The Summer Sail Page 5

  “We’ll have to remember to get here early tomorrow.” Abby shook out her towel and laid it down. “Apparently, these seats are prime real estate.”

  “That or we’re going to have to invest in some chair clips.” Lee settled into the chaise lounge beside her.

  “Seriously. So, which one?” Abby waved two bottles of sunscreen in front of her. “I’m allowing myself one day in the sun, then it’s back to my solar shirt.”

  “For the first day? Definitely seventy.” Lee pulled off her cover-up, an awkward kind of striptease to hide her jiggly bits.

  Abby narrowed her eyes at her beneath her hat. “Cute suit,” she said.

  “Thanks. You should have seen what it took to get me into it. The good news is: it’s on. The bad news is: I don’t think it’s coming off my body for the entire trip.”

  Abby laughed and squeezed a zigzag of sunscreen into her palm, infusing the air with the scent of coconut. “Yeah, well, mine has a nice little tummy tuck built into it. Welcome to middle age.”

  “It suits you.” Lee grinned at her own bad pun. “Really, you look great. Maybe even a little on the skinny side?” Lee had debated about saying anything, but since it had come up naturally in the conversation, she figured, Why not? Both she and Caroline had been surprised to see Abby, typically thin, looking even thinner. Maybe, Lee reasoned, Abby had lost some weight for the vows ceremony.

  “Ladies, may I get you something to drink?” A cabana boy, his tanned skin the color of honey, interrupted her train of thought.

  “I’m all set with my orange juice, thank you,” said Abby. “How about you, Lee? Want anything?”

  Lee considered. “Is it too early for a Bloody Mary?”

  “No ma’am. It’s never too early for a Bloody Mary.” Lee smiled at him. He was adorable in that way that any man who was twenty years younger than she was adorable.

  “Well, in that case—” She dug into her bag for her room key and handed it over. It was wonderful to be able to charge everything to the room. With the whisk of a card, she could charge her meals, her drinks, spa treatments, any item at the ship’s gift store. At least she could pretend it was free money until she got the bill at the end of the trip. Lee wished there were a few other items she could put on her room key. Like liposuction, or several weeks of good therapy for Lacey, or Lacey’s entire college tuition. Those would be handy. At the moment, though, she’d gladly settle for a Bloody Mary.

  Her eyes safely hidden behind her sunglasses, Lee took a moment to study the other passengers on deck. As far as she could tell, there were three types of cruisers: those who’d come to sunbathe and see Bermuda; those who’d come to drink themselves into oblivion; and those (mostly of the senior set) who intended to take full advantage of the onboard activities, never once stepping foot on land. She’d once read an article in Good Housekeeping that categorized the majority of cruisers as “newlyweds, overfeds, or almost deads.” She’d laughed when she read it, but now she had to admit it had a ring of truth.

  A mother nearby hollered at her young son to stay out of the hot tub, prompting a sigh from Lee. Moms with young children were their own special tribe, and Lee didn’t miss it one bit—not that she’d ever really fit in. Before she started teaching, being a single mom had sometimes felt as if she brandished a scarlet letter on her chest. How many times had she tried to brush off the judgmental stares at parents’ night at Lacey’s school? Word traveled fast in their small southern town, and the only thing ostensibly worse than being a divorced parent was being a single parent. Especially a single, never-married (read unwed) mom.

  Fortunately, she’d found her own small tribe of mothers to hang out with, women who were funny, sarcastic, and not at all afraid to admit that mothering was hard. And, well, if Abby and Caroline hadn’t been just a phone call away, Lee might have packed her bags and left young Lacey to fend for herself. It was Abby, in fact, who’d helped Lee through those first few weeks when Lee would call late at night in tears, her hormones surging. Even though Abby didn’t yet have the twins, she was the most natural mother of them all. “No one enjoys the first weeks of motherhood. No one. And anyone who tells you she does is either high or crazy.” Lee had laughed maniacally—they were the most comforting words she’d ever heard.

