A bright orange ball peeked over the eastern horizon, breaking the darkness, giving shape to the trees and fence posts as Mercy drove home early Saturday morning. The band had packed up and gone home at two o’clock, and Gloria had insisted that the four of them go into town for breakfast. She was singing along to a song on her playlist, “I Feel Lucky,” when she crossed the Red River bridge into Oklahoma.
It hadn’t been such a far drive to Hunter’s spread near Denton, and it hadn’t taken her long to realize he owned a lot more than an acre of sweet potatoes. The main house was so big she figured she’d need Rollerblades to get from one end to the other if she was in a hurry. The barn where the dance had been held was enormous, and Gloria said the whole county used it for a sale barn at one time or other through the year. A bunkhouse, stables, and other structures were also scattered around Hunter’s Thunder Ridge Ranch. Mercy could see where a gold digger like Kim would get all dewy-eyed just thinking about the money she could wrangle out of Hunter if she was his wife.
When she finally reached her house, she got out of her car, wiggled the kinks out of her neck, and headed into the house with the orange tomcat right at her heels. Once inside the house, she threw her purse on the kitchen cabinet and opened a can of smelly cat food and carried it to the back porch.
“Now hush. And go find a big, fat sassy mouse for dessert,” she said with a yawn. “I’m sleepy and I’m not going to open my eyes until noon. Jesus knows I love him, and he wouldn’t want me to snore in church.”
The cat purred, but Mercy didn’t know if it was in sympathy for her or just his way of saying thank you for the food. She picked up her purse from the cabinet top, and started across the living room when she noticed the corner of a white envelope sticking out of the side pocket. Strange, she didn’t remember putting anything like that there before she left last night. And she didn’t remember seeing it when she freshened her makeup in the bathroom at the restaurant where they had breakfast.
Mercy pulled off her boots and threw clothing toward the dirty clothes hamper. She took the envelope from her purse and padded barefoot to the bathroom, where she ran a tub of hot water. She eased her body into the water and pulled her long hair up, then leaned back and let it dangle over the edge of the claw-footed tub. Then she reached for the white envelope and really looked at it. There wasn’t a name on the outside, and the flap wasn’t sealed but folded down inside the letter. She pulled out a single sheet of paper sporting the same cheap chain motel logo as on the envelope and read.
Mercy,
You ought to know that Hunter has been married twice already. He killed his first wife, Carla, and beat his second one, Raylene. So, do you want to be number three? If you don’t believe me, ask his best friend, Jeremy. He and Gloria know the whole story. But if you’ve got a lick of sense, you’ll get out while the getting is good.
Tonya
She read the lines again. Surely this was a sick joke. It sounded like a soap opera. She threw the paper on the floor and grabbed the supersize towel on the vanity. She was still dripping wet when she called Gloria—glad that they had exchanged numbers before they said goodbye not an hour before.
“Mercy, is everything all right?” Gloria asked.
“Tonya left me a letter in my purse, and I just found it. It says that Hunter has been married twice. Is that true?”
“You know that Tonya and Kim are…”
“Just answer me,” Mercy butted in.
“Yes, Hunter has been married before,” Gloria answered, “but you’ve got to talk to him, Mercy. This is his story to tell, not mine.”
“Where’s his first wife?” Mercy asked. Somewhere deep down inside she prayed for a remnant of hope to hang on to.
“Carla’s been dead for six years,” Gloria answered.
“And Raylene?” Mercy asked.
“Raylene’s been out of the picture for three years. Mercy, please talk to Hunter, and let him give you his side of the story,” Gloria said.
“I don’t think I want to be wife number three no matter what story he tells me. Give him a message for me. Tell him that…”
“Is this the girl who stood up to Kim and Tonya?” Gloria snapped. “If you want to tell him something, you’re going to have to do it yourself.”
Mercy hung up the phone without another word. If she was going to talk to Hunter, she needed time to think before she did. She put on a pair of pajama pants and a faded T-shirt and fell into bed. She awoke sometime later to her phone ringing, but it wasn’t the phone at all. The sound was someone ringing the doorbell.
She padded barefoot into the living room, and slung the door open just as Hunter pushed the doorbell again. Without a word, she stood back and motioned him into the house.
Hunter removed his cowboy hat and raked his fingers through his hair. “Jeremy just called me and said that Tonya put a letter in your purse. I guess we’re going to talk about the past after all, right?”
“Did you really kill your first wife, Carla, and beat your second one?” she asked.
“After being out with me and getting to know me, you’d trust what they said before you even gave me a chance to explain?”
“Why didn’t you tell me right away that you had an ex-wife or two? Were you going to explain after we fell into bed together?” she asked.
“I don’t need this,” he said. “Believe whatever you want. I thought there was something special between us, but evidently you aren’t the woman I thought you were.”
“Evidently you aren’t the man I thought you were,” Mercy whispered.
“Well, then, I should be going,” Hunter said.
“That would be best,” Mercy agreed, locked the door behind him, and went back to her bedroom. But this time when her head hit her pillow, she couldn’t sleep for wondering if she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.
The week dragged by like it had nowhere to go and eons to get there. Mercy was so out of sorts that on Friday, Dr. Nelson asked if she was ill. She assured him she was just dealing with some personal issues.
On Saturday night she drove to Madill for Jenny’s wedding.
Mercy signed her name to the guest book and got a sickening little smirk from Lisa Payton.
She chose a seat among the folding chairs lined up perfectly in rows under the shade trees in the backyard of Jenny’s folks’ house and gave thanks that it was a lovely evening for a wedding. Big white clouds floated in the pretty blue sky and reminded her of the Sunday when she and Hunter had enjoyed the child’s game of “name that cloud.” A nice breeze flowed through the trees and she thought about how the wind had moved the delicate, drooping limbs of the willow tree.
She was thinking about how shocked her mother had been when she told her about the argument with Hunter. Deana had told Mercy not to be so judgmental. Then Brent slid into the chair next to her. She smelled his wintergreen gum and cologne before she even turned to look at him.
“I thought maybe you wouldn’t even show up. I’m glad you did though.” His gaze dropped down to the low neck of her dress.
“Eyes up here.” She pointed to her face. “Lisa will string you up if she sees you talking to me or sneaking a peek down my dress.”
He moved to another chair without another word.
The traditional bridal music began to play, and Jenny made her way down the grassy aisle on her father’s arm. She wore a white satin tea-length dress and a shoulder-length veil caught up at the top of her French twist with a few real roses attached to an antique comb.
For Mercy, it was a bittersweet moment. Jenny had been her closest friend for years, and now they were barely even speaking to each other.
After the ceremony and the wedding kiss, the newlyweds were walking back to the house where the reception would be held, when Jenny locked eyes with Mercy and flashed a smile toward her. Mercy decided to take it as a gesture of goodwill rather than smugness, and she blew Jenny a kiss.
How can you forgive her for being so nasty, and yet you can’t forgive Hunter for whatever happened in his past? the voice in her head asked in a scolding tone.
I just don’t want to be number three, she argued.