Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

got pregnant.” His voice was stark. “We were doing our internships. We were so busy we hardly had time to say ‘hello’ to each other. She didn’t notice until she was nearly three months pregnant because she assumed that the symptoms were from stress. I was so happy.”
    Samuel loved children. Somewhere I had a picture of him wearing a baseball cap with Elise Smithers, age five, riding him as if he had been a pony. He’d thrown away everything he believed in because he thought I, unlike a human or werewolf, could give him children who would live.
    I tried not to let him know I was crying, too.
    â€œWe were doing internships.” He was speaking quietly now. “It’s time consuming and stressful. Long irregular hours. I was working with an orthopedic surgeon, nearly a two hour drive from our apartment. I came home one night and found a note.”
    I hugged him harder, as if I could have stopped what happened.
    â€œA baby would have interfered with her schooling,” he said. “We could try again, later. After…after she was established. After there was money. After…” He kept talking but he’d dropped into a foreign tongue, its liquid tone conveying his anguish better than the English words had.
    The curse of a long life is that everyone around you dies. You have to be strong to survive, and stronger to want to do so. Bran had told me once that Samuel had seen too many of his children die.
    â€œThat infant tonight…”
    â€œHe’ll live,” I said. “Because of you. He’ll grow up strong and healthy.
    â€œI lived like a student should, Mercy,” he told me. “Pretending to be poor like all the other students. I wonder if she knew that I had money, would she still have killed my baby? I would have quit school to take care of the child. Was it my fault?”
    Samuel curled his whole body around my arm as if someone had punched him in the stomach. I just held him.
    There was nothing I could say to make it better. He knew better than I what the chances of his baby being born healthy had been. It didn’t matter, his child had never gotten any chance at all.
    I held Samuel while the sun set, comforting him as best I could.

Chapter 6
    I left Samuel sleeping and made tuna fish sandwiches for dinner, something I could put in the fridge for him in case he awoke hungry, but he stayed in his room until past my bedtime.
    I set my alarm clock for a couple of hours later than my usual wake-up. Tomorrow was Saturday when I was officially closed. I had work to do, but nothing urgent, and Gabriel wasn’t scheduled to come in until ten.
    When I knelt for prayer before bedtime, I asked God to help Warren and Stefan catch the demon, as had become my usual plea. This time I added a prayer for Samuel as well. After a moment’s thought I prayed for Adam, too. I didn’t really think it was his fault that he turned me into a submissive ninny.
    Even though I was all set to wake up late (for me), I got up just before dawn because someone was tapping on my window. I pulled my pillow over my head.
    â€œMercy.” My window’s assailant kept his voice down, but I knew it anyway. Stefan.
    I rubbed my eyes. “Are you asking for quarter? I’m not in a particularly merciful mood.” I can make fun of my name, but no one else can. Unless I’m in a really good mood. Or if I start it first.
    I heard him laugh. “For quarters, perhaps. But I have no need to yield, if you are not assaulting me.”
    One of the nice things about Stefan was that he usually got my jokes, no matter how lame. Even better, he’d play along.
    â€œYou need money?” I asked in mock surprise. “I can write you a check, but I only have a couple of dollars in cash.”
    â€œI need a place to sleep the day, love. Would you shelter me?”
    â€œAll right,” I threw back my covers and started for the front door. There went my plans to sleep in.
    The sky was striped with the beginnings of sunrise when I opened the door.
    â€œLeft it a little late, Stefan.” I said adding his name so that Samuel—who would have heard me open the door—wasn’t alarmed.
    Stefan didn’t appear to hurry, but neither did he waste much time standing on my doorstep.
    I hadn’t seen him since the night of his trial. He looked tired. His shoulders were slumped and he didn’t move with his usual effervescent energy.