Sour Honey: Mercy on the Bayou, #4

Author's note:

This is Book 4 in the Mercy on the Bayou Series and is not a standalone book. This series does not feature Fortune Redding as the main character.

Other than Jana DeLeon's original story elements, the characters and names are creations of the author's imagination.

Events, timeline, and descriptions in this book/series may not coincide with those in the original Miss Fortune series.

Special thanks to Jana DeLeon and J&R Fan Fiction for making this possible.

Chapter 1

Mercy, open this door!

Inside her room at the Sinful Inn, Mercy cringed, knowing why Deputy LeBlanc was beating on her door. She ignored him and hoped he would go away. He didn’t. Instead, she heard a key turn in the lock right before Carter threw the door open. It crashed against the wall with a bang.

This is home invasion! Mercy protested.

He snorted and waved a paper before setting it on a dresser. It’s not your home, and I didn’t invade it. Eugene gave me the key so I can serve the eviction notice. He glanced around the small room, strewn with the belongings Mercy had collected since moving to Sinful. Why aren’t you packed?

She fiddled with the hem of her T-shirt and avoided his perceptive gaze. I’ve been too sick? she finally offered with a big smile of optimism. Her stab wound was nearly healed but maybe he’d feel sorry for her and not kick her out of the motel. It had been over a week since Eugene told her to leave, but she hadn’t found another place to live.

I see it hasn’t stopped you from laying in supplies. He looked pointedly at the boxes her grandmother had sent from Denver. Grammy Joy had not only sent the knitting supplies Mercy requested, but she’d also sent a care package of toiletries and food. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any cash, and Mercy was reluctant to ask for it. Meanwhile, Carter picked up a package and read the label. Buttercream chocolates? I’ll grant you that this motel could probably survive any kind of attack, including nuclear, but I don’t think candy is on any emergency survival list.

Do you like candy? she asked eagerly. You can keep it.

His green eyes narrowed. Are you offering me a bribe?

Will it work?

The box flew through the air and landed on the bed as he laughed. Which boxes are ready to go?

Go where? she asked suspiciously.

Carter raised his hands in a careless gesture. That’s up to you. I’m just here to remove your things from the room. He lifted a box and sighed when the bottom fell out, the contents landing on his feet.

Mercy ran and slapped the box out of his hands. You idiot! What if that was canned goods? His eyes drifted to the bags of candy, snack crackers, and chips at his feet. Then he tipped his head at her and she scowled.

It’s possible.

If you say so. He picked up the box and folded the bottom before handing it to her. Start packing. She knelt and put the food back into the box while he lifted another. After making sure it was secure, he took it out of the room and came back for another.

Mercy stood, her brown eyes widening at his rapid return. Where’s my box?

Outside on the lawn. He scratched his jaw. I mean the strip of weeds next to the building. Is that one ready? Without waiting for a response, he took her box and left the room. She was still standing with her jaw hanging when he returned and asked, What have you been doing the past week?

Her face lit up and she ran to the old dresser, opening a drawer. She removed an item and tossed it to him. He watched it sail through the air but didn’t make any effort to catch it. Instead, he peered at the brightly colored pair of socks that lay on the floor.

I’ve been on a sock run! she exclaimed.

Is that supposed to be amusing?

She shook her head. I’m serious. Come take a look.

Carter moved to the dresser and she proudly displayed the drawer filled with knit socks. Then she closed the drawer and opened the next one. It was half full. He found a plastic bag shoved between the dresser and a tote and handed it to her.

Fill it, he ordered.

She bit her lip. Where’s the nearest homeless shelter? I hope it’s not out of the parish or my new address will be a federal pen. Her eyes bulged and she grabbed the front of his shirt anxiously. They won’t let me have knitting needles in prison! What am I going to do?

He cleared his throat and she realized she was twisting the shirt. Her teeth flashed as she released it and tried smoothing the wrinkles. Then, unconsciously, she continued patting his chest until he used two fingers to move her hand away. Her toothy smile grew and she blushed, giving him a sheepish look.

