Page 33 of Born to be Wilder

My heart warmed at the kind words. I loved taking care of people. Lived for it.

And I would take such good care of Alice.

I’d already narrowed down the soups to the ones I thought Alice would like best. A good chicken and wild rice. A French onion if she was feeling up to something rich. The tomato bisque with the fresh basil she’d once complimented when I’d brought it to a Wilder Widows meeting.

And I would knit her a blanket. A proper one, thick and soft, something she could pull around herself on the hard days. I’d already been turning over the colors in my mind—Alice liked jewel tones, deep greens and burgundy, nothing too “girly” like pastels.

And a hat.

I’d knit her a cap too. Just in case she needed chemo and lost her hair.

The thought of Alice bald arrived quietly, without warning, like a cold hand on the back of my neck. Alice, who in all the years I'd known her had never once had a single hair out of place. Alice, who treated her appearance as seriously as other people treated their careers or religion.

The thought of her losing her hair, of the horror I knew she would feel looking in the mirror at the reflection staring back at her…

My gaze drifted out the window at the Kentucky skyline, and I swallowed down a lump the size of a yarn ball.

I straightened up. Slapping on a smile as I turned back to the pancakes and flipped them just in time before they burned.

No crying.

Alice had asked for one thing, and I would give it to her. I would keep it together if it killed me. Which, knowing how terrible I was at keeping things together, it very well might.

Alice appeared last, somehow her hair neat and tidy. She looked at the pancakes and then at me. “Wow. Those look amazing.”

I grinned widely, flipping two onto a plate for her. “Sit down. I’ll get you a coffee too.”

I topped her up and made sure everyone had a full plate before I joined them. We ate together, quieter in the mornings than when we’d eat lunch or dinner, everyone slowly coming back to life. Last night we’d stayed out late drinking after karaoke, and I knew they could use a little quiet time while they found their bearings.

“Okay,” I said when they all looked fairly human again. “I have an announcement.”

“If it’s that there’s more coffee, I’m all ears,” Marge said.

I refilled Marge’s coffee and set the pot back. “I’ve found our destination for today. My captain’s wish.”

Three faces looked up.

“I did research last night while you were all asleep, and I found something absolutely incredible. It’s only forty-five minutes from here. We are going to see…”—I paused for effect—“Noah’s Ark!”

A beat of silence.

“The waterpark?” Marge scrunched up her face. “Isn’t that up in Wisconsin? Because I’m not driving north, Doris, I will tell you that right now. We have a schedule to keep if we’re making it to Mardi Gras on time⁠—”

“Not the waterpark! Noah’s actual Ark! Or, well, a full-scale replica built to the exact dimensions in the Bible. It’s over five hundred feet long! There’s a Creation Museum, and we can walk through the history of the biblical world!”

My heart soared with excitement, but the silence that met me was heavy enough to sink a ship. Heck, maybe even Noah’s Ark.

“Church, Doris?” Marge groaned, dropping her fork. “That’s your big captain’s wish? You’re taking us on a Sunday school field trip?”

“It isn’t church!” I defended, my face heating up. “It’s... it’s an architectural marvel! And yes, it’s educational, but you’ll be amazed. I promise!”

“It sounds like church,” Sylvie said gently.

“It is not church!” I pressed my hands flat on the table. “I am the captain, and this is my wish, and we are going. You’ll see. You will be absolutely blown away. I promise.”

“At least it’s not the world’s largest yarn ball.” Alice lifted an eyebrow. “It could be worse.”

“It’s her turn to be captain,” Sylvie said gently, sensing my hurt. “We promised to support the captain’s picks.”