Daisy had left on a morning flight. The kitchen was reorganized to the point that Saphora had to rummage to find the oatmeal. But finally there it was behind the olives. Daisy had alphabetized the pantry, bless her heart.
The whole house seemed to sigh with her gone. Saphora took breakfast out on the patio. The tree between her house and Luke’s was full of birds. The Outer Banks had over six hundred species. They all seemed to land at once in a sort of communal morning song, irritating Saphora. Luke’s gate was ajar. She took another bite of oatmeal. Then she got up and crossed the dew-soaked backyard, wetting her once-white scuffies. She was about to close the gate. But she had never walked up to Luke’s gate without going inside. He had not asked, but maybe he had left the gate open on purpose. Maybe he wanted her to check on his place in his absence.
The lifeguard had not yet come for the cat. The old yellow tabby, Johnson, lazed under the drooping evergreen.
“Are you being looked after, Johnson?” she asked. She walked across the backyard, past a koi pond. The koi were all gone. Birds of prey could not resist the sight of a beautiful, exotic koi supper. Luke had not possessed either the strength or the vision to restore the pond to its former splendor. She walked around the fountain, a likeness of a young girl that had stopped burbling some time ago. Water had stained the child’s cheeks like tears.
Saphora walked past the door that led into the garage where Luke holed up night and day pouring his grief into his work. She looked through the small garage window. It was too dark to see anything. She walked past the arsenal of garden tools Luke used every night looking for an elusive treasure. The shovel handle was worn smooth from use. The spade stuck to the handle only because it was rusted on tightly.
Saphora carried the shovel back across the yard. She would replace it with a new shovel at least. Not everything in Luke’s yard had to be wasting away.
Patches of newly sown grass sprang up from the circles now filled with soil. She counted them on her way out. Ten, fifteen, twenty-two, twenty-eight. Plus two more under the tree. If he had dug a hole per night, Luke had been digging holes for a month.
Gwennie had come along at just the right time, just before Luke slipped down forever into one of his holes.
Daisy had cleaned the house so thoroughly there were no chores left to be done. By noon Saphora battled restless thoughts. A storm moved across the state right down the interstate between the Outer Banks and Raleigh. She put off driving to Duke until after lunch.
She pulled out Bender’s fishing albums, poring over photographs of him standing next to a mako shark he had snagged in the mid-Atlantic. He was so full of himself that he was flexing an arm muscle as if he had conquered the poor beast alone. Jim and two other surgeons had assisted with bringing it in. It was only eight feet in length. He had talked about the fight the fish had given him and how, upon hooking it, the mako had jumped out of the air just feet from the boat.
Lightning undulated, threading through the clouds above the river. The water was churning like it had the day she had navigated the Neuse alone. Saphora closed the drapes.
The den was dark, so she turned on the table lamps. She left the album open next to a cup of black coffee. There it sat as if poured for Bender. Next to it were two cookies, his favorites. She took the coffee and cookies to the sink and put it all into the garbage disposal.
Today was her first day fully alone in the house. She had imagined how she would eat what she liked, read without interruption. She would listen to Wagner—Bender thought Wagner was overplayed and often turned it off as if Saphora was not in the car.
Saphora got out a juicer and made a drink of fruit and soy milk. Then she made a waffle for lunch. She topped it with fruit, no syrup. She opened the curtains fully and watched the storm moving over the Neuse as she listened to the London Symphony Orchestra. She remembered the tickets Bender had won at the silent auction, tickets they could not share. Had he predicted his own health crisis, yet lavishly spent money on the gesture?
A couple of tears clouded her eyes. She wiped them and then stuffed a bite of waffle into her mouth. Her lips were salty. The taste was berry and tears. Thunder rattled the window glass. She worried that Luke’s cat had not been picked up by the lifeguard. She hoped the cat had found the crawl space under Luke’s house a dry refuge. The lawn chair Eddie had used for fishing lifted like a kite and was pitched into the roiling water.
