Hearts Ahoy

by Stephanie Taylor

  Christina was up and in her mother’s arms in an instant. She towered over Julia as they stood there hugging, and Julia squeezed her even tighter. This was nothing, this revelation, and she wanted her little girl to know it. Because really, it changed nothing about her love for her daughter. She sighed, rocking Christina just slightly as they hugged.

  “You’re not mad?” Christina finally asked, pulling away and wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. Tears streamed down her young, pink cheeks.

  “Mad? Honey, no,” Julia reassured her. She put her hands on the sides of her daughter’s face. “Not even. Not ever. I love you, kid.”

  Christina smiled through her tears. “I love you too, Mom. I think it’s time for both of us to find out if there’s someone we’re supposed to be with.”

  Julia nodded because the words wouldn’t come. Christina was right; with this revelation, she knew it to be true—they both needed to face the facts and face the future. And, maybe most importantly, to face the possibility that love was out there somewhere, and that it might not look conventional or feel comfortable at first, but it was time to be open to it.

  “Okay,” Julia said, nodding firmly. She put her hands on Christina’s arms and squeezed them both gently. “Let’s get dressed and go shopping. I’m going to need at least one bathing suit for this trip!”

  3

  Julia’s flight from Portland to L.A. was bumpy. She deplaned with her carry-on in hand, relieved to be on the ground again. She’d spent the two-and-a-half hour flight talking to her seat mate, an elderly woman named June, about growing succulents in partial sunlight, and about how having grandchildren enriches a person’s life. She hadn’t mentioned to June that her chances of ever having grandkids herself had just recently become unclear, but instead had nodded and listened as the woman talked about her own family. It had passed the time and mostly kept her nerves at bay whenever they passed through turbulence, and when they’d landed, June pressed her hand to Julia’s and wished her luck on the cruise with genuine goodwill in her kind eyes.

  A huge sign near the baggage carousel alerted travelers that the bus service to the cruise ships was right outside, so Julia found her luggage and fell into the steady stream of people dragging hard-shelled suitcases on wheels. She followed women in sun visors and men in shorts and sandals as they walked through the sliding glass doors and out into the morning sunlight.

  Julia’s room on board the ship was on the top level and much bigger than she’d anticipated. She set her carry-on bag on the bed and walked over to the sliding door, pulling it open and stepping onto a balcony that felt big enough for a small party. All the information she’d received from the radio station had touted this all-expenses paid luxury cruise, but she really hadn’t anticipated this level of luxury.

  Inside her stateroom, Julia looked around. The queen sized bed was covered in a plush duvet and a pile of perfectly fluffed pillows, and a thick white bathrobe hung from a hook in the all glass bathroom. Atop the little table next to the balcony doors sat a fruit basket full of mangoes, bananas, and macadamia nuts, and with it was a small card that read: “Congrats from The Matt and Marla Show and everyone at KPRT radio! Have a FABULOUS trip!” Julia smiled at that and set the card on her dresser.

  Next she unzipped her small bag and slid out a stack of hand-made cards from her students, reading each one as she set it on the dresser next to the card from The Matt and Marla Show. The first one was signed by her second period class, with a special note from a boy named Trevor who’d written: “I hope some guy treats you right, Miss Del—otherwise he’s gonna have to deal with US!” Another card said: “Wishing you a wonderful trip full of love and mystery. Best wishes, Kayla K.” Kayla, a tiny brunette in her sixth period, had drawn little heart bubbles all over her note. And finally, Julia’s entire third period had signed one card with little gems like this one: “Mrs. DM—I hope a hot dude slides into your DMs!” from a rowdy baseball player named Bryson.

  She’d gotten the “Mrs. DM” part as several of the kids shortened Mrs. Delmonico to either Mrs. DM, or just Miss D or Miss Del, but it had taken Claire laughingly explaining to her that “sliding into someone’s DMs” had something to do with sending personal messages on social media for Julia to get the meaning of that one. She smiled at the notes now and lined them up on the dresser before taking her toiletries into the bathroom and setting everything up on the glass shelf next to the sink.

