“Aunt Barb!” Judy called out, tears returning to her eyes. She threw open her arms just as her aunt stood up and gave her a hug.
“Honey, don’t worry, everything’s going to be all right.”
“No it’s not!” Judy blurted out, burying her head in her aunt’s bony shoulder, knowing that she was saying the exact wrong thing at the exact wrong time.
“Yes, it will, you’ll see.” Her aunt clucked softly, patting her back. “Don’t worry.”
“What happened?” Judy sobbed. “When did this … happen?”
“About nine months ago. Don’t cry, really, sweetie.” Aunt Barb gave her a final pat on the back. “I’m going to be well again, you’ll see.”
“You will be, I know you will be,” Judy said, her words slightly blubby, but her tears subsiding. She let her aunt go and wiped her cheeks with her hand. “So, I mean, can you explain? How did I not know? I mean, what’s going on? And where’s Mom?”
“In the kitchen. Here, sit down and I’ll catch you up.” Aunt Barb pressed Judy into the wrought-iron chair opposite her, her eyes glinting in the bright sun. “So … I found a lump in my left breast, a puckering, kind of. Turns out, it was stage II breast cancer.”
“Oh my.” Judy swallowed hard, trying not to cry again. Stage II sounded terrifying, though she wasn’t about to ask what was the highest stage. She would look it up later online.
“We thought we could get it with chemo, and it melted the tumor considerably, but they still found abnormal cells in my left breast, in my ducts.” Aunt Barb paused but didn’t tear up, strong and in control. “My cancer isn’t encapsulated, which means it’s not contained in one tumor, but throughout the tissue.”
Judy tried to stay calm. She knew she was about to become familiar with terms like encapsulated, which she would look up later, too. She noticed for the first time that her aunt no longer had eyebrows and that her fair skin had a grayish tinge.
“The good news is it’s not in my lymph nodes, including my sentinel node, so my prognosis is good. Everybody’s cancer is different, that’s what I’m learning. My doctor expects the mastectomy will do the trick, and I might not even need radiation.”
Judy knew radiation was a cancer treatment, but it horrified her to think about irradiating a human being, especially one she loved so much.
“The mastectomy is scheduled for Monday.”
“This Monday? In, like, two days?”
“Yes, but don’t let it scare you. It doesn’t scare me. Frankly, after seeing what your uncle went through with blood cancer, I feel lucky to have a surgical solution.” Aunt Barb paused, her forehead etched with grief that was still fresh. “So I try to look on the bright side. I have to lose my breasts, but what I really care about is my life. And after all, every plant needs pruning, so that it can thrive as a whole. I’m just getting pruned, that’s all.”
“There you go,” Judy said, pained. “You’re a rose, Aunt Barb.”
“Exactly.” Aunt Barb smiled. “Besides, I know a lot of women who have had mastectomies, so there’s no mystery. It should last about a few hours, and they’ll discharge me on Wednesday, with a few drains.”
Judy hid her fear. She didn’t know a person could have a drain. Showers should have drains, not people.
“A lot of people have reconstruction, implants, or have expanders put in, but I decided not to.” Aunt Barb set her mouth, a Cupid’s bow, albeit determined. “I don’t want to put myself through that. I hate the idea of more surgeries, or longer recovery, or spending more money. I mean, what’s the point? I’m already so flat, and I can deal with padded bras.”
“I see that,” Judy said, meaning it. She couldn’t imagine a more personal decision, and she didn’t know what she would do, but she knew it was so like her aunt. “Why didn’t you tell me, or Mom?”
“I didn’t want you to worry.” Aunt Barb frowned with regret. “That’s why I canceled dinner on you, last month. Sorry.”
“But on the phone, you never said anything.” Judy talked to her aunt at least twice a week, checking in.
“I hid it.”
Judy tried to think back in time, bewildered, as if understanding the chronology would lend her any comfort. “But I saw you on my birthday. You looked fine. You looked great.”
“I was just starting chemo, and I didn’t tell you then because I didn’t want you to associate your birthday with news like that.”