Sorry, I got a little carried away.  

It wasn’t her fault the deputy had amazing muscle tone. But she’d be more careful in the future. Fortune Redding held Carter’s heart and Mercy couldn’t help wondering if Fortune had picked up a few trade secrets while she worked for the CIA—like using a person’s own hair to strangle them. Either way, Mercy didn’t intend to test her theory and she told Carter, Consider it temporary insanity.

Insanity—yes. Temporary—no. Next time get carried away with someone else, he suggested.

It won’t happen again—at least with you! Mercy then lost the playful attitude and gave a heartfelt sigh as she looked around the room. Is there a shelter in Sinful Parish? she asked.

For animals. Why haven’t you asked to stay with Ida Belle or Gertie?

She shook her head solemnly. They’ve been very generous and I won’t presume on their good nature. Especially since I don’t have any job prospects lined up. How would you like it if an acquaintance asked to move into your house for an indeterminate amount of time?

I see your point. How about your cousin? Why don’t you live with him?

Her good nature returned with a gurgle of laughter. And I thought that kind of thing was frowned on in the Bible Belt. I guess deep Southern tradition offsets that moral directive, but I’m not sure if I can get past it. She shook her head. Joking aside, Loyal deliberately found a place over the parish line, so it’s out of the question. But you’ve piqued my curiosity— what other skeletons are lurking in local closets, known only to those who’ve been initiated into true Southern rites? She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper.

Quit stalling. He crossed his arms and her lips flapped when she blew out a puff of air.

With a shrug, she told him, Do what you have to do. But tell Eugene this will come back to haunt him. Throwing a woman into the street isn’t Christian—why are you laughing?

Eugene’s idea of Christianity is not cursing in front of his wife on Sunday. Needless to say, he’s a heavy sinner.

Then maybe I should have a talk with Eugene’s wife, she stated. Is she a reasonable woman?

Shirlene’s very reasonable—for a hypocritical preacher who took up the vocation so she could start a wedding business. She flaunts her own vows by chasing every eligible man foolish enough to wander too close to her mantrap, and she confesses to herself once a week. He saw her amusement and shook his head. I’m not kidding.

What does she do for penance? Mercy asked in awe.

I don’t know, and I hope I never find out. The fact is Eugene loves money, cigarettes, Shirlene, and Wheel of Fortune. I’m not sure in what order, but I guarantee that you aren’t on his list.

Well, thank God for that! Do you think I can set up a tent in the park? she asked.

Do you have a tent? Carter looked around the room.

No. What’s the point of getting one, if you won’t allow me to use it?

His brows went straight, and he lugged a tote outside. She was sitting on the bed, deep in thought, when he came in for another. "Now you’re thinking about where to go?"

No. She grabbed her head with both hands and peered up at him. Yes. Any ideas?

He chuckled. Was that so hard?

Is that a trick question? Because I’m not good at those, she warned. Like do you mean was it hard for me to think, or was it hard for me to ask you? Or do you mean—

What’s going on? Gertie asked from the open doorway, interrupting them. I got a call from Dorothy and she said it looks like you’re getting ready for a yard sale. Mercy, is that true?

Oh, hi. Mercy waved at her friend and wondered how to explain her eviction without making Gertie feel obligated to take her in. He’s just helping me move some things.

No, I’m not, Carter said. I’m evicting her. Mercy scowled until he reminded her that Eugene was a major link in the Sinful gossip chain and Gertie would know within a few hours, anyway.

Mercy nodded and admitted, I’m between places. Carter snorted, and she warned, Shut up, deputy! I’m not looking for charity. Her last words were aimed at Gertie, who nodded.