  She smiled at Lacey, who had arrived and was now easing herself into the adjacent chair.

  “Why is it that almost everyone under forty on this boat seems to have a tattoo?” Lee asked. She felt the same way about tattoos as she did about wearing jeans in middle age—neither seemed worth the pain and suffering. Why waste time with zippers when there were pants with elastic waistbands? To Lee’s mind, yoga pants were one of the most ingenious inventions ever, on par with airplanes or coffeemakers. “Don’t they know they can get hepatitis from needles?”

  “Mom,” Lacey said in a chastising tone that suggested Lee should know better. “Since when did you become such a prude?”

  “Since I saw all this bare skin.” Lee gestured around her, though her eyes were laser-beamed on Lacey’s chest, which was just barely contained by her red bikini top. Why hadn’t Lee insisted on approving her daughter’s wardrobe before they left? Because Lacey would never allow it. Because she is in college now. Sometimes Lee had to remind herself.

  Lacey shrugged, her breasts rising like two very plump tomatoes. “Tattoos are the pierced ears of today’s generation.”

  Lee forced herself to look away. “But tattoos are so permanent. It’s not like you can just let your pierced holes close up if you get tired of them. You’re stuck with that shamrock or the name of your lover—who will probably cheat on you anyway—on your ankle for the rest of your life.”

  Lacey gawked at her. “How very optimistic of you.”

  “Well, it’s true,” Lee countered.

  “Whatever.” Lacey pulled a spray bottle from her bag and proceeded to coat her body with sunblock, leaving behind a shimmering globe of incandescent drops floating in the air. It seemed such a waste of sunblock. Lee was about to suggest she switch to the lotion variety, but her daughter had already plugged in her earbuds and shut her eyes, an all-too-familiar routine—Lacey’s unceremonious way of saying that she was done talking.

  Abby shot Lee a searching look, but Lee just shook her head. Trying to have a conversation with her daughter these days could be so unfulfilling. No, that wasn’t the right word. Frustrating. Maddening. She contemplated tugging out an earbud and whispering an admonishment in Lacey’s ear, such as Would it kill you to talk to your mother and your godmother for a few minutes before tuning us out? Oh, and by the way, cover up! But then she thought better of it. Why poke the bear if the bear didn’t want to be poked?

  Lee was on vacation, too. She intended to enjoy herself.

  She dug through her bag for her book, a self-help title she’d checked out from the library the day before they left. When she cracked it open, a musty scent wafted up. She read the first sentence: You can either choose to be encouraged by what you see in the world or you can choose to be dismayed. It is your choice. The lines swam through her mind. Usually Lee bypassed the self-help shelf, but lately things had gotten so tense with Lacey that she’d plucked up a few titles in hopes that one might help smooth the way.

  You can either choose to be encouraged by what you see in the world or you can choose to be dismayed, she read again. It was a nice sentiment, along the lines of all those motivational shows that told you to focus on the positive. It sounded easy enough, but that was precisely why Lee was wary. Anything that was too quick a fix couldn’t possibly work, could it?

  She glanced over at Lacey, whose head bobbed slightly to the beat of whatever song she listened to. What could it hurt to try? thought Lee. What if, as the book suggested, Lee chose to be encouraged by her daughter’s behavior instead of dismayed? She tried to concentrate on something positive—maybe the fact that Lacey had joined them by the pool in the first place. That her daughter wasn’t embarrassed to sit with her? That felt like som
e kind of small victory.

  She shut the book, set it on the table next to her, and closed her eyes. After a minute, she moaned, “I could get used to this.”

  “Me, too,” said Abby. “No one fighting. Sunshine. All the time in the world to read a good book.”

  “This is the life, Abs. Thanks for inviting us.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  It occurred to Lee that she should wait for her Bloody Mary to arrive before she napped, but perhaps the kind waiter would set it down gently and leave it for her. As her eyelids grew heavier, she thought about how nice it was to have no bigger decision to make than which cocktail to order or what level SPF to use. First world problems, Lacey called them. Not a single preschooler to demand an extra snack, no tantrums to be defused. The sweet little cherubs, bless their hearts, were back with their parents till the end of August.

