The Pirate Queen

by Patricia Hickman

  The light came on below in Gwennie’s room.

  “Could we hurry?” he asked.

  “I didn’t lock the shed. Help yourself,” said Saphora. “I apologize you had to look for it.” She read his attitude as frustration with her. Whether or not it was true, he did not acknowledge her apology. He walked in the dark as lost in his thoughts as the first night she found him digging.

  “I hope I didn’t trouble you,” she said.

  Luke turned and walked away in a hurry. He was not trying to see Gwennie or tell her about his trip. He was making no efforts to make his presence known. He got the shovel out of the shed and then disappeared behind his fence.

  Gwennie came out into the yard below. She looked toward Luke’s house and then up at her mother.

  “Luke was just here,” said Saphora.

  “I heard him. I got dressed.” Her hair was pulled up on her head in a ponytail, splaying in several directions.

  “He needed his shovel.”

  “From here?”

  “I took it by accident.”

  Gwennie wore a tank top and gym shorts. She folded her arms across her stomach. The night air was somewhat damp and slightly chilly. She kept watching the gate for any more signs of Luke. Finally she sighed and walked back into the house.

  Saphora went inside too. She got into bed and turned off the lamp. It was a good half hour before Luke started his shoveling.

  18

  Thirsty hearts are those whose longings have been wakened by the touch of God within them.

  A. W. TOZER

  Marcy had finally come back to Saphora. Saphora met her at the airport. She was slender and glowing. She wore a lightly embroidered belt that made her waist look like an ant’s. It matched her wide-brimmed summer hat.

  “Saphora! Goodness, my, you look good enough to eat!” Marcy dragged a set of floral luggage while juggling a tote bag stuffed full. Being a wholesale buyer overseas, Marcy had to carry more luggage than she’d like.

  Saphora hugged Marcy so hard she could feel her rib cage. “Marcy, you’ve got to eat. Thin is thin, but you know what I mean.”

  “I’ve been too busy to eat,” she said. Her face had a rosy quality. Her sunglasses were the kind worn by celebrities in Los Angeles. She had the best of everything at her fingertips since traveling was part of her job. She paid half what her friends paid with her handy wholesaler’s card in hand.

  “I’m so jealous. You’re dressed fit to kill,” said Saphora. She touched the small cornrows behind Marcy’s ears. Marcy had left behind the dark African black hair color she was born with and colored her hair red. With Marcy’s skin the color of tawny peaches, Saphora liked the red on her. “That’s a perfect color.”

  “Does it work? I don’t know. I’m still thinking about it.”

  “I’m telling you, it’s you. And here I am plunking around in my old things. I haven’t had a minute to shop this entire summer.”

  “It’s no wonder your wardrobe’s waning, what with you stuck down in that little lagoon of a place.” She slapped her hands on her thighs. “I want to see Bender.”

  “He’s not the same, Marcy. Bender’s drifted from us. He’s in a coma,” said Saphora. She could cry easily in front of Marcy, but she held it in. She hated airport scenes.

  “I won’t stand for that. Take me to that man of yours. I’ll bring him back. My grandmother used to say the women in our line had the resurrection power.”

  “We’ll go to Duke then,” said Saphora. Even in the shadow of death, Marcy could make her laugh.

  Marcy talked incessantly while Saphora drove them to the hospital. She had found a man in a Tibetan village who wove silk rugs sought after by the Queen Mother herself. “He cut me a deal. If things keep going this way, I’ll be at the top of my sales team by year’s end,” said Marcy. “I’ve shipped you a rug. You’re going to die when you see it.”

  “No! I can’t wait.”

  “Tell me about my godchild. Is Gwennie still in town?”

  “You’ll see her when we get back to the house,” said Saphora.

  “Has she got a man?”

  “Not yet. But she teeters on the possibility.” Saphora was feeling wrung out from the drive to the airport. “I’ll tell you later. It’s a story, like everything with Gwennie.” She felt especially heavy for Luke and Gwennie this morning because she felt responsible for tampering with the natural order of things. When she got up, Gwennie was sitting on the back deck drinking coffee and half sleeping in her big-rimmed sunglasses. But Luke never came out to talk to her. Somehow her little maneuver had backfired.

