Love Overboard

Chapter 46

“WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME you took your medicine?” The ship’s doctor wrote in his chart. His poker face gave nothing away.

He’d conducted a thorough examination of Emily before allowing Lacey inside. She smoothed the curly gray hair from Emily’s forehead and spread the blanket over her thin cotton hospital gown. The other Shippers had wanted to come in, but the doctor refused. Too crowded.

Lacey noted the tired lines around Emily’s eyes. The pale cheeks. The drooping mouth. Where was the indomitable meddler? She didn’t recognize this fragile woman.

“Mrs. Windsor.” He asked again. “Your medicine?”

Emily reclined on the clinic bed, pleating the blanket with her fingers. “Was it yesterday? Or the day before? A lot of things were happening.”

The doctor pointed an accusing finger at her. “Even if World War III is happening, you take your medicine. On time. Every day. This could’ve been a lot worse.”

She wilted. “Yes, sir.”

Lacey grasped a button on her uniform jacket. “Shouldn’t we transport her to the hospital in Cozumel?”

He shook his head. “These episodes are scary but not uncommon. When a patient suffers from congestive heart failure, like Emily here, it means the muscle isn’t pumping enough blood. Fluid gathered in her lungs. That’s why she was short of breath. It might cause her to grow dizzy or lightheaded, but it can all be avoided.” The doctor leaned on the edge of the bed and gave the patient a hard look. “If she takes her medicine.”

Emily turned away, her lower jaw protruding.

Lacey nodded. “I’ll make sure she does.”

The doctor tore a sheet off his notepad and held it out. “I’m certain you’ve heard these things from your physician at home, but I’ll say them again. Lessen your salt intake, avoid smoking or alcohol, and get plenty of exercise. Walking is especially good.”

Lacey took the paper and pointed at the door. “Doctor, there’s a group of ladies out there who must be dying for an update. Could you tell them what you told me? I’m sure they’ll hold Emily accountable too.”

He stuck his pen in his pocket and tucked the chart under his arm. “Good idea. I’ll speak to them.”

The doctor exited, and Lacey sank to a stool beside the bed.

“Tattletale,” Emily grumbled.

Lacey waved the paper under her nose. “I’m sure I’ll need help keeping you in line.”

“You might be right.” Emily sighed, her eyes closed. “I was petrified they were going to bring one of those meat wagons.”

“What kind of wagon?”

“An ambulance. That’s what my husband used to call them.” She pushed at the pillows behind her back.

Lacey laid the paper on the side table and reached out to help her scoot up in the bed.

“I didn’t expect the sick bay to be this fancy. It’s nicer than my cabin. Think they’ll let me stay here?”

“Don’t joke about it.” Lacey gulped down the lump in her throat. “I told you not to skip your medicine.”

“You’d be surprised how serious I am.” Emily brushed at the tape holding the IV needle in her vein. “Nothing like tiptoeing past death’s door to make you evaluate your life.”

Lacey sniffled. “What did you decide?”

“I decided I can’t shuffle off until I make sure you’re happy.”

Lacey’s eyes stung. She lowered her head and tried to thread a hand through her tightly bound hair. “Your health is what matters most. Don’t worry about my happiness.”

“I can’t help it, dear.” Emily reached over. With weak fingers, she untangled Lacey’s hand from the now-disheveled strands. “I don’t have any children of my own, but you certainly nag me like a daughter. I suppose that’s why I’m so fond of you.”

Lacey’s lips quivered. She tried to answer, but the red-hot bowling ball in her throat blocked the words.

“Now don’t cry. I’m not going anywhere just yet. I still want to see your life jam-packed with joy, and you won’t have true happiness until you make peace with the people you love.”

Lacey tugged her hand away and shoved the stool back. “Can’t you give it a rest? You refuse to quit your matchmaking schemes even when you’re lying on a hospital bed? Jon and I aren’t a priority right now.”

“I wasn’t talking about Jon.”

Lacey’s brow furrowed. “Then who—”

“I meant you and your father.”

She raised her chin. “What makes you assume—”

“I’ve lived on this earth a long time and witnessed a great many things.” Emily traced the woven fabric on her blanket. “I noticed your father was a … disappointment to you.”

“Disappointment?” Lacey grabbed a tissue from the bedside table. “That’s putting it generously. He drained the life out of my mother with his laziness and self-centered refusal to be responsible for anything or anybody—even himself. I’m amazed he didn’t ask her to spoon-feed him. He only got off the couch to eat, sleep, or poop.” She wadded the tissue in a ball and flung it across the room. “My logical side tells me Jon is nothing like my father. He’s smart, hardworking, honest.” She half smiled, half snorted. “Except for the whole ‘lying about his family’ thing.”

