Love Overboard

Chapter 9

“WHAT AREYOUDOING HERE?”

Jon wished Lacey’s tone sounded less like a kindergartner staring at a piece of broccoli. He stood at the marina, eyeing the trio before him. Emily wore a blue-and-white-striped shirt with khaki pants. Gerry had gone bohemian with a gauzy tie-dyed skirt and matching top. Lacey had traded her crisp white uniform for a pair of capris and a loose cotton blouse with colorful flowers embroidered on the lapel. Her silky hair was pulled into a ponytail. A trickle of sweat dripped down the side of her slender, exposed neck and cascaded to the hollow of her throat, drawing his eyes along the same path.

“Jon.” She waved a hand in front of him.

He snapped out of it. “Yes?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came for the fun.” Jon gestured at his T-shirt and cargo shorts. “Althea told me Emily and Gerry planned to take on the south side of the island alone. I wondered if it was such a good idea, so I offered to escort them.”

“When exactly was this conversation?” Lacey frowned at the silver-topped instigators.

The two found interest in anything but her. Their faces moved this way and that, as if they hadn’t heard the question. Emily picked at a fishnet drying on top of a blue plastic barrel.

Jon’s lips twitched. That explained why they’d jumped at his offer to come with them. The Shippers were up to their old matchmaking tricks.

“Buenos días. Hello.” A young man in his twenties approached them. He wore ragged jean shorts, a sleeveless shirt, and a dirty white captain’s hat. “Are you Mrs. Emily?”

“Yes, I’m Emily.” She navigated around Lacey and shook his hand.

Lacey switched her attention to Jon. “I’m here to watch over them. You can return to the ship. I’m sure you’re wanted there.”

“Marcel is covering for me. He owed me a favor.”

“But … you’re the cruise director. You work fifteen-hour days. You can’t take off.”

“Even cruise directors get a little time away. You know that.” Truth be told, he had lots to do. But her veiled insistence that he wasn’t welcome irked him.

Lacey turned her back to him. She walked closer to the waiting motorboat and muttered, “Flaking out again.”

“What did you say?” Jon came around in front of her.

“The paint is flaking, and it seems awfully small.” Lacey motioned to the compact craft. It was a faded lime green, about the length of a minivan, with a blue tarp stretched across the metal-frame canopy to block the sun. An outboard motor hung off the rear. “I don’t think we’ll all fit.”

“No. No.” Fernando bounced around and waved his hands. “Mrs. Emily said four people. It is good.”

He fanned his arm toward the boat, and everyone climbed aboard. Jon sat in front to take the brunt of the sea spray, while the women lined the side. Fernando fired up the engine. They pulled away from the wooden pier and were soon jetting through the crystal-blue water.

Jon’s eyes traveled to Lacey like a homing pigeon, but her leave-me-alone expression was less than encouraging. Next to her, Gerry lost inches to her stature with each bounce of the boat.

“Are you okay, Gerry?” Jon shouted above the motor. “You look a little green around the gills.”

Her lips twisted into what might have been a smile on dry land. At sea, it was more likely the precursor to losing her breakfast.

“Serves her right,” Lacey muttered as Fernando killed the motor.

“What did you say, dear?” Emily leaned in from her right side.

“Nothing.”

Jon pressed his lips together to keep from chuckling. Did the lady not hear Lacey, or was she calling her out? He guessed the latter.

Their guide slowed to point out a famous landmark, then tugged on the engine cord, and they were off again. After fifty-five minutes of bounding through the choppy waves like a clown on a pogo stick, even Jon prayed for a reprieve. They cheered when the red-and-white El Grande Lighthouse appeared in the distance.

Fernando dropped the anchor when the boat was a few yards from the beach. He jumped into the shallow water and beckoned to his customers. “You come and wade ashore.” He waved his arm toward the sandy stretch.

“Gerry, are you sure you can make it?” Jon rested a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s ask him to take us home.”

“No.” She stood and swayed. “I’m fit as a fiddle. Truly.” She put her hand on his. “I must observe the lighthouse. It’s important to me.”