“Oh no.” Judy almost burst into new tears, at the memory. They had celebrated in this very backyard, sharing a double-cheese pizza and a few cold Miller Lites among the lovely roses, in full bloom. Her aunt was an expert rosarian, and her heirloom Gallica rosebushes drooped now with the last of their massive crimson blooms, shaped more like a peony to the untrained eye.
“Right before I saw you, I had my first treatment. I hadn’t lost my hair yet, that happened on day seventeen, just when they said it would. Chemo was awful, I felt tired and foggy. Chemo brain, they call it. It made my nails weird, dried my skin, and obviously, I’m prematurely bald. I’m going for a Pirate Queen look.” Aunt Barb patted her bandanna. “Not bad, huh?”
“Very Gilbert and Sullivan.” Judy managed a smile, because they both loved G&S operettas.
“My friend gained weight during chemo, but I lost twenty-five pounds. So there’s the good news.” Aunt Barb chuckled ruefully. Then she sighed, tilting her face to the sun. “Anyway, enough. It’s a beautiful day, you’re here, and we’re in the presence of Reine Victoria.”
“You mean the rose you were trying to grow? You did it?”
“Yep, go take a whiff. There’s still one or two blooms left, in the middle, the pink.” Aunt Barb gestured to the rosebushes on her right. “Reine Victoria is a Bourbon rose, one of the most fragrant. It can smell like pears.”
Judy got up, crossed to the bushes, and smelled a rose with pinkish blooms. Its perfume filled her nostrils with a fruity sweetness. “Wow, that’s so cool. Aromatherapy.”
“Also, its thorns aren’t that bad. I hate thorns. Who needs attitude from a flower?”
Judy heard her phone ringing in her back pocket, reached for it, and saw that the screen read Linda Adler, the client she’d been trying to reach. “Oh, damn.”
“Feel free to get that, honey,” Aunt Barb called to her.
“Nah, I’ll get it later.” Judy let the call go to voicemail because her conversation with Linda would have been a long one, and her aunt deserved her undivided attention. Judy went back to the table and sat down.
“So how’s work, honey?”
“I’m not going to complain, in the circumstances.”
Aunt Barb touched her hand. “No, please don’t act differently around me. Tell me. I’m sick of talking about lymph nodes.”
“Okay, well, I have a cool sex-discrimination case for this woman who just called me, but I also just got dumped with seventy-five new cases, all damages trials.” Judy didn’t add that her goal in the damages cases would be to diminish the value of a lost human life, a heartbreaking thought right now.
Suddenly Aunt Barb turned to face the house, where Judy’s mother was coming out the back door, carrying a floral-patterned tray. Judy didn’t call to her because it was too far away, but she was struck, as always, by her mother’s beauty, even in her late fifties. Delia Van Huyck Carrier had round blue eyes, now slightly hooded, and a squarish face and high cheekbones that bespoke her paternal Dutch heritage. She kept in trim shape and had great style, even in her standard airplane outfit: an oversized gray sweater, black leggings, and black ballet flats. She crossed the lawn toward them, her lips pursed and her head tilted slightly down, showing the top of her head with its loose, lemony blonde topknot.
“Hi, Mom!” Judy stood up, went to her mother, and gave her an awkward hug, around the tray, a pitcher of iced tea, glasses, napkins, and a platter of chocolate chip cookies.
“Hello, honey.” Judy’s mother set the tray on the tabletop, and the glasses clinked. “You might want to wipe y
our nose.”
“Oops, sorry. How are you?” Judy plucked a napkin from the tray and blew her nose, sensing that her mother seemed oddly cooler than usual. Aunt Barb stiffened as soon as her mother came over, and Judy realized that the two sisters had been fighting, which wasn’t atypical, though she would have guessed there was an exception for breast cancer.
“I’m good.” Her mother’s Delft-blue eyes narrowed in the sunlight, which caught the golden strands of her fine, smooth hair. “Dad says hi. How are you, all right?”
Of course not, Judy wanted to say, but that wasn’t the right answer. “I guess so, but I’m worried about Aunt Barb. You didn’t know about this, did you?”
“No, she kept it from us. I took the red-eye as soon as I found out. Sit down, please.”
