The Pirate Queen (22 page)

“Ida’s is expensive. When Celeste and Ramsey leave Sunday, we may want to move Emerald into their room,” said Gwennie.

“Bender would rather keep her in the inn, I’m sure.”

Eddie walked in, sent on a coffee run by his grandpa. “Are you talking about Great-Aunt Emerald? Grandpa just told her she could stay in the house with us Monday.”

“There goes that theory,” said Saphora. She tore wet lettuce while Gwennie dropped the burritos into a skillet of hot oil.

“Aunt Celeste wants to know when dinner’s ready,” said Eddie. “Arnold and William are driving her crazy, she says to tell you.”

“Put these chips out on the table, Eddie,” said Saphora.

When he got out of earshot, Gwennie said, “Does Celeste ever lift a finger to help when they come to your place?”

“Well, usually there’s Sherry. But I don’t remember that Celeste has ever helped with anything.”

“She makes Ramsey do her work. I even heard her tell him to tie her shoes. She was too tired to bend over.”

“She has put on weight since having the twins.”

“I just want to shake Ramsey and say ‘Wake up!’ She’s going to end up like those people whose family members have to wheel them around with canisters and drip bags attached by tubes.”

“She thrives on attention. Maybe her mother spoiled her.”

“Don’t you know that story?” asked Gwennie.

“What story?”

“She was an asthmatic as a kid. Her mother wouldn’t let her do a thing for herself. She had three sisters, but they all had to do the chores while she sat in a rocker watching and expecting them all to wait on her.”

“They must have a lot of affection for her,” said Saphora.

“They never talk.”

“Let’s stop talking about Celeste.” The noise level in the living room had gone up twenty decibels since Emerald had arrived. It caused the boys to run up and down the stairs competing to be heard. Celeste was laughing above the dull roar of the other adults. Emerald was telling some sad story even though no one was listening.

Saphora mentally escaped as she sliced the cucumber. She remembered the day she had packed up her suitcase and decided to run away to Oriental. She was halfway down the cucumber when she recalled how she had envisioned the quiet river running past. She had
imagined she would write her thoughts in a journal until her life made sense, like she had pictured it would be before she had met Bender Warren. She dropped the cucumber slices into the salad bowl like poker chips falling. Then she dropped in the diced tomatoes like little pairs of dice. She wanted doubles, but life gave her snake eyes.

“Eddie dropped the tortilla chips and now he’s crying,” said Gwennie.

Turner was standing helplessly over Eddie when Saphora came into the den. “Turner, the dust pan’s behind the refrigerator with the broom. You go and get that. Eddie, stop crying.”

“He’s such a sensitive boy,” said Emerald. “He’ll make a good man someday. They grow up so quickly.” She appeared to be searching for a reason to tear up, but the sentiment was not making the connection.

“For Pete’s sake!” said Saphora. “At least turn off the TV. You’re all yelling over it.”

No one could find the remote control even though Saphora distinctly remembered putting it into Emerald’s hand. Saphora turned off the set manually.

“So nice of you, sister,” said Emerald. “We were just talking about the time I got mumps. Remember how you teased me?”

Bender was staring into his coffee cup. He seemed to be absorbing the noise. Saphora thought he actually liked the racket for once. He did not have to think about cancer when his ears were filled with screaming boys and in-law complaints.

“Dinner’s ready,” said Gwennie.

Eddie and Tobias raced ahead of Liam to the dining table. But Celeste was already seating the twins there. “You boys take your food outside to the patio,” she told Eddie, Tobias, and Liam.

There were not enough chairs for everyone. “Not to worry,” said Saphora. “I’ll take my meal on the stool at the bar in the kitchen.”

“But we want you in here,” said Emerald.

“You won’t notice I’m not there,” said Saphora. After she said it, she thought it sounded like self-pity. But in reality she felt a peaceful calm as she left them for the kitchen.

Gwennie brushed past holding the platter of chimichangas. “Deserter,” she whispered.

It was when the boys had finally surrendered to sleep, the twins in front of the television set and Eddie and Liam passing out together on Eddie’s bed, that Saphora got out of bed to enjoy the quiet of the house. She listened from the patio for the toads. But stillness had swept across the river neighborhood. There was a gentle sound coming from Luke’s yard. It might have been a laugh. Luke had a hearty laugh, but this one was softer, nearly seductive.

Saphora could not sit for long wondering what was going on over the fence. She crept downstairs and out the back. The moon was big, like a giant deep-sea creature illuminating the ocean of lawns dotting the riverbanks. There was that laugh again, but it was not Luke’s laugh for sure. Saphora found the gate open.

Luke was seated on a concrete bench, one of those ornamental types sold from yards through the southern countryside between Raleigh and the Outer Banks. One gloved hand rested atop his spade’s handle.

The young woman’s back was to Saphora, but she could see even in the dark that it was Gwennie.

The sight of her shocked Saphora so much that she gasped. Gwennie jerked around and Luke came to his feet.

“Mama?” said Gwennie.

“Mrs. Warren, do join us,” said Luke. “We’re having a talk about relatives.”

“There’s no shortage if you need me to loan you a few,” said Saphora. She was still stunned to see Gwennie sitting across from Luke in the Adirondack he had made from scrap lumber. He had told Saphora that in confidence. “I feel like I’m interrupting.”

“Luke’s an artist,” said Gwennie.

“I know,” said Saphora. “He made that chair.”

“And the bench. The pottery in his garage and a lamp in his bedroom,” said Gwennie. “He gave me the mini tour.”

