“We can’t.” Mercy adjusted the bag of frozen peas she was holding on her head. “We have something a lot more important to do this afternoon. Besides, you already checked me out, and I trust you.”
I wished she wouldn’t say shit like that. Knowing she trusted me made me want to take care of her all that much more. “I’m not a doctor and I don’t have any equipment here to give you a thorough evaluation.”
“I’m fine, Landon,” she assured me. “My head hurts and I have quite the souvenir forming on the side of my head, but the majority of the damage is to my pride. I should have dodged or jumped back or something. I wasn’t expecting him to come at me that quickly. But I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
“Well, you’re not going home alone,” I replied.
“You’re right. I’m not going home at all. At least, not yet. Come on you two, or we’ll miss it.” She tossed the bag of frozen peas in the trash and took off.
I looked at mom and asked, “Do you know what’s going on?”
“No. You sure she’s okay?”
“Her memory’s intact, her speech isn’t slurred, she said there’s no ringing in her ears. She said she’s a little nauseous and has a headache… she probably has a low-grade concussion. I’d feel a lot better about it if we could get her to a doctor,” I replied.
But, since Mercy clearly wasn’t going to agree to a doctor appointment, we followed her to the townhouse complex that bordered the school. Families were pouring out of their units and meeting in the center, under some sort of a gazebo. There, we found a black man in a Santa suit, helping a bunch of bikers give out gifts to children while a few women handed out food boxes.
“What’s all this?” Mom asked Mercy when we finally caught up.
“The help we’ve needed,” Mercy said, her smile beaming.
One of the bikers approached her, holding out his hand. “Good to see you again, Mercy. Is everything okay with the cops?” he asked.
“That man you and Blade helped me out with on Friday showed up again, but it’s all handled now.” Mercy looked past him to the rest of the group. “I can’t believe you pulled this off. You guys even put together food boxes. This is so great.”
The biker glanced at me.
“Oh, sorry,” Mercy said. “I’m a little out of it right now. Let me introduce you. Landon, this is Link, the president of the Dead Presidents Motorcycle Club. Link, you met Beth in my office. Landon is her son.”
“Right, the 68Whiskey.”
Mercy arched an eyebrow. “The what?”
“Combat medic,” Link replied, holding out his hand to me. “Good to meet you, man. You home on leave?”
Even without Link spitting out my job code, I would have known he was former military. I could see it in the way he held himself and the way he seemed to watch everything and everyone in the area at once. I shook his hand. “Yessir.”
“Served in the Army myself, tenth Special Forces Group. Same with Havoc.” He pointed at the man in the red suit. “Er… Santa.”
“Santa’s a nice touch,” Mercy said, smiling at the dark man in the red suit. “I’m surprised you got anyone to dress up with such late notice.”
“Are you kidding me?” Link asked. “Theyallwanted to be Santa. They arm wrestled for it.”
Mercy laughed. “A bunch of bikers arm wrestling for the right to dress up as Santa. That has to be one of the best things I’ve ever heard.”
Link nodded. “They’re good guys. A little rough around the edges, but they’ll do anything for kids. Don’t let the rough exteriors and tats fool you, they’re a bunch of softies.” Link turned his attention back to me. “How long are you in town for?”
“I fly out the last day of January.”
“Well, here, let me give you my card.” Link pulled out his wallet and offered me his business card. It had the same logo that I could see on the backs of the vests of the men behind him: Abe Lincoln’s skull with a bullet hole through his top hat. “We’re all vets, and we’re always looking for brothers to join. Can’t tell you how valuable it would be to have a 68W in the fold. You should give me a call when you get out of the service. We’ll have a beer and talk about the club.”
I hadn’t given much thought to ever getting out of the service, but now that Mom and I reconnected, the idea of coming home for good no longer made me cringe. “I’ll do that,” I said.
“I should get back to it.” Link gestured at the activity behind him. “Can’t let them have all the fun.”
He went back to work, and Mercy, Mom, and I lingered, watching several families brought to tears by the generosity of the bikers. It didn’t take long for all the gifts and food boxes to be handed out. After shaking hands with the rest of the bikers and their women, we began our walk home.
“How are you feeling?” I asked Mercy.