Saphora put the dishes in the dishwasher. She had discouraged Sherry from driving back since none of the kids were coming for the weekend. Now she wished she’d let Sherry join her anyway, Sherry who inserted herself into every conversation, filling the air with laughing and silly storytelling. But it was pleasant noise and better than the deadness of the empty house. The storm outside only made the quiet of the house more explicit.
She had wanted nothing more than the house to herself. But now that every detail was perfectly ordered as she first imagined, it was not what she had predicted.
The rain was driving sideways, pelting the house. She looked out across the deck. The sky was entirely black now. Saphora closed up Bender’s fishing album. She opened his diary. Then she took the Bible that Pastor Mims had given to him as if somehow she would magically open it and something important would fly out and comfort her. She felt like an old woman with her knitting and her Bible. She opened it anyway. No one would know.
It was on the way to Duke, the rain-soaked interstate drying in the sun, that Gwennie called to say she was flying in before midnight that very night. Just as Luke had said. She had gotten nearly the last seat on a flight from New York to Raleigh that was cheaper than any flight she had ever booked in advance. “So it’s silly not to take advantage,” she told Saphora.
“Of course,” said Saphora. “I’m glad you’re coming. I’ll already be in Raleigh. I’ll pick you up then?”
“All right,” said Gwennie.
Saphora was glad she’d at least have Gwennie knocking around the house all weekend. She had Luke to thank for that.
Senator Weberman’s security guards were stationed, like before, out in the hallway. They sat eating a late afternoon meal of the better food from the catering company. Saphora was about to enter the room when a nurse came out from behind the station. “Mrs. Warren, I’m glad to see you.”
“Is there any change?” asked Saphora.
The nurse, a Chinese girl by the name of Kew, looked around the station, making sure it was only the two of them. “Actually, I was changing his glucose this morning, and I could have sworn his eyes opened.”
“Did he say anything?”
“I’m not sure about it, Mrs. Warren. But I thought I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye. Then I turned and he was still, like always.” She meant well; she was a young nurse who had learned English in the South. Her accent was as pert and pretty as any Carolina girl’s.
“I’ll sit with him until after dinner, Kew. Then I’ve got to pick up my daughter from the airport. If I brought her over tonight, would that be all right? Visiting hours will be over.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” said the nurse.
Good. A people-pleasing nurse. She would be a cinch to manipulate. Saphora thanked her and walked right into Bender’s room. She was sick to death of the antiseptic smell of hospital rooms. Convalescing should smell like garden soil, she thought, or cherry candles.
She sat right down next to Bender’s bed as if she might make his eyes flutter open, like Kew had said. She got down next to his ear and whispered, “I saw Reverend Mims about your questions. He told me some things.” She sat back and thought how foolish it might appear to others to keep trying to wake Bender from his coma. Who cares, she would do it anyway.
She pulled his Bible out of her choke-a-horse-sized handbag. “Here’s the way it is, Bender. I don’t have any idea how to figure out your questions about God or heaven. I guess you might be wanting to find answers right about now what with your situation and all. I don’t want to give you the wrong
impression. I don’t have the answers either. But this is how it was told to me by Reverend Mims.”
She opened the Bible to where Bender had circled the part about God saving his tears in a bottle. She turned to make sure she was not disturbing the man who had been moved in next to Bender. Mort was gone. The new patient was either so doped up he was out of it or else floating like Bender between the hospital floors and heaven.
“Pastor Mims says that back in the ancient days people considered water precious. Giving up tears was like a sacrifice for their loved one. So saving tears was sacred. I don’t know about all that, but I’ve shed a lot of tears for you, Bender.” Mims had talked to her for as long as she asked questions. She paused as if giving him a moment to think about what she was saying. “I shed tears long before now, like all of the nights your place in our bed next to me was cold and empty. Truth be told, Bender, I’ve filled up gallons of tear jars for you. You’d think I’d be all dried up by now, but instead …” She stopped, feeling like the Neuse was bursting through her walls again. She started crying but covered her mouth as if he might wake up and tell her to get ahold of herself. Then it came to her that if the ancients believed tears were sacred, then maybe there was something to it. She sobbed in the quiet of the hospital room with Bender still, her tears falling on his upturned hand as if he were catching them to carry around with him as he hovered between the hospital floors.
