The Pirate Queen by Patricia Hickman

taking out a borrowed boat. He motored right up to the Warren dock, sounding one of those awful horns. Gwennie would go running out of the house and down the back lawn to meet Paul for a boat ride. But Bender discouraged her relationship with Paul. He was a smart student and athletic. He attended UNC Wilmington and would go back in the fall. But when asked about his future plans, he was too ambiguous for Bender. He told Paul that he needed to end a summer romance that was going nowhere.
    Gwennie sat out on the porch crying, refusing to go to bed until sometime after midnight and promising to never forgive her dad for sending Paul off the premises.
    That summer had held the promise of the kind of memories that draw most families back to the water for more adventures. But each one of them, Turner, Ramsey, and Gwennie, had come up with excuses for not accompanying their parents when Saphora had planned their first trip to the house in Oriental. Not wanting to travel without her kids, Saphora cancelled the trip. That was why the house sat void of a visit by a Warren. She never tried to plan a trip to Oriental again.
    She suffered a quiet ache even though Marcy had told her that most older teens did not enjoy the company of parents; that was why so many went off on group trips together.
    Saphora cast her line. She then placed the rod in the frame and locked it in. The
Miss Molly
bobbed in the wake of the charter that motored by. She fished and sat wondering why she had not insisted on her children coming with her that summer to Oriental. She was the mother and they the progeny dependent on family support ofsummer activities. Now Bender’s cancer brought them all to Oriental the summer she had decided to mend there in isolation. It seemed like fate had propelled some mystic, psychic wind, drawing them all back against plans, against dreams, and deposited them all here in answer to a mother’s prayer. But did God really care about a mother’s unspoken desires? Had God really heard her silent prayers all these years? Did he hear prayers at all?

    She had not meant to fall asleep. But the lack of any bites, the slow undulation of the rig riding the swells, and the radio broadcasting faint sonatas lulled her into an afternoon stupor.
    She did not know how long she had slept when the first raindrop hit her square between the eyes. She startled out of the captain’s chair. The sky was dark, not any sign of sunlight. The radio was crackling. Captain Bart was on the shortwave trying to locate her. She made for the cabin and checked in. “I’m on my way back,” she said. She checked her watch. “I’m late.” It was an hour past the time she had promised to pull back into the Oriental Marina.
    “Do you need assistance, Mrs. Warren?” he asked.
    She felt harebrained to have him so worried. “I’m headed back. No worries. I’ll be back at the dock in an hour.”
    The breeze blew over the port, much to her relief. She tacked, beating into the wind. The rain let go. She was mad at herself for dozing off. Weird, but she was feeling an unjustified resentment of Bender. He had never joined her sailing even though he joined friends often on fishing expeditions. He had even ordered the
Evelyn
delivered to the Oriental Marina for a couple of men’s fishing excursions, both times without the wives.
    She was drenched and mad that she was fighting this storm alone. Two sailed a boat better than one, but long ago she had learned to do things on her own. Independence wasn’t a bad trait in an age of shifting circumstances. But marriage was supposed to be a two-person tour.
    She and Marcy had once plotted for their independence. Marcy’s husband, Jackson, was much older than she was, just as Bender was six years older than Saphora. They both presumed they would outlive their husbands. Marcy said the two of them should move to the Outer Banks and live out their days traveling, not cooking, and certainly not catering to men who ignored them.