  Julia was just about to sit down on the foot of her bed and think about what to do next when she heard a light rapping on the opaque divider that separated her balcony from the one next door.

  “Yoo hoo, anybody home?” came the voice of an older gentleman. “I heard someone out there a minute ago.”

  “Hello?” Julia got up from the bed and stepped back out onto the balcony.

  “Oh, that’s the voice of a beautiful lady if ever I heard one,” the man said. “All compliments and no offense to your lucky husband, if he’s there.”

  Julia gave a polite laugh. “Well, thank you. I’m alone, as luck would have it. Particularly since this is a cruise to find love, or romance, or—whatever.” She wasn’t sure why it flustered her so much to think about or say what she might be there for.

  “In that case, may I introduce myself properly?”

  Julia thought about this for a second. “You may,” she finally acquiesced.

  “Then please come over for a drink as soon as it suits you,” the man said. “I don’t want to knock on the door of a lady and invite myself into her stateroom. I can tell just by your voice that you’re a woman of high character.”

  “Thank you,” Julia said, grinning to herself. This was a truly old-fashioned gent, and she was enjoying every minute of his charm. “I’ll be right over.”

  The door to the stateroom next door flew open at Julia's tentative knock.

  "Come in, come in!" The man who stood before her was no more than five-foot-four, and had about as much white hair as a dandelion puff. His grin was so wide that his eyes nearly squinted shut with the effort of holding in his own joy. "You are just as wonderful to look at as to listen to," he said, holding his door wide with one liver-spotted hand and gesturing with the other to invite Julia in. "I'm Arthur Goldman," he said as she walked in.

  "Julia Delmonico," she said, standing awkwardly in the center of his room. Like hers, the bed was made neatly and the sliding balcony door stood open to the Los Angeles breeze. Beyond the water of the port, palm trees swayed gently against the blue sky.

  Arthur closed the door and moved over to his mini-fridge. "I've smuggled in a bit of contraband," he said, leaning over and pulling a bottle of whiskey from the sliver of space next to the refrigerator. "Can I interest you in a celebratory drink?"

  Julia giggled at the impish look on Arthur's face. "You smuggled in contraband?"

  "Of course," he said, giving a one-shouldered shrug. "You think they're gonna frisk a man my age?" Arthur gestured at himself as if to say, "Here, look me over--I've got nothing to hide." He had to be over eighty and definitely as harmless as an old goat. “Now drink this,” he said, thrusting a tumbler filled with two fingers of amber liquid in her direction.

  “I’m not sure…” Julia protested, taking the glass from him.

  “Didn’t you say something on the balcony about looking for love on this ship? Coming here for romance? Is that the theme on this trip?”

  “Yes, but aren’t you on the cruise for the same reason?” Julia’s brow furrowed as she took her first small sip of whiskey.

  “Oh, young lady, heavens no,” Arthur said, raising his glass in the air in a small toast before knocking back a long sip. “Mrs. Goldman was the one love of my life and I’m content to wait until she and I meet again someday.”

  “Your wife?” Julia asked sympathetically.

  Arthur gave a curt nod. “I’ve been a widower for nearly thirty years now. Breast cancer took my Amelia from me and the kids.”

  “I’ve been a widow for th
ree years,” Julia admitted. “Aneurysm,” she added without being asked. “Will was my college sweetheart.”

  Arthur reached for the bottle and topped off both of their glasses, though Julia had barely touched her whiskey.

  “Then this drink is for Will and Amelia,” he said, lifting his glass in the air again before drinking.

  After a long pause, Julia asked: “So if you aren’t on this cruise looking for a second chance at love like the rest of us, then why are you here?”

  “Why don’t we have a seat on the balcony and enjoy the view while I tell you about what it’s like to get old in this country?”

  Julia followed Arthur outside and they pulled up chairs that faced the water.

