The Summer Wind (35 page)

She licked her lips, took a breath. Her hands were shaking as she held up the tip of the little stick to the color chart on the box.

Carson stared at the stick and felt the blood draining from her face. She slipped slowly to the floor, feeling faint. Over and over her dazed mind kept screaming,
There must be some mistake
. She lurched for the box and read the directions again. Then she looked at the stick again. The two little lines were a bright, unyielding, mocking pink.

Carson leaned back against the wall and stared at one long, narrow crack in the bathtub’s porcelain. It forked in the middle of the tub and became two cracks. She kept tracing the crack back and forth, her brain unable to think beyond the glaring truth of those two lines.

She was pregnant.

M
amaw pulled the Camry into a space in front of the Medical University and craned her neck, searching for Lucille. Usually Lucille drove while Mamaw preferred to be the passenger. The Camry belonged to Lucille, and Mamaw didn’t feel comfortable with the strange car, but since she’d given the Blue Bomber to Carson she no longer had “wheels,” as Carson said. Today she’d driven Lucille to another of several recent doctor appointments. Mamaw did not like how weak Lucille was looking and insisted on driving her to the city. In turn, Lucille had insisted that Mamaw not wait in the hospital for her. Instead, Mamaw could do a little shopping in town, a rarity these days. She had tried to get into her old groove on King Street, but found that most of her favorite boutiques had closed, replaced by hip little cafés and trendy shops.

There was a time she could walk into a boutique and expect the clerk to have a card on file with her sizes. Today
no one knew her name. She’d spent her entire life in this city, was a sixth-generation Charlestonian. Generations of her family were buried in this city—her husband, her son—as someday she would be.

And yet, sitting between these massive hospital buildings, watching the traffic go by and throngs of people crowding the sidewalks, she didn’t feel that it was home any longer.

What was keeping her? she wondered. Not more than a minute later she spotted a slightly stooped woman in a navy-and-white shirtdress pushing through the hospital revolving door. She stopped on the sidewalk and stood clutching her bag, looking from left to right, the wind picking up the hem of her dress.

“Lucille!” Mamaw called out the window.

Lucille lifted her hand to acknowledge she’d seen her.

When did Lucille get so old?
Mamaw wondered as she eased the car into drive.
And so frail?
It seemed to have happened overnight. Worry creased her brow. A body didn’t get so frail so quickly with the flu. A shiver of fear swept over her as she pulled up to the curb.

Lucille climbed into the passenger seat with a soft grunt. She fumbled with the seat belt buckle. Once Mamaw heard the click, she flicked on her blinkers and carefully steered the car back into traffic.

“I’m sorry if I kept you waiting,” Lucille said. Her voice sounded tired and she leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.

Mamaw glanced at the woman beside her. Lucille looked drawn, her usually plump cheeks sunken. In her hand she carried a large paper bag from the hospital. Medicine, Mamaw
guessed. She drove carefully through the tight traffic on narrow city streets, turned onto East Bay, then headed for the bridge.

She breathed easier once she was on the expansive Ravenel Bridge that towered over the Cooper River. She glanced again at Lucille. Her head was turned as she sat quietly looking out at the expansive view of the Cooper River.

“You have indeed kept me waiting,” Mamaw said.

Lucille turned her head to look at her. “What’s that?”

“I’m wondering,” Mamaw said, her eyes on the road ahead, “just how much longer you’re going to keep me waiting.”

“What do you mean?”

“When are you going to tell me the truth?” She quickly glanced at Lucille. “What’s going on?”

Lucille turned her head and looked straight ahead through the windshield.

“I thought we were friends,” Mamaw said.

Lucille said nothing.

Mamaw glanced again from the road. Lucille clutched the bag tighter but her face gave nothing away.

“That we didn’t keep secrets from each other,” Mamaw continued.

“You told me you didn’t want no more bad news,” Lucille said.

“What? When did I say that?”

“A while back. In this very car.”

Mamaw was flustered. “I don’t remember saying that, and even if I did, I certainly didn’t mean to be taken literally. Lucille, for pity’s sake, I know you don’t have the flu. Please tell me what’s going on.”

Lucille turned to look at her. Then she said in a flat voice, “I got the cancer.”

Mamaw felt her heart skip a beat, even as her stomach dropped. “Oh, no.” She swallowed hard, then asked, “What kind? What do the doctors say?”

“Slow down,” Lucille said, tapping the dashboard. “You’re gonna kill us both.”

Mamaw hadn’t realized she’d been accelerating her speed. She applied the brake and slowed to the speed limit. She took the Sullivan’s Island exit from the bridge and drove up Coleman Boulevard to the first parking lot she spied. She pulled in and stopped the car. Turning, she faced Lucille.

“Tell me everything.”

Lucille looked at her with compassion in her eyes. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re already making a list of what doctors to call, what treatments to try. Now, Miz Marietta, you’re just gonna have to listen to what I’m going to tell you without interrupting me. Okay?”

Mamaw nodded and said uncertainly, “All right.”

Lucille shifted her weight in the seat. “A while back I got these pains. I tried to manage them, but when they wouldn’t go away I went to see my doctor. He sent me to another doctor here at the hospital and they gave me a mess of tests.”

Mamaw feared the worst. “What kind of—”

Lucille put up her hand to stop Mamaw’s question and Mamaw snapped her mouth shut.

“They told me I had cancer. Pancreatic cancer.”

Mamaw sucked in her breath, then exhaled. “Oh, Lord.”

“Today they told me it spread to my other organs. That’s why my stomach pains are so bad.”

Mamaw had to ask. “What stage is the cancer?”

