Mercy (Atlee Pine #4)(117)

He interjected, “I asked you to trust me. Either you do or you don’t. I would never knowingly hurt you, but I am also not going to hide the truth from you, not anymore.”

He turned and led them over to one section of graves. He stopped at a sunken plot with one of the simple markers. They all gathered close around and looked at the name on it.

“Mark Douglas?” read Pine, before glancing up at Lineberry in confusion.

“He was only forty-eight when he died,” noted Blum, reading the birth and death dates.

“Yes, he was,” said a voice. “He died far too early.”

They all turned as a woman in her midfifties stepped out from behind one of the crypts. Her dark hair was shot through with silver and hung to her shoulders. She had on dark jeans, black boots, and a black sailor’s peacoat. She was taller than Pine but an inch under Mercy’s height. She was lean, and her facial bone structure was flawless, observed Pine; she looked so casually elegant and beautiful that it took Pine’s breath away. The eyes were so sparkling a blue they seemed fake. But Pine knew they weren’t.

And, Pine knew, she was also their mother.

Both sisters stood rigidly next to each other as the woman they had known as Mom, and Julia Pine, walked up to them. She looked first at Pine and then at Mercy, where her gaze held the longest.

She put out a hand to stroke Mercy’s cheek and the woman just stood there and let her.

“I never thought I would see you again, Mercy. Never.” The blue eyes filled with tears and the skin around them crinkled, showing off finely etched lines that served to somehow enhance her beauty, giving it the refinement and dignity of an older masterpiece.

Mercy’s lips trembled, and she gripped her mother’s hand and held it tightly against her skin.

Julia looked over at her other daughter. With her free hand, she intertwined her fingers with Pine’s. “Lee, can you ever forgive me for what I did, honey?”

Pine finally found her voice and said, “Back then I couldn’t, but I know better. Jack . . . let me read the letter you sent him.”

Julia’s gaze drifted to Lineberry’s.

“I know what you told me,” he said. “But under the circumstances, I felt she had the right to know.”

She nodded. “Thank you for bringing my girls to me, Jack. You’ve been a good friend through this entire nightmare.”

Pine looked down at the grave and then lifted her gaze to her mother.

Julia nodded and said quietly, “A drunk driver hit Tim while he was crossing the street one night. He was killed instantly.”

Pine looked down at the grave and a tear from her face plunked down into the grass.

“In Savannah we were known as Mark and Sandra Douglas. We ran a little floral shop together. Have for years. It was . . . something to do with our . . . lives. I still own the shop. Flowers make people happy,” she added sadly.

“But I don’t understand. How did Jack know to come here?”

In answer Julia looked at Mercy. “I saw the FBI notice on TV. About a girl named Rebecca Atkins from Crawfordville, Georgia? I couldn’t recognize the name, of course. But as soon as I saw the face, I knew it was you, Mercy.”

“After all those years?” said Mercy incredulously.

“I am your mother. Those were the same beautiful eyes I saw on the day you were born and for six years after, the lovely hair I brushed a million times, the nose I put a tissue to countless times, a million little things that only a mother would notice. I called Jack. Tim had kept his number. He . . . he told me some of what happened to you, Mercy.” Her eyes now bulged with fresh tears and the elegant features began to crumble. “I . . . I am so sorry.” She moved forward and put her arms around Mercy. Her daughter stiffened for a moment and Pine, who was watching closely, didn’t know what to expect. But then Mercy put her arms around her mother and squeezed back.

Mercy said, “Jack told me some stuff today. Why you had to stop looking for me. You . . . you were caught between a rock and a hard place, it sounds like.”

Pine shot Lineberry a startled look, but he was staring at Julia and Mercy.

Julia Pine finally stepped back, turned to her other daughter, and wrapped her long arms around her; both were shaking with emotion as they held the other.

Blum, who was standing back a few feet to give the family their space, looked at the grass as tears slid down her face.

When the women drew apart, Pine said, “In your letter to Jack, you said you figured something out and got someone to give you money. Was that person Jack’s old fiancée, Linda Holden-Bryant? She certainly had the money.”

“Jack said you were a very good FBI agent, honey,” said Julia. “Yes. I finally realized Linda was the only one who could have let people know where we were in hiding.” Julia brushed Pine’s hair out of her eyes. “I used most of that money to provide for your education and living expenses. It was cowardly how I left you, but I thought the closer I was, the more dangerous it would be for you. Tim almost died, and all I could think was they were still out there. If they believed Tim was dead and I had vanished for good, I thought they would stop looking. I’ve second-guessed myself a million times since. I debated long and hard about taking you with us, but you were just starting your life and accomplishing so much. The last thing I wanted to do was force you to give all that up and go into hiding again. It would be asking you, basically, to have no life at all.”