Gwennie’s flight was fifteen minutes early, she said, since a New York tailwind had blown her plane south on a summer coastal stream. She kissed Saphora, but instead of heading straight for the luggage carousel, she said, “Mama, I brought someone with me, a friend from the office.”
A tall man about Luke’s age appeared from behind her as if Gwennie cued him to step up and make some grand New York attorney’s entrance. “Mrs. Warren, I work with Gwennie at Bart and Ludstrum.” He was a loving Italian man, kissing Saphora’s cheek as if they had met from the long past.
“Gwennie, you didn’t tell me,” was all Saphora could think to say.
“I know. It was last minute. This is Mario. He works litigation at B&L.”
“Are you working on a case this weekend?” asked Saphora.
“Of a sort,” said Gwennie. “He’s just broken up with his girlfriend. Truth is, I found him staring out his window at the New York skyline this afternoon.”
“She felt sorry for me,” said Mario.
“But I thought your flight was full,” said Saphora.
“Mama.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just a surprise,” said Saphora. “Mario, we’re working through this situation with Gwennie’s daddy.”
“I won’t be a bother, Mrs. Warren. I can even get a room at one of the inns,” said Mario. “I’ve just got to get the weight of this week off me.”
“He only needs a place to take a walk and clear his head. I called and, boom, we found a seat that was canceled,” said Gwennie, not taking her eyes off Mario.
“Boom!” said Mario. “Here we are.”
“You can stay with us.” Saphora said. “There’s room all over. I’ve got the whole house to myself. So you’re not dating then?”
Gwennie looked at Mario and laughed as if the two of them shared some secret. “We’re not dating. I’m just his shoulder to cry on this weekend.”
“She’s been wonderful, Mrs. Warren,” he said. “Southern women are so sympathetic.”
“I’m sure,” said Saphora. She helped Gwennie find her suitcase.
“I’ll get the rental car,” he told Gwennie.
Once they congregated in the hospital, Mario set up shop in a waiting area as if he could run an office from anywhere. He had his laptop open, a latte perched in his cup holder. His black polo shirt was open all the way as if he felt completely at home in their company. He took out a headset and then said, “The two of you go ahead and catch up. When I turn on music, I can’t hear a thing.”
“I’d like some time alone with Daddy first, Mama, if that’s all right.” Gwennie went up the elevator alone while Saphora sat in a chair across from Mario.
Saphora liked Mario well enough. He was a likable sort. But she had imagined finally having Gwennie all to herself for the entire weekend. But wasn’t it like Gwennie to handle the whole issue of Luke with a good-looking Italian diversion?
Mario rested his thonged feet on the magazine table. “All she’s talked about is her father. They must be very close.”
“Bender dotes on Gwennie. She was the only real athlete out of all three of our children,” said Saphora. He did adore her if for no other reason than the shelves of trophies next to his in the library. “The boys tried out for a few teams. But everything Gwennie set her mind to, she tackled. She’s a lot like her daddy.”
“My father loved me for my accomplishments too,” he said.
She hadn’t exactly said that, but he was perceptive to notice. Or maybe just experienced. “Were you an athlete?”
“Tennis and golf. State champion, national junior PGA tour.”
“Your girlfriend must be sorry you broke up with her.”
“Evie broke up with me. Wasn’t willing to wait on my career. Now she’s interested in a senior partner at another firm.” He looked like a whipped pup. “I’ve heard he’s married.”
“It’s a sad state of affairs, the way girls go after men in high places.”
“Does anyone fall in love anymore, Mrs. Warren? I’d like to know.”
“It’s easy falling in love, Mario. It’s staying in love that boggles the mind,” said Saphora.
