Chapter 18 #2
Despite the relative emptiness of the ship, an announcement came over the loudspeakers.
“Good afternoon, folks, this is your Cruise Director! Tonight, catch our spectacular Broadway-style show at 7:30 PM in the Grand Theater, followed by a karaoke extravaganza at 9:00 PM in the Moonlit Bar. Tomorrow, day 4, all passengers must head to our private island between 7:00 AM and 11:00 AM for a day of fun while our crew conducts mandatory safety training and lifeboat drills. Bring your cruise card and check your newsletter for disembarkation details. Enjoy your afternoon!”
Olive’s eyes scanned Jerry’s bare back and legs. She knew what caused the scar on his left upper arm, but she had never seen him shirtless or in shorts above his knees before. She loved looking at the muscles of his strong back, shoulders, and arms.
But the long scar on the left side of his back resembled a nasty burn. Then there was the obvious bullet wound in his mid-left thigh. Her curiosity nearly overwhelmed her, but she had no intention of disturbing him right now.
He’d spent the morning adding to Cynthia’s story about the harrowing escape from the jungle with a very seriously wounded Bill and more seriously wounded Phil.
He told her a little bit about Emma’s capture in a small village outside of Djibouti and the team’s rescue mission.
He couldn’t talk much about Lynda and Bill’s story except to say that it had been a joint operation with the FBI and a few other agencies, and how that mission had unexpectedly reunited the two college sweethearts.
Jerry had never once mentioned anything that would correlate to a bullet in his leg and a nasty burn on his back. She started to wonder if he had even more scars beneath his swim trunks before she purposely turned her thoughts away from that area.
Clearly, the work Jerry and his teammates did involved a high degree of risk and danger, but she had never considered how those threats could spill out into ordinary life.
She’d learned about Melissa and Phil’s troubles with a drug cartel in Miami, and how it tied into Phil’s brother’s murder.
The story of how Cynthia and Rick met, and the few details she had learned about Bill and Lynda had intrigued and thrilled her.
Finding out about how Jorge had saved Emma from certain death left her speechless.
Thinking about how she and Jerry had met in a chapel in Kentucky made her think about how incredibly boring their story would be compared to the others. A small part of her barely recognized wished she and Jerry had some adventure tale to tell.
She smiled and shook her head at the silly thought. Life came with its own kind of adventures. She didn’t need guns and danger piled onto it—even if she could honestly say she first met him in a trauma center with a life-threatening bullet wound to his arm.
“Mind if we join you?” Emma asked, gesturing at the empty chairs next to her.
Olive shifted her sunglasses to the top of her head and looked up at Emma. She wore a yellow bathing suit that glowed against her dark tan skin. “Of course not,” she said. “You look so nice.”
“I wasn’t sure if you were seeking privacy. There’s a lot of group time lately.” Emma said.
“We spent the morning alone. It was lovely, but we’re here for people.”
Jorge set a pool bag on the ground next to Emma’s chair. “Want anything from the bar?”
She nodded. “Some of that sparkling lemonade, if they have it.”
He raised an eyebrow at Olive, who shook her head and held up her water bottle. As he walked away, Emma clipped her towel to her chair then settled on it. “What did y’all do with your time this morning?”
“Chatted,” Olive said. She put her sunglasses back on and settled her head back. “Jerry was telling me how he met you and Cynthia and Lynda.”
“Really?” She leaned over Olive and looked at Jerry. “Seems like a conversation like that would have a lot of holes in it.”
Olive chuckled. “I’m sure it did. I was just sitting here looking at all the holes in his body he hasn’t explained yet. And I was thinking about how exciting it all sounded and how comparatively boring my military service was.”
Emma gifted her with a skeptical look. “Can’t see how a surgical nurse in Landstuhl would find any day boring. I imagine you have all sorts of exciting stories.”
Her mind wandered back to the years she spent there and the countless traumas that came her way. “Good point,” she murmured. “I guess for the patients, though, it was the end of the excitement and the beginning of long days of nothing to do but recover and heal.”
Jorge returned with two lemonades. “Did you guys venture out at all?” he asked.