Judy sat down. Taking the red-eye was code for showing concern, even though her mother seemed completely pissed off. “Mom, is something bothering you?”
“No, I’m just determined to get my kid sister through her operation. I’m staying for the duration.”
“You make it sound like a war.”
“It is a war,” her mother shot back, meeting her eye. “And we’re going to win.”
“Delia, it’s not a war, to me.” Aunt Barb shook her head, frowning. “We work on visualization in group, and I don’t see it as a war, or ‘my battle with cancer,’ like the obits say. My cancer is part of me, and I have to work on it to heal myself, the same as my faults or my dark side.”
“You don’t have a dark side, Aunt Barb,” Judy said, her throat thick.
“Nonsense, dear,” her mother interjected. “We all have a dark side.”
Judy recoiled. “Mom, what gives? Play nice.”
Aunt Barb cocked her kerchiefed head. “Your mother and I had words, and now we’re at an impasse, agreeing to disagree.”
“About what?”
“Speak of the devil,” her mother hissed, turning toward the house, as the back door opened.
Chapter Three
Judy looked over, and a middle-aged Hispanic woman with fluffy black hair in a pixie cut came out of the house. She was cute, roundish, and only about five feet tall, but gave the impression of being strong and sturdy as she crossed the lawn on short legs. She had on a faded Eagles T-shirt and jeans and carried a brown tote bag on her shoulder.
Aunt Barb motioned her over. “Iris, come meet my niece!”
Judy turned to her aunt, pleasantly surprised. “So that’s the Iris I’ve heard so much about? Your gardening buddy?”
“Yes.” Aunt Barb gestured to Judy when Iris reached the table. “Iris, this is Judy, and Judy, Iris Juarez.”
“Hi, Iris, it’s great to finally meet you!” Judy extended a hand, and Iris shook it, her grip strong and her nails manicured red, with tiny rhinestones on the tip.
“Please to meet you, too,” Iris said, with a thick Spanish accent. She smiled easily, but almost shyly. Her smallish eyes were a rich, earthy brown with deep crow’s-feet, and her skin had a dark brownish hue. Thin gold crucifixes dangled from her ears.
Aunt Barb gestured to a chair. “Iris, sit down, please. Join us a second. You have time before work, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Iris pulled out the remaining wrought-iron chair and sat down, perched on the edge. She placed a silver cell phone, one of the older models, on the table.
Aunt Barb picked up an empty glass. “Would you like some iced tea?”
“No.” Iris shook her head, and Judy noticed her mother and aunt exchange chilly glances. Granted, Iris wasn’t what Judy had expected, but she seemed like a perfectly nice woman.
Judy asked her, “Iris, where are you from?”
“Kennett Square.”
“No, I mean, before that. You’re from Mexico originally, right?”
“Yes. Guerrero.”
“Where is that?” Judy had been to Mexico, but her Spanish wasn’t as good as her Latin, which was excellent, if useless.
“Down.” Iris waved her hand toward the ground.
Judy got the gist. “Oh, south. Do you have family there?”
“No, no.” Iris winced, and Judy sensed she’d said the wrong thing.
Her aunt interjected, “Iris’s husband died six years ago, as did her sons. In a car accident.”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry.” Judy swallowed hard, and her mother reached silently for the iced tea and poured herself a glass.
Her aunt forced a smile. “Judy, Iris grew corn, back in Mexico. She kept the farm going, all by herself, one of the few women in the village. She can grow anything, anywhere. She’s a master in this garden, I tell you, a master. I’ve taken classes from horticulturalists who don’t have her touch.” Aunt Barb nodded toward the rosebushes. “She should get the credit for Reine Victoria, not me.”
“Really?” Judy said, happy to have the subject changed.
Iris was already shaking her head. “No, Barb show me.”
“Iris, that’s not true.” Aunt Barb turned to Judy, newly animated, and Judy could tell that her aunt wanted her to get to know Iris, especially since Judy’s mother was giving the woman the silent treatment.
Judy smiled at Iris. “So what brought you here? Why did you leave Mexico?”
