“You have indeed kept me waiting,” Mamaw said.

Lucille turned her head to look at her. “What’s that?”

“I’m wondering,” Mamaw said, her eyes on the road ahead, “just how much longer you’re going to keep me waiting.”

“What do you mean?”

“When are you going to tell me the truth?” She quickly glanced at Lucille. “What’s going on?”

Lucille turned her head and looked straight ahead through the windshield.

“I thought we were friends,” Mamaw said.

Lucille said nothing.

Mamaw glanced again from the road. Lucille clutched the bag tighter but her face gave nothing away.

“That we didn’t keep secrets from each other,” Mamaw continued.

“You told me you didn’t want no more bad news,” Lucille said.

“What? When did I say that?”

“A while back. In this very car.”

Mamaw was flustered. “I don’t remember saying that, and even if I did, I certainly didn’t mean to be taken literally. Lucille, for pity’s sake, I know you don’t have the flu. Please tell me what’s going on.”

Lucille turned to look at her. Then she said in a flat voice, “I got the cancer.”

Mamaw felt her heart skip a beat, even as her stomach dropped. “Oh, no.” She swallowed hard, then asked, “What kind? What do the doctors say?”

“Slow down,” Lucille said, tapping the dashboard. “You’re gonna kill us both.”

Mamaw hadn’t realized she’d been accelerating her speed. She applied the brake and slowed to the speed limit. She took the Sullivan’s Island exit from the bridge and drove up Coleman Boulevard to the first parking lot she spied. She pulled in and stopped the car. Turning, she faced Lucille.

“Tell me everything.”

Lucille looked at her with compassion in her eyes. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re already making a list of what doctors to call, what treatments to try. Now, Miz Marietta, you’re just gonna have to listen to what I’m going to tell you without interrupting me. Okay?”

Mamaw nodded and said uncertainly, “All right.”

Lucille shifted her weight in the seat. “A while back I got these pains. I tried to manage them, but when they wouldn’t go away I went to see my doctor. He sent me to another doctor here at the hospital and they gave me a mess of tests.”

Mamaw feared the worst. “What kind of—”

Lucille put up her hand to stop Mamaw’s question and Mamaw snapped her mouth shut.

“They told me I had cancer. Pancreatic cancer.”

Mamaw sucked in her breath, then exhaled. “Oh, Lord.”

“Today they told me it spread to my other organs. That’s why my stomach pains are so bad.”

Mamaw had to ask. “What stage is the cancer?”

“They call it stage four.”

Mamaw clenched her hands together. Pancreatic cancer was always bad, but stage four was a death sentence and they both knew it.

Lucille looked down at her lap. “There’s nothing to do now but wait,” Lucille said. She smiled ruefully. “Today the doctor told me I’m not gonna have to wait too long.”

“No!” Mamaw blurted out. She’d agreed to keep silent, but now the story was told and she couldn’t hold back any longer. Lucille appeared so defeated, so willing to accept the diagnosis. Mamaw couldn’t—she wouldn’t—lose Lucille without putting up a fight.

“I won’t accept that. There are several procedures you can try. My friend had pancreatic cancer and she had some surgery, something to do with a Whipple. I’ll find out her doctor’s name. We have to try something. I’m sure there’s some procedure.”

Lucille put her hand up in a gesture to silence Mamaw. “First off, I ain’t got insurance.”

“I don’t care. I’ll pay for it.”

“Now, Miz Marietta, we both know you can’t afford to take that on right now. And I wouldn’t let you. Besides, it’s too late. There ain’t no cure for what I got.”

“Maybe not a cure, but we can buy more time. There’s chemotherapy and radiation.”

“No.” Lucille shook her head, her voice resolute. “I’m not doing no chemo or radiation. I’m not puttin’ that poison in my body.”

“You don’t expect me to just sit here and let you die!”

Lucille smiled sadly. “That’s exactly what I expect you to do.”

Mamaw choked back a cry as her hand covered her mouth. “That’s absurd! I can’t do that.”

Lucille’s face softened. “You must. Miz Marietta, the plain truth is, it’s too late for any of that. The cancer’s too far gone. I talked to the doctors and I’ve made up my mind.”

Mamaw brought a hand to her face and turned her head away as she wept, shaking her head in denial.

Lucille dug into her purse and pulled out a tissue. Handing it to Mamaw, she said, “Here, now. Take this. Your eyes always puff up like a sea urchin when you cry.”

Mamaw let out a laugh and grabbed the tissue. Only Lucille could get away with saying such things to her at a time like this.

“This is such a shock. I didn’t see it coming. I’m older than you are. I’m supposed to go before you.”

“Seems God has different plans.”

Mamaw blew her nose and composed herself. “I can’t accept this.”

“Now, Miz Marietta, listen to me.” Lucille waited for Mamaw to face her again, then spoke in a slow, stern voice. “I’ve seen you be strong when Parker passed, then Mr. Edward. I’m asking you to be strong for me.”

A rush of memories flooded Mamaw’s mind—the nursing, the companionship, the steady encouragement, the exhausting hours, and, finally, the unutterable grief. She knew what was coming. She comprehended fully what Lucille was asking of her.

Mamaw nodded almost imperceptibly. “I will. You know I will.”

“And be strong for the girls.”

“The girls,” Mamaw said, suddenly remembering them. “When are you going to tell them? They’ll be devastated. They love you so much.”

“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell them. I didn’t want to ruin their summer with this sorry business. I figured they’ll all be leaving at summer’s end, flying off like the shorebirds to wherever their lives take them. I hoped I’d just be like one of them. Flying off. No fuss.”