Chapter 6 - The Unraveling of Judith Mercer
The rain started around four in the afternoon, tapping against the glass of the Mercer living room like an insistent, accusing finger.
Judith had not moved from the sofa.
Her hands rested on her lap, cold and inert. The brass lighter sat before her on the mahogany table, alongside the silver-framed photograph of Andrew. But the photograph seemed to mock her now.
*She altered the transmission timestamps.*
*She took the blame.*
*She let you treat her like dirt.*
Judith looked up at the mantelpiece.
There were dozens of framed photos: Andrew at his high school graduation; Andrew in his dress blues; Mark receiving his architectural license; Mark and Elise on their wedding day. Judith remembered that wedding day six years ago. She had refused to help Elise pick out a dress. She had told her friends that Elise was "too practical, too military, lacking in feminine grace." When Elise had worn a simple, elegant ivory silk gown instead of a traditional bridal lace, Judith had made a quiet, stinging remark at the reception about "women who don't know how to soften their edges."
Elise had merely smiled, thanked her for coming, and danced with Mark.
*God forgive me,* Judith thought, the realization settling into her marrow like lead. *I hated her because she survived.*
That was the monstrous, unspeakable core of it. She had looked at Elise for six years and hated her, not because Elise was distant, not because Elise was secretive, but because Elise was wearing a uniform, breathing clean air, advancing through the ranks, while Andrew was turning to dust in a plot at Forest Lawn.
Judith stood up. Her knees groaned under the sudden movement, but an electric panic had seized her.
She went to the telephone. Her hands shook as she dialed Mark’s cell phone.
It rang four times before clicking into voicemail. *“This is Mark Mercer. Leave a message.”*
Judith hung up. She dialed the home number.
It rang five times. Click. *“You’ve reached Mark and Elise. Please leave a message after the tone.”*
Judith didn't leave a message. She grabbed her raincoat from the hall tree, snatched her purse, and didn't even bother to lock the front door behind her.
The drive across Norfolk to Larchmont was a blur of gray asphalt and flashing tail lights. The windshield wipers swept back and forth with a frantic, rhythmic shriek, but Judith could hardly see through the rain and the tears burning her eyes.
She pulled her sedan into Mark and Elise’s driveway, cutting the engine so hard the car rocked.
She scrambled out into the downpour. The cold rain soaked through her light trench coat in seconds, plastering her graying hair to her forehead, but she didn't care. She stumbled up the brick steps of the porch and hammered on the front door with her fist.
“Mark! Elise! Please!”
The porch light flicked on. The deadbolt slid back.
Mark opened the door. He was in gray sweatpants and a dark t-shirt, his face shadowed with stubble and deep, purplish circles of exhaustion. When he saw his mother standing in the rain, drenched and gasping, his expression hardened into defensive irritation.
“Mom? What are you doing here? Did you drive like that?”
“Where is she?” Judith choked out, her voice competing with the roar of the rain on the porch awning. “Mark, where is she?”
“She’s resting,” Mark said cold, blocking the doorway with his arm. “She hasn't slept in thirty-six hours. I’m not letting you start another fight with her, Mom. Not today. Go home.”
“No!” Judith lunged forward, grabbing Mark’s forearm with both hands. Her grip was desperate, her fingers digging through his cotton sleeve. “You don't understand! Ray Miller came to my house!”
Mark froze. “Senior Chief Miller?”
“He told me,” Judith sobbed, her knees giving out on the welcome mat. She would have hit the porch floorboards if Mark hadn't caught her beneath her arms, hauling her upward. “He told me what Andrew did. He told me what Elise did to protect him. Mark... oh God, Mark, what have I done?”
A soft click sounded behind Mark.
Elise appeared in the hallway. She had changed into comfortable civilian clothes—black leggings and an oversized navy knit sweater. Her face was pale, devoid of the authority of her uniform, looking remarkably young and dreadfully fragile.
She looked at Judith, huddled and dripping on the threshold, weeping into Mark’s chest.
“Let her in, Mark,” Elise said softly.
“Elise—” Mark began.
“Let her in. It’s freezing out there.”
Mark exhaled, a ragged, conflicted sound, and stepped back, guiding his mother through the door. Judith collapsed into the wooden bench in the entryway, leaving a pool of rainwater on the hardwood floor. She didn't look at the mess. She looked up at Elise, her chest hitching in painful, ragged gasps.
“You protected his name,” Judith whispered, the words tearing from her throat like broken glass. “He disobeyed orders. He could have gone to prison. And you... you took the blame for his mistake.”
Elise’s expression remained still, but a deep, profound sadness filled her eyes. “Ray shouldn't have told you that.”
“Why?” Judith cried, reaching out with one wet, trembling hand, not daring to touch Elise’s clothes, but hovering in the empty air between them. “Why didn't you let me know? Why did you let me hate you?”
Elise knelt down on the damp floorboards until she was eye-level with the woman who had spent six years trying to diminish her.
“Because Andrew made a choice to save sixty innocent lives, Judith,” Elise said gently. “In the fleet’s eyes, that was a breach of protocol. In God’s eyes, it was an act of pure mercy. I didn't care about the regulations. I cared about the man he was. He was your son. He was Mark’s brother. He deserved to come home with his head held high.”
Judith let out a wail that seemed to tear her body in two. She fell forward, wrapping her arms around Elise’s shoulders, burying her wet, ruined face into the thick knit of Elise’s sweater.
“I’m sorry,” Judith wept, the words repeating like a litany of atonement. “I’m so sorry. Forgive me. Elise, my God, forgive me.”
Mark leaned his back against the closed front door, his head tipped back toward the ceiling, his hand covering his eyes as silent tears finally spilled through his fingers.
May you like
And on the floor of the hallway, Elise’s arms slowly came up, encircling the shaking shoulders of her mother-in-law, holding her tight while the ghost that had haunted them for eight long years finally faded into the rain.
***
