She set her knitting aside. “What happened?”
Frustration made my hands squeeze into fists, but I forced them to open and sat back. “What do you know about Mercy?”
Mom studied my face for a moment too long before answering. “She’s single, and she’d make an excellent wife.”
I threw my head back and stared at the ceiling, silently lamenting the way I’d walked right into that. “Marriage is the furthest thing from my mind right now.”
“Why? Don’t you want a family of your own?”
“That’s not important right now.”
“You’re thirty-six, Landon. If it’s not important now, when will it be?”
“I don’t know. Maybe when I’m not about to head to Africa.”
Mom’s expression fell, and I felt like shit.
“What do you know about Ben?” I asked, trying to veer this conversation back on track.
“Who?”
“Mercy’s brother.”
Mom frowned and looked away. “I didn’t even know she had a brother until she called last night. She said he was injured, and that one of you would fill me in as soon as you were free.”
“Aren’t you and Mercy close?”
“As close as she lets anyone get.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mercy’s a sweet girl, but she’s very private. In fact, you’re the only person I know who’s seen the inside of her apartment.” Mom reached over and squeezed my knee. “I’m impressed she invited you up.”
Stunned, it took me longer than it should have to form a response. “Yeah. Well, her brother had taken one hell of a beating.” It was none of Mom’s business that Mercy had invited me up for an entirely different reason, so I didn’t mention that.
“What happened to him?” Mom asked.
I detailed the condition Ben had been in when we’d found him on Mercy’s floor, and how I’d treated his injuries.
When I finished, Mom gave my knee another squeeze. “It’s a good thing you were there. Will he be okay?”
“I don’t know. I would have liked to look over his injuries again this morning, but I didn’t get the chance.”
She considered me for a moment. “Mercy didn’t know he was up there when she invited you up?”
“I don’t know what she knew.” It was past time to change the subject. “Is Dad’s gun still locked in the safe?”
Mom paled but nodded. “I haven’t touched it since he died. Why do you ask?”
“Something had Ben so spooked he refused to go to the cops or the hospital. I don’t know what’s going on, but I think it’s a good idea for me to carry the gun while Mercy’s with us.”
Mom’s gaze darted up to the family portrait hanging above the fireplace. “The code is my birthday.”
Talk of guns and threats had clearly made her nervous, so I changed the subject. “Are we still decorating the tree today?”
Her shoulders relaxed, and a grateful smile curled the corners of her lips. “I’d like that.”
“Great. Let me clean up, and then we’ll get started.”
