The Pirate Queen (33 page)

Marcy was flying back from Nepal. She called Saphora as soon as she landed in Dallas. “I’ll be back in North Carolina tomorrow. Is Bender hanging on?”

“He’s at Duke” was all Saphora could say about that. “Tell me what time you get in. I’ll meet you at the airport,” said Saphora. “Sherry’s not here. You can have her room.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to put any more pressure on you,” said Marcy. “But I miss you awfully. And I’d like to see Bender.”

“I’m glad you’re coming home, Marcy,” said Saphora. “I’ve been lonesome without you.” They hung up and Saphora announced, “Marcy’s coming. I’m going to the airport to get her tomorrow.”

“Oh, there will be partying now,” said Gwennie.

“Who is Marcy?” asked Jamie.

“My mother’s best friend forever. They’ve been friends since college,” said Gwennie.

The afternoon rushed past. Jamie called Tobias in and told him, “We’ve got to finish closing up the house, Tobias.” She stroked his hair sympathetically. “We’ll have to tell everyone good-bye.”

Tobias looked put out, like all kids do when summer’s doormat is being pulled out from under their reverie. Tobias told Eddie goodbye until next summer. Eddie was trying hard not to show emotion, but when they hugged, he wiped his eyes with the back of his arm. Jamie thanked Saphora for helping Tobias find allies in Oriental. “After your speech, we had so many calls. People even sent baskets of food and flowers to our house.”

Saphora did not want to show weepy eyes to the boys and got down to business with Jamie as she followed her out to her car. “Here’s the map to the stadium. Sam the Hammer is expecting him before the game. Let me know all about it,” said Saphora. “Take pictures and e-mail me a few.”

“He’ll be surprised as all get-out,” said Jamie.

Tobias ran down the walk with Eddie in tow. “What surprise?” asked Tobias.

“Later,” said Jamie. She led him down the walk.

Mario hugged Saphora. “I appreciate your offering me a refuge for the weekend. It gave me time to think. This whole fight has been half my fault. I’m going to ask Evie to try again.”

“I smell trouble,” said Gwennie.

“Ignore her,” said Saphora. “If you love Evie, the two of you will work it out.”

Mario wheeled his suitcase to the rental car. He kissed Gwennie good-bye at the edge of the driveway. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him in return.

Saphora and Gwennie took coffee out on the deck after supper. Gwennie turned off her cell phone. “I’m sick to death of this case.”

“You’re too young to be sick of your job already,” said Saphora.

“Not my job. Just this client’s headaches.”

“You can’t have a job without them,” said Saphora.

“He’s truly a victim, and we’re fighting an uphill battle. Do the good guys ever win?”

“Maybe.”

“I thought practicing law would be looking out for the weak.” Time spent traveling had left Gwennie looking road weary.

“You’re not a savior.”

“So I’m finding out. I feel so helpless sometimes.”

“The light’s come on at Luke’s place,” said Saphora.

Gwennie turned around to see. “His patio light. Probably that cheerleader letting the cat out.”

“Lifeguard.”

“Whatever.”

“Then don’t let him go.”

“Who?”

“Luke.”

“I don’t chase after men.” Gwennie’s voice was showing exasperation with her mother.

“I didn’t say
chase.”

Gwennie sat up, surprised. “Is that the top of Luke’s head?” she asked. She stayed in her chair but turned completely around to peer through the low-hanging branches.

“Might as well be neighborly,” said Saphora. “Luke, over here!”

“Don’t,” Gwennie begged.

“He’s going back into his house,” said Saphora.

Gwennie came up out of the patio chair. She waited to see if Luke was coming out. But his patio light went off. His backyard was dark.

“Something’s not right,” said Gwennie.

“I don’t understand you. Why don’t you just go over there?” asked Saphora.

“He hasn’t called me all weekend.”

“You were brushing him off.” She could not stand seeing Gwennie look so miserable. “Men need encouragement.”

“I don’t know.”

“Go over.”

Gwennie finally got up and went inside and left Saphora out on the deck alone.

Saphora retreated to the deck upstairs outside her bedroom. It was fully dark now. Up here, Gwennie would not be so likely to accuse her of spying on Luke. She even left off her own bedroom light to cloak her presence. But her curiosity about him lured her to look over that fence. Johnson stretched from the patio up against the screen door, her feline coat luminescent in the glow of the porch light. Three wee velvet shadows huddled at her flank.

Gwennie’s bedroom light filtered onto the lawn beneath Saphora. She was dressing for bed, talking to someone from New York most likely. That was what Gwennie did to protect herself from her racing thoughts. She retreated to the phone or her earbuds. She was like so many her age, not comfortable with solitude.

Saphora, however, had laid aside the hope for solitude. The splendor of the quiet house on the Neuse River was a dream. She had thought of nothing else during the days leading up to the
Southern Living
photo shoot. She wiled away the time imagining a quiet house all to herself along the Outer Banks. She was in love with the idea of
hearing an old house creaking. There was something romantic about being alone and watching the sky die over the Neuse night after night, she had told herself. Ha! What a joke! She had planned a life no longer dictated by the hours between breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Instead it would be sunrise and sunset and all of the quiet hours in between those two predictable pages. But there had been few hours spent in solitude. Bender’s escape into the netherworld of a coma had left her in between a dream of a life without him and the life of worrying about him in a continual mental exercise of breathing life back into him.

She wondered if he was dreaming in his comatose state. Was he remembering her when they danced in Charlotte? His journal indicated that he remembered the night Turner was born. But could he recall that night or the spring afternoon when Gwennie rode her first bike?

To her surprise, Gwennie’s light went out. She was a notorious night owl, making her the ideal candidate for law school. But life in the busy world of law in the city had turned her back into a conformist.

With the lights out on either side of the house, Saphora’s eyes got amazingly heavy. She decided to head for bed herself. But then she heard the gate latch squeak open. Luke did not turn on his patio light—something he had always done when he went outside, with or without his shovel. Even in the dark, he was visible due to the moon overhead. He padded into and out of his garage. He made several trips back and forth, finally flipping on a flashlight.

The last time he slammed his garage door shut. Then he pushed open the gate. Saphora did not know whether to run inside or just wait and see what he was doing. The flashlight waved back and forth across her lawn. He walked past the tree and out into the open. Then
his flashlight came right up into Saphora’s face. She was startled but tried to keep her comportment about her.

“Mrs. Warren, did you happen to notice my shovel?”

She had completely forgotten that she had taken it out of his yard. “How did you know I was up here?”

“I can see you from my patio.”

“I put it in my shed.”

“Do you need it?”

“I was going to replace it for you. It was a surprise. It’s very rusted.”

“I don’t mind the rust. May I get it?”

“Are you all right? You don’t sound the same, Luke.”

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

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.