Once again, I apologize about the last chapter being 3000 words long. There was just so much to say! I want to dedicate this chapter to all the people in the world who have some form of cancer.

Chapter 14: Lumps, Bumps, and Goosebumps

I was happy as a married woman. The feeling of waking up next to someone who loved and cherished you was warmer then bread right out of the oven. Or the sun on a hot summer day. Take your pick; either way, it was a beauty unto itself.

So it was, until my happiness was disturbed by the goddess.

CALYPSO! The mental shout startled me out of my dreams into the awkward half-asleep moment. Come oudside. Me musd speak do you.

I groaned quietly, careful not to wake Michael up. He muttered something in his sleep, then rolled over. I smiled, then grabbed a cloak and wrapped it around me as I stepped out into the cold summer morning.

Our house. It was new, a gift from Michael's father. He had it built on the edge of his plot of land, right on the cliff. It was only a few miles from my mothers cottage.

Calypso smiled at me from the edge of the cliff, showing decaying teeth behind black lips. I joined her, goose bumps forming on my arms. I hugged myself, unconsciously folding my arms around my stomach protectively.

"Long time, no see," I whispered, shivering. "I was beginning to think that you had left me for some other unfortunate soul."

"Never. Dis nod my nadure do leave."

I laughed quietly, because it wasn't true. It WAS her nature to leave. "What do you want, Calypso? I was having a really good dream, for once. One of my own making."

She smiled. "You appreciaded my dreams, once. Before you med dis Michael."

"No need to remind me." I rolled my eyes, watching the sun peek out from the horizon.

"Calypso. Go see your moder today. Dell her she needs to hold on, for anoder year."

"What?" I asked, but she vanished. The sun came up, turning the sky the color of blood.

~*~The Dutchman~*~

"I'll be back in a little while," I said. Michael raised his eyebrows, his green eyes questioning. "I haven't seen my mother in a while." I offered as an explanation.

Michael nodded. "I'll meet you in town. You're vegetables always sell well."

I smiled, kissed his cheek, then headed down the cliff-side road. I sang as I walked the long way to my childhood home.

"The king and his men
Stole the queen from her bed
And bound her in her bones

The seas be ours
And by the powers
Where we will, we'll roam

Yo-ho
all hands
Hoist the colors high

Heave-ho
Thieves and beggars
Never shall we die"

That song made more sense to me now then it had before. I actually understood the story behind it.

Elizabeth Turner appeared in the doorway, her sewing basket hooked over her arm. She smiled, and the creases in her skin bunched and fell. I was stuck, again, how old she had become.

Soft white hair fell to her waist, and her dress hung loosely on boney shoulders. Laugh lines marked her face deeply, but her brown eyes shone just as bright as they did when I was a child.

"What brings you back?" she asked, smiling, but the smile was pained. She knew something was up, I could tell. I had lived with her for seventeen years; I knew every face she ever made. She was in pain.

"This and that." I shrugged, grinning back, not letting the look on her face ruin my sudden good mood. "Making sure you're all right."

"I'm fine—Ow." She winced when I hugged her tightly. "You've always held on too tightly, my giant of a child."

I apologized, looking down at my feet. Mother laughed, then ushered me inside.

~*~The Dutchman~*~

We worked all morning, plying our needles, for all the fact that I really had no skill with fabric. But she tired easily, so I helped her with a few of her ongoing projects.

"I've got news," I said sitting behind a large mound of cotton fabric. Peeking around it, I grinned. "Really, really good news."

"Oh?" Mother raised her still-brown eyebrows high. "What?"

"I'm pregnant."

Mother's smile could have come off her face and reached the skies, if that was possible. She jumped up and hugged me fiercely. "Do me a favor, Calypso," she whispered, excitement in her voice. "Name him William."

I nodded into her shoulder. "I promise, if Michael agrees."

"You haven't told him?" She looked surprised.

I shook my head, and she laughed. I joined her, laughing until my sides hurt.

"I too have news, but not nearly as exciting as yours," my mother said, suddenly serious. She eased herself back into the chair, and picked up her needle. Plunk, plunk, plunk.

"Mother?"

"Do you remember how George's wife died? With that growth?"

I nodded. Mary, George's wife, had died not too long ago. She was a nice woman; she had always given me some sort of pastry when I had come by her house every once and a while. Mary had a growth in her breasts that had ultimately consumed her, making it so that she couldn't breathe properly.

"I found the same thing," she rushed to say. "Same place."

My euphoric mood plummeted, and I remembered what Calypso had mentioned only this morning. "Dell her she needs do hold on, for anoder year."

"No," I whispered. "How?"

"I don't know," she whispered back. "It's not that big, but Mary …"

I nodded, pursing my lips tightly to control them. Tears began to form behind my eyes.

"Calypso …" she whispered. "This doesn't change anything."

I got up and sat back down on the arm of her chair. She wrapped her arms around my waist, and I started to cry. She laid her head on my belly, and her thin shoulders shook.

Life for life, but it wasn't fair. She shouldn't have to die. And if Calypso was right, Mother would die without seeing my father again.

She would die without him, her soul mate. That made me cry all the harder.