Free The Pirate Queen by Patricia Hickman Page B

you’re toast!’”
    “Celeste told me she couldn’t figure out why her kids were scared of Aunt Gwennie.”
    “Fear is akin to respect, Mama. Don’t confuse the meaning.”
    “Now you sound like your daddy.”
    “I realize I don’t need kids of my own,” she said.
    “Gwennie, I can’t wait to see what kind of mother you’ll make. Don’t minimize all children under Celeste’s definition of family. She’s got Ramsey believing that if he so much as even thinks about a career change, he’ll wreck his kids’ college funds.”
    “College! Liam’s what, five?”
    “Liam is seven. Celeste has an exacting sense about saving money.”
    “Celeste has an exacting sense about leading Ramsey around like a poodle,” Gwennie said over her shoulder as she led the way to a table on the farthest side of the cafeteria.
    “He does seem cloistered by Celeste.”
    “I know my brother’s not perfect. But he was the fun brother, the one who always knew what to do on a boring Saturday. Celeste has killed my baby brother and replaced him with a trained circus act.”
    “He did always struggle with discipline,” said Saphora. At first, it had seemed Celeste was good for him.
    “That was Turner. Ramsey was a natural B student. That’s not a failure, Mama. My phone’s ringing,” said Gwennie. She covered her pasta with a napkin. “I’ll take this outside. Signal’s awful in this place.”
    The sandwich Saphora had picked off the deli line was untouched. She cut it in half and then in fourths. Finally she wrapped it up in her napkin.
    “Impossible to eat the day of their surgery.” A woman seated across from her spoke. She was the Latino husband’s wife.
    Saphora felt elated to see a familiar face. “How do you eat during something like this?”
    The woman introduced herself as Linda Valdez. “It’s my husband’s second surgery. We both lose weight when Emilio goes under the knife. Try eating smaller portions more often. Tell yourself you’re just eating a snack. It’s better than adding starvation to stress.”
    Saphora gave Linda her name. “How long has your husband known about his cancer?”
    “A year. They gave him six months, but Emilio’s not giving up. We have five kids. He’s not going to leave us behind, he says. He says God wouldn’t dare bring him into heaven complaining.”
    “Bender just found out. We don’t know the prognosis yet.”
    “Chemo is hard on them.”
    “He hates to lose his hair. But he told his doctor, Jim Pennington, ‘Shave it all off for the surgery and get it over with.’ I hate every step of it.”
    “I wish I could say that after a year, you’re a pro at fighting cancer. But each day brings a new battle.” She got up and came to Saphora’s table. She took a seat beside her. “Don’t think I feel sorry for myself. Emilio and I have never known this kind of love before. You’ll know soon enough what I mean.”
    Saphora was getting better at holding back her tendency to fall into a crying jag. But after several tears slipped down her face, she finally just let go and cried in front of this stranger. Linda might have assumed her tears were all for sorrow. It would have taken too long to explain that the day Bender told her about his cancer was the day she had planned to leave him. Linda would think she was a terriblewife. She said, “My daughter is coming back. I don’t want her to see me like this.”
    “It’s good for her to know you’re not an iron woman. You don’t want to teach her to live ashamed of her emotions. A daughter can know her mother is less than perfect. She’ll be stronger knowing the truth.” Linda said it effortlessly, like a woman well practiced in opening up her life for the whole world to see.
    In her next leg of life, she would request an outlook like Linda’s. She dried her eyes and smiled for Gwennie.

    The first time Saphora’s hospital pager went off was to tell her that Bender had not yet gone into surgery. Three hours later,