Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Abigail
B arron McClelland arrives like a tsunami crashing against the shore. The shadow he casts is almost as imposing as the one from the enormous cruise ship towering behind him.
He barely spares me a passing glance as his intense gaze locks onto his mother.
“Barron,” Miss Opal says with a breathless note in her voice. Feeling awkward and a little out of place, I hastily step back, pulling my hand from around her shoulders.
“Mother.” The deep rumble of his voice startles me, despite having prepared myself to see him. He leans down to kiss the cheek she offers him.
I’m caught off guard watching the tender mother-son interaction. Everything I’ve seen and read about Barron McClelland describes him as rich, aloof, and ruthless.
A vague memory has him curtly ensuring her financial affairs are in order, but nothing about her. There was no deeper concern for her well-being. He hardly spared time for the occasional phone call, even while she was hospitalized.
For a moment, there’s a flicker of warmth penetrating the ever-present scowl I’ve become so familiar with. Apparently, despite his gruff exterior, Barron reserves a softer side solely for his mother.
“I’m so sorry I caused such an uproar,” Miss Opal says, shaking her head as she looks from him to the doctor to me. “Now, I have you and this lovely gentleman waiting on me.”
Dr. Stein presses his fingers against her injured ankle, gently rotating her foot as he watches for her reaction.
Miss Opal winces, sucking in a quick breath as he finds a tender spot.
“I’m done,” the doctor murmurs. He sets her foot on the wheelchair’s footrest with utmost care. Even from a few feet away, it’s impossible to miss how her ankle has already swelled.
Dr. Stein leans back and reaches into the bag he brought with him. “I’m going to put a compression bandage on your ankle, Mrs. McClelland,” he explains.
“How bad is it?” Barron asks gruffly. He leans over the doctor’s shoulder, inspecting the injury with a deepening frown.
“It doesn’t appear to be broken.” Dr. Stein pulls an elastic bandage from its packaging. “I’m wrapping it to help with swelling. Once we have her on board, I’ll take an X-ray to be sure, but I suspect it’s a moderate sprain.”
“Good,” Barron grunts with a curt nod. His shoulders lose some of their tension.
“I certainly hope that’s all it is,” Miss Opal echoes, her expression showing obvious relief.
As Dr. Stein wraps the bandage around her ankle, my stomach ties itself into fresh knots of guilt. My carelessness and lack of foresight caused this whole nightmarish situation.
If only I hadn’t brought that stupid backpack with me in the first place, or if I’d said something when the driver set it down…
But it’s too late for remorse. The damage is done. It’s my fault this kind woman is facing unexpected complications and discomfort.
“I recommend you stay off this foot for at least two or three days,” the doctor stresses. “We’ll provide ice packs for you to have available. You’ll make sure to keep your ankle elevated as much as possible so you can keep the swelling under control.”
“Yes, of course, Doctor,” Miss Opal replies dutifully as he continues winding the tan bandage up her ankle.
“There we go,” Dr. Stein says, securing the compression bandage in place with a small metal clip. “We’ll get you something to take for the pain as needed.”
“It doesn’t hurt too bad,” she assures him, flexing her bandaged ankle up and down. But the slight grimace that flits across her face tells a different story.
“Better to have the medication, just in case,” he says sagely. He stoops to scoop up her discarded shoe and the knee-high stocking she was wearing. “Now, let’s go to my office.”
The man who came with Barron starts arranging the luggage, including my damned backpack.
“I’ll take that.” I step forward, holding my hands out in a desperate need to be helpful.
“Thanks,” Dr. Stein replies, offering a reassuring smile as he gives me her things. He stands then picks up his medical bag.
For a second, all is well in the world. Miss Opal will be okay with proper rest. This mortifying incident won’t end in a complete disaster. Things could have been so much worse.
“How did this happen?” Barron asks, bringing that fleeting second to an abrupt end with the question I’ve been dreading.
I open my mouth, prepared to offer an explanation and accept the consequences. To my horror, not a single word comes out.