  Come September, Lee knew she’d be ready to return to the classroom, but right now, lying in the sun, surrounded by perfectly reasonable adults, she was more than content—she was encouraged. By all the vacationing families around them, by this rare opportunity to enjoy a trip with her best friends (and, possibly, her daughter), by something as simple as today’s glorious weather. It was her choice, she reminded herself.

  And, with the gentle rocking of the boat, she drifted off to sleep.

  At the health club, Caroline found her way to the stationary bikes lining the panel of windows that looked out over the water. Earlier, she’d tried running on the track that looped around the top deck, but the combination of the boat’s rocking and the sharp corners had made her stomach lurch. She’d come to the club in hopes of finding a more level playing field; Javier, never big on exercise, had gone off to enjoy his coffee and a book at the cafeteria.

  For the first morning of vacation, the gym was surprisingly packed, and Caroline was lucky to get the last free bicycle. She climbed on, slipped in her earbuds, and began to pedal slowly, all the while envisioning the breakfast buffet she would gorge herself on later. She figured if millions of calories were going to lay siege to her body over the next several days, then she would fight back as best she knew how. By pedaling hundreds of miles.

  As she cycled along, the odometer ticking off the distance, she imagined herself biking across the ocean to Madrid, maybe to Paris, with Javier—and dreamily thought back to last night. Sex was always better when they’d been apart for more than a few days, and last night had been no exception. There was something almost primal about it, as if their bodies couldn’t be satiated, Javier’s tongue licking the salt from her skin. It was an instinctive, crazy love. The kind that kicked all the sheets off the bed in a sweaty mess.

  Afterward, Caroline had wrapped a sheet around her waist and gone out on the balcony, where the dark water swirled below. Moonlight fell in ropes across the ocean, forming a shimmering ladder that climbed out to the horizon. When Javier came up behind her and nuzzled his chin against her neck, she could feel the rough stubble of his midnight shadow tickling her skin.

  “That was amazing,” he mumbled into her neck.

  “Yep. Pretty good,” she agreed, giggling at the scrape of his whiskers. Her eyes were on the orange moon above, just shy of full. “Look.” She pointed. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  Javier lifted his head, then rested his chin on her shoulder. “A Star Wars moon.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

  “You know, like the moons of Tatooine? In the movies?”

  Caroline turned around and took his face in her hands. “Sometimes,” she said, placing delicate kisses along his jawline, “you are so little. It’s adorable.”

  “What?” He seemed surprised and pulled back. “You don’t remember the three moons that Luke would see in the night sky? There was always one that was a vibrant orange, like tonight’s.”

  “Just be quiet, okay?” Caroline’s lips found his, and she could taste the Cabernet that they’d brought back to the room after winning at the blackjack table earlier. Beginner’s luck, Javier had teased when Caroline raked in more than a hundred dollars. Whatever he wanted to call it, the money, the wine—it all tasted good to her. Caroline’s body pressed against the warmth of his; she hadn’t realized how much she’d been craving him.

  “I missed you,” she said at last.

  “And I missed you.” He stroked her hair, and she buried her head in his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart through bare skin.

  “Maybe we don’t have to miss each other so much?” She peered up at him.

  Javier met her gaze. “What do you mean?”

  She bit her bottom lip, worried it with her teeth. She’d hinted earlier that she and Javier should figure out the next steps in their relationship, but should she get into it now? On their first night, when everything had been so perfect? That she wanted what they already had, only more? An official proposal. A wedding, nothing huge, but a ceremony that would bind them together till death do them part. She toyed with the idea of how best to make him understand. She knew his freedom was important to him, but it wasn’t as if Caroline was trying to hold him back, was it? He could travel as much as he wanted, as much as he needed for work. And Caroline wasn’t sure she even wanted kids. In her forties, she didn’t know if it was possible. So, what would be the big deal if they tied the knot?

