Mercy Saves (Conclusion to the Beau Navarro Trilogy)

Gideon Rusk had written the message 11 times and deleted it 11 times. He sat behind his desk long after the last student had left, staring at the glow of his phone while the community college emptied around him.

               Beau, I need to talk to you about what happened.

               Delete.

               Beau, after what happened at my house, I need to establish some boundaries.

               Delete.

               Beau, my family has to come first.

               That one lasted almost a minute. Then he deleted it too.

               Gideon leaned back and rubbed both hands across his face. He was 44 years old. He had taught students twice his age, students half his age, students who cried in his office, students who screamed at him over grades, students who disappeared halfway through a semester and returned three years later expecting him to remember their names.

               He always remembered. That was part of the problem. He remembered Beau Navarro sitting across from him and admitting what he had done. He remembered Beau expecting disgust. He remembered telling him that doing something terrible did not mean everything afterward had to be terrible too. He remembered convincing Tessa to let Beau stay in their home.

               Then he remembered his wife bleeding. Corinne on the floor. Beau’s hands around her throat. The look on Beau’s face. Gideon had stopped him.

               Barely.

               The police had sorted out the rest. Corinne had been arrested. Tessa had needed stitches. Beau had told the truth. Every important part of his story had been corroborated. None of that changed what Gideon had seen. For days, he had tried to convince himself that it did. Tessa had been kinder about it than he expected. “You helped him,” she said.

               “I brought him into our house.”

               “You didn’t bring her.”

               “He came with her.”

               “That isn’t the same thing.”

               It was to Gideon. He had a wife. He had children. He had responsibilities that mattered more than his instinct to rescue a student who s`eemed to exist one bad decision away from catastrophe. The sentence he could not type was the only honest one.

               You cannot be part of my life anymore.

               He finally locked his phone and dropped it onto the desk. Tomorrow. He would tell Beau tomorrow.

               Beau Navarro had decided there would not be a tomorrow. He sat alone in a Pizza Hut booth near the front window, staring at a medium pepperoni pizza he had barely touched. It seemed like a stupid last meal. He had imagined people choosing steak. Lobster. Something expensive enough to make the final credit-card charge amusing.

               Beau had chosen Pizza Hut. That felt appropriate. He pulled another slice onto his plate and watched the cheese stretch before snapping. Five years.

               Five fucking years of trying.

               He had worked. He had gone to school. He had stayed away from the people he used to know. He had tried to become something besides the worst thing he had ever done.

               Then Corinne happened.

               Gideon happened.

               Tessa happened.

               For a couple of nights, Beau had gotten a glimpse of what normal people had. Dinner at a table. A woman complaining that somebody had left a cabinet open. A professor walking around his own house in socks. Pancakes. Normal things. Tiny things. Things Beau had somehow turned into blood. Tessa had told him to stay. That was the part he could not forgive.

               Not her.

               Himself.

               She had been bleeding because of a world Beau brought to her door, and she had still offered him mercy. He had spent the days since waiting for Gideon to call. Gideon had not. Beau understood silence. Silence had been one of the first languages he learned.

               His phone sat beside his plate. Nothing. He picked up the slice and took another bite. The restaurant was almost empty. A family occupied a booth near the back. Two teenage boys were arguing quietly over something on a phone. An older woman sat near the salad bar reading a paperback. Beau wondered how many of them were happy. He wondered how many only looked that way. Mostly, he wondered whether the old man had been right.

               The wish was a mirror.

               Everybody got what they believed they deserved.

               Beau had spent years trying to convince himself he deserved something better. Maybe this was proof that he had failed. He took another bite.

               Outside, Gideon Rusk was trying to remember whether Tessa had asked for milk. He stopped beside his truck and checked his phone. One unread text from her.

               Milk. And don’t pretend you forgot.

               Despite everything, Gideon smiled. He typed:

               I would never.

               He had just sent it when a voice behind him said, “Wallet.” Gideon turned. The man looked younger than the voice sounded. Thin. Hood pulled tight around his face. One hand trembling. The other held a pistol. Gideon stared at it. For one strange second, his mind rejected what he was seeing. Then the man stepped closer. “Wallet. Phone. Keys.”

               “Okay.” Gideon raised his hands. The parking lot was not empty. That registered immediately. A pickup was idling near the street. A couple stood beside an SUV. Someone was loading groceries into a hatchback farther down the strip mall. People were watching. Nobody moved. Gideon slowly reached toward his pocket.

               The gun jerked upward. “Slow.”

               “I’m going slow.”

               “Give me the fucking wallet.” Gideon pulled it free and held it out. The man snatched it. “Phone.” Gideon handed him the phone. “Keys.” Gideon hesitated. The man noticed. “What?”

               “Nothing.”