“I need work. The police, they take my farm.”
“Why did they do that?”
“I don’t know.” Iris frowned, shaking her head. Her soft shoulders slumped. “The police, not good. I hab no choice, I go.”
Aunt Barb interjected, “Iris is the strongest woman I know. She inspires me every day, especially now.” Aunt Barb faced Iris, touching her arm. “Iris, tell Judy what you went through to get here. It was impossible, truly.”
“Oh no.” Iris waved her off again, shyly. “Is too long a story.”
“No, tell me.” Judy smiled. “How did you get here from Mexico?”
“I run,” Iris answered.
Judy thought she misunderstood. “You ran? Like, running, in a race?”
“Yes.” Iris pumped her arms, as if she were running.
“For how long?”
“Three night.”
“For how long, each night?”
“All.” Iris chuckled, showing a glimpse of a gold tooth in front.
“You ran all night, for three nights?” Judy asked, incredulous. The woman had to be fifty-five years old, and she hardly had an athletic build.
“In dessert,” Iris added, and Judy understood that she meant desert.
“What desert?”
“Sonora.” Iris looked at Aunt Barb. “Sonora, is call?”
“Yes, the Sonoran desert in Arizona.” Aunt Barb turned to Judy. “She ran all night for three nights, from seven o’clock at night until seven the next morning. The desert is cold at night. There were ten other people, only two were women, none as old as she was. During the day, they hid inside bushes, despite snakes, rats, and a hundred-and-twenty-degree temperatures, in July.”
“Really?” Judy asked, aghast. Meanwhile, she realized why her mother was so angry. Iris must have entered the country illegally, and her mother didn’t approve. Judy didn’t like the idea either, but she felt rapt by Iris’s story. She asked her, “Iris, why the Sonoran desert? How did you get there?”
“I go bus to Peidras Negros. A man, a coyote, I pay him one thousand to go United Stays.”
“A thousand dollars to take you to the United States?” Judy was getting the hang of her accent.
“Yes. Today, is four thousand.” Iris’s dark eyes widened at the sum.
“When did you come?”
“Four.”
“Four years ago?”
“I have water, beans, tuna, food with cans, on back.” Iris gestured to her back, indicating a backpack. “Is so hot, we no have water lef’. We see farm with pig, many pig. We are happy, so happy. We drink from water. We fill bottle.”
“You drank the water for the pigs? From a trough?” Judy’s stomach turned over.
“Pera we see, in sun, water so dirty.” Iris wrinkled
her flattish nose in disgust and pantomimed holding up a bottle of water to the sun. “In water, is germ. I am sick, so sick.”
“Oh no.”
“I have my teacher. I use my teacher.”
“Your teacher?” Judy didn’t understand. “Like your leader? Was there a leader?”
“No. Teacher.” Iris pulled on her T-shirt and picked up a glass, and put her shirt over the top. “I put water on teacher.”
Judy understood. “You used your T-shirt to strain the water?”
“Yes. Yes.”
“Where were you going?”
“Phoenix. We go, we see wire.” Iris pointed up. “We go under to Phoenix.”
“You followed overhead cables to Phoenix, like those big towers?”
“Yes. A lady, she die.” Iris winced again. “No water, she die. We go, go, go. We no stop.”
“That’s horrible,” Judy said, meaning it. “You must have been so afraid.”
“Yes. Sad. Worry. Nervous,” Iris added, pronouncing it like nairbus.
“How did you get here, to Pennsylvania?”
“A man, in car, he take us. Five day. Chicago, Las Vegas, Florida, North Carolina.” Iris mangled the phrase North Carolina, but Judy got the idea.
“Why did you come?”
“A man say work is here, in Pennsylvania.” Iris pronounced it Pennsylvania, with a short a.
“What do you do here?” Judy asked, but suddenly Iris’s cell phone on the table rang.
“’Scuse.” Iris picked it up and checked it, but her expression changed dramatically. She didn’t answer the phone, pressing her lips together tightly, and her forehead wrinkled with concern.
Aunt Barb asked, “Iris, is something the matter? You can take that call if you want to?”