  “Nothing comes easy with that girl. She’s got to make it big and splashy even if it’s to her ruination,” said Marcy. “The last time I saw her, she was teaching herself to water-ski off the family dock, bare feet and all.”

  “I forgot about that,” said Saphora.

  “She nearly wrenched her back. But there she was back up the next week leading her soccer team to the championship.”

  “She’s not changed much,” said Saphora. “Just a little older. But you’ve seen her since then, haven’t you?”

  “My divorce was seven years ago, Saphora.”

  “How has time slipped away? Where has my mind gone?”

  “You always take care of everyone around you, Saphora. You don’t notice life passing you by.”

  As usual, Marcy knew her all too well. “The life that is lived for others doesn’t realize its own potential,” said Saphora.

  “Not necessarily.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sometimes the things we do for others out of our selflessness complete us. We just have to remember to give in moderation. That way our candle doesn’t burn down to the base before its time.”

  “You always were the smartest between us, Marcy.”

  “I’m glad you noticed.” She laughed, playing at being smug when Saphora knew her to be humble. “Did you say Gwennie’s here? That’s rare for me to show up the same weekend as her.”

  “Gwennie’s coming around more. Her hair’s grown out. I think I like it. It’s red like yours.”

  “She was always cutting it in some style, trying to look like the older girls. She was a little fashion plate.”

  “That’s why she loves you so much, Marcy,” said Saphora, finding a parking place as close to the hospital elevator as possible. “She’s more like you than me.”

  “That’s my Gwennie.”

  “I’ll get us coffee. Then we’ll go up and see Bender. He was next door to a senator. But that entourage has all come and gone. It was exciting for a week around Duke.”

  Once inside the tube, Marcy got worried about losing her cell phone signal. “I’m going to step outside and leave my boss a message. Can I meet you up in Bender’s room?”

  “I’ll get the coffee. Take the elevator up to H, then veer right until you find 1221. Stop at the nurse’s station if you get lost.”

  “Skim vanilla latte, decaf, if you don’t mind,” said Marcy. “Same as you.”

  “You remembered.” Saphora let the elevator door close between them. Since her phone signal would not work anyway, she shut it off to save the charge. Six people were already inside the elevator. Saphora got off on the cafeteria and shop floor. She took her time. She picked up a gardening magazine, some extra mints. Then she ordered their coffees and walked back across the waxed black and green tiles to the padded waiting area in front of the elevator. A nice orderly helped her with the buttons, and she took the elevator up to Bender’s floor. The door opened and there was the Chilean nurse who had made Gwennie mad.

  “Mrs. Warren, I thought this was your day to be here. Your friend is in the room.”

  “She beat me here. Marcy can find her way around any place,” said Saphora.

  “Marcy? I thought her name was Evelyn.”

  “Marcy.”

  “This is your family friend, Evelyn. She’s been here to see the doctor several times.”

  The nur
se annoyed her. “I don’t know any Evelyn.”

  Saphora walked around her, holding out the coffee cups as if she was in a hurry to set them down. She politely spoke to some of the visitors she passed in the hallway, people becoming sadly familiar to her. Then she backed into Bender’s hospital room, pushing the door open. “I can’t believe you beat me here,” she said.

  Marcy did not answer. Saphora parted the curtains and smiled. “They did have vanilla lattes, you’ll be glad to know.”

  But it was not Marcy smiling back at her. Truth be told, the frail woman sitting where Saphora normally sat at Bender’s side, even holding Bender’s hand, was not smiling. She wiped her eyes and sat up, flummoxed, her quiet moment invaded.

  Saphora glanced at her husband to be sure she was in the right room. “Do I know you?” she asked.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude on your time, ma’am.” She got up, the roots around her scalp showing silvery threads in the light as she moved quickly out of the chair. She hurried to get up and retrieve her purse. She was going to bolt for the door, but Saphora said, “Won’t you tell me your name?”

