Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
Last Sail Before the Veil—What a Trip!
D ear Trixie,
Help! My future mother-in-law is insisting that I stick to some of her family bridal traditions at my wedding on the cruise ship next month. These traditions include things like wearing a necklace made from seashells she collected during a trip in the ’80s, having a good luck lobster claw tucked in my garter belt, insisting we kiss under an oar for nautical fortune, and even requiring me to wear a pair of heritage flippers on my feet during the dance portion of the reception. I’m all for tradition, but I’m not sure how to incorporate these quirky things without feeling like I’m hosting an underwater talent show. Are you keeping any bridal traditions for your big day, and how are you handling the ones that are, well, a bit over the top?
Sincerely, Tradition-Tied Tessie
Dear Tessie,
Oh, Tessie, do I feel your pain! Weddings are wonderful, but sometimes those meaningful traditions can start feeling like a horror show if we’re not careful. There are definitely a few quirky traditions I’ve had to navigate myself.
The thing about traditions is that they’re meant to add joy, not stress, to the big day. So, I’ve decided to keep the ones that make me smile and modify the ones that make me cringe. If there’s a family tradition that’s especially important to your future mother-in-law, see if you can incorporate it in a way that suits you both—maybe the seashell necklace becomes a decoration on your bouquet, the lobster claw gets to sit proudly at the reception instead of joining you down the aisle, and those heritage flippers become part of a funny photo op after the real dancing is over.
And just remember, this is your big day, and it’s meant to be a celebration of your love story, not a performance piece. After all, this is the adventure of a lifetime—and every good captain knows when to tweak the map a little.
XOXO Trixie
The sound of my cabin door opening and closing wakes me with a start as I struggle to see in my pitch-black cabin. I’ve got a cabin with a window that stretches across the balcony and I rarely, if ever, pull the curtains closed, so the fact it’s so dark I can’t see my hand in front of my eyes lets me know it’s some odd hour of the morning that I want no part of.
“Who’s there?” My legs flex as if I were implementing a few karate moves—none of which I know.
Footsteps quicken and I suck in a quick breath. “Merritt, is that you?” I sniff in a panic.
Never before have I been haunted by a ghost per se, but leave it to Merritt Garrett to start the trend.
The bathroom light flicks on and hits me in the face with its incandescent roar as a shadowed figure makes its way to the bed.
“ Get back ,” I shout, grabbing the nearest thing my hand comes across—one of those towel animals that the cabin steward made for me yesterday.
Each day they come up with the cutest and most clever ways to turn an ordinary bath towel into a stuffed animal delight. I usually end up saving them all, and by the end of the trip, I have an entire army of cute little terry critters lined up along one side of the bed.
Yesterday’s treat was a chubby little elephant who was wearing the sunglasses I left behind. And now he’s been weaponized to protect me from a supernatural entity or just your average killer.
“Take one more step and the elephant gets it,” I shout—rather groggily, might I add. “I mean, you get the elephant! And maybe my sunglasses.”
“Dear heavens,” a female voice says, and if I’m not mistaken, that female voice holds the hint of a South African accent. “Is this how you intend to defend yourself if a killer strides in? It’s no wonder we’ve had so many women bite the big one on the ship as of late. I’ll have to let Tinsley know we need a self-defense program, stat.” She slaps my thigh. “Now get up! It’s time to rise and shine, and get your blood thumping and pumping.”
“Who is this?” I sit up straight as my adrenaline begins to level off.
“It’s me, your onboard sex ed instructor, the one you’ll be thanking profusely on your wedding night because I’m going to make sure it goes fab before it ever gets drab.”
“ Elodie .” I fall back onto the mattress and pull a pillow over my head.
“Don’t you Elodie me,” she says, pulling me to the edge of the bed by my ankles. “You need to hurry along or we’ll miss Zumba.”
“Who’s Zumba, and how did you get into my room?”
“Never you mind that. I’ve got my wicked ways,” she says, tapping me on the leg. “Now scoot. We’re going to Zumba our little Latin-loving hearts out.”
A hard groan evicts from me as Elodie manages to wrangle me into a pair of yoga pants and a tank top.
“Sunrise is for the birds, I’ll have you know,” I moan as she moves me down the quiet hall and into a seemingly abandoned elevator. “And the fact this elevator is empty should be your first clue that there’s nothing anyone on this ship wants to do at this hour.”
“Oh hush,” she says, applying her lipstick as she studies her reflection in the gold mirrored walls. “And why did you call me Merritt? Don’t tell me you’re expecting the woman’s ghost to come back to haunt you.”
Elodie doesn’t know about my gift, but if I knew that telling her would deter her from any more early morning shenanigans, I’d confess it right now. But I know for a fact that there’s no deterring Elodie from anything.
“Yes, I see ghosts and Merritt is the one I’m expecting next,” I mumble and sound as if I’m struggling to wake from a coma—because I am.
Elodie trills out a laugh as the elevator opens. “Come on, Trixie.” She tugs on my arm, her excitement far too bright and sparkly for an hour that I suspect was invented by vampires. “The sunrise Zumba class is going to be life-changing.”
“Life-changing?” I squint, rubbing sleep from my eyes as we shuffle into the gym—which is, to my surprise, already filled with people who apparently consider early morning moving and grooving a recreational activity and not some form of punishment. “I’d hardly call doing anything at this hour conducive to life. I’m still questioning if I’m awake or if this is one of those vivid nightmares that makes me sweat in places I didn’t even know I could sweat.”
“And that’s exactly why you’re here,” she practically purrs. “We need to prime your body for its big sexy debut with you-know-who, coming up far too soon—and yet not soon enough.”
“Not soon enough indeed,” I mutter just as everyone in the room belts out a hearty scream.