“They call it stage four.”

Mamaw clenched her hands together. Pancreatic cancer was always bad, but stage four was a death sentence and they both knew it.

Lucille looked down at her lap. “There’s nothing to do now but wait,” Lucille said. She smiled ruefully. “Today the doctor told me I’m not gonna have to wait too long.”

“No!” Mamaw blurted out. She’d agreed to keep silent, but now the story was told and she couldn’t hold back any longer. Lucille appeared so defeated, so willing to accept the diagnosis. Mamaw couldn’t—she wouldn’t—lose Lucille without putting up a fight.

“I won’t accept that. There are several procedures you can try. My friend had pancreatic cancer and she had some surgery, something to do with a Whipple. I’ll find out her doctor’s name. We have to try something. I’m sure there’s some procedure.”

Lucille put her hand up in a gesture to silence Mamaw. “First off, I ain’t got insurance.”

“I don’t care. I’ll pay for it.”

“Now, Miz Marietta, we both know you can’t afford to take that on right now. And I wouldn’t let you. Besides, it’s too late. There ain’t no cure for what I got.”

“Maybe not a cure, but we can buy more time. There’s chemotherapy and radiation.”

“No.” Lucille shook her head, her voice resolute. “I’m not doing no chemo or radiation. I’m not puttin’ that poison in my body.”

“You don’t expect me to just sit here and let you die!”

Lucille smiled sadly. “That’s exactly what I expect you to do.”

Mamaw choked back a cry as her hand covered her mouth. “That’s absurd! I can’t do that.”

Lucille’s face softened. “You must. Miz Marietta, the plain truth is, it’s too late for any of that. The cancer’s too far gone. I talked to the doctors and I’ve made up my mind.”

Mamaw brought a hand to her face and turned her head away as she wept, shaking her head in denial.

Lucille dug into her purse and pulled out a tissue. Handing it to Mamaw, she said, “Here, now. Take this. Your eyes always puff up like a sea urchin when you cry.”

Mamaw let out a laugh and grabbed the tissue. Only Lucille could get away with saying such things to her at a time like this.

“This is such a shock. I didn’t see it coming. I’m older than you are. I’m supposed to go before you.”

“Seems God has different plans.”

Mamaw blew her nose and composed herself. “I can’t accept this.”

“Now, Miz Marietta, listen to me.” Lucille waited for Mamaw to face her again, then spoke in a slow, stern voice. “I’ve seen you be strong when Parker passed, then Mr. Edward. I’m asking you to be strong for me.”

A rush of memories flooded Mamaw’s mind—the nursing, the companionship, the steady encouragement, the exhausting hours, and, finally, the unutterable grief. She knew what was coming. She comprehended fully what Lucille was asking of her.

Mamaw nodded almost imperceptibly. “I will. You know I will.”

“And be strong for the girls.”

“The girls,” Mamaw said, suddenly remembering them. “When are you going to tell them? They’ll be devastated. They love you so much.”

“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell them. I didn’t want to ruin their summer with this sorry business. I figured they’ll all be leaving at summer’s end, flying off like the shorebirds to wherever their lives take them. I hoped I’d just be like one of them. Flying off. No fuss.”

“Flying off and leaving me alone!”

“I know that. But it don’t change things, does it? You’ve got your plans, and now I’ve got mine.”

Mamaw brought her trembling hand to her eyes. “Lucille . . .”

“I’m not afraid to go,” Lucille said in a peaceful tone. “Seeing those manacles made it right clear in my mind. We’re all shackled to this life for the duration. We carry our load. Looking back, I’ve lived a good life. I’ve no regrets. Way I see it, it’s my time to cross the water. I like to think I’ll face the crossing with the same courage of my ancestors.” She looked up and smiled. “I’m gonna be set free.”

Mamaw tightened her lips.

“I’m only afraid of one thing,” Lucille said in a soft voice, looking at the bag of medicine in her lap.

“What’s that?”

Lucille lifted the bag. “The pain. They give me all these pills. But they’re not working so good no more. The cancer’s taken a turn. The time for all this hospital rigmarole is done.” She shook her head resolutely. “I don’t want no treatments. I know that. But . . . I don’t want to face this alone.”

Mamaw looked into Lucille’s dark, watery eyes. They bulged slightly, unblinking against a chalky face. Mamaw saw a ghostly
image of what was coming. She grasped Lucille’s hand and held it tight. “I’ll be right here, sitting by your side all the way. You won’t be alone.”

Lucille’s lips quivered and she held tight to Mamaw’s hand. “That’s all I needed to know.”

C
arson crossed the Ben Sawyer Bridge over the Intracoastal Waterway as dusk settled over the lowcountry. The water shimmered in dusky twilight pinks, and bordering the banks, thick rows of palms formed dark shadows.

She turned off the air-conditioning, rolled down the windows, and let the sultry air flow into the stale car. She breathed deep the scents of mud and salt, raking her hand through her hair, loosening the elastic, and letting her hair catch the wind. She was nearing home.

When she’d arrived at Sea Breeze the previous May without a job or a place to live, she’d thought that she’d hit rock bottom. She’d been penniless and adrift. In retrospect, compared to how she felt now, that seemed like a cakewalk.

During the long trip home from the Keys, Nate had mostly slept, exhausted from his busy week, and she had plenty of time to think about the new life growing inside of her. She
vacillated between benign curiosity, idly tapping her belly like a cat playing with a bug, and abject terror of an alien life growing inside of her. She had to first decide whether to tell Blake. Part of her wanted to make her decisions without involving him. It wasn’t his body, after all.