Daughters of Fortune: A Novel Read Online Free Page A

pie she’d made that day in Home Economics. It might not be a fantastic effort, but Katie was the type to clean her plate, if only to save her child’s feelings.
    Over the next few days Caitlin monitored what went into the trash. Sure enough, each night Katie barely touched her meal. When Caitlin asked if anything was wrong, she dismissed it as a spot of indigestion. Caitlin said no more—but she couldn’t help noticing how, instead of insisting that she go to do her homework, these days Katie was happy to let her daughter wash up while she dozed in front of the television.
    As the weeks went on, her mother’s appetite didn’t improve. It was getting increasingly hard to ignore her sunken eyes and dull hair and the way her once-plump cheeks were now almost concave. But whenever Caitlin suggested going to the doctor, Katie dismissed her with increasing irritation.
    “Stop it, Caitlin,” she snapped one Thursday night. “I’m fine—it’s just—”
    But she never finished the sentence. Instead, she ran for the bathroom. Caitlin waited outside, listening to her bring up the supper that she’d managed to swallow earlier. Finally, when everything was quiet, Caitlin pushed open the door. Her mother had collapsed, exhausted, on the floor. Caitlin went over to the basin and started to wash it out. This time she couldn’t ignore the blood. She didn’t say a word until she’d helped her mother upstairs and into her nightdress. Then, once her mam was settled in bed, she said, “Please go to the doctor. You’re not well.”
    For the first time, her mother didn’t argue back. And that was what worried Caitlin most.
    Dr. Hannon smiled at them both and said there was probably nothing to worry about, but he’d like to send Katie for tests. His smile couldn’t hide the worry in his eyes.
    A few weeks later they sat down with a specialist. He told them that, although the pancreatic cancer had been diagnosed at a late stage, there was still hope. Like Dr. Hannon, he couldn’t fool the O’Dwyer women. He said they would use chemotherapy to shrink the tumor and then operate. What he actually meant was that at the moment, there was no point operating, and they would have to pray for a miracle.
    When Caitlin wasn’t holding the bowl for her mother to be sick in or helping her wrap the scarf to cover her bald head, she was on her knees in the hospital chapel praying for that miracle. It never came. Whenthey finally opened her up, it was too late. The cancer had spread. There was nothing to do but wait.
    Caitlin tried not to show her shock when she walked into the ward. Even though she saw her mother every day, was accustomed to the smell of antiseptic and death, she still couldn’t get over how quickly she had gone downhill. Unable to eat for weeks now, Katie had shrunk to a skeletal figure, hardly taking up any room in the tiny single bed. Only her distended belly, full of cancer cells, gave her any shape under the stark white sheets. Her eyes were closed, and she was so pale that if it hadn’t been for the gentle rise and fall of her rib cage, Caitlin would have assumed her mother was gone rather than simply asleep.
    Caitlin busied herself by looking for a space to put the vase of bluebells that she’d picked that morning. It was no easy task. The bedside cabinet was already filled with half-dead flowers, futile Get Well Soon cards, and grapes that would never be eaten. She was halfway through clearing away the faded blooms when she heard her mother calling for her.
    “I’m here, Mammy,” she said. “Can I get you something? Some water perhaps?”
    “No . . . No . . . Nothing like that.”
    Katie paused. The only sound was her labored breathing. She reached out and took Caitlin’s hand. Her fingers were thin and cold as death.
    “I don’t have long now, Cat,” she began. Caitlin opened her mouth to deny this truth, but a look from her mother stopped her. “Don’t be contradicting me. I need to tell you