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Wouldn’t it be nice if her Mamá’s tumors had made her more responsible and not less?
“Don’t look sad.” Her mother ran back and caught her hand, tugging her along the beach. “Life’s too short.”
They took a half hour, until Rosa tired. “Let’s have ice cream. Your father always bought me ice cream.”
Instead of agreeing, Carolina redirected. “How did you meet Daddy?”
Rosa turned in a circle, the pink skirt and her long curly hair winging around her. “He was building condos and apartments.” She waved her hand toward the bay. “They were going to be glorious. And expensive. He would have been rich.”
The bay condos had sat unfinished for years. Someone else had finally bought and completed them. “But how did you meet?”
“I was singing at a club here on the island. It’s closed now.” She hummed. “He drank bourbon and watched me. Those eyes.”
Married man on the prowl. How many times had Carolina been propositioned while she’d bartended or sang? Scum.
“When you met him…did you know he was married?” She’d never asked that question before.
Mamá sighed. “He didn’t wear a ring.”
And Rosa had thought he was rich. “When you told him you were pregnant, did he want me?”
Her mother’s lips pinched together. “He was Catholic. He should never have suggested…what he did. And he accused me—”
“Of what?” Trying to trap him? Carolina had heard an argument between Yaya and her mother once—something about how foolish her mother had been to think she could trap a man into marriage. Had that been what Yaya meant?
“That’s when he told me he was married. All his excuses on why he couldn’t spend time with me finally made sense. Excuses.” Mamá waved her hand like she was erasing a chalkboard. “It doesn’t matter.”
But it had mattered. Carolina had always been isolated. As a child, Mamá had forbidden her to talk about her father. At least no one had ever called her a bastard. No one knew.
“I miss my Beau.” Mamá’s steps slowed. The lines around her mouth deepened.
Carolina shouldn’t have brought up Daddy. Shouldn’t have asked questions. She knew better. Knew depression clung to her mother like a shadow. Her father hadn’t cared enough to take care of his other family.
They headed up the steps, Carolina taking Mamá’s elbow as she shuffled and almost lost her balance. Inside, Mamá collapsed on the sofa.
“Do you want anything?” Carolina asked.
“Could you get me a pill and then rub my head?” Her mother’s voice cracked with the pain.
“Of course.” After getting the pill and a glass of milk, Carolina said, “Let me know if I hurt you.”
She stood behind the sofa and kneaded her mother’s shoulders. Each day Mama’s skin changed. Her muscles were losing their bulk. Carolina didn’t press hard, just kept working them until they softened. Moving up, she pressed her thumbs into the base of her neck and worked on the taut tendons.
“Oh…oh…” her mother groaned.
Carolina ripped her hands away. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. That’s…good.”
She worked her thumbs through her mother’s gorgeous thick hair. Would it fall out when the treatments started?
Carolina ended the massage by working her mother’s temples. Again, she dug in her thumbs and listened to Mamá’s groans. But this time she could tell it was from relief.
“Better?” Carolina asked.
“Yes.”
Carolina helped her mother stack pillows and settle on the sofa. Even after walking in the sunshine, there was a grayish cast to her mother’s skin. “Get some rest.”
“I will.” And she dropped off.
Carolina waited. Planned dinner. Worked on her to-do list. Then while Mamá slept, she headed to her mother’s bedroom and searched through the bags scattered on the floor. Jackpot. The bags still held the receipts and most of the clothes still had their tags.
She took the bags to her car and called the attorney. “Can I return clothes my mother bought?”
“You have power of attorney now. It shouldn’t matter if you put the credit back on your mother’s card.”
“Good.” She would find time tomorrow to take the things back, using the ruse of going to the grocery store.
The credit wouldn’t solve the debt her mother had accumulated, but it would help. Then she would call the leasing company to turn in the car.
Time to search for a job. She opened her laptop. Wouldn’t it be nice if she could find a weekend singing gig?
