Page 9 of Season of Mercy
She loved the color of the walls, too. Salad green.
“Wow. This is amazing.” An unwelcome thought made her pause. Had one of his girlfriends decorated this place? But then how could so many things appeal exactly to her, Mercy?
“My male cousins who live out of state stayed here sometimes. No one else.” Ethan seemed to read her thoughts.
“But how? This doesn’t look like you. This place looks like... me.”
“That’s because I decorated it for you. Well, for you and Stevie. Let me show you his room. By the way, I got that table at the thrift store. Got a really good deal.” He headed to one of the bedrooms.
And she thought she knew Ethan well. He still managed to surprise her. “You shop at thrift stores?”
“No, but you would.” He entered the room. “Painted the walls your favorite color, too.”
“You paint?”
“I used to repair and paint cars, remember? Don’t sound so surprised.” Ethan placed Stevie on the bed.
Mercy looked around. Rows of toy cars were lined up near the corner, as well as a train station. Cars were painted on the wall, too, and a little blanket had a pattern with fire trucks, police cars, and taxis. Stars were shining on the ceiling.
She covered her son with a blanket. Her son would love it here. So much that he’d be heartbroken to leave in a year. A vise squeezed her heart.
Stevie stirred. “Mommy?”
“Yes, sweetie. How do you feel?”
“Good.” His eyelids drooped, but he seemed to make an effort to keep his eyes open. “Bedtime prayers?”
Mercy smiled. “Let’s pray, sweetie.”
“Dear Lord, please keep Mommy, Grandma, Grandpa, and Mr. Ethan safe in Your care. Please help Mommy be happy again. I love You, Lord. Amen.”
As Mercy tucked her little boy in bed, his prayer tugged at her heartstrings. She was grateful he was growing up a God-loving Christian.
And even in prayer, Stevie didn’t ask anything for himself but for others. Forherto be happy.
Stevie had included Ethan in his prayer...
Mercy placed a kiss on her son’s forehead and tiptoed out of the room. She didn’t want to think what would happen if, in a year or two, Ethan got tired of the arrangement and left. After all, wasn’t he addicted to female attention? And she knew too well what addiction could do to a person.
***
FIVE DAYS LATER, MERCYhummed a tune as she moved around the kitchen. Stevie was watching cartoons, and Ethan was still at work. Stevie had been extra cranky after yesterday’s therapy session and today’s care of the incisions. So she’d allowed him to watch cartoons more than she usually would have and decided to make one of his favorite dishes, chicken mole and Mexican rice. Stevie deserved it after being on a liquid diet after the surgery and then days of mild, tasteless dishes.
And let’s face it, she wanted to give Ethan a pleasant surprise. He deserved a reward, too, for eating baked fish, steamed rice, and steamed vegetables, as well as vegetable soups, with no complaints. Overall, Ethan had been polite and attentive, as if giving her space, though she wished he hadn’t given her this much space. So far, they’d spent evenings taking turns reading books to Stevie.
Ethan hadn’t gone out even once. Her heart made a tumble in her chest as every time she thought about her husband.
Husband.
She still couldn’t get used to that.
Mercy turned the chicken in the large skillet, making sure the pieces were cooked well on all sides. The scent of almonds, sesame seeds, cinnamon, toasted chilies, and vegetables she’d used to make the mole sauce still hung in the air, making her smile. Her mother had always added chocolate while making mole, but this time most of the chocolate had ended up in Mercy’s stomach instead of the blender. The chocolate that Ethan had brought for her...
She’d used less spices than her mother had taught her, skipping the oregano and thyme because of Stevie.
The sight of the chicken and the scents reminded her of those rare moments in her childhood when her mother had found time for cooking and teaching her how to make Mexican food. As they lived in south Texas, loving Mexican food was a must. Knowing how to cook it came in handy, considering Ethan’s heritage.
Mercy frowned for a moment. She’d have none of that restaurant takeout and home delivery thing that Ethan apparently had been accustomed to nearly daily.
