The Pirate Queen (6 page)

Saphora said, “You want me to walk with you?”

“Better stay with Eddie. He’d rather enjoy the sand.”

Saphora frowned.

“Go ahead. Why don’t you let Eddie out for a run.”

Bender made Eddie sound like a little beagle.

A beach run might give Eddie a release after being pent up during the more than three-hour drive from Raleigh. Eddie grabbed Saphora’s empty drink cup to use as a sand pail.

Bender had already started his stroll down South Avenue by the time Saphora got Eddie aimed toward Tiny Beach. It was really a small patch of sand, not anything that could be called a beach. More like a sandlot on the water.

She opened the car door and sat sideways behind the wheel. She could see Eddie well enough. She glanced toward Bender, who was
walking past the pretty little houses populated by artists and retirees, he said, who each had their own story about how they wound up living in Oriental.

She did not move for the ten minutes it took Bender to become a quarter-inch blemish down South Avenue.

Eddie was building a cup-shaped castle foundation. A sea gull landed next to him. Sometimes children fed the sea gulls, enabling the birds and turning them into a nuisance for the tourists. Eddie filled the cup with sand and held it out to the bird, but as the sea gull hopped within a few feet, he hurled sand at it. The air was salted with spiraling feathers as the bird lifted, screeching.

Bender merged into a herd of couples taking sunset strolls. He walked as if he were not sick at all, taking long purposeful strides, and then disappeared.

The Neuse River was a body of brackish water lapping against the rock and brown sand beaches, spilling into the ocean where the town of Minnesott Beach took up. Because of the natural harbors and inland banks and the lack of tidal action from the ocean, Oriental was called the sailing capital of North Carolina. A regatta floated down the Neuse, the lead craft manned by teen boys shouting back and forth to keep their sailing rig ahead of the remaining twelve crafts in the race.

A boy who appeared slightly older than Eddie walked up on him. He showed Eddie his sand pail, specially shaped for expert castle building. Eddie looked back at Saphora as if waiting for his cue. He was a boy comfortable inside the safety of his family circle but who acclimated slowly to other children. Eddie was a budding narcissist as far as Saphora was concerned. Turner had corrected her once for analyzing Eddie.

“Invite him to play,” Saphora yelled above the wind. Then she pulled her feet into the Lexus. The wind picked up, tossing her hair around her face like tentacles. Then it died down. Saphora returned to eavesdropping on the boys’ chatter.

The boy sat down next to Eddie, giving him a shovel. He seemed intent on leading Eddie, coaching him and goading him until Eddie was filling the pail exactly as instructed.

The boy had thick black hair that hung in points around his thin face, such a mop of hair that it made his bony facial features look all the more wan. He could be a mixture of races, but there was a distinctive Asian look about him. He was so skinny he should not be seen without a shirt. His pale physique had darkened over the summer, camouflaging his rib cage. He had learned English in the South. His vowels had a southern roundness.

Saphora kept watching up the street for a sight of Bender until she was sick of herself for worrying over him. He had not seemed for an instant to think of what his situation was doing to her. He took it all in stride as if he were making out a list of what they would do on vacation—call Sherry, fill the pantry, stop at the town beach, and drive up to Raleigh for chemotherapy.

She turned on the radio in time to hear the hurricane had turned south and was headed for Cuba.

Eddie’s mound was beginning to take on an identifiable castle shape when Bender appeared, walking up South toward them. The sun was going down. He carried a store-bought bag of shells for Eddie and laid them like an offering beside him.

Saphora’s telephone rang. Gwennie had finally gotten her deposition behind her. She sounded distressed. Turner had gotten to her first. Saphora was glad not to have been the one to tell her about her
daddy’s cancer. Gwennie was headed to Oriental. She would arrive tomorrow morning.

“I’ll pick you up in Raleigh then?” Saphora offered.

“Is he being hard, Mama?” she asked.

Bender’s long Warren shadow fell across the road.

“He’s back from a walk downtown. Here’s the phone,” said Saphora to Bender. She could hear Gwennie complaining to her for handing the phone off. She put the phone in Bender’s hand. He held it for a minute, maybe for the sake of composure.

Saphora left him to talk to her while she coaxed Eddie off the little beach.

The Asian boy with the castle pail was taking a picture of himself and Eddie, the castle behind them. The boy held up one hand in a pose. He snapped the picture. “I do this everywhere I go. I’ve got a zillion pictures of me holding up my hand just like that in front of, well, everything. The Lincoln Center. A big Texas hat on a bull in Houston.”

“Isn’t that a ‘Hook ’em Horns’ symbol in Texas?” asked Saphora. She had seen the Texas Longhorn fans use the gesture at college football games.

“It is. But they don’t own it, my mom says.”

“Don’t say that to a Texan,” said Saphora, smiling. “You must travel a lot.”

“My folks are semiretired.” It was funny to hear him say it. “They adopted me even though I was seven. I’ve only been with them a couple years. We’ve gone quite a few places.”

“Adopted?” said Eddie.

Before Eddie could say something rude, Saphora said, “They must be so honored to have you in their family.”

“Tobias,” he said. He put out his hand.

“You’re so mannerly, Tobias. Your parents have taught you very well,” said Saphora.

“You might know them if you’re from around here. They have a house in Oriental.”

“That’s where we’re staying,” said Eddie. “My grandpa’s house is right on the water. Look, it’s up South.” He pointed to the house. It had a pretty green roof and a porch with nothing on it. Saphora would dig around the garage for porch chairs.

“It’s an old house, but I have my own room,” said Tobias. There was a sense of isolation about Tobias as if he had learned to live on his own for most of his life.

“Eddie would love to have you over,” said Saphora. She walked Eddie and Tobias back up to the Lexus, where Bender finished up his call with Gwennie.

