Good Harbor

“His birth certificate says Franklin, after FDR. The Democratic Party was his family’s real religion.”

“And how did you two meet?”

“At a party. I liked the way he danced. And then I liked the way we danced together.”

“Sounds very romantic,” Kathleen said. “I met Buddy at a dance, too. But he didn’t dance, and neither did I. We found each other in the wallflower seats.”

“That’s pretty romantic, too. And since you brought it up, what about your name, Kathleen Levine?”

“That’s Kathleen Mary Elizabeth McCormack Levine. I converted before I married Buddy.”

“Was your family okay with that?”

“Yes,” said Kathleen, remembering Pat’s roses. “It was okay, even for my sister the Sister. Did I tell you that my sister was a nun?”

“No. Are you close?”

“Pat died of breast cancer.”

“Oh, my God.”

“I have a different kind, as all my doctors like to remind me.” Kathleen briefly described her diagnosis and treatment.

“It sounds like you’re going to be okay.”

“It’s not a death sentence. I won’t even lose my hair.”

“You have beautiful hair,” Joyce said.

“Thanks. I’m still pretty vain about it. And I wanted to thank you for what you said the other day.”

“What did I say?”

“About not letting anyone tell me this wasn’t an ordeal.”

“Oh. You mean, that it sucks.”

“You have such a way with words. I guess that’s why you’re the professional writer,” said Kathleen. “The radiology doctor told me to go for walks by the ocean during these treatments. It was the only decent part of that whole awful day.”

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” said Joyce.

“Count your blessings that you can’t.”

On the bridge, they stopped to lean over the railing, elbows almost touching, looking down to the riverbed, the wet sand waiting for the return of the tide. “Sometimes I think I can hear the difference,” said Joyce. “When the tide’s going out, the pebbles get dragged. So the sound is a little lighter coming in.”

Kathleen cocked her head to listen and nodded.

Joyce asked Kathleen for a ride home, and as she slid into the car, Kathleen said, “Next time, you have to tell me about how you did the research for Magnolia’s Heart.”

“Oh, my God. How did you find out?”

“Never underestimate the powers of a librarian in the age of the Internet.”

“You looked me up?”

“I bought a copy yesterday.”

Joyce covered her face with her hands. “Please, just rip the cover off, okay?”