  “A few years back, a friend of mine came across an article about how expensive it is to age in America,” Arthur explained, holding his drink against the small swell of his protruding belly. He leveled his gaze at Julia. “As it turns out, it costs you less in the long run to spend the rest of your life cruising the world than it does to age out in a care facility. Not to mention that you float the seas in luxury, eating food cooked by world-class chefs, with doctors on call at all hours of the day and night.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Completely. So I sold my house,” Arthur went on, “and cashed in my retirement. I found a travel agent to book my cruises, and for the past few years I’ve sailed the world in style. I’ve been everywhere, young lady, and I’ve met some amazing people. There are a group of us who plan on doing this till the end--several of my friends are on this very ship. And if everything goes the way it’s supposed to, then I’m budgeted to sail into the sunset, if you’ll pardon the cheesy pun.”

  “Pardoned,” Julia said with a lopsided smile.

  “Truth be told,” Arthur said, taking another sip of his whiskey. “I can afford to do this till I’m ninety-six, so for another fifteen years.”

  Julia nodded; she’d guessed his age correctly. “That sounds like a damn fine plan, Arthur. I’m not gonna lie.”

  “I never thought you would,” he said with a wink. “Like I said, I could hear it in your voice that you’re a woman of substance. Now tell me about you, Mrs. Delmonico.”

  “Well, I’m a high school English teacher,” she said.

  “So then you’re a saint.” Arthur winked at her.

  “Not hardly. They test my patience every day,” Julia laughed. But as she thought of her kids, she softened. “I do love them, though. Being around young people all day is both exhausting and invigorating.”

  “And do you have children of your own?”

  “I do--I have a daughter named Christina. She’s twenty and studying psychology at the University of Washington.”

  “An accomplished teacher, a successful mother, a beautiful woman--I see no reason whatsoever that you won’t find love on this cruise, my dear,” Arthur said kindly. “And if I were ten years younger, I might reconsider my stance on not looking for love and take you out myself.”

  “Ten years?” Julia teased.

  “Maybe twenty.” Arthur winked again.

  They watched people streaming onto the ship from far below, sitting in companionable silence as they sipped their drinks in the breeze.

  “As it stands,” Arthur said, “I would imagine that neither of us has a date to dinner on the first night, so if you wouldn’t feel too awkward showing up in the dining room on the arm of a man half your height and twice your age, then I would be honored to escort you to dinner.”

  “And I would be honored to accept,” Julia said happily, holding out her glass to clink the rim of it against Arthur’s. “Do you want to go out to the deck and watch as we set sail?” Julia checked her watch. They had about an hour until the boat pushed off.

  “Nah.” Arthur waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve seen it a million times. You go and enjoy that, and I’ll take a quick catnap here so that I’m in tip-top shape for our date.”

  “What time should I be ready?”

  “I’ll knock on your door at six,” Arthur said, giving her an apologetic look. “Sorry, I can’t eat much later than that--I have to take my meds with food. I know six isn’t a very glamorous dinnertime.”

  “Six is perfect,” Julia assured him. “I’ll be ready.” Arthur stood as if to escort her through the stateroom and to the door. “No no--you sit and relax. I’ll let myself out,” she said. “See you at six.”

  Arthur raised a hand in farewell and turned back to watch a flock of birds pass over the port in a synchronized dance of arcs and dips.

  “Pineapple daiquiri?” A waiter in a short white jacket passed by Julia as she leaned over the railing and waited for the boat to set sail.

  “Please,” she said, taking one from his tray. “And thank you.”

  She took a long pull of the drink through its fluorescent pink straw and didn’t even consider the fact that she’d just had whiskey and was now imbibing a cocktail as if she didn’t have a care in the world. It had been years since she’d had more than a glass of wine at dinner, and the warm rush of alcohol filled her with goodwill and a feeling of deep relaxation.

  Julia exhaled and leaned her elbows on the railing as she scanned the skyline of downtown Los Angeles. Soon she’d be seeing nothing but the open sea.

  “Is this spot taken?”

  Julia turned her head and came face to face with a man in a tank top.