Lacey grimaced and shook her head at him. He ran the different scenarios in his mind, but Gerry’s pleading trumped everything else. Jon grabbed the rim of the boat and vaulted over. He landed knee-deep in water. The bottom of his shorts soaked up the surf, and the breeze blew his hair in all directions. He turned and faced away from the waiting women.

“You’re already woozy.” He stretched his arms behind him in Gerry’s direction. “How about I give you a piggyback to shore?”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that. It’s been sixty years since my last piggyback ride.”

“Then I say you’re about due.” Jon peeked back at her and grinned. “Climb on.”

“Yes, do what he says, Ms. Paroo.” Lacey led her toward Jon. “It will be safer.”

Gerry held on to Lacey’s arm as Jon maneuvered closer to the boat. The retired librarian squatted and sat on the edge, swung her legs, and wrapped her thin arms around his neck. He took hold under her knees and pulled the rest of her down.

Fernando eyed the remaining ladies, and his mouth scrunched. “Do I have to carry someone too?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Emily sniffed.

Lacey laughed. “If you help us into the water, we can manage on our own.”

With Fernando’s assistance, the two exited the boat without incident and headed for the beach.

The waterlogged sand shifted, and Jon’s feet sank. He listed to the side. Gerry squealed. She wrapped her arms tighter around his throat.

“Have no fear,” Jon choked out. “They train us for this in school.”

“Cruise directors have a school?”

“I was talking about elementary school.” He lifted his foot in the unstable sand and carefully took another step. He arrived on dry land at the same time as the other women and lowered his knees to deposit Gerry on the soft white beach. Scanning the vicinity, Jon made note of the sparse buildings and deserted landscape—not a person or drug runner in sight. He’d tried to tell Collins. This trip was a waste of time.

“Look.” He pointed in the distance. “There’s the lighthouse.”

“Uh-huh.” Gerry curled over her knees and rested her head on top.

“Gerry?” Jon knelt beside her, but she waved him away.

“I’m fine. I just need to sit very still for a very long time.”

He saw a white stucco store next to the lighthouse. The dinky establishment boasted a plastic picnic table and mismatched chairs under an awning. “They have a place where you could get out of the sun and rest. Can I help you?”

She nodded without raising her head, and Jon took her by the arm. Lacey looped her hand under Gerry’s other elbow, and they lifted her up.

“Oh, Gerry.” Emily bit her lip as she hovered. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s nothing.” She took a deep breath. “All that rocking and rolling through the waves got to me. I’m doing better on terra firma.”

The group walked to the small store, and Gerry sank onto one of the battered chairs by the warped table. Jon sat beside her and patted her back.

“Don’t let me worry you.” She slipped the strap of her bag off her shoulder and took out a notebook and pen. “I’ll sit here and absorb the ambiance. I’m already getting a flood of ideas.”

“I’ll buy you a drink, dear.” Emily disappeared inside and exited a few minutes later with a glass bottle of mineral water. She handed it to her friend and motioned to the others. “Why don’t you two check out the lighthouse while I discuss lunch with Fernando?” Emily pointed at the tower beside them.

“Good idea.” Jon rose. “Come on, Lace.”

She looked at Emily. “Don’t you want to come?”

“The steep climb would be too much for these old legs of mine. You two go and enjoy yourselves.”

“Are you sure you’ll be all right—”

Jon took her elbow and steered her away from the table. “Humor them,” he whispered. “If they went to this trouble to set us up, might as well play along.”

“Don’t encourage their schemes.” Lacey knocked his hand away from her elbow as they walked. “An inch is a mile with that group.”

Jon laughed as they entered the lighthouse. A narrow stone staircase lay before them.

“Ladies first.” He motioned for her to lead the way.

The humidity hung on Lacey like a heavy, wet blanket. She climbed the cramped staircase—too aware of the man following behind. She had successfully limited their interactions to group settings on the giant MS Buckingham. How had they wound up in this tiny building? Alone?

Those Shippers.

