Mercy Read online

  Mia wouldn't have expected any less. She smiled uncomfortably, not knowing if she was supposed to do anything else, like offer Ellen MacDonald a teakettle to make her infusion, or pluck the petals off for her. Ellen did not say anything, but she didn't seem inclined to leave, either.

  "So, you're Cam's mother," Mia said, realizing only after the words were out of her mouth how intimate they sounded.

  "The very one." Ellen reached deep into a pocket and drew out several small polished stones. "You seem a little piqued, dear," she said, rattling the stones in her palm like they were dice. When they fell, she began to sift through them. "This is rhodonite, that's for calming--here, you take it--and this is rose quartz, for love; and no, not this one, that's carnelian for sexuality . . . Ah!" With a flourish, she presented a tiny smooth green stone to Mia. "Aven-tutine. For tranquillity."

  Mia touched all of the stones, scattered like bright marbles across Allies desk. "Do these really work?"

  Ellen shrugged. "I suppose it depends on how much you want them to. When old Angus had a stroke the year after he moved to America and the consensus was that he was going to die in a matter of days, I sewed malachite into the lining of his hospital gown. It's supposed to strengthen the heart, the circulation. Wouldn't you know it, he walked out of the hospital on his own two feet the next morning."

  Mia's mouth dropped open. "That's amazing!"

  Ellen smiled. "It probably was not so much the malachite as the fact that he was a MacDonald," she admitted. "They're too stubborn to die until they're good and ready."

  The swing of the door on its hinges sent Mia running to the front to greet a potential customer. Bent over the worktable, carefully arranging two paper plates and utensils, was Cam. "Hi." He grinned when she came into the room. "Since it's in my best interests to keep up your strength--"

  "Cam," Mia said. "Guess who's here?"

  Ellen walked out, her coat buttoned again, her hands clutching fistfuls of stubby flowers. "Well. Two birds with one stone."

  Cam leaned down to kiss his mother on the cheek. "What are you doing here?"

  "Allie got me some linden," she said, holding it up for Cam to sniff. "I'm making a soporific today."

  "Well, hell." Cam smiled, in too good a mood to take issue with his mother's crazy ideas. "Somebody has to."

  Ellen glanced at the table, set cozily for two; at the calzones that Cam had purchased, leaking greasily through the bottom of the paper bag. She looked up at her son. "Don't tell me you forgot Allies gone."

  "It's for Mia," Cam said smoothly. "Allie asked me to make sure she gets regular meals."

  For a moment Ellen could not put her finger on what was the matter. But then she understood: Cam was feverish; he was burning up. He didn't seem to be acting sick, but she would have recognized anywhere the flame behind his eyes and the flush that worked up from his neck.

  Ellen stared at her son, who was unwrapping something that looked like Parmesan cheese and whistling an old Scots lullaby. Then she looked at Mia, whose hands were moving restlessly at her sides. There was an amethyst in Ellen's pocket, which represented the strength of will, and she considered giving it to Cam, but realized this was something he'd have to discover himself.

  Then she thought of Allie, who was not there to bear witness; Allie with her back curved over Ellen's stove as she mixed beeswax and lanolin and what have you. She thought of the time she, Ellen, had oversteeped a tincture, so that when Allie tried to rub it over her face as a restorative, it had dyed her skin green. She thought of the way Allie had looked at her own wedding, how she'd stood in the receiving line clutching Cam's hand so tightly that she left behind faint bruises that lasted a week.

  Ellen set down her flowers and unbuttoned her coat. She perched on one of the work stools and propped her elbows up in front of a paper plate. "My," she said, smiling. "I hope there's enough there for three."

  The spare bedroom in Jamie and Maggie's house had been converted into a home office for Jamie, complete with a state-of-the-art computer system and virtual reality aids. Allie stepped into the room cautiously; computers made her nervous. She had taken an adult education course the year before which taught her how to inventory her stock and do billing on a computer system, but she'd never even seen some of the paraphernalia that littered Jamie's study.

  Strange geometric patterns were swirling on the screen, as if the user had stepped out to the bathroom and was planning on coming back in a moment. This, Allie had seen before--they were screen savers, or something like that; they were supposed to save energy when the computer was turned on but unoccupied. It surprised Allie that Jamie hadn't thought to shut off the system before leaving with Maggie; then she realized other things had probably been on his mind. Still, with Jamie away in Wheelock, the drain of electricity would be costing him a fortune. Almost shyly, Allie sat down at the swivel chair and reached for the power switch on the computer.

  As soon as she stretched out her hand, the geometric patterns vanished and a bright yellow ball blinked at her, like the flash of a camera. The ball skidded from left to right, leaving a string of letters behind. WELCOME, Allie read. PLEASE PUT ON GLOVE AND HMD.

  Entranced by a computer that seemed to know just when she'd arrived, Allie reached for the glove. She slid her hand inside and wiggled her fingers, then stared at the headpiece lying beside the computer. She had no idea what an HMD was, but this was the only other piece of equipment attached to the system. Gingerly she lifted the helmet and fit it over her head and eyes.

  She jumped. Instead of staring at a computer screen, she was in it. Allies peripheral vision, even when she swung her head back and forth, revealed a simple cell with gray walls and aqua carpeting, like a doctor's waiting room. Words began to form inches from her face, trembling in the air like hummingbirds. You have entered Northrup Architectural's Virtual Design System, Allie read. She stretched out her hand, allowing the letters to balance on her palm, delighted to discover they had weight and texture. Then, in smaller print: Conceived and implemented by Techcellence, Inc., copyright 1995. Frowning, Allie wondered about that. She would have expected Jamie to be working on something more current.

  But before she could let herself question any further, the room fell away around her and she found herself staring at three hovering holograms: a skyscraper, a hotel, and a flagpole. A disembodied TV-announcer voice began to speak. "Please indicate which project you'd like to tour by pointing with your gloved hand," he said. As Allie reached out, he enunciated each choice. "Rystrom Towers," he boomed. "The Four Seasons, Toronto . . . Carter S. Wilder Elementary School."

  Allie curled her fingers around the flagpole. "You have chosen Carter S. Wilder Elementary School," the voice said. "If you would like to proceed with your tour, please say so now."

  Allie cleared her throat, feeling a little foolish. "I'd like to proceed with my tour."

  All of a sudden she was standing on a grassy slope, staring down at the new brick building with its shiny bike racks and wooden jungle gyms. She could feel the wind stirring her hair; she could hear the cries of children playing. Astounded, Allie squatted down and rubbed her hand over the grass. Inside the glove, she could swear she'd felt the crisp spikes and stubby needles of a just-mowed lawn. "Jamie," she whispered, "you are a genius."

  She stood up, walking and wondering why she wasn't bumping into the computer unit that she knew was right in front of her--there must have been a moving platform she'd missed seeing. At the front door of the school, she reached out and pulled at the heavy aluminum door. It swung open at her touch, but not before Allie noticed that her hand, which was surely wrapped around ordinary air, had felt a handle, and resistance.

  There was a trophy case in the main hall, and bright children's paintings on paper that curled at the edges like eyelashes. Allie examined the stick figures of one artist, and was brought whirling around by the sound of the disembodied voice again. "Please choose the image you'd like to assume for your walk-through." Again, hovering before h