  “Evelyn.”

  When she spoke her name “Evelyn,” Saphora’s mind flashed back that instant to the boat moored at their home dock on Lake Norman. The Evelyn had been a greater source of pride for Bender than his golfing membership. Bender had told her he had named the boat after Evelyn, a great-aunt in his family who had loved him so much that when she died he wanted to memorialize her memory.

  She studied the slight lines around the woman’s very blue eyes. With a little makeup, she might be pretty. Probably was a babe in her younger days. “Are you a patient of my husband’s?”

  “Many years ago.”

  “You live here in Raleigh?”

  “Wilmington.”

  “My husband has flown to Wilmington often for fishing trips,” said Saphora pointedly.

  “I should go,” said Evelyn. She made a wide arc around Saphora.

  “I’d rather you stay. If you’re a friend of Bender’s,” said Saphora, not trying to hide the tension growing inside her. She set the coffees on the tray at the foot of the bed.

  Evelyn had almost made it to the door when Saphora saw a small book in the chair where she had just sat holding Bender’s hand. She picked it up, opened it, and read out loud, “To my darling Evelyn, from Bender, Your Tiger Boy.” She closed up the book of poetry. “It’s dated 1987. Did you want this?”

  Evelyn’s very pale hand came to her mouth. “This is horrible.”

  “I agree, but why leave now? The cat’s jumped out of the bag already.” Saphora was shaking, she was so angry and hurt.

  Evelyn stepped back as the door came open.

  Marcy looked relieved to see Saphora. “Good grief, Saphora, I’ve been on every floor trying to find you. Thank the good Lord I finally did.” She had stopped off at the gift shop and bought a vase with a rose in it.

  “I’ll leave you two.” Evelyn looked into Saphora’s eyes as if taking a breath might break her in two. “I’m so sorry.” She sidestepped Marcy and slipped past her and out into the hallway.

  “Who’s she?” asked Marcy.

  Saphora opened the poetry book. “Evelyn Yeats.” She closed the book and slipped it into her pocketbook. She was too weak to explain the awkward incident of the last few minutes.

  Marcy was still anxious from getting lost. “This place is a city, Saphora. Don’t let me leave your side. You’d never see me again.” She looked down at Bender, who slept with his lips slightly parted, his newly grown lashes resting like a child’s upon his face. “I guess this rose is for you, you poor guy,” she said. “Saphora, what is that in your eyes? You’re going to cry. It’s all right, baby.” She put down the vase and opened her arms wide to Saphora. She held her while she cried. “You’ve earned your tears.” She did not try to be funny the rest of their time at the hospital.

  Marcy took a turn driving. She talked quietly about her travels outside America. “The last thing I would expect is that it would change me so much, seeing how other people live. I’ve met families who have built a small business out of, say, rug making. The husband and wife weave while their kids keep the household going. You’d not believe these children, the way they keep up the household chores and start the family meals. Not just girls, but little boys sweeping their mama’s kitchen, shucking corn. Makes me feel less guilty about making my son learn to cook and do for himself. The more he looks after himself and does for his wife, the more I realize I did right making him figure out things for himself.”

  “Turner is helpless without frozen meals,” said Saphora.

  “Will I see him?” she asked.

  “Just left this afternoon. He and his son, Eddie, only had a day to come and see us and then Bender on their way out.”

  “But Turner can’t be completely helpless. Being a daddy grows them up fast,” said Marcy.

  “Some days, yes. Others, no. It’s my fault. First we had Annie and then Tabitha to clean up after us. I would tell the kids they had to make their own beds. But after a while they would wind their way into Tabitha’s sympathy. I’d find them sitting in front of the TV while Tabitha dusted and cleaned their rooms. She would tell me, ‘Ain’t no use giving them chores. I have to do it over anyway.’”

  “Mmm.” She seemed reflective. “If I may ask, who was the woman leaving as I came in?” asked Marcy.

  Saphora let out what seemed an endless sigh and then finally gave in, since Marcy was annoyingly perceptive and relentless. She answered, “She’s an old patient. I don’t know her.”