I understand, and I might be able to help. I know a widow who needs temporary live-in help. She had hip surgery and her son told me the doctor said if she wants to stay at home, then she needs someone there to help her. Otherwise, she’ll have to go into a nursing home for rehab because he can’t take time off work to stay with her. This time it was Gertie who gave Carter the scolding look at the sardonic noise he made.

What’s the catch? Mercy asked after reading Carter’s face.

Well, Honey’s parents were very optimistic when they named her. And, personally, I think she picked her husband for his last name. Gertie gave her a beaming smile, and Mercy wondered what she meant.

Carter explained. Her married name is Honey Graham. Curdled Milk would be more appropriate, but Gertie’s right about one thing—Honey’s desperate to stay home.

Wonderful. Two desperate women under one roof, Mercy muttered under her breath before agreeing. Fine. How do I contact her?

Carter can take you to meet her, Gertie replied.

Excuse me? Since when did I become an employee of the temp service agency? he asked.

You know she doesn’t like me, Gertie told him.

So what? She hates everyone, he retorted.

Especially Baptists. If I take Mercy, she won’t have a chance. You, on the other hand, have the authority of the law behind you. Honey’s Catholic, Gertie said explained Mercy.

And she hates people? Mercy started to worry that it might prove to be a very bad decision.

Carter and Gertie nodded in unison. Just don’t take it personally, and you’ll be fine, Gertie advised.

Mercy chewed her lip and looked around her motel room. She didn’t want to move in with a stranger, let alone one who wore a permanent shoulder chip. But with no other options at the moment she nodded slowly. I’d appreciate it if you could take me, deputy.

Okay, I’ll drive you to meet her, Carter agreed.

As long as Eugene doesn’t touch my things, Mercy added. Gertie volunteered to stay and keep an eye on them so Mercy showed her the socks she’d finished. You can take those if you’d like. I’m not sure how many I still owe Ida Belle, but since I haven’t done any work for you yet, you’re welcome to them.

Carter headed to the door and Mercy followed him to his squad car and climbed into the backseat.

Are you sure you want to arrive like a prisoner?

She grinned and changed seats. Force of habit. I’m not sure I can handle the excitement of sitting up front. Can I turn on the siren? she asked, inspecting the control panel and reaching for a switch.

If you touch it, I’m tossing you behind the cage, he threatened.

She sat on her hands and promised to behave while he drove. In truth, she was nervous about meeting the dragon, Honey, and imagined the worst. She’s probably built like a truck. An ugly truck with rust holes and a bad exhaust, AKA giant moles and bad breath. Does she wear diapers?

Does it make a difference?

No, but I’d like to mentally prepare myself for any needs the village ogress might have, she said, her attention glued to the window as Carter pulled into the driveway of an older home. It was neat and clean outside and Mercy prayed it wouldn’t smell like a kennel inside.

I’m not aware if she has that problem, Carter admitted as he stopped and put the car in park. Her son said light chores, errands, and making sure she takes her medicine—things like that.

Okay. Well, I hope she approves of me then, Mercy said as she followed him to the front door and waited behind him while he knocked. From inside a woman called that the door was open so they entered and Mercy stopped when she saw Honey Graham. She was nothing like Mercy had imagined. In fact, she could pose for pictures of Mrs. Santa Claus with her rosy pink cheeks, wire rim glasses, and white curly hair. Then she spoke and Mercy’s original vision evaporated and reality took over.

What do you want? Honey snapped from her electric wheelchair. You made me drop my magazine! Carter rolled his eyes at Mercy and went to pick it up. He handed it to Honey, and she gave him a dirty look. I might have known you’d stomp in without wiping your feet, Carter LeBlanc. Your mother raised you in a barn. Who’s the tart with her jaw jacked like she has no sense? What’s your name, missy?

This is Mercy Hazeldine, Carter announced. She’s your new live-in helper.

Mercy squawked in protest while Honey sputtered and shouted, It’s only for two weeks! You got that Missy?

My name’s Mercy. Mercy corrected her and Carter flashed her a grin because Honey was yelling again.