Mulberry
The air conditioner hums. The words on the screen blur. Merl spent the last two days catching me up on Joyful Justice activities. And we have only scratched the surface; I’ve been gone for months.
And the world went on without me.
“We’ve missed you,” Merl says, as if he can read my thoughts.
I give him a weak smile. “You’ve done well without me.”
“It’s designed that way,” Merl says in answer. “We have to be able to go on without any one of us…or more.”
Because what we do is dangerous…and important.
“I know.” Rubbing my face, I sit back in the squeaky chair. We are in Merl’s office, just off the dojo. The subtle thud of blows against bags, along with the scent of stale sweat and orange cleaning products, infuses the space.
Merl’s dogs are out in the dojo, watching the action, keeping guard. He sits behind me, looking at his phone.
“When is the next council meeting?” I ask.
“Tomorrow.” Merl clears his throat and looks up at me. “Dan just messaged.” The way he says it makes it sound bad.
“What?”
Merl meets my eyes. “Sydney’s alias showed up at a Louisiana hospital not far from where her mother spoke last night. Dan is getting information now.”
I’m standing, the chair tipped over behind me, before I even have the conscious thought to rise. “I’m going to get her.”
I turn toward the door, but Merl jumps up and blocks my way. “Hold on,” he says, his voice low and calm. My breathing is heavy, heart pounding. I need to get to her. “I’m not going to stop you—”
I cut him off. “Then get out of my way,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Just listen for one minute before you fly out the door.”
I take a deep breath and nod. “Go ahead.” Nothing you can say will stop me from going to her.
“Please remember, when you see her, that Sydney does not like taking orders.”
“She does from you,” I snarl for no good reason.
He shakes his head, as if to say I’m an idiot. He doesn’t do it quite as condescendingly as Robert Maxim, but they are annoyed by the same thing: stubborn, blind Mulberry. “I’m her trainer, and she will listen to me in practice but not in life. If you push too hard you’ll just push her away.” He takes a deep breath, holding my gaze, making sure I’m listening. “Let her lead. And you may have better results.”
“As if I have a choice.”
“Choose it,” Merl says. “Choose her over everything, and you’ll do better than if you try to make her choose you.”
“More T-shirt wisdom,” I say, pushing past him.
This time he lets me leave. But Merl is waiting for me when I get to the airstrip, bag over my shoulder, scowl on my face, rage in my breast pocket. He doesn’t say anything, just opens his arms for a hug.
I embrace him and emotion wells up, surprising me. “Thank you,” I say, though I’m not sure exactly what I’m grateful for…maybe just that Merl is still alive and still my friend. And that he, and the rest of the council, the rest of Joyful Justice, can provide a safe haven for Sydney and our child.
If she will let them.