A Merciful Promise (Mercy Kilpatrick #6)(8)

She hesitated. “No, this assignment is out of Portland.”

“I see.” No, I don’t see. “Can you tell me anything else?”

“Radio silence.”

His chest caught another blow. “You can’t call or email?”

“Nothing.” Distress flashed in her eyes again.

He moved away from the counter and ran a hand through his hair as he walked in a small circle. “Two weeks of no communication? I understand it—doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“You can always contact Jeff if you need to get a message to me.”

He stopped, taking in the lines between her brows. No wonder she had looked at him earlier as if she was memorizing his face. She had known it’d be a long time.

She was preoccupied with the assignment; she didn’t need to worry about his concern too.

He rounded the counter and slipped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. “We can handle two weeks. I suspect it will go a lot faster for you than me. Good thing Rose’s wedding was last weekend.”

“I thought the same.”

He felt her shoulders relax under his arms. He had been right. She was more concerned about his reaction than about the assignment. “Go. Get it over with. We’ll finish the wedding plans when you get back.”

His mind raced ahead. It had been difficult to plan her surprise wedding present. If she was gone for two weeks, he would have time to finish it. The gift was to be delivered to the cabin tomorrow, and he’d worried she’d discover the present before he had time to assemble it.

It was a very thin silver lining to her news.

Neither of them was in charge of planning their Christmas wedding. Mercy’s older sister, Pearl, had smoothly taken over with their blessing. Pearl had organized the majority of Rose’s wedding, so it’d been easy for her to assist Mercy at the same time.

Truman smiled, remembering how his heart had stopped at the sight of Mercy in a lavender dress as she walked down the aisle at Rose’s wedding. He’d been a groomsman and stood at the front of the church with Nick Walker. Mercy had carried Rose’s infant son, Henry, and held him throughout the ceremony as she and Pearl stood by Rose.

The wedding had stirred soul-deep emotions Truman hadn’t known he possessed. He and Mercy were already bound at the heart, but he deeply craved the legal attachment that proved to the world they were committed.

He’d given up trying to understand his need. All that mattered was that they wanted to be together.

Two weeks apart would make no difference.

“I don’t know if I can ask my dad . . . ,” Mercy said, resting her head against his chest.

To walk her down the aisle.

Truman wasn’t surprised. Karl Kilpatrick had proudly escorted Rose at her wedding, but he’d severed his relationship with Mercy fifteen years earlier. In the year since Mercy had returned to Eagle’s Nest, she and her father had experienced more downs than ups.

Truman had hope that Karl would do it even though the man was a dinosaur, mired in beliefs that kept him at odds with his youngest daughter. Mercy pretended not to care, but Truman knew it hurt. He’d considered and discarded a dozen plans for approaching Karl on the sly about the topic.

This was Mercy’s battle. She’d ask if she wanted help.

“Don’t worry about that now. You’ve got plenty of time to talk to him after your return.”

“Argh.” She took a deep drink of the red wine. “Can’t wait for that discussion. Do you think he’ll laugh at me or tell me to fuck off?”

“He’d never say that to you. Your mom can help you talk to him.”

“No. I need to do this on my own. No mediators.”

“When you get back,” Truman reiterated.

“When I get back,” she repeated. She picked up a fork and attacked her enchilada. The slam of a car door turned both their heads. “Kids are here.”

“Ollie will drive home to my house after he raids your refrigerator. I’ll stay here tonight.”

“Yes, you will,” she said, giving him a seductive stare as she put a melty, cheesy bite in her mouth.

Feet stomped on the stairs, and Kaylie’s giggle sounded outside. Affection for the two teens filled him.

Truman had acquired an unusual family over the last twelve months. Two stray cats, a teenage male orphan with a dog, and two female Kilpatricks.

Blood doesn’t make family; love does.

I wouldn’t change a thing.





FOUR

“Why does Mercy’s cell phone keep transferring me to her office?”

Sitting at his desk the next morning, Truman frowned into his phone at the caller’s blunt question. Britta Vale hadn’t even greeted him before throwing out her inquiry. He wasn’t surprised; Britta didn’t do small talk.

“That FBI receptionist won’t tell me when I can talk to Mercy.” Anxiety laced Britta’s voice.

“What’s wrong?” Truman could be blunt too.

Silence filled the line.

“Mercy’s out of town for the next two weeks,” Truman explained. Britta and Mercy had an unusual friendship that had developed in spite of Britta’s distrust of every single human being. As a child, Britta had barely survived the attack that had murdered her family. Mercy had earned her trust when she’d shot a man intent on killing Britta last spring.