The elevator door opened. Gwennie came out, looking as if she would bean the next person who talked to her. “There’s some Chilean nurse on duty who barely understands English. She won’t let me in because visiting hours are over.”
“Want me to try and get you in?” asked Saphora. “I know of a nurse who will help.”
“I’m too tired to fight the forces. We’ll just have to drive back tomorrow.”
Saphora looked out the large window. It was the time of night when the sky is so close to midnight that the trees look like they’re floating in milk. Her eyelids were heavy, so she told Gwennie she’d have to drive them back home.
“Let’s get a hotel room,” said Mario. “I’ll pay and that’ll be my treat to you ladies for taking in a stranger.”
“Mario, I’m going to take you up on it,” said Saphora.
“Deal,” said Mario.
“So what were you two doing?” asked Gwennie. “Solving the world’s problems?”
“She’s coaching me in matters of the heart,” said Mario.
“My mother?” asked Gwennie. She was tired. Sarcasm pierced through her usual diplomacy.
“Sure. Where do you think you got all your brains?” he asked.
The next morning, Gwennie was able to get right in to see her daddy. Saphora and Mario joined her. Kew was raising his bed and opening the window drapes, letting in the morning sun. “There you are, Mrs. Warren. I heard your daughter got thrown off the floor last night,” she said. “If I’d been here, I’d have given them what for.”
“Kew, if I may ask,” said Mario, “can you tell me about his brain patterns?”
“Sure. He’s got the vitals of a man half his age, strong heart. But his brain is quiet as a butterfly.”
“What do you know about brain patterns, Mario?” asked Gwennie.
“I was premed before I figured out that my sympathy was better suited to litigation,” said Mario.
“Litigation requires no sympathy,” said Gwennie.
“That’s me. Mr. Coldheart,” said Mario.
“I don’t believe that,” said Saphora. Nor could she believe that she was already taking up with him. “I mean, I guess if you’re a litigator, you do have to hold people out at arm’s length.”
If anything was evident, it was that Gwennie did not need an exact duplicate of herself. But she would be the last to admit it.
Gwennie held on to Bender’s hand for about t
he length of time he might have held on to her when, as a little girl with the flu, she begged him to sit by her bedside. But restlessness and a blocked cell phone signal soon overtook her patience, and she was ready to head for Oriental.
The drive back was as clear as if yesterday’s storm had never come. When Gwennie was not on her phone with her assistant, Mario was talking to her as he drove the rental car right behind them. The two of them wrangled office staff around their cases from a distance as if they were duke and duchess of all things legal. Gwennie had girls otherwise off for the weekend holed up in her office looking through old cases as if their lives depended on whatever it was they had to find. Mario was no different. But where Gwennie captained them around in the same way her father ran a surgical team, Mario negotiated with charm, or so she seemed to indicate.
While Gwennie had Mario on the phone, Saphora said, “The two of you should go into business together. You work your will like two CEOs.”
“Us?” said Gwennie. “You should see the senior partners working us through their slick little schemes,” said Gwennie. She laughed at Mario on the phone. She told her mother, “He says, ‘Don’t let us fool you. We’re still just the office flunkies.’”
By the time they pulled into the drive, Gwennie had tilted her seat back and fallen asleep. Saphora had to wake her up.
Gwennie sat up, rubbing her eyes and smoothing her hair. “I feel like I took a sleeping pill,” she said. She finally got awake enough to walk around the back of the car and pull out her luggage. It was about then that Luke’s cat started howling from next door as if it were caught in a trap. Gwennie left her suitcase inside the garage and a few moments later came back holding Johnson close to her. “Poor soaked kitty. He’s been left out in the rain. I thought you said Luke had left someone to care for him, Mama.”
Mario walked up, his belongings in a single backpack. “Him? Gwennie, Johnson’s a she,” he said. “Look. She’s had kittens.” He pulled back the cat’s belly fur to show her two rows of swollen teats.
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