  The thing was, the argument she wanted to make to Javier—that marriage was no big deal—was contrary to the very reason she wanted a ring on her finger in the first place. Marriage was a big deal. A lifelong commitment. Which was exactly why she longed for it.

  “Nothing.” She shook her head and took a step back, grabbing on to the railing. No, she wasn’t prepared to parse their relationship on their first night back together. Why spoil a good evening? They had plenty of more days on the boat. Ample time for her to make her case, if need be, though she was secretly hoping it wouldn’t be necessary.

  “It’s just nice to have you back,” she said finally. She gazed out at the night sky, the graceful arc of the Big Dipper cutting through the dark. “You know, whenever my mom used to travel, she’d tell me to look up at the Big Dipper at eight o’clock, my bedtime,” Caroline explained, smiling at the long-ago memory. “She told me she’d do the same, wherever she might be, and that if we looked at the same time, the stars would flash brighter. It probably sounds silly, but for a little girl missing her mom, it meant the world. Of course, I had no idea about time zones then.”

  “And did they ever flash?” asked Javier.

  “To me they did. All the time.”

  “What a marvelous memory,” he said. “Did your mom travel a lot?” A few months after they’d started dating, Caroline had shared that her mom was a flight attendant, and, as a result, Caroline had spent much of her childhood missing her. That this important piece of her personal history had slipped Javier’s mind was surprising, but forgivable.

  “She was a flight attendant.”

  “Oh, right. You told me that. Sorry, I forgot.”

  Caroline fell quiet for a moment, considering. “To think she’d only seen Long Island before she became a stewardess. I suppose I have a little bit of her wanderlust in me. I wanted to be just like her when I grew up. She was so glamorous. She would wear this crisp blue skirt and a white blouse with a tiny pair of silver wings pinned to the pocket. I thought she looked like royalty.”

  “She sounds lovely,” said Javier. “Just like her daughter. I wish I’d met her.”

  “Me, too,” said Caroline wistfully. Her mom would have adored Javier; she was sure of it. He was a good man to the core. But then again, her mom had also been unfailingly practical. Caroline was fairly certain that Marjorie Canton would have grown impatient with a suitor who, after dating her daughter for three years, had yet to propose. In her own graceful way, she would have pushed Javier to get his act together. And yet, Caroline also liked to heed her father’s favorite piece of advice: Good things come to those who wait. Like a grape on the
vine, Javier just needed a little more time to ripen.

  Half the fun (she was sure Javier would tell her later) was in the anticipation, the suspense of not knowing when a proposal would come. Why rush it? She couldn’t ask for a more perfect setting—a cruise to Bermuda while celebrating her best friend’s wedding anniversary.

  Now all she had to do was wait.

  She finished up her final minutes on the bike, then slowed to a more leisurely pace. Eventually, she eased off the seat and helped herself to a water bottle and a towel that had been spritzed with something heavenly—maybe eucalyptus? She planned to grab a quick shower and a muffin before meeting Abby and Lee at the pool. When she pushed through the doors of the fitness room, however, Javier was coming up the stairs from the cafeteria.

  “Perfect timing!” he exclaimed. In his arms was a tray brimming with juice and croissants, fresh fruit and waffles. “I thought you might enjoy room service after your workout?” He held it out to her, his eyebrows waggling above those bright blue eyes.

  She grinned at him. Her very own Dionysus. How could she not love this man? More important, how could she resist? Abby and Lee would have to wait.

  4

  On Saturday, their first full day at sea, Sam booked dinner reservations for a party of eight at the ship’s main restaurant, the Blue Wave. It was Abby’s idea. She thought it would be nice for everyone to come together and converse like civilized people. It hadn’t occurred to her that there would be long stretches of time on the ship when she didn’t see anyone else in their group. The boys, in particular, had gone missing for long periods. Which, truth be told, had been part of her original plan. Chris and Ryan seemed to have jumped headlong into all the activities for teens—the late-night dances, the trivia challenges, the basketball tournaments. Still, Abby wanted to have all the chickens in her coop together for at least one meal.