She got out a pen and took down Tobias’s telephone number. Eddie needed a diversion, a playmate. “Can I meet your folks?” she asked.

“They’ve gone for a walk,” said Tobias. “They said they needed grownup time. I’m good with that.”

“I’m tired,” said Eddie. He handed Tobias his shovel. He got into the backseat without saying good-bye to the boy. He was likely still drugged from the cold medicine.

“I’ll be sure he calls you, Tobias,” said Saphora. “He’s shy, but he’ll get over it.”

Tobias was just walking away when he turned and said, “Sometimes I’m sick. But I take medication.”

“This is my husband, Bender. He’s sick too,” said Saphora.

Tobias shook Bender’s hand. “Be sure to call,” he told Saphora.

When he was gone, Saphora asked, “How did Gwennie sound? Turner told her your circumstances already, so she did know.”

“Fine,” was all Bender said. He followed Eddie back to the car.

Saphora looked up and down South trying to catch sight of Tobias’s parents. Tobias was walking straight through the sand castle. The delicate turrets collapsed around his feet. He saw her watching and yelled, “I’d rather it come down on my terms.”

It occurred to Saphora that it was a rather adult response, but she had heard of the occasional child who was an old soul.

It was at that point the sun finally set. The couples all along the road to the harbor stopped to watch. She had not shared, to her recollection, a single sunset walking down a beach with Bender.

By the time Saphora drove down South Avenue, dusk was settling over the house, making it look like an old manor house in England. She had kept up the lawn service. The fence running the length of the backyard to the water was draped with flowering trees. Bender got out of the car and unlocked the padlock on the garage door. He would have a garage door opener installed soon enough and said so.

As they drove up, it was evident the house had faded under the continual coastal sun. Saphora would buy potted plants to place near the house if it seemed Bender wanted to stay long. She doubted that, assuming he would tire of trying to die in Oriental. He would want to head back to where his friends could come and see him once he realized he could not decide just to lie down and die.

The old garage door shimmied but then opened like a yawning old man. Saphora drove inside. Eddie jumped out onto the garage pad still holding the bag of seashells.

Saphora told him to brush the sand off before going into the house. She unlocked the door, and just inside there was a mud room. “You can wash the grit off your hands in the mop sink in the laundry room. Look around the house for a jar or a vase. You can pour your shells into it and start your collection,” she said. “Careful you don’t drop them.” He was not accident prone like Turner, but she still sensed the need to chase after him just as she had Turner to keep him from hurting himself. She hoped Eddie would find a life faster than his father, who had gone from career to career until he found his place in nursing.

That was still a sore spot with Bender, who had planned lavishly for all three kids to attend expensive private colleges. Once Bender had nearly blamed Saphora for Turner’s lack of drive. But she had pushed him until she was exhausted. Some boys just don’t take to their raising, as Saphora’s father once said of Turner. He had passed away two years earlier, leaving her mother, Daisy, a content widow. Saphora wondered if all the women in her family were happier alone.

She had not confessed to Bender her secret pleasure in knowing that Turner had found happiness in simple living. He liked his city flat, his Saturday night gathering of buddies at Ri-Ra in uptown Charlotte. Of her three children, she envied Turner the most.

Gwennie was her daddy’s greatest source of boasting. But Gwennie possessed a nervous anxiety, a continual heaviness hanging over her that seemed to take the joy out of her journey. Ramsey was not happy in his job as an insurance adjustor, but his wife, Celeste, had a deep need for a bigger house and a nicer car. From the moment she had seen where Ramsey grew up, she imagined him being as big a success as his daddy. But the son of a surgeon hardly ever becomes a surgeon.

Bender pulled a tarp off some things they had stored right after they’d bought the place and stocked it for summer vacations. “Here are the deck chairs.” He carted one out the open garage door. He returned and kept doing that until he appeared with one large blue dolphin chair.

“Where did we get that?” asked Saphora.

It was a heavy thing, and he had to use all of his strength to lift it. “I bought it for a song from a beach shop down in Wilmington. It is my chair, if anyone asks.” He carted it out.

Eddie dropped the bag of shells onto the garage floor and ran into the laundry room.

“I’ll get the bedroom ready first if you need to rest,” said Saphora to Bender.

“I’ve got too many calls to make. Can you quiet Eddie down?”

The boy was singing in an elevated falsetto.

“He’ll respond just as well to you,” she said. She popped open the trunk. “Eddie, there’s a garden outside. Go see if the birdbath needs water.” She knew it would, and that would keep Eddie busy playing with the water hose.

Eddie disappeared into the house. He yelled out tribal noises from outside over a tire swing strung from the tree house. Saphora imagined once he got his bearings around the beach home he would spend most of his time out back.

“Don’t get the luggage. I’ll do it,” said Bender. He was just about to pull out the largest piece when he slumped against the car.

“Bender, I’ll do it!” said Saphora. She tried to help him, but he resisted and stood up on his own. He walked into the house, mad, muttering, but not so Saphora could understand. She was too tired to translate anyway.

Bender did not take to Saphora fussing over him. Even as a boy, his mother once said years before she passed on, if he had a fever he would get frustrated if she hovered. But he had always found comfort in allowing a hired servant to pay him all the attention he needed.

Saphora wheeled the luggage into the laundry room and then through the kitchen. The house had a dumbwaiter right next to the butler’s pantry. She tucked it all into the elevator and sent it upstairs.

She opened the pantry. Sherry had not beaten them to the house after all. It wasn’t like Sherry not to show up or call.

Bender had set up shop on the sofa and coffee table. “Let’s don’t go out for dinner, how about? All I need is coffee and a pastry. I don’t want people talking about this all over town yet.”

“Like anyone knows us, hon.”

“There’s still more testing, so what’s the use anyway until I know more?”