“A stupid decision.” Emily nodded. “I told him to tell you sooner. Men never listen.”

Lacey laughed a little too hard. Her stomach vibrated with the force. It rocked her body and shook the tears from wells buried deep inside her core. She covered her face and bent forward. Emily’s hand settled on her back. With the tenderness of a grandmother, she patted Lacey like a baby while she cried.

“Let it out,” Emily said. “It’s been a rough week.”

“I kn—” Lacey sucked in a breath and tried again. “I know Jon isn’t my father. But my insides feel—gray—and pulled apart—like dryer lint.” She sobbed. “It took all the guts I had to let him in—and h-he didn’t even tell me his real name.”

“He was going to.” Emily tapped a steady beat against Lacey’s spine. “Jon planned to reveal everything when he proposed.”

Lacey’s head shot up. “Is that what he told you?” She scrubbed at the tears. “How was that supposed to work? Will you marry me? Oh, and by the way, your last name won’t actually be King.”

“Men struggle, dear.” Emily stopped patting and drew her blanket higher. “That’s why they need us.”

“So you think I should forget everything and forgive him?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve finally given up on us.”

“Not in a million years. But you have to forgive the first man in your life before you can let anyone else in.”

“Who?”

“The first man in every little girl’s life.” Emily raised her eyebrows.

Understanding dawned. Lacey’s jaw hardened, and she sat straight on the stool. Not a tear remained. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

Emily reached for her, but Lacey stayed out of touching distance.

“Forgive your father.” Emily’s fingers splayed on the blanket. “Then you’ll be able to forgive Jon and accept him for who he really is.”

“My father hasn’t asked for forgiveness.” Lacey crossed her arms. “Not once. It never even occurred to him. Nothing is his fault.”

“You can grant someone forgiveness without them asking for it.”

“Why should I?”

“The Bible says God forgave us when we didn’t deserve it, and we should do the same with others. Have you prayed about any of this?”

Her arms grew tighter. “I’ve been really busy lately.”

Emily took her measure. “Do you think perhaps you avoid talking to the heavenly Father because you have such a difficult relationship with your earthly one?”

The question hit Lacey between the eyes. Of course she believed in God. Prayed. Read her Bible sometimes. But there weren’t many instances where she confided in him.

“Ask God what you should do. I’m positive he’ll answer.” Emily’s gentle gaze embraced her from a distance. “Don’t forgive your father for his own sake, Lacey. Forgive him for yours.”

Lacey stared out the infirmary window. The blinds were raised, and sunshine streamed into the room, casting a bright-white square across the foot of the bed. Pressure built against the back of her eyeballs, but she refused to cry any more tears for a man who didn’t deserve them.

Emily leaned her head on the pillow, and her lids drooped shut. “There’s one lesson I had to learn the hard way. Bitterness locks you up inside, but forgiveness sets you free. I hope you learn that truth quicker than I did.”

Lacey watched the wrinkled face relax as Emily started to doze. It wasn’t enough for her to meddle in other people’s love lives. Now she was shaking the skeletons out of someone else’s family closet.

But her words had convicted Lacey. She tried to consider the advice objectively. When was the last time she’d experienced true freedom? Without the tight little space in the back of her heart that colored the interactions with every person she met? Was this miraculous forgiveness Emily touted the key?

The infirmary door burst open and slammed against the wall. Emily’s head jerked as the Shippers poured into the room in a noisy, tearful pile. The doctor followed behind them.

“Oh, baby.” Althea bustled up and grabbed the headboard. “I thought you were a goner.”

Daisy maneuvered around Lacey and went to the other side of the bed. “Are you sure she’s fully recovered, doctor?”

“Once she rests, she’ll be fine.” He wagged a finger at Emily. “As long as she follows the doctor’s orders.”

Gerry brandished a notepad. “Don’t you worry. Tell us what we need to do, and we’ll sit on her and pour the medicine down her throat if we have to.”

“Doctor”—Althea lightly patted the top of Emily’s frizzy hair—“is it all right if I give her a hug?”

He nodded. “Please do. It might improve her condition.”

Althea hunkered low and placed one soft, pudgy arm around Emily. “I was afraid I’d have to pass the pearly gates before I got to see you again.”

Daisy leaned in from the other side and laid her arm on top of Althea’s. “You scared the living daylights out of me.”

Gerry shoved past the doctor to stand beside Althea and then wrapped her long, thin arms around the group. “Don’t you ever do that to us again.”

Lacey rose from her seat and tiptoed out of the room. As she closed the door behind her, Emily spoke.

“I’m not going anywhere, girls. I never leave a job half-finished.”

Lacey laughed. That statement might’ve terrified her a few weeks ago. Now she bowed her head and prayed Emily Windsor would live to meddle in many more people’s romances.