Chapter 16 #2
“You must be terribly competent to handle all that,” Diane observed. “And I imagine you have to be twice as good as anyone else to prove you belong.”
The understanding in her voice made Mary’s throat tight. “When I was a civilian working for the Army, yes, that’s true. But I lucked out with my new position. I’m always made to feel like part of the team.”
“It shouldn’t have to be that way, but it is.
I spent thirty years in corporate law before my husband died, and my health forced me to step back.
In that dog-eat-dog world, I always had to be perfect just to be considered adequate.
” Diane’s expression turned wry. “The wheelchair only made it worse. Suddenly, people questioned my competence in ways they never had before, as if arthritis had somehow affected my brain rather than just my joints.”
“Exactly,” Mary said, grateful to talk to someone who understood. “That’s how I used to feel. Now, I’m lucky to have the job I do.”
“That little voice that tells us that we’re not enough is a liar,” Diane said firmly. “Though I understand why it’s there. The world treats us differently, and we internalize those messages whether we want to or not.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a man, tall and lean with dark hair just starting to gray at the temples and warm brown eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
He carried two glasses of champagne and handed one to Diane with obvious affection, bending to kiss her cheek.
“Aunt Diane, you promised you’d pace yourself with the champagne. The trip has barely started,” he said.
“Don’t fuss, Colin. I’m celebrating.” Diane accepted the glass with a fond smile, then turned to Mary.
“This is my nephew, Colin Morrison, my late sister’s son.
He’s been kind enough to accompany me on this adventure, though I suspect he’s mostly here to make sure I don’t get into too much trouble. ”
“Someone has to keep an eye on you,” Colin said with a wink. He turned to Mary with an easy smile. “May I offer you champagne?” He reached one hand out to shake while holding a champagne flute in his other.
“Mary Smithwick,” she said, shaking his hand. Up close, Colin had a kind face and an easy manner that put her immediately at ease. “I’d love a glass, but you don’t need to—”
“Nonsense. The way I’ll eat on this trip, I need to get in every step possible.” He leaned down and whispered in a playful, conspiratorial tone. “Although the steps involved in getting a beautiful woman a drink will hardly compensate for the calories in our meal this evening!”
She laughed, admiring the twinkling in his blue eyes. He handed her the drink and then returned quickly with his own. “Your aunt and I have been comparing accessibility notes.”
“A favorite topic.” Colin’s eyes danced with humor. “Fair warning, though… if you encourage her, she’ll talk your ear off about universal design principles. She’s become quite the advocate.”
“Because someone needs to be.” Diane arched a brow. “And because I have the time, money, and lack of patience for nonsense, that makes me effective at it.”
The three of them talked for several more minutes, and Mary found herself genuinely enjoying their company.
Colin was witty and well-traveled, with stories about his work in international finance that were surprisingly entertaining.
He clearly adored his aunt, anticipating her needs without being overbearing, and the affection between them was obvious and warm.
“We should plan to have tea together tomorrow,” Diane suggested as the reception began to wind down.
“Most of the passengers will be doing the walking tour of Charlottetown, and I suspect you will enjoy it immensely. But afterward, perhaps when you are ready for a break, we might meet. There’s supposed to be a lovely historic tea room near the waterfront with excellent accessibility. ”
“That sounds perfect,” Mary agreed. “I’ve been looking forward to exploring, but at my own pace rather than keeping up with a group tour.”
“Exactly. Colin may abandon us for the more strenuous excursion, as he should. But you and I can have a civilized afternoon and compare notes on our respective adventures later.”
They exchanged cabin and phone numbers and made plans to meet in the morning. Then Diane and Colin headed off to dinner while Mary took a moment for herself. The sun was setting now, painting the harbor in shades of pink and gold, and Mary felt a deep sense of contentment settle over her.
This was good. This was exactly what she needed. Distance from Montana, from work, from the careful dance she and Bert had been doing for months. Time to think and breathe and remember who she was beyond her role at LSIMT.
Mary made her way to the dining room for dinner, where she was seated at a table with three other solo travelers. The conversation was pleasant if not particularly memorable, the food was excellent, and by the time she returned to her stateroom, she was tired and ready for bed.