They reached the top and exited onto the circular walkway surrounding the lantern room. Red columns supported the balustrade, and Lacey leaned on the stones. The Caribbean Sea grew darker by degrees. The shallows washed around in a friendly teal blue, but dusky indigo sat waiting a few hundred yards beyond.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Jon bent forward and crossed his arms on the stone guard. “I’d love to do some diving out there.”

“Too deep for me. I prefer to stay close to shore.”

Jon tilted his head her way. “You were always cautious by nature. In everything.”

Lacey eased away and tucked her shirt in her waistband. The wind blew a stray hair from her ponytail, and she pushed it behind her ear. She walked to the other side and observed a signpost on the beach below. Large, colorful arrows were nailed to a weathered piece of wood with various city names and their distances in kilometers.

“It appears you can get anywhere from here.” She pointed, and Jon joined her. “Filipinas, Cuba, Halifax, Jamaica.”

“Key West.”

Lacey winced. That was the spot of their last date … nondate … whatever it was they’d had two and a half years ago. The ship they were working docked in Key West, and they’d spent their free time eating dinner in a romantic restaurant in town. Their six-month contracts concluded when they reached Orlando the next morning, and mandatory vacation time commenced.

“Do you remember what I said that night?” Jon asked.

“What?” Lacey’s mind returned to the present. He stood a safe two feet away, studying her. She cleared her throat and leaned on the guard-rail, crossing her arms. “What night?”

“Key West.” Jon mirrored her pose. “I said I had something important to tell you when we got home to Orlando.”

The sound of the waves crashing below them answered. Lacey said nothing. She was too busy keeping a neutral expression.

“You asked me to wait to say anything until after you’d visited your family … and then you never came back.”

“I heard they were giving out promotions on a different ship, so I transferred.” Lacey trailed her hand along the railing as she walked to the other side of the tower, aiming for nonchalance. “I guess we didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye wasn’t what I planned to say.” Jon matched her stride and stood closer this time. “As you’re well aware.”

“Hmm?” His intensity surrounded her like a thick fog. Lacey pretended interest in the view below, but he took hold of her arm and spun her around.

“Why did you do it?” His eyes stared into hers, searching.

“What do you mean?” She avoided his gaze.

“I’ve spent the past few days trying to make amends for whatever I did wrong back then.”

Lacey’s head jerked his direction. “Who said you did anything wrong?”

“You did. With your disappearing act.”

“I had a great opportunity for a promotion, and I took it.”

“Did you also have a great opportunity to change your phone number, and you took it?”

“I’m no good at goodbyes.” Lacey stood still, meeting his scrutiny without wavering. “Sometimes it’s easier to pack and go. Parting from friends is painful.”

“Friends?” Jon released her and retreated. “Is that what you would have called our relationship?”

“Absolutely.” Lacey’s wide smile raised her cheeks until they ached. “We ate together, hung out together, laughed together. That’s what friends do.” No need to mention the rest. The staring into each other’s eyes without speaking. The butterflies in her stomach. The tingly embraces.

Jon opened his mouth and closed it. He opened it again. And closed it again. The air left his nostrils in a violent snort. He turned around and walked through the door by the lantern room. His heavy footsteps echoed off the stone as he descended the stairs, leaving Lacey alone at the top.

Her smile and shoulders drooped in tandem. She sank to the floor, pressed her fingertips to her temples, and took a deep breath. Then another. A seagull mocked her with a raucous cry.

She glared at the bird. “What are you laughing at?”

Fluffy white clouds stretched overhead. They reminded her there’d been another witness to the whole conversation. Someone who knew what a pack of lies she’d spouted.

“Sorry, God.” She dropped her gaze. “I know I’m a coward. But … it’s safer this way.”

The sunlight shone through the stone columns of the walkway—casting thick, rigid shadows on the floor at her feet. She’d realized the inevitability of “the talk.” But it was finished, and it hadn’t been the disaster she’d expected. They’d rehashed the past, and Jon would leave her alone. This trip was a good idea after all. So good she wanted to cry with relief. Yes, that’s why tears were stuck in her throat. Relief. Everything would be fine from here on out. She was sure of it.

Until she looked at the beach.

Lacey jumped up and hollered over the railing at the woman sitting below. “Emily, where’s the boat?”