Chapter 8
Mercy
True to his word, Landon was waiting on the stairs of my apartment Monday morning when I emerged. I’d been agonizing about what to wear since Sunday night when he dropped me off, so I was running a little late. I’d considered pairing today’s Christmas themed V-neck sweater with a cute little plaid skirt that showed off my legs, but thought better of it, deciding to wear the sweater over a collared shirt and pair it with slacks instead.
Landon had already kissed me once, and although I enjoyed the experience, I was at least sixty percent sure I shouldn’t encourage a repeat performance. So, I made plans to dress extra conservatively throughout his visit and hopefully dissuade any advances.
However, my professional attire didn’t seem to discourage his gaze from wandering over my body, somehow making me feel both self-conscious and beautiful. After hurrying to button up my coat (which I should have done inside my apartment, but I’d taken a lot of care to pick out this outfit and kind of wanted him to see it, hence the forty percent uncertainty about a repeat of our kiss), I popped open my umbrella and shielded myself from the morning rain. Landon walked beside me, but he didn’t crowd me or say anything more than a quick good morning as we headed out to pick up his mom.
Landon was different as we walked to the school, more alert and tense, more focused on what was going on around us. It was almost as if he expected an attack at any moment. Thrown off by his strange behavior, I looked to Beth but she was busy watching him, too. I had a feeling we were seeing Landon the soldier, vigilant, watchful, protective. I wanted to remind him that we were on our way to a preschool, so the threat of being attacked was slim to none, but didn’t dare.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one passionate about my job, after all.
By the time we approached the school, a few of the children were already there, playing in the side playground as they waited for the doors to open. Beth went in to begin breakfast prep and I peeled off and headed to the playground to see who all had arrived.
I was almost to the gate when someone shouted, “Ms. Mercy!”
Looking around, I found two of the four-year-olds, Randall Adams and Samuel Fletcher—Randy and Sammy, as they preferred to be called—sprinting down the sidewalk toward me. Randy’s mom, Marie, hurried behind them as she balanced his little sister on her hip. The boys had been inseparable since the first day of preschool when they teamed up during a game of wall ball. Their friendship was sometimes a struggle for their teacher, who often had to separate them to keep them from talking during class, but I loved how readily the two accepted each other.
In the beginning, their parents begrudgingly let them hang out, but over the past year and a half, they’d all turned into more of an extended family. They were each other’s emergency contacts, and the parents alternated drop-off and pick-up duties. Sammy told me they were even spending Christmas together this year. Wearing matching Spiderman hoodies and jeans, they came to an abrupt stop at my feet and smiled up at me.
“We’re twins,” Randy informed me, his chest puffed out in pride. “Mom got us the same shirt, and now nobody can tell us apart.”
Randy had dark skin, dark eyes, and short dark hair, whereas Sammy’s skin was pale, his hair was shaggy and blond, and his eyes were blue. The two couldn’t have looked more different if they’d tried. Yet somehow, in their little world, all it took was a sweatshirt to make them the same. The sentiment was so sweet and innocent it made the back of my eyes sting as I nodded, giving them both a bright smile. “You’re right, Sammy, I can’t even tell you apart,” I told Randy.
“I’m not Sammy, I’m Randy!” He threw back his head, laughing, before turning to face his friend. “See? She thinks I’m you.”
“Let’s go see who else we can trick,” Sammy suggested.
Still laughing, the two scampered off toward the playground.
“I probably should have told them… I don’t know. Something,” Marie said as she joined me, breathing heavily as she turned to watch the boys. “But they were just so adamant about it, I couldn’t.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” I replied. I’d needed their little interaction today. I could still feel it warming my heart and taking away the stress of the weekend, so I could focus on my job. “The world will tell them they’re different soon enough. Here, they can be the same.”
“It’s adorable, isn’t it?”
“The sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. I hope they never change.”
Marie drifted off toward the playground while I turned to walk into the school, wiping moisture from beneath my eyes. Landon was standing on the sidewalk watching me. He’d been close enough to hear the boys, and I wondered what he thought of the exchange. His expression was unreadable, telling me nothing.
“Have a good day, Landon,” I said, climbing the stairs toward the school.
“You too, Mercy.”
When I looked back, his previously hard expression had softened, and he was watching the children on the playground.
* * *
The short day went quickly. The children were all so excited about Christmas they could barely sit still, and we were operating with a skeleton crew, so we focused on crafts, music, and activities between breakfast and lunch. Beth’s fabulous feast had been served and cleaned up, and the kids were now in the gym, running off their energy until the bell rang and they could go home to wait for Santa.
And now, they’d have a Santa to wait for.
Shortly after I’d gotten to work this morning, Link called to tell me that the club wanted to buy toys for the families living in our townhouses and needed a list of the children’s first names and ages. Since I couldn’t give out the addresses, the teachers were sending flyers home with the children, asking their families to meet us at the covered picnic area at two p.m. Link said one of his brothers would even come dressed as Santa.
There was something so sweet and endearing about a motorcycle club full of military veterans sacrificing their Christmas Eve to give gifts to children they hadn’t even met yet, that it threatened to wreck me. If I thought too hard about it, I’d burst into tears and be a sniveling mess for the rest of the day, so I’d been staying busy by flitting from room to room, helping and keeping my mind preoccupied.
Finally, I slipped into the kitchen to check on Beth. We hadn’t spoken much since I’d left her house last night. I knew she was upset with me about what I’d said to Landon about volunteering, and I was giving her time to deal with her emotions, knowing she’d come around eventually.
