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Authors: Loree Lough
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communes, a few more following some rock band through Ireland. How she knew who fathered her 'love child' is anybody's guess, but Leo lived most of his life with his dad in London. A week at Christmas or in the summertime didn't give us much opportunity to bond."
"Spared you the whole sibling rivalry nonsense, at least."
"I suppose." She sighed. "Leo became a plastic surgeon, just like his father. You wouldn't believe his patient list—rock stars, movie moguls, politicians and their spouses. He's in great demand at the London Bridge Hospital, and—"
"London Bridge Hospital? You're kidding," he said, grinning."Right?"
She held her hand up as if swearing an oath. "I'm as serious as serious can be. It's a lovely old building on Toohey Street, and yes, it's near that London Bridge."
"But I thought they moved it to Arizona or something."
"The original, ornate version, yes. But the city rebuilt it, naturally. How else would people get from one side of the Thames to the other?"
He chose to ignore the bored tone that told him she'd covered this ground before, many times. "When was the last time you saw him? Your brother, I mean."
A deep furrow formed between her eyebrows. "March 2003," she said dully; "not long after you turned in your badge and gun."
How could she have known when he resigned . . . unless she'd checked up on him? The notion touched him. Confused him, too. Now he regretted even more that he hadn't called to apologize for walking out without so much as a phone call, if only to see how she was faring. He'd never been able to figure out what, exactly, happened between them as they'd stood, hands and gazes united by the common bond of tragedy, but Austin knew he'd never forget that moment. Had Mercy remembered it too?
"Things never quite returned to normal after 9/11 for anybody," she said, slowly, softly. "For a few years, I tried peptalking myself into the notion that as a psychiatrist I should be able to handle things better than most. I stayed with Leo for nearly two months, then decided it was time to come home and face the music."
When he stormed out of her office that day, Austin pretty much left the worst of the tragedy behind him. Not so for Mercy, whose job required her, hour after hour, to read anguish on the faces of her patients.
Her shoulders lifted with a dainty sigh. Then she forced a smile and said, "Turns out I developed a real aversion for that music. By year-end, I'd put in my resignation, too."
She'd been so happy, so animated before he opened his big mouth. Austin felt like a heel for making her relive even a sliver of that part of her life. "But we digress," he said, grinning. "You were about to tell me how you came by that remarkable name of yours."
"Oh, I don't know how remarkable it is. In fact, it's a simple story, really." She leaned against the back cushion. "Hard feelings were rampant on both sides of my DNA fence." She held out her right hand, palm up. "Here's Mom, with her illegitimate son." She held up the left. "And Dad, whose ethnicity wasn't at all to her parents' liking." Mercy clasped her hands, then snapped them quickly apart. "None of the parents attended the wedding, and according to legend and lore, my birth provided the merciful balm that allowed them to at least tolerate the marriage."
"Like Romeo and Juliet, only without the gloomy ending."
"If you say so." She waved the notion away. "And what about you?"
"The reason my name is Austin, y'mean?"
Weird, he thought, that all it took was a smile from Mercy to send his heart into overdrive. Just answer her question, idiot! "This cat of yours purrs louder than my boat's rusty motor." At least now he could pretend that if she could hear his heartbeat, she'd blame it on Woodrow.
"I have to admit, I'm a bit jealous. He's never taken to a stranger this way before."
"You know what they say about kids and animals . . . ."
"That they're naïve and innocent and easily fooled?"
The sound of her laughter set his nerves
"Spared you the whole sibling rivalry nonsense, at least."
"I suppose." She sighed. "Leo became a plastic surgeon, just like his father. You wouldn't believe his patient list—rock stars, movie moguls, politicians and their spouses. He's in great demand at the London Bridge Hospital, and—"
"London Bridge Hospital? You're kidding," he said, grinning."Right?"
She held her hand up as if swearing an oath. "I'm as serious as serious can be. It's a lovely old building on Toohey Street, and yes, it's near that London Bridge."
"But I thought they moved it to Arizona or something."
"The original, ornate version, yes. But the city rebuilt it, naturally. How else would people get from one side of the Thames to the other?"
He chose to ignore the bored tone that told him she'd covered this ground before, many times. "When was the last time you saw him? Your brother, I mean."
A deep furrow formed between her eyebrows. "March 2003," she said dully; "not long after you turned in your badge and gun."
How could she have known when he resigned . . . unless she'd checked up on him? The notion touched him. Confused him, too. Now he regretted even more that he hadn't called to apologize for walking out without so much as a phone call, if only to see how she was faring. He'd never been able to figure out what, exactly, happened between them as they'd stood, hands and gazes united by the common bond of tragedy, but Austin knew he'd never forget that moment. Had Mercy remembered it too?
"Things never quite returned to normal after 9/11 for anybody," she said, slowly, softly. "For a few years, I tried peptalking myself into the notion that as a psychiatrist I should be able to handle things better than most. I stayed with Leo for nearly two months, then decided it was time to come home and face the music."
When he stormed out of her office that day, Austin pretty much left the worst of the tragedy behind him. Not so for Mercy, whose job required her, hour after hour, to read anguish on the faces of her patients.
Her shoulders lifted with a dainty sigh. Then she forced a smile and said, "Turns out I developed a real aversion for that music. By year-end, I'd put in my resignation, too."
She'd been so happy, so animated before he opened his big mouth. Austin felt like a heel for making her relive even a sliver of that part of her life. "But we digress," he said, grinning. "You were about to tell me how you came by that remarkable name of yours."
"Oh, I don't know how remarkable it is. In fact, it's a simple story, really." She leaned against the back cushion. "Hard feelings were rampant on both sides of my DNA fence." She held out her right hand, palm up. "Here's Mom, with her illegitimate son." She held up the left. "And Dad, whose ethnicity wasn't at all to her parents' liking." Mercy clasped her hands, then snapped them quickly apart. "None of the parents attended the wedding, and according to legend and lore, my birth provided the merciful balm that allowed them to at least tolerate the marriage."
"Like Romeo and Juliet, only without the gloomy ending."
"If you say so." She waved the notion away. "And what about you?"
"The reason my name is Austin, y'mean?"
Weird, he thought, that all it took was a smile from Mercy to send his heart into overdrive. Just answer her question, idiot! "This cat of yours purrs louder than my boat's rusty motor." At least now he could pretend that if she could hear his heartbeat, she'd blame it on Woodrow.
"I have to admit, I'm a bit jealous. He's never taken to a stranger this way before."
"You know what they say about kids and animals . . . ."
"That they're naïve and innocent and easily fooled?"
The sound of her laughter set his nerves
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