“I want a cookie, Mommy.” Her lower lip sticks out.
Fuck me. “Yeah, okay.” I push the cash at Mercy. “Can we have a cookie to go, please?”
“Of course.” She lets Bellamy pick the biggest one from the display case and uses tongs to put it in a paper bag that saysThe Friendly Table.
But when she holds it out for Bellamy, my daughter lunges for it, the stool spinning under her feet, and she goes flying, clipping the edge of the counter.
I catch her before she hits the floor, and she’s stunned silent as she stares up at me, a nasty red mark already glowing on her chin.
Then she starts screaming, and something inside me cracks open.
Everything around us goes dark and I clutch her to me, panic rising as I whisper, “I’m so sorry, baby. Mommy’s here. I’m so sorry, you’re okay, it’s okay, I’m so?—”
Mercy moves past us. There’s a distant tinkle of bells, then she’s back, crouching nearby. She has an ice pack, I realize slowly. And she’s talking to me, but I can’t hear her through the roar in my ears.
After a few minutes, she slides to the floor, just sitting across from me.
It’s only after Bellamy stops crying that I feel the wet course of tears on my own cheeks.
Mercy hands over the ice pack wrapped in a soft kitchen towel, and I try to put it on Bellamy’s chin,but she only wants the cookie now, eating it through sad little hiccups.
“I put up the closed sign and locked the front door,” the other woman says. “Nobody is going to come in.”
I glance around. I hadn’t noticed that the place was empty before, but we’re all alone. “I’m?—”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” she hurries to add. “I always close for a couple of hours before dinner. You were going to be my last customer, anyway.”
My hands shake as I pull off my sunglasses. They’re spotted with tears, too messy to see through.
“Are you new in town, Hope?”
The shaking gets worse, and I drop my glasses.
“Just passing through,” I manage to say. I feel cold and clammy now, a gross feeling roiling low in my belly. Adrenaline always makes me feel like this, but now it’s even worse.
Maybe I can find a cheap motel to sleep in tonight. I need some rest. We both do.
“I have some prep work to do in the kitchen. But you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. You’re safe here.” Mercy stands up slowly. “And if you want something to eat, come back to find me.”
Right on cue, my stomach growls.
She pretends not to hear it.
Once we’re alone, I pull Bellamy close and press my face into her hair. Her hat went flying in the tumble.
I have lots of snacks for her in the car. Applesauce and granola bars. But we haven’t had a real meal in a day and a half. And the cookie she’s just demolished isn’t any better for her than those treats.
Maybe if we eat something here, she’ll fallasleep in the car and then I can drive through the night. Get a motel room tomorrow once I’ve put another thousand kilometres between us and my worst nightmare. I can sleep while she plays and watches TV, and then we’ll hit the road again. Drive every night until monsters and mountains and kind-eyed, moustached cowboys with money in their wallets are firmly behind us.
I tentatively push open the swinging door to the kitchen and see Mercy wiping a stainless steel counter.
I take a deep breath. “Hi.”
“Come on in,” she says, smiling at me, then looking at Bellamy. “Do you like soup?”
After getting a nod, she serves up three bowls of soup and a bread basket that makes my stomach roar because it looks so good.
“We can eat at a booth,” she says.