“Did he? How nice.” She was thinking how silly she was to feel oddly jealous. It had taken some time for Luke to open up to Saphora. But here Gwennie wandered in and he spilled out his entire life to her. Until now, she had enjoyed keeping Luke to herself.

“Luke’s invited me to go deep-sea fishing with him tomorrow,” said Gwennie.

“There goes my kitchen help,” said Saphora. But before Gwennie responded with some guilty confession, Saphora said, “That’s nice of you, Luke. And you’ve known one another what, five minutes?”

“One day, six hours, and twenty-seven minutes,” said Luke.

“I wandered over here last night,” said Gwennie. “Luke has this obsession for digging holes.”

That was the troubled side of Luke that worried Saphora. But his obsession did not seem to bother Gwennie.

“He made me pancakes this morning,” said Gwennie. She had not taken her eyes off him. “It was after you all took off when Aunt Emerald called to say her plane was going to be late so she would be renting a car. He found me sitting on the back deck reading.”

“Reading a law book,” said Luke. “She looked lonesome and bored. So I made her my famous pancakes.”

“Famous to who?” said Gwennie, laughing.

Saphora was amazed at the bond already forming between them, and he a poor artist. Gwennie would drop him as soon as she was back in New York surrounded by legal eagles.

“Gwennie’s headed back home Monday,” said Saphora.

“She told me. I’ll have to text you when I finish that piece you like, Gwennie.”

“It’s a gorgeous vase,” said Gwennie. “He’s staining it with peacock colors. Take a picture with your phone and send it to me.”

“Peacock colors. That will go with your black and tan décor,” said Saphora.

“It needs livening up,” said Gwennie.

Then the talking stopped for a moment, Luke looking at Gwennie as if he had more to say but holding back.

Finally Saphora, taking her cue, broke the silence. “I’m up too late. I’ll go back and leave you two to finish your talk.”

As soon as she left, she heard them bantering in a way that sounded familiar. It was like the night Bender had taken her to Lake Norman, where his friend’s parents docked a boat. That was the night he told Saphora that he would own a house on Lake Norman. He gave her a bracelet that his grandmother had left to him. Saphora wore it even now. It had been a night just like this night. Bender was talking about the life he wanted—with Saphora in it. That was the moment he had moved her like a chess piece into his world. She allowed it so freely, as if she would always love being a part of the perfect puzzle that Bender was piecing together for himself.

But Luke was no Bender. She imagined the shock he would get
if he got too close to Bender Warren’s attorney daughter. Luke was easy to talk to and laughed so spontaneously that Saphora laughed along because he made her feel good. Luke held the moment hostage, squeezing every bit of zest from it, except when he returned to his obsessive digging. Then his whole countenance turned to brooding. That would be the side, she thought, that would drive Gwennie back to New York, even more than his spartan existence or his hermit’s life on the Neuse River.

Gwennie was too smart to fall for a man like Luke. For some reason, that made Saphora sad.

“Saphora, are you awake?”

Saphora was dreaming. Or so she thought when she heard Bender’s voice early on Sunday morning. She opened her eyes. Bender was standing over her bed. He had not tried to climb the stairs since he had started chemotherapy, but here he stood. “Is everything all right?” she asked.

He had put on a shirt, most likely crisply ironed by Sherry before she took off for Davidson. He buttoned the cuffs, but with a little clumsiness. “I thought I’d go to church. Will you drive me?”

Saphora sat up. “You’re going to church?”

“Don’t act so surprised.” A smile came out of his face like that of the young man she had kissed down on Lake Norman.

“What time is it?” She looked around for her clock. But with the summer stretching before her, she had not turned on the alarm clock all of July.

“A little after nine. Church starts at ten-thirty. You’ve got plenty of time.”

He was serious. He expected her to get up and dress and drive him to church. “Which church?” she asked.

“John Mims’s church. He asked me politely to come.” He finished with the cuffs. “I thought I’d go.”

By the time Saphora had dressed, putting on a skirt and blouse she had not worn all summer, Bender was sitting, finishing his coffee while reading a newspaper. He was as ready as when he first woke her. “You look nice,” he said. “I like you in a skirt. Nice legs, Mrs. Warren. Sexy tattoo.”

She laughed. “I forgot. I’ll have to wash it off.”

“No time. Besides, your skirt covers it. Nearly, anyway.” He caught her look of uncertainty and said, “Pastor John won’t care.”

Bender followed her out to the car in the garage. “I’ll get the garage door,” he offered. Just as the garage door shuddered open, Gwennie stuck her head through the laundry room pass-through. “Where are you two going?”

“Church,” said Saphora as if they went every Sunday.

“Daddy, are you all right?” she asked.

“I’m good, Gwen. I thought I’d take your mama to church.”

Gwennie was in her old university sweatshirt, the sleeves cut out. Her bangs were strewn across her forehead, the back hairs of her head sticking up in a faintly waving mass. She looked nine again. “I wish I’d known. I would have gone with you.”

“I didn’t even know until an hour ago,” said Saphora. Before she climbed into the driver’s side, she said, “Did you enjoy talking with Luke last night?”

“I did,” Gwennie said without divulging any more information.

Bender stopped short of getting into the car. “Our neighbor Luke?”

“Our neighbor,” said Saphora. “Get in.”

Bender got into the car, passenger side. When she closed her door, he asked, “Is she seeing Luke?”

“She saw him in the backyard last night.”

“You know what I mean. Are they dating?” he asked.

“Luke’s a good man.”