  “Oh, no. Go ahead,” she said. She gave him a smile and turned her attention back to the view.

  “Name’s Marco,” he said, thrusting his hand at her. His arms were short and muscular and heavily tattooed. “Couldn’t help but notice you over here alone.”

  “Aren’t most of us here alone?” Julia asked, not meaning to sound rude. To temper her words, she turned towards him and shook his hand. “Julia,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”

  “A whole group of ladies over there is in this together,” Marco said, nodding in the direction of a knot of women about Julia’s age. Marco himself appeared to be about ten years younger. “I think they’re all divorced and they’re treating this like some sort of—whaddya call it?” He squinted at them and they both eyed the women in their tiaras and black satin sashes, which Julia could see had “Love, Round 2!” emblazoned on them in silver glitter.

  “A bachelorette party,” Julia said, filling in the blank for him. And they were acting like it was a night out on the town, hooting and hollering and waving the waiter over to refill their drinks. “Well, good for them,” she said, looking back at Marco. “You’re here alone?”

  “Yeah. My brother and his wife bought me a ticket on this cruise to see if I could find someone new. My old wife bailed,” he added without ceremony.

  “Oh,” Julia spluttered, nearly choking on the sip of daiquiri she’d just taken. “Jeez. I’m sorry.”

  “It happens,” Marco said. “I had a thing with her cousin Angela for a while, and she didn’t like that.”

  Julia nodded, trying to find something soothing to say. “I guess it’s hard for women to watch men move on, maybe especially with someone they know.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t after. I was seeing Angela a little when things were rocky at home and the wife found out.”

  Julia blinked rapidly. It wasn’t that she was immune to the vagaries of love and heartbreak—she’d dated before meeting Will—but her marriage had been like a placid lake, and the thought of Will dating her cousin without her knowing almost made her laugh, mainly because Jeanine, her closest cousin, was loud and obnoxious and definitely not Will’s cup of tea.

  “Okay,” Julia said, collecting herself. She pushed away from the railing and gave Marco a smile that she hoped was polite but not inviting. “I do hope you find love again, Marco. Good luck to you. And whoever she is, I hope her cousins are ugly.”

  Julia walked away, leaving him staring after her.

  “Hi, there.” A man with thinning hair and a t-shirt that said “Are you the next Mrs. Henderson?” lifted a hand in greeting as Julia
passed. Again, she smiled—though not invitingly.

  The ship left the port and set its course as Julia wandered around, checking out the boat’s amenities. The top deck boasted a wraparound balcony that overlooked an enormous turquoise pool, and uniformed staff circulated with friendly smiles, handing out towels, drinks, and answering questions.

  The staircase led down to the pool deck, and Julia walked through the sliding doors that led to a tropical greenhouse of sorts. It was an atrium covered in soaring glass, and a small waterfall ran into a much smaller pool surrounded by rock formations. All around were bursts of colorful hanging flowers: frangipani in vibrant orange and fuchsia; orchids in purple and white; gorgeous yellow blooms and greenery—it was a feast for the eyes.

  There were cushioned lounge chairs around the pool and Julia sat on one, swinging her bare legs around so that they were stretched out in front of her, and crossing her feet at the ankles. She’d gotten a pedicure before leaving Portland, and she wiggled her hot pink toes in her silver sandals, admiring the fact that her feet weren’t cold even though it was still March—that would take some getting used to.

  Sipping her daiquiri through the straw, Julia glanced around: most of the other people in the atrium were either reading things on their phones or lying back with closed eyes and peaceful smiles, enjoying the serene setting. So far, this was her favorite place on the ship. She dug through her purse and fished out her phone so that she could text Christina.

  Hey, kid, she typed. We’ve set sail and I already have a date for tonight.

  An immediate response popped up on her screen: WHAAAATTTT? MOM. Are you serious?!

  Yep. And he’s CUTE. His name is Arthur, and he’s my next-door neighbor.

  There was a brief pause, as if Christina was formulating her response. Wow. Well…I’m happy for you! I want to hear more about him.