“No. Neither of us really wanted to.”
“We started to, but the police carrying SIG Sauer SIGM400 rifles quickly turned me off,” Jorge said. “I’d rather not know why there were so many obviously untrained uniformed men so well armed.”
Jerry lifted his head. “That would be a tad disconcerting,” he said as he shifted his chair and sat up. “So Olive, why are you thinking about my holes?”
Olive grinned, “Deep subject, holes.”
Jerry grinned. “I’ll tell you someday.”
“Why not now?”
“Okay,” he agreed amiably. “See that?” He pointed to the scar on his thigh. “Got shot right there.” He turned his body and tossed a thumb toward his back. “See that? Got burned.”
“Very informative,” Olive said.
“Very hot, actually. You already know about this one,” he said while flexing his scarred left biceps.
“Some of my best work. But why all on your left side?”
“I’m right-handed?” Jerry shrugged. “Etiam sanato vulnere cicatrix manet.”
Emma piped up, “Even though the wound is healed, the scar remains. Publilius Syrus.”
“Non turpis est cicatrix quam virtus parit. Ibid.,” Jerry quoted.
Olive surprised them both by translating, “No scar is ugly which is born of valor.” Jerry cocked an eyebrow. Olive said, “I’ve been brushing up.”
Jerry said, “No need. You’re perfect in every way.” While Olive pondered that, he turned to Emma. “Erin said it was kinda like a souk but filled with tourist junk.”
Olive frowned. “What’s a souk?”
“A marketplace in the Middle East,” Emma said.
“Like a bazaar. Bunch of stalls. Everyone trying to get your attention, barter with you.” She took a sip of her lemonade.
“I liked going to them, but nothing really stood out to me. Then we turn a corner and there’s like fifteen police or militia or whatever they are standing around with their fingers on the triggers of their automatic rifles, weapons off safe, and all the fun kind of evaporated. ”
“I don’t blame you,” Olive said. She imagined that would be a little scary, especially if you didn’t know why and what. “Did you just turn back around?”
“Yeah. Nothing we’d want to get mixed up in.” Jorge leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “We’re on vacation. Not a mission.”
“Preach,” Jerry said with a grin. “You two both would have just gone ahead and strolled right on in if it had been the latter.” He stood up and stretched his arms over his head. “I’m going to cool off in the pool.”
Olive slipped her sunglasses off and stood up, shifting the straps of her swimsuit. “That’s a great idea.”
They strolled side by side around the pool, the deck warm beneath their bare feet, and reached the deep end.
Only a single towel lay crumpled on a nearby chair.
Most of the other passengers had gone ashore.
Jerry launched into a smooth dive, slicing the water with barely a splash.
Olive followed, the cool water enveloping her, sending a shiver of delight down her spine.
She swam upward, tilting her head back as she broke the surface, her hair slicking away from her face.
Wiping water from her eyes, she felt Jerry’s arm slip around her waist. She opened her eyes, a grin spreading across her face, and looped her arms around his neck with ease.
“Having fun?” Jerry’s voice carried over the gentle lapping of the pool water.
Olive grinned, her feet dangling in the cool water. “Definitely.”
“You know what I keep thinking?” His gaze steadied, searching her face as the sun glinted off the deck.
“What?”
“That we get to spend the rest of our lives together, having little adventures like this one.”
Her chest tightened, warmth spreading through her as she blinked back tears. “God is good to bring us together.”
“I’m grateful.” He leaned in, his lips brushing hers, a faint, mineral bite of pool water tinged his lips, cool and crisp like the thrill chasing her pulse. He pulled back, a playful glint in his eyes. “You any good at swimming?”
She let out a nervous laugh, shaking her head. “No.”
“Good.” He flashed a mischievous grin. “Race you to the other side.”
She flicked her wrist, sending a playful splash of water his way as he launched forward, his strong arms slicing through the pool’s shimmering surface.
She took her time, her strokes slow and deliberate, enjoying watching him glide ahead.
The water lapped gently against her skin, and a warmth bloomed in her chest, her mind drifting to quiet mornings and shared laughter in years to come.