  “She looked affected, that’s for sure.”

  “I’d rather hear about Tibet.”

  Marcy gave her a moment of respectful silence. Then she said, “She had something in her heart. A woman can’t hide that from her eyes.”

  “Since you’re not going to get off the subject, she’s an old flame.”

  She shook her head. “I knew that. Come back to see Dr. Warren? Seems like she’d know better. From college?”

  “Much later. After marriage.”

  “That’s not right. It’s good I didn’t know. I would have given her what-for,” said Marcy. She drove into Durham. “I know of a tea room. You’ll like it.” She drove them straight there. Once they were seated, she would not let Saphora pay for midafternoon scones, berries, and hot tea.

  “I didn’t know this place was here,” said Saphora.

  “I service a big store here in Raleigh-Durham. This is my favorite place. Just a little of this and that to tide you over. This French tea is very nice.” She poured hot water over the tea infuser clogged with leaves. Still looking into Saphora’s cup, she said, “Why men cheat is beyond me.”

  Saphora pressed her spoon against the tea leaves over the cup. She did not know what to say, so she responded with an example of the one good man who came to mind. “I’ve been sitting out on the upper deck these past few weeks watching a grieving young man pine for his wife. She was a lucky lady.”

  “Not all men act like ours, that’s for certain.”

  “The thing I don’t understand about Bender is why he thinks I’m not enough.”

  “It’s not you, just like it wasn’t me.”

  “But look at you, Marcy. I’ve never seen you happier.”

  “I’ve had my nights. Don’t think I haven’t.” She tried a chocolate-dipped strawberry. She closed her eyes and savored the taste. “But the whole time I was trying to hold my marriage together, I walked a tightrope of perfection. I thought if I did everything right to please him, then we would make it. But I’m free now in that I’m not subjected to his covert abuse of me.”

  “Covert, as in?”

  “One minute loving me, the next sabotaging my hopes and dreams.”

  “Do they cheat because they’re afraid of getting old?”

  “Or maybe they’re imagining being James Dean,” said Marcy.

  “Riding the highways, no ties. Just living
a dream.”

  “For themselves, though,” said Marcy, without a hint of bitterness. “A selfish dream. It won’t give them happiness.”

  Bender had been trapped in his dreams now for a week. She wondered how that was going for him. “I was just letting myself love him again.”

  “You know, it’s not like he asked her to come.” Marcy loved Bender, so it was like her to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “She’s been coming, the nurse said, several times this week.”

  “What gets into people?”

  They took the rest of the afternoon to get back to Oriental. By the time they pulled into the driveway, Saphora was laughing so hard she was crying. “I’m so glad you came, Marcy. Laughing feels like rain on my soul.”

  The front door opened. Gwennie ran down the walk and met Saphora as she climbed out of the Lexus. “Your phone’s turned off, Mama.” She looked perplexed, arms stiff at her sides.

  “Oh, I forgot,” Saphora said, laughing. “I got distracted. I forgot to turn it back on.” But Gwennie did not laugh with her.

  “I’ve been calling you all afternoon,” said Gwennie. She was pale.

  “Did the hospital call?” asked Saphora.

  “Yes. Two hours ago.”

  Her heart skipped a beat or two. “Your daddy?”

  “No.” Gwennie brought her fingertips to her mouth, composing herself. “Not a call from Duke. I’m sorry. I’ve been so worried trying to reach you. It’s Tobias.”

  “Don’t say that,” said Saphora.

  “He didn’t know who else to call.”

  “Oh, so he’s fine.” Saphora was about to panic.

  “Not fine, Mama. It’s Jamie. There’s been an accident.” She was shouldering her oversized purse and slipping on her sunglasses, as usual, taking charge. “They’re at New Hanover in Wilmington. If you don’t mind, Marcy, I’ll drive. You go with us, though.”

  Saphora turned on her phone and found twenty-three messages from Gwennie.

  “Lord, run alongside us today,” said Marcy. Her prayers rose up from the backseat all the way into Wilmington.