The evening routine took longer, since the bathroom was smaller than hers at home, but Mary was practiced at adapting to new spaces.
She transferred to the shower bench, grateful for the well-positioned grab bars and handheld showerhead.
The water pressure was good, the temperature perfect, and by the time she was clean and dry, she felt relaxed in a way she hadn’t in months.
She rolled over to the bed, then transferred onto the mattress. Placing her legs onto the mattress, she used her hands to heft her butt backward. Settling against the pillows with her phone in hand, she was finally able to do what she’d been wanting to do all evening.
She texted Bert. Made it safely. The ship is beautiful, and I’ve already made a friend. Diane is a widow from Halifax, also in a wheelchair. We’re planning to explore Charlottetown tomorrow while everyone else does the walking tour.
The response came almost immediately, as if Bert had been waiting for her message. Glad you made it safely. Friend already? That didn’t take long. I hope it’s everything you want it to be.
Mary smiled at her phone, imagining Bert in his house across the street from her empty home, probably sitting on his couch with a beer, definitely worrying about her more than he’d ever admit. She dialed his number, wanting to hear his voice.
He answered immediately. “Hey!”
“I thought I’d call instead of text.”
“No complaints here. I love hearing your voice.”
Her breathing hitched just hearing his acknowledgment. Clearing her throat, she said, “The accessibility is excellent. Someone actually thought through the design rather than just meeting minimum requirements. My stateroom is perfect.”
“Good. That’s good. I was hoping it would look like the photos you showed me from their website.”
She laughed. “Me too! You know how websites always make things look so perfect. But this really is.” She told him about meeting Diane and Colin. “I’m having tea with her tomorrow when we go into Charlottetown.”
There was a pause, longer than the previous responses, and Mary wondered what Bert was thinking.
“I’m glad you’re there safely. And I’m glad you found someone to explore with. Diane sounds interesting.”
She noticed he didn’t mention Colin’s name. A little smile curved her lips as she said, “She is. Tough and funny and doesn’t take any nonsense.”
“Sounds a bit like a woman I know. Someone I miss right now.”
Mary’s chest felt tight hearing those words.
This was why she’d needed distance—because every word from Bert, every thoughtful gesture, every moment of his careful attention made her fall deeper in love with him while he’d remained safely on the other side of the friendship line. At least until this morning.
“How was your day? she asked, changing the subject to safer ground.
“Long. Quiet without you at the compound. Logan had me handling some of your admin work, and I have a new appreciation for what you do. How do you keep track of all those spreadsheets?”
“Years of practice and a very organized filing system. Don’t mess up my spreadsheets!”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. They’re both sacred and terrifying.”
They chatted for another twenty minutes, easy conversation about nothing important and everything important.
Neither of them said what Mary suspected they were both thinking…
that they missed each other, that two weeks felt like a very long time, that this easy intimacy they’d built together was something special even if neither of them had figured out how to name it yet.
Finally, Bert said, “You should get some sleep.”
“You’re right. I’ll try to send a few pictures tomorrow.”
“Hearing anything from you will be a treat. Sleep well, Mary.”
“You too. Good night.”
Mary set her phone on the nightstand and turned off the light. The gentle rocking of the ship lulled her toward sleep. Through the window, she could see the lights of Charlottetown twinkling in the distance, and somewhere out there was Prince Edward Island with its rolling green hills.
Tomorrow, she’d start exploring. Tomorrow, she’d see Green Gables and experience the magic of this place she’d dreamed about for so long.
But tonight, in the quiet darkness of her stateroom, Mary allowed herself to think about the man she’d left behind in Montana… the one who wished her a good night like it mattered that she slept well.
The same man who said he wanted to take her on a date. Smiling to herself, she felt a rush of giddiness, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.
She was miles from home and about to embark on an adventure. Still, her heart kept pulling her back toward Montana, toward a compound full of Keepers, toward a house across the street from hers where the lights were probably still on and he was probably worrying about her more than he’d ever admit.
Mary closed her eyes and let the ship's motion carry her toward sleep, but her last conscious thought was of blue eyes and calloused hands and the way Bert said her name, as if it meant something.
Tonight, she let herself miss him, let herself think of an upcoming date, and let herself imagine what it would be like if Bert really did want more than just friendship.