Page 121 of There's Something about Merry

“I will. Patrice?”

“Yeah?”

You missed out? You shouldn’t have left? What can I say that she doesn’t already know?

“Take care.”

“You too, hon.” She rolled up her window and turned around, passing by the sheriff on her way out. Merry watched her turn the corner away from the farm entrance, her breath whooshing out in relief. At least Patrice took her advice not to approach Clark at work. She wasn’t sure how he’d react seeing her after all this time. He said they always fought, but she was still the mother of his child.

Jealousy zipped through her veins, not because she didn’t trust Clark, but they did share a child. Even if she signed away her rights, Jace was still hers biologically. What if she’d changed her mind? If things ended so horribly between them, why would Clark’s parents tell her where to find them? So many questions and each one ticked her anxiety up another level.

She flipped the card over and saw the neat print on the front.

Patrice Neilson. Massage therapist.

The sheriff’s deputy parked on the other side of the blue car and Merry slipped the card into her pocket, shaking the old man awake. “Mr. Olson, your ride is here.”

He sat straight up in a panic, his head craning around. “Ah, shit. You called my wife?”

“No, sir. You can do that when they get you back to the station.”

By the time the cops got Mr. Olson and his car off the property, it was well past three. The business card burned a hole in her pocket and Merry headed down the hill to Clark’s place. She knew he was most likely on the grounds helping people, but she didn’t want to hand it off to him while he was working. In all honesty, Merry didn’t want to be the one to give it to him at all.

She saw Sam’s motorcycle under its cover and climbed the porch steps, knocking furiously. Sam answered with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, his hair wet and slicked back like he was just out of the shower.

“Hey, Merry. I’m getting ready to go to work. You cool?”

“I, um…no, not really.” She pulled the card from her back pocket and held it out to him. “A woman came by and dropped this off for Clark. Can you make sure he gets it?”

Sam took the card and read the name. “Fuck me,” he said, removing the toothbrush. “She was here?”

“Yeah. She was headed to the main house. I was standing out front when she stopped and asked me about Clark.”

“Bitch,” he snarled. Merry winced and he patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Sorry, but I never did like her. I only met her once and I thought she was using Clark.” Sam held the card out to her. “Why are you giving this to me when you can hand it over yourself?”

“Because I don’t know how he’ll react.”

“And, what, you think he’d shoot the messenger?”

“Something like that.”

Sam shook his head. “If you leave this with me, I’ll burn it. I don’t want that woman anywhere near Clark or Jace.” He took her hand and slapped the small white rectangle into her palm. “I promise you that no matter what happens, this will not affect the way he feels about you. Now scoot. I’ve got places to be.”

“Thanks a lot,” Merry muttered as she trudged up the hill, making a sharp right toward the flocking tent.

It took her longer than normal to reach the covered area, dread weighing her entire body down. She spotted Clark coming back from the parking lot, a dark beanie pulled over his ears, and when he spotted her, his face split into a jaunty grin.

“Hey, you,” he said, jogging the remaining distance to meet her. “What’s this I hear about chickens?”

“You mean the most bizarre form of warfare I have ever seen? Yeah, that was a trip, but there’s something pressing we need to talk about first.”

“Mer, can it wait? I’ve got four people waiting for me to load ’em up and I’m short your dad and brother.”

Merry swallowed and held the card out to him. “I have to give you this. She dropped it by about an hour ago.”

Clark took the card, his eyes shuttering. When he simply stared at the card without saying anything to her, she turned to give him a moment alone.

“Whoa, wait a second,” he said, putting a hand on her arm to stop her. “Did she show up at the house?”

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