               “Keys.” Gideon looked at his truck. There were photographs inside. A jacket Tessa had bought him. One of his daughter’s school projects was still on the back seat because he kept forgetting to take it into the house. Absurd things to think about with a gun pointed at his chest. He held out the keys. The man grabbed them. Then something changed.

               Maybe it was Gideon looking toward the people watching.

               Maybe the robber panicked.

               Maybe he suddenly understood how many witnesses there were.

               “Get on the ground.”

               Gideon froze. “What?”

               “Get on the fucking ground.”

               The gun was shaking harder now. Gideon looked at the man’s face. There was fear there. That terrified him more than anger would have. “I gave you everything.”

               “Down.”

               “You can take the truck.”

               “Shut up.”

               “I won’t follow you.”

               “Shut the fuck up!”

               The shout carried across the parking lot. Inside Pizza Hut, Beau looked toward the window. He could not see much from his booth. Someone outside was yelling. Nobody in the restaurant reacted beyond a few curious glances. Beau looked back at his pizza. Not his problem. Nothing was his problem anymore.

               Outside, Gideon lowered himself onto one knee.

               “Both knees.”

               Gideon complied. His heart hammered so violently that his vision pulsed. The man backed toward the truck. Then stopped. Gideon saw the decision happen.

               The witnesses.

               His face.

               The license plate.

               Something was calculating behind the man’s eyes.

               Gideon suddenly understood that surrender had not saved him. “Please.”

               The man raised the gun. Gideon forgot every dignified thing he had ever imagined himself saying at the end of his life. “Please don’t. I have children and a wife.”

               Inside Pizza Hut, Beau dropped his slice. The voice was muffled through glass. It did not matter. He knew it. Beau was out of the booth before the slice hit the plate. He slammed through the front door hard enough that it struck the exterior wall. He saw Gideon on his knees. He saw the gun. He saw the man holding it. Everything Beau had spent the last hour thinking disappeared.

               “HEY!”

               The robber spun. Gideon turned. For an instant, neither recognized what was happening. Then Gideon’s face changed. “Beau, don’t!” Beau was already running. The gun swung toward him. People screamed. Beau did not slow down. Later, he would not remember deciding to do it. There had been no decision.

               Gideon had children.

               Gideon had Tessa.

               Gideon had a house where people ate dinner together and complained about cabinets and made pancakes in the morning.

               Beau had half a pepperoni pizza waiting inside. The math was easy.

               The gun fired.

               Beau felt something punch his left side. He stumbled. Gideon screamed his name. Beau kept moving. The robber fired again. The second shot missed. Beau hit him with everything he had. They crashed onto the pavement. The pistol skittered beneath Gideon’s truck. The man clawed at Beau’s face. Beau drove a forearm into his throat and slammed his head against the pavement.

               Once.

               Twice.

               The old Beau arrived like he had been waiting nearby.

               Effortless.

               Familiar.

               Hungry.

               Beau raised his fist again. “Beau!” Gideon’s voice. Again. Always Gideon’s fucking voice. Beau froze. The man beneath him coughed and covered his face. Beau looked at his own fist. Then at Gideon. He lowered it.

               “Get the gun.”

               Gideon scrambled beneath the truck and pulled the pistol away. People finally started moving. The same people who had watched from a distance now approached with phones pressed to their ears. Beau tried to stand. His left leg folded. Gideon caught him before his head struck the pavement. “Easy.”

               “I’m fine.”

               “You’ve been shot.”

               Beau looked down. Blood was spreading across his shirt. “Well, not the first time.”

               “Stay with me.”

               Beau laughed. It came out wet. “That’s a pretty shitty choice of words.”

               Gideon pressed both hands against the wound. “Beau.”

               “I’m here.”

               “Stay here.”

               The robber crawled several feet before a man from the idling pickup finally found his courage and kicked the gun farther away. Sirens wailed somewhere in the distance. Beau stared up at the Montana sky. It was remarkably blue. He had not noticed that when he walked into Pizza Hut. “Professor?”

               “I’m right here.”

               “You okay?”

               Gideon stared at him. “You got shot and you’re asking me that?”

               “Seemed polite.”

               Gideon’s eyes filled. “I’m okay.”

               “Good.”

               Beau closed his eyes. Gideon slapped his cheek. “Open your eyes.”

               “Jesus.”

               “Open them.”

               Beau did. “I was eating.”

               “What?”

               “My pizza.” Gideon stared at him. “I didn’t pay yet.”

               Then Gideon started laughing. He did not mean to. The sound broke through something inside him and came out tangled with a sob.

               Beau smiled. “There he is.”

               Paramedics arrived minutes later. Beau remembered pieces. Scissors cutting through his shirt. Questions. His name. His birthday. Where he was. Whether he knew who the president was. He remembered telling someone that was a stupid way to determine whether his brain worked. Then he remembered Gideon beside the stretcher. “You don’t have to come.”

               “Yes, I do.”