“I stepped back, admiring this magnificent ship,” Miss Opal breaks in, recapturing everyone’s attention as she recaps the details of the accident, “and caught my heel on the backpack. I tried to regain my balance, but my ankle just folded right under me.”
Barron’s brow furrows as he focuses on the offending item. “Backpack?”
My stomach clenches with another wave of dread.
“It’s mine,” I confess and swallow hard, casting my gaze to the ground as guilt washes over me, then I face him. “My backpack.”
Those dark, unflinching eyes bore straight into me, the disapproving weight of Barron’s glare making me feel utterly insignificant. The light breeze brings a chill that goes all the way to my bones.
I can’t tear my gaze away from Barron’s hardened expression, knowing with certainty I’m about to get slammed against the cliffs by the tsunami.
“You’re supposed to be watching her,” he growls, each gravelly word dripping with disdain.
A succinct summary of my existence, in just half-a-dozen scathing words. Words that leave me feeling painfully inadequate and ashamed.
I reflexively tighten my grip on the shoe and stocking still clutched against me, as if they’re my only lifeline. I have no defense, not when I’m the reason my employer is about to be taken on board the ship in a wheelchair.
“I-I turned around for just a se-second,” I stammer out feebly. My voice cracks with the strain of holding back a wave of tears. “She left her passport in the shuttle. I went to get it, and?—”
“It wasn’t Abigail’s fault,” Miss Opal comes to my defense. She leans forward, reaching out to grasp my trembling hand. “I’m just a silly old lady who should have been watching where I was going.”
She gives my fingers a reassuring squeeze, but I can barely focus on her through the haze of mortification clouding my senses. The sting of shame brings tears to my eyes, blurring Miss Opal’s concerned features.
I’m mere seconds away from completely losing control, setting the stage for what will undoubtedly be an utterly humiliating spectacle.
“I was fortunate that our wonderful driver caught me before I could hit the ground,” Miss Opal continues.
Barron’s piercing attention finally shifts to the shuttle driver, granting me a desperately needed reprieve. I suck in a shuddering breath, forcing more oxygen into my burning lungs, now that Barron’s withering glare is no longer pinning me in place.
“Thank you,” Barron says to the driver, his voice losing some of its hard edge as his jaw relaxes slightly.
“I’m just glad I got to her in time, sir,” he replies with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the tension radiating off Barron.
Barron pulls out his wallet. He draws several bills, the top one a crisp hundred, and presses the money into the driver’s hand.
The man’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Thank you , sir. That’s incredibly generous.”
Miss Opal smiles warmly, patting his arm affectionately. “I’m terribly sorry to have kept you, young man. I truly can’t thank you enough for rescuing me.”
“Not a problem at all, ma’am,” the driver replies with an easy chuckle, not a hint of impatience or irritation showing. “All part of the job. But I should get going and let you folks get on board.”
He glances at me expectantly as he jerks his head toward the line of idling shuttles. “You about ready to head back, miss?”
Oh God, yes. More than anything, I need to get out of this mess with what little dignity I have left. I’ve been silently praying for an excuse to escape, to put as much distance between myself and Barron’s overwhelming presence as humanly possible ever since realizing he was coming down to deal with the aftermath of my blunder.
But Miss Opal has other ideas. She tugs on my hand, drawing my attention back to her.
“Well, dear, now I will need you to accompany me,” she says in a tone that’s all warm, grandmotherly insistence.
The world stops spinning as I process what she’s said. I gape at Miss Opal in utter disbelief.
“I’ll be helpless for most of the trip, according to the doctor.”
Go on the cruise? Out on the open water, isolated and surrounded by potential icebergs and treacherous seas?
My blood is rushing in my ears. Panic seizes my chest as flashes of dark ocean depths ripped from my most haunting nightmares assault my mind. My head screams a resounding no even as my mouth works soundlessly.
“We have highly trained staff members who can attend to your needs during the trip, Mother,” Barron cuts in, his voice icy. “There’s no need to?—”
“Strangers,” Miss Opal shoots back, appalled by the very suggestion. “I can’t possibly have someone I’ve never met before assisting me with private needs.” She gives him a look that clearly states she thinks he’s lost his mind.
