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Molly nodded. "Okay. Then at least we have that information. And what do you want to do?" She reached over and put a hand on Helena's forearm, leaving it there to let her know that she wasn't alone. Molly was a practical, capable woman even at twenty-seven, and she knew she could get Helena to a doctor for whatever kind of care she needed.
"I want to go home," Helena said, looking as young as she ever had. "I want my parents."
"Of course, of course." Molly patted her arm and then stood up. "Then we'll get you there, simple as that. However, I think we need to see a doctor once we get to Europe. Make sure everything is fine. In the meantime, let's do the best we can, okay? I'll cook you whatever we have that sounds good to you, and you'll nap when you need to. I've managed this boat alone before, and I can do it again."
When she turned around, Helena had her head on the table and she was clearly crying.
"Hey, hey," Molly said. She walked back to her and put a hand on the back of Helena's warm head. "Everything will be okay. We'll stick together and I'll see you home, alright?"
Helena nodded, not lifting her head. "Okay, Molly. Thank you," she said. Her voice was muffled.
Molly decided to leave her there for a bit to think and to process. She spent the afternoon on the deck of the boat, thinking about the journey ahead and wondering how quickly she should speed things along once they got to Europe. Should they dock and make their way across the continent, stopping to see things as they went and, in essence, giving Helena one last big hurrah before she embarked upon one of life's biggest--and most unrelenting--adventures that it had to offer? Or should they stay on the water and make their way directly to the U.K., getting Helena as close to home as possible before dropping anchor and making their way across land?
The sun made its way across the sky as Molly went through the motions of navigating and monitoring the sails. They were on a fairly smooth course at that time, and it was easy to just do what needed to be done, then to sit and stare off into the distance, letting her thoughts bob through her head like the boat on the waves.
She and Rodney had wanted children, though it had still felt like something in the distance when he'd died. In fact, Molly had actually fallen pregnant once, early in their marriage, but had started to bleed almost as soon as she found out about the baby. She’d been hesitant to even tell Rodney, so afraid was she that he’d be disappointed in either the fact that she’d gotten pregnant so soon after the wedding, or in the fact that she’d somehow done something to lose their baby. When he’d found her crying on the bathroom floor that day he’d sank down next to her, pulling her to him so that she could lay down and rest her head in his lap. Rodney had stroked her hair and reassured her as much as he could—after all, they were young and he had no idea what it felt like to lose a baby—but he’d told her over and over that he loved her, that a baby would happen when it was supposed to, and that he knew she’d done nothing wrong that would have caused their baby to go away.
It had been, strangely, the thing that had brought them the closest during their entire time together, and when Rodney had died, Molly let herself grieve that lost baby all over again. She knew then that she’d never have children of her own, but that she’d be a loving aunt, cousin, or friend to anyone else’s child.
“Molly?” came Helena’s meek voice from the galley. Molly pulled herself away from the memory of her lost pregnancy and stood, giving a cursory look at the sails and at the horizon in the distance before ducking back into the boat. “Do we have anything like ginger ale?”
Molly searched the fridge and found a flat bottle of half-drunk champagne that she’d brought onto the boat in Fiji, and she poured a few inches into a glass and handed it to Helena. “This won’t taste like New Year’s Eve or anything, but it should have some of the crisp tang to it that you’re craving,” she promised, watching as Helena drank it gratefully.
Handing the empty glass back to Molly, Helena leaned back on the couch. “Thanks, Molly,” she said, closing her eyes.
They sailed on, stopping every so often at a port on the west coast of Africa as they made their way north. When they stopped, Molly would restock the kitchen with as many fruits and vegetables as she could, and for a night or two they’d have fresh meat, cheese, eggs, and dairy. She knew that a pregnant woman shouldn’t be living on canned foods, beans, rice, and purified water alone, so every time they stopped she tried to bring back some special treat for Helena: chocolate malva pudding, which was sweet and as moist as a tres leches cake; Moroccan shortbread cookies to eat with tea; West African lime cake so tart and tangy that they both squished up their faces as they took their first delicious bites; and umm ali, an Egyptian bread pudding with coconut flakes, raisins, cinnamon, and mixed nuts.
It took them more than three weeks with all their short stops, but they ended up docking in Portugal on a Thursday morning, both gleeful and ready to be off the boat. Helena had regained her sense of equilibrium somewhere off the coast of Mauritania, and by the time they were anchored in Lisbon, she looked hale and hardy (for the most part) and was excited to be somewhere new.
The first thing Molly insisted upon was a doctor visit, which they did in Lisbon. She asked around and found a doctor who spoke enough English to see Helena, and they went together one sunny afternoon. Dr. Carvalho greeted them with a big grin and a string of words in Portuguese, but when they looked at one another in confusion he switched to broken English and asked Helena a few questions.
In a jiffy she was up on a table as Dr. Carvalho palpated her belly and listened to her heart, and then he patted her thigh gently and motioned for her to sit up.
"Baby is healthy," he said, clapping his hands together happily. "Maybe...three months?" He held up three fingers. "I think you will have this babyFevereiro," he said, then shook his head and held up a hand. "February," he corrected himself. "Might be a boy, might be a girl...will be healthy and happy baby."
"Thank you, doctor," Molly said from the chair in the corner of the room, where she'd been sitting quietly as she observed. She felt, for all intents and purposes, like Helena's big sister, and she was definitely acting like one. "We appreciate it. Does she need any vitamins or anything?"
Dr. Carvalho frowned and put the tip of his finger to his lips. He had a shock of white hair and a white mustache which twitched as he thought. "I will give you list," he said, turning to go with a little wave in Helena's direction.
They left the office after paying what equated to twenty-five dollars in cash, exiting onto the busy city street with a piece of paper from Dr. Carvalho in hand. Molly looked at it:laranjas, limões, maçãs, azeitonas, ameixas, leite, queijo, figos, feijão, couve.
"I have no idea what any of this is," she said, puzzled. "Should we go to the pharmacy and see if they have any of these vitamins?"
Helena had one hand on her belly, and Molly marveled at the fact that there really and truly was a whole person growing there. Helena shrugged. "I don't want to spend all our money on medications," she protested. "But I do want my baby to be okay...maybe we can just ask them for the most important one?"
They found a small white building with a green cross above it and the wordfarmaciapainted on the window. Molly led them in and marched to the counter, setting the piece of paper down for the woman on duty to read.
"From the doctor," Molly said simply, hoping beyond all hope that the woman might speak a little English. In the event that she didn't, Molly gesticulated with both hands in the way that people do when they're trying to be understood. "We just need the most important vitamin on the list."
The woman watched her with amusement and then picked up the paper, scanning the list. "Go back to the street," she said, pointing at the door, "and go to the corner. There's a shop there where you can find all of these. Orange door, red roof--you can't miss it." She handed the paper back with a smile and Molly flushed, embarrassed at how well the woman spoke her language when she spoke not a word of Portuguese.
"Thank you," Molly said, nodding gratefully.
The shop on the corner with the orange door and red roof was a grocery. Molly walked up to the counter there and set the list down more hesitantly. She wasn't sure how this place might have the vitamins on hand that the pharmacist didn't, but she wanted to make sure Helena had what she needed.
The man behind the counter at this shop took one look at the list, picked up a green plastic basket, and led them through the store, tossing things into the basket quickly as he did.
Without a word, he handed it back to her along with the list from the doctor. Molly stared into the basket with a furrowed brow. "But these are just fruits and vegetables," she said.
