a job at matchmaking, did I? You like Marcus, don't you?”

I nodded shyly. “He's wonderful, Marlene.”

“Good. I'm glad you like him because he obviously likes you.”

“Do you really think so?”

She looked at me askance. “Really, Eve? Is the Pope Catholic?”

I couldn't help smiling. “But,” I asked, “how come he doesn't already have a girl? I mean, a guy like Marcus ought to have plenty of girls after him.”

Marlene adjusted her hat and applied fresh lipstick from a tube plucked out of her dainty handbag. “Listen,” she said, “there's something you have to understand about Marcus.
He's a looker but he doesn't have a clue. He's way too shy. I mean, yeah, he's had a girl or two, but nothing serious. I think it's because his father's the sheriff.”

I frowned at her. “What's that got to do with anything?”

“Oh, just that Sheriff Wiant thinks he's the most important man in Warren County. Maybe even Ohio. He expects so much of Marcus, and Marcus never seems able to live up. There's a couple of daughters in the family, but Marcus is the only son. It's a tough break.”

“But I don't get it. Marcus is going to college on an athletic scholarship! What else does his father want?”

“A full scholarship, I suppose, instead of a partial.”

“But some kids don't get anything!”

Marlene shrugged. “Like I said, nothing's ever good enough for Sheriff Wiant. I think he's also disappointed Marcus has a mind of his own and wants to be something other than the next sheriff. I'm telling you, Eve, the man's a real creep. He swaggers around with his guns on his hips like he's Wild Bill Hickok or something. On top of that, he's just plain mean. Like Jimmy's dad, only Jimmy's dad is even worse.”

“He is?” I hadn't formally met Calvin Fludd myself, but he didn't seem like such a bad fellow to me. I'd seen him at the lodge several times, leaning his greasy elbows on the front desk while talking with Uncle Cy. Their conversation was always punctuated by hearty laughter that could be heard as far away as the kitchen. I know, because Annie always appeared with a glass of iced tea for Mr. Fludd and another for Uncle Cy. Surely if my uncle and Annie Tweed approved of the man, he had to be a good guy.

“Let me put it this way, Eve,” Marlene said. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth grew small. “I hate Calvin Fludd and
I hate that he's going to be my father-in-law. But like I said, it's not as though Jimmy and I are going to hang around Mercy once we're married. No sir. Get me in front of the JP and then we're gone for good.”

“Really? Do you—” I wanted to know more, but the boys showed up with the hot dogs and drinks.

Later, when we were walking through the midway, Marcus offered me his hand, and I took it. Our fingers easily entwined; his flesh felt warm and comfortable. But at the same time, we both looked shyly away and pretended to be intrigued by the games and distracted by the carnival barkers, as though our hands were their own persons and not a part of us at all.

“Would you like me to try to win you a stuffed animal?” he asked, stopping at a shooting gallery. On display in the booth was a variety of prizes: stuffed animals of all sorts, spinning tops and yo-yos and plastic swords and costume jewelry.

“Sure,” I said.

He pulled his hand from mine; I reluctantly let go.

“You know these games are all rigged,” Jimmy warned.

Marcus shrugged. “Sometimes they let people win. They have to. They can't cheat everyone and get away with it.” He turned to the carny in the booth and asked, “How much?”