Sweet Mercy by Ann Tatlock Page B

round-and-round of the colorful horses. Who could ride a carousel and not be happy? And now, I was all the more so because Marcus was on the horse beside me.
    Every time we made the loop, Marcus reached toward the ring dispenser. On our third time around, he captured one of the rings and held it up in triumph.
    â€œIt’s the brass!” he hollered, slipping it into his shirt pocket. “I’ll let you use it for a free ride.”
    But he forgot. We both forgot, until we got back to the lodge in the early evening and he found it still in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at it with chagrin. “I meant to let you use it,” he said. “How did I get so sidetracked?”
    â€œAs soon as the ride was over,” I said, “Marlene insistedshe wanted a snow cone, and she wanted it right that minute, remember?”
    â€œOh yeah.” He laughed lightly.
    â€œAnd then we forgot to go back,” I added.
    â€œWell, here.” He gave me the ring. “You can have it as a souvenir.”
    I smiled. “It was a wonderful day, Marcus. Thanks.”
    He offered a shy grin and glanced around. The porch was crowded with guests relaxing, rocking, reading the newspaper, puffing on cigarettes. One little boy pushed a wooden truck around our feet. Marcus shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “Well, good night, Eve,” he said. “I’ll be seeing you.”
    â€œGood night, Marcus.”
    With a quick nod, he hurried off the porch and around the lodge to the parking lot where Jimmy waited to take him home. In another moment I heard the horn of Jimmy’s Tin Lizzie cutting through the summer air to bid me one last good-night. Aarruga!
    I clasped the carousel ring in both hands and held it to my heart. Then I stepped into the front hall and moved toward the stairs. Uncle Cy was behind the desk.
    â€œAh, Eve, how was the carnival?” he asked. “Did you have a good day?”
    â€œIt was the best day imaginable,” I said.
    â€œShall we start planning a wedding?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    Uncle Cy laughed. “Well, be sure to let me know so we can reserve the dining room for the reception.”
    â€œI will.”
    I walked up the stairs like one in a dream, my sails swelledby what I could only imagine was the breath of passion as I moved down the hall to my room.
    My treasure box sat in solitary abandon on the dresser. I had ignored it lately, but now I had something to tuck inside. I picked it up and gazed momentarily at the floral pattern carved into the hinged lid. Mother and Daddy had given me this teakwood treasure box on September 21, 1923, my ninth birthday, though it would be nearly a year before I laid my first treasure inside. Now, I opened the lid, kissed the brass ring, and tenderly placed it on the velvet lining next to the only other item there.
    My fingers touched the lid, but I hesitated. That other item . . . maybe it no longer belonged. Maybe I should put it somewhere else. Or give it away. Or drop it in the trash.
    I picked it up and held it in the palm of my hand. Why had I kept this little ivory elephant all these years? Should I keep it now, as though it were something delightful, like the brass ring from Marcus? It had been given to me by a very bad man, an evil man. And yet, that was what had always puzzled me. I hadn’t known then who he was. I’d known only that he was a stranger who stopped to show kindness to a little girl one summer day in 1924. . . .

Chapter 13

    I ’d begged Daddy for weeks for a pair of roller skates and, though we never seemed to have much money for extras, he somehow scraped together enough to present me with a pair of skates on the first day of summer in 1924. He said they were a reward for earning all As in the fourth grade, in spite of our move from Detroit in the middle of the school year.
    The skates were a brand-new pair of Winchesters, shiny silver with bright red wheels and