Barefoot in the Sun (Barefoot Bay)(22)

“Moving in there.” Pasha flipped the page of the paper as if she were reading it.

Zoe laughed because, really, what else could she do? “I don’t know why you’d bother with the Mimosa Gazette when you have the Tessa Times.” She stirred the coffee until it frothed a little, tapped the spoon on the cup, the dinging sound announcing the next round.

“But here’s something you don’t know, Pasha, and you’re going to be so happy to hear that—”

“He still loves you.”

She practically sank into the other chair. “And Tessa knows this how?”

“Oh, Tessa doesn’t have a clue.” Pasha gave her a shaky smile, wide enough to show that she not only hadn’t bothered with makeup or hair, she also hadn’t put her bridge in that morning, leaving little gaping holes in her back teeth. “That I did get from the tea. But she mentioned he’s divorced.”

Zoe sighed, another laugh escaping. “And he has a son.”

“I heard.”

Of course she had. “Did Tessa tell you how uptight and serious he is? That he never met a rule he wouldn’t follow, dots every i and crosses every t, and then takes anyone to task if they may have missed a detail?”

“Zoe, those were all character traits he had before and you adored him.” She dragged out the word as though it were so…precious.

“What’s not to adore?” she asked, lifting the cup to sip.

“He’s a fine piece of ass, if I recall.”

She almost spewed her coffee. “I created a monster with you.”

Pasha gave a careless shrug and lifted her invisible brows. “He’s good for you.”

“You think I should get back together with him?” He was the one who wanted to turn you in. And he still does.

Pasha looked down at the newspaper, tapping a finger. “I thought you’d be interested in this advertisement for Sylver Sky.” She inched the paper closer.

Zoe didn’t look. “Answer me, Pasha.”

“That’s the name of a hot air balloon company in Fort Myers.”

Zoe gave the black-and-white ad a cursory glance. “Nice.”

“Maybe they’re hiring.” Pasha’s eyes twinkled, maybe not as bright as they’d been for the past twenty years, but Zoe could still read that message.

“You’d live here?”

Pasha leaned back, crossing her arms. “I’d die here.”

The words hit like a fast, unexpected slap. “You’re not going to die.”

“Darling girl, if I did, you’d be free.”

“You’re not going to die, Pasha!” Vaulting to her feet, she almost knocked the chair back. “And don’t you even think that’s some kind of ticket to my…my…”

“Happiness.”

“Pasha!” She fell to her knees in front of the older woman, dropping her head on the bony lap she loved so much, wrapping her arms around Pasha’s narrow middle. “Don’t even say that. Ever, ever, ever.” A lump formed in her throat just thinking that Pasha would even think her dying would make Zoe happy.

“I always thought there was a kind of magic in the air when you two were together.” She threaded her fingers into Zoe’s hair, looking down with a smile that only accentuated the deep, deep crevices of her paper-thin skin.

Was it possible she didn’t remember that Oliver knew their secret? No, she knew. But maybe she thought if she were so sick that she—

“And Tessa told me that that magic is still there,” Pasha continued.

“What didn’t Tessa tell you?” Like did she mention that Oliver was an oncologist?

Slowly, Zoe inched away, returning to her feet, steadying herself for the conversation she couldn’t delay any longer.

“She told me that Oliver’s little boy is cute and your hair was soaked when you came back. Did you go swimming with him?”

Zoe smiled and took a seat at the kitchen table. “Yes. And we kissed. And we—”

Pasha placed her fingertips over her ears and sang, “I can’t hear you.”

But Zoe reached across and gently took Pasha’s hands down and held them. “You have to hear this.”

At her tone, Pasha looked at Zoe.

“We talked about you.”

Pasha’s eyes shuttered. “I’m sure you did.”

“Not…that,” Zoe said quickly. “We talked about how he can treat your condition and never report your name to any agency or insurance company or anyone.” Just the lawyer he wanted Zoe to see. But she hadn’t actually agreed to that, and with the way blood was visibly draining from Pasha’s face, she wasn’t going to mention a lawyer now.

“Do you understand what I’m saying, Aunt Pasha?”

She didn’t even blink.

“He’s an oncologist and that’s a doctor that—”

“I know what an oncologist is,” she said sharply, drawing her hands free of Zoe’s. “And he’s not treating me.”

“Pasha, he’s a very good doctor, in high demand, with a clinic that specializes in advanced, experimental treatment. He can figure out what’s wrong with you and fix you.” Zoe’s voice cracked with the sheer will of trying to get Pasha to see the wisdom of this. “He’s the answer to our prayers.”

“He is,” she agreed. “But I wasn’t praying for a doctor, I was praying for your happiness.”

“You being healthy would make me happy.”

“Not as happy as love.”

Zoe grunted softly. “Pasha! This is your life we’re talking about. We need to know what’s wrong and how to—”

“I know what’s wrong with me. I have cancer.”

She’d never said the word before. After the one time in Sedona when the doctor suggested the diagnosis, Pasha had refused to say the word cancer. And now it rolled off her tongue like her middle name.

“Then he’s the perfect doctor for you since that’s his specialty.”

“I don’t want to see a doctor.”

“Did you not just admit that you have cancer?” It felt strange to say that out loud, because she’d been following Pasha’s lead and letting the C-word be the silent elephant in their living room. Now Dumbo was lifting his trunk and spraying them.

“I did. I do.” She angled her head and smiled, looking frightfully old without her makeup or jewelry or full set of teeth. “That’s what Mother Nature gave me, and that’s how Mother Nature’s taking me. Unless I, you know, help her along a little.”

“Pasha! Over my dead body!”

“No, child, over mine.” She inched the newspaper closer. “Maybe you should talk to these folks at the balloon company. Get a job here in town.” She gave the most unsubtle nod. “Settle down.”

Zoe bristled. “I don’t settle down.”

“And we both know why.”

What was she saying? “You think my life is going to get better if you die, Pasha?”

Pasha leaned forward. “You gave him up once before for me.”

“I gave him up for the wrong reasons,” she said. “I thought he couldn’t handle how we’d lived, but what he couldn’t handle was the news on his phone.”

Pasha didn’t even hear her; she shook her head, waiting for a chance to speak. “I will not come between you two again. Your life will be so much better when I’m gone.”

“Well, you’re wrong.” Zoe stood so fast her coffee splashed onto the newspaper, soaking the balloon company ad. “My life would not get better if you die. In fact, my life would suck if you die!”

“Zoe, you know as well as I do that my very existence is what’s holding you back from being with Oliver.”

“Are you crazy?” She grabbed the cup and walked to the sink, an acrid mix of coffee and anger and fear on her tongue. “There are so many things wrong with that statement I don’t even know where to start. Your very existence is why I’m alive, Pasha. I’d have killed myself by thirteen if you hadn’t saved me.”

“You’d have survived.”

She spun around, fire in her belly. “I’d have been raped sixteen ways from Sunday!”

Pasha flinched.

“And you are not holding me back from being with Oliver,” Zoe said. “I’m doing that all by myself, thank you very much.”

“Doesn’t sound like you held back too much in the pool yesterday.”

“Actually, I held…a little. You know what stopped me?”

“I hope it was your strong moral compass.”

Zoe snorted. “Nothing so admirable.”

“You didn’t have a condom?”