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No, I don’t.
I loosen my grip a little. I can’t let go just yet, though.
“You’ll stay with her after. Until she’s asleep. Make sure she doesn’t make herself vomit.”
“I will. She won’t do that. I know it,” Lois says. Although she doesn’t know it at all, and I can hear that in her words.
“Or I’ll have Miriam watch her.”
“I’ll be here with her. It’s no trouble.” Her tone is gentler when she next speaks to Mercedes. “Let’s go see the boys, dear. They’re hungry. Come on, come with me. Just you and me.”
Lois takes her hand, and I’m forced to step away. And I watch from my place as she walks across the room with Lois, her steps slower than the older woman’s. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t answer Lois even as Lois prattles on, and when they’re gone, I sit on the edge of her bed, my head heavy in my hands.
I have fucked this up so royally. I have more than lost control. Never before has this happened. But Mercedes? She’s under my skin, and I am fast losing control of the situation.
A few minutes later, I get up. I set the riding clothes on the bench at the foot of her bed. Maybe if she sees them laid out, it’ll inspire something. I don’t know. I’m on my way out the door when something catches my eye. On the desk in the corner is a paperweight. A solid wood paperweight.
I tilt my head. It’s probably been here for years, and I wouldn’t have noticed it except for what Mercedes said about Miriam. When I thought she was lying. I pick it up, weigh it. I take it with me when I leave and head to my study to read through the staff applications and their files and learn what I can about Miriam, whose last name I can’t even recall.
19
Judge
The threat of the doctor does its job. Mercedes eats, and she manages to keep it down for the next few days. It’s raining again, the ground sopping after a week of unrelenting rain. It’s so bad I won’t even ride. I don’t want the horses to injure themselves on the soft ground.
I get home late in the evening and head toward the kitchen, where I hear Lois and Miriam talking. Neither of them notices me.
“You’re spoiling her if you ask me,” Miriam tells Lois.
I stand just outside and listen.
“She needs a firm hand, that one. All this sulking around,” she says.
“She’s depressed, Miriam. You just leave her alone.”
“But it’s my job to look after her.”
Lois snorts.
“She’s an attention seeker, that’s all. She’ll get over it. Just needs a firm hand to give her a shove.”
I don’t miss the ugly turn at the word shove. I clear my throat, and Miriam startles, almost spills the coffee she was bringing to her lips.
“Ladies,” I say as I study Miriam. She pushes her chair back loudly to stand. I almost expect a salute from her.
“Sir,” Miriam says. She bows her head rather than saluting.
“Well, you’re late tonight, Judge,” Lois says. “You must be starved. Come on, sit down. It’ll just take me a minute to warm up your plate.” She wipes her hands on her towel and moves to where a covered dish has been set aside.
“Thank you, Lois,” I say, taking the scotch from the cabinet and pouring myself a glass.
“I’ll be off to bed then,” Miriam says and brings her coffee cup to the sink for Lois to set in the dishwasher.
“Stay a minute,” I say.
She looks nervous but nods and sits opposite me.
Lois brings over my food and returns to cleaning the dishes.