               “Tessa’s gonna be pissed.”

               “She’s going to be furious.”

               “At me?”

               “At everybody.”

               “Fair enough.”

               The ambulance doors closed. Beau woke in a hospital room with Gideon asleep in a chair. For a while, he simply watched him. Then he noticed Tessa standing by the window. Her forearm was still bandaged. “You look terrible,” she said.

               Beau swallowed. “So do you.”

               Tessa smiled. “Asshole.”

               “Where’s Gideon?”

               She pointed at the sleeping man six feet away. Beau blinked. “Right.”

               “The bullet went through you. Missed anything important.”

               “Story of my life.”

               Tessa walked closer. “You saved my husband.”

               Beau looked away. “He would’ve done it for me.” Tessa did not answer immediately. “Maybe.”

               Beau looked back at her. “That wasn’t why.”

               “I know.”

               Gideon stirred. His eyes opened, found Beau, and immediately sharpened.

               “You’re awake.”

               “Apparently.”

               Gideon stood. For several seconds, none of them spoke. Then Beau noticed Gideon’s phone on the bedside table. The screen illuminated. A message draft was visible. His name was at the top. Beau reached for it before Gideon could.

               “Beau.”

               He read.

               Only a few lines remained from one of Gideon’s abandoned attempts.

               My family has to come first. After what happened, I can’t keep pretending that caring about you means I can keep bringing this into our lives.

               Beau stopped reading. The room became very quiet. He handed the phone back. “Oh.”

               “Beau, I was going to…”

               “It’s fine.”

               “It isn’t.”

               “Sure it is.”

               Gideon sat beside the bed. “I was going to tell you that I couldn’t do this anymore.”

               “Do what?”

               Gideon hesitated.

               Beau understood. “Know me.” Tessa looked at her husband. Gideon nodded. Beau stared at the blanket. “That makes sense.”

               “I thought it did.”

               “It does.”

               “I’m not finished.”

               Beau looked up. Gideon’s eyes were red. “I was terrified after that night. I brought you into my home, and my wife ended up bleeding on the floor. I watched you almost kill someone.”

               “I know.”

               “You scared me.” Beau flinched. That hurt more than the bullet. Gideon continued. “And tonight I watched maybe 15 people see a gun pointed at me.” Beau said nothing. “Everybody watched.”

               “They were scared.”

               “Of course they were.”

               “You can’t blame them.”

               “I don’t.” Gideon leaned closer. “But the man I was trying to remove from my life heard my voice through a Pizza Hut window and ran toward a gun.”

               Beau looked away. “That doesn’t fix anything.”

               “I know.”

               “It doesn’t fix Tessa.”

               “I know.”

               “It doesn’t make me a good person.”

               “I didn’t say it did.”

               Beau’s jaw tightened. “Then what does it mean?”

               Gideon looked at him for a long time. “It means you came running.” Beau felt his eyes burn. He hated that. “You’re never staying at my house again,” Gideon said.

               A laugh escaped Beau before he could stop it. “Fair.”

               “You’re never bringing your relationship disasters anywhere near my family.”

               “Also fair.”

               “I’m going to have boundaries with you that I should have had before.” Beau nodded. “And you’re coming to class Monday.”

               Beau stopped. “What?”

               “You heard me.”

               “I got shot.”

               “Monday might be ambitious.”

               “Little bit.”

               “Wednesday.”

               Beau stared at him. “Why?”

               Gideon looked almost offended. “Because you’re my student.”

               “That’s it?”

               “That’s enough.”

               Tessa stepped beside her husband. “And because you still owe me pancakes.”

               Beau looked at her bandaged arm. Then at Gideon. Then at the ceiling. He laughed once, but this time the sound broke halfway through. He covered his face. Neither of them told him to stop. Forfive5 years, Beau had believed survival was something that happened to him. A punishment sometimes. A mystery most of the time.

               Once, an old man had given him exactly what he asked for and forced him to discover that people carried their own verdicts inside themselves. Beau had spent years waiting for his. Tonight, he had walked into Pizza Hut believing he finally knew what he deserved. Then he heard a man begging to live. And without thinking, Beau Navarro had chosen which life mattered.

               He understood now that he had been wrong about the choice.

               There had never been two lives on the scale. Gideon’s against his. Good against bad. Professor against convict.

               The man with the family against the man who thought he had nothing.

               Mercy had never asked him to choose.

               It had asked him to believe both lives were worth saving.

               Beau lowered his hands. “Professor?”

               “Yeah?”

               “I think I’m gonna need help.”

               Gideon did not ask with what. He simply nodded. “Okay.”

               Beau turned toward the window. Morning was beginning somewhere beyond the Montana horizon. He had never expected to see it. For the first time in his life, Beau Navarro understood what mercy had been trying to teach him all along. Mercy did not save him from what he deserved. Mercy taught him he deserved to be saved.