“Mother,” he replies, distinctly uncomfortable, “I have people on board who are more than?—”
“Abby.” Miss Opal turns to me with a pleading expression. “Dear, please say you’ll come with me,” she cuts in before he can finish the sentence. “I’m going to need you these next few days.”
How is it she can put me on the spot so effortlessly? I move my lips, but again, I can’t utter a word. I’m reaching, hoping to find an answer, a solution that won’t complicate things even more.
The fact she’s ready to forgo her manners is enough to tell me she’s agitated. Any other time, she would have patiently and politely waited for the opportunity to speak, especially in deferring to her own son.
But she clearly sees this as a battle to be won over Barron and me at all costs—and is prepared to leverage her frail, injured state to its fullest extent. If it wasn’t happening to me, I would probably be impressed by her ingenuity.
Then a snippet of the cruise requirements listed on the website flashes into my panicked thought.
“I don’t have a ticket, Miss Opal,” I blurt out, grasping at the slim possibility of a reprieve. “All of that has to be arranged and paid for well in advance. Those types of travel accommodations can’t just be made last minute without proper documentation and?—”
Miss Opal simply shakes her head, dashing my hopes with a casual wave of her hand.
“Holly assured me that as long as I was at the departure terminal before the ship sailed, I would be able to board without a problem,” she recounts with certainty, her voice taking on a subtly smug tone. “So there is a way for you to come, dear.”
My throat works uselessly as I try to come up with another protest. “But, Miss Opal, I…”
Before I can sort out what to say, she turns her pleading gaze on her son.
“I’m sure Barron can arrange everything for us,” she prompts, with a mother’s pride, knowing her son can accomplish anything.
Barron isn’t going to be pleased. I swallow hard, trying my best not to make eye contact with him. My nerves are stretched taut as it is. I don’t need the additional stress he always brings to the table.
Dr. Stein has the sense to keep his attention on the ground, though the quirk of his lips shows his amusement of her blatantly manipulative tactics.
Barron is silent for a long moment, the tension in the air becoming almost palpable. I can practically feel his eyes boring into the side of my face like a physical force as he weighs his options carefully.
Say no. No. No.
He lets out a breath with resigned annoyance. “Yes, Mother. I’ll make the necessary arrangements,” he states flatly.
To his benefit, it doesn’t seem like the words left a sour taste in his mouth. However, they settle in my stomach like a lead weight. Any hope that he’d inadvertently get me out of this situation has just gone out the door.
The ball’s back in my court.
A heavy lump forms in my throat. In all the years I’ve known Miss Opal, she’s always been a very private person. She’s lived independently, and, until recently, pretty self-sufficiently. She could be feeling vulnerable because she’s in that chair.
The doctor said she should only be off her feet while the swelling goes down. But Miss Opal is operating under the belief she’ll be totally helpless.
I swallow hard then run my tongue across my top lip. Her forehead wrinkles in concern. Does she realize I’m scared, actually terrified of the idea of being trapped on open water?
We didn’t talk about it because I wasn’t going on the trip.
Somehow, I think that if I set foot on a ship, no matter how luxurious, it’s like tying an anchor to each foot. I’ll end up sinking with no way to make it to the surface.
I’m drawn into the nightmare I’ve had since I was a child. Water is coming over my head, and murky darkness surrounds me as I’m dragged down.
Miss Opal tightens her hold on my fingers. The carefully curated mask of refined propriety slips. In that moment, I see the vulnerability of the lonely, older lady I love. Her eyes reflect the need for comfort, along with what may be a sliver of fear.
Maybe it’s the recent difficulties she’s faced, the hospitalization, her advancing age, and the indignities that would come from depending on a stranger’s assistance that makes me second-guess myself.
It’s the unguarded expression that has me shoving down my own overpowering fears. I don’t know how I’ll do this, but I produce the happiest smile I can manage then hear myself saying, “Yes, ma’am, of course I’ll go with you.”
But if going out onto the ocean isn’t enough to call my childhood demons, the storm brewing in Barron’s eyes promises I’ll come to regret my decision.