Christmas Cruise in July

by Marlene Bierworth

  Merissa glanced in Chad’s direction. “Okay, I’ll bite. Enlighten us.”

  “I’ve been to Europe, and they have some history there,” Chad said.

  “Don’t get him going, ladies. He’s been everywhere and is a walking encyclopedia,” Skip said.

  Chad disregarded his friend. “The bird has no connection to turtles but its specific name, turtur, leans more toward their purring – you know, the turr-turr-turr song.”

  “So turtle dove is a nick-name?” Amy said.

  “Yeah, now let’s leave it there,” said Skip. “My brain does not require food this early in the morning.”

  “What do doves eat?” asked Merissa.

  “Here we go,” groaned Skip, and he buried his face in his coffee cup.

  “Seeds and grain,” Chad said, then turned to his friend. “But listen up, Skip. This tidbit is one you might appreciate.”

  “What would that be?” Skip’s voice did not sound enthusiastic.

  “Friendship.” Chad lifted his eyes and met Merissa’s, then nodded toward Amy, “and love.”

  “Yes! Now that is good news. Come on turtle dove!” Skip cheered.

  “You are to keep one bird and give another to a very special person. That way, since each of you has only one, and they desire to be together, that will guarantee human friendship forever.”

  Skip jumped to his feet and bowed. “Amy, my new friend. Are you interested in purchasing two of those dainty love birds so we can hang out forever?”

  Amy played it up, fanning her face with her napkin. “Why, Skip Jacobs, your silver tongue has gotten me all flustered. But we should wait awhile before purchasing the birds. Forever is a long time.”

  “Agreed!” Merissa said. “You’ve known the man for one day. You two are a piece of work.”

  “I gather you don’t believe in love at first sight,” Chad said.

  Merissa leveled her frostiest glare toward him. “Definitely not. Friendship and attraction, yes, but love develops over time.”

  “And you, my friend, take far too much time in the developing process,” Amy said in a sarcastic tone.

  Merissa knew Amy referred to Kyle – and she had to agree. If only they’d married and forgotten about the huge wedding. She’d known the first month he was the one. Waiting had cost her precious time with him she could never get back. Merissa stopped the regrets before they consumed her. With her defenses down, she said. “Perhaps.” Chad’s intense scrutiny of her held a spark of mystery and warning bells clanged inside her head, declaring that his secretive mood somehow involved her.

  “I’m full. Amy, we need to get ready to disembark,” Merissa said.

  “Yes! I can’t wait to see the Ernest Hemingway Museum,” Chad answered.

  Merissa looked at him oddly. Chad was undoubtedly a man of diversity and surprises. “It’s in Old Town Key West. Within walking distance the brochure says. It was definitely one of my stops.”

  “I’ve read all his books, but the Old Man and the Sea – that one was unforgettable.”

  “You like to read,” Merissa asked.

  Skip piped in. “What else does the lone traveler have to do when the workday is complete? Heaven forbid that he crashes a party somewhere.”

  Chad ignored him. “Yes, I love to read and review. And unfortunately, offer a critique. I’m a frustrated perfectionist and don’t know when to mind my business.”

  Merissa bit back the grin but could not stop her response. “I can believe that, Mr. Livingston.” She stood to her feet.

  “But always with the best of intentions. Thankfully, my work has helped train me to filter my thoughts and choose the words wisely.”

  “Ah, so it’s the vacation that has mushed your brain?” said Merissa.

  “Is it mush?” Chad laughed. “Good. Shows that Skips has not wasted his money in bringing his wet-blanket friend along.”

  “You’re not so bad once I chip off the rough edges,” said Skip. “Don’t scare off the lady.”

  “Well, have a nice day, fellas,” Merissa said. She nudged Amy. “I want to go ashore before the heat is unbearable.”

  With an open palm, Skip slapped Chad on the back. “Good plan. Why didn’t you think of that? I don’t want to melt in the scorching sun. But I hear there is an ice cream store that offers multitudes of flavors.” He glanced at the girls. “I’ll need it after he drags me through the museum.”

  The group rose and went to their separate rooms to prepare for the outing.

  “907 Whitehead Street,” Merissa mumbled, her eyes fastened to the tourist leaflet. She glanced up and stopped unexpectedly, Amy slamming into her back. “That’s it! Oh, Amy, wouldn’t Kyle have loved to visit the home of one of his favorite authors.”

  “Who knows? Maybe he’s swooping down from heaven at this very minute, ready to walk with you down the halls of history – just like he’d planned.”

  Merissa cast Amy a give-me-a-break- glare. “You just wished Kyle – or anyone for that manner – was here instead of you. You’d probably rather shop till you drop and eat a mountain of ice cream with Skip.”

  “You know me too well,” said Amy.

  “Kyle always claimed to learn the most from studying Hemmingway’s writings,” Merissa said. “If we knew the truth, he’s most likely sipping sodas and visiting with the man in some heavenly café.”

  “Yeah – well, that doesn’t help me out today, in the real world,” said Amy.

  “Poor you. Suck it up. We’ll have plenty of time later to hit the shops and the ice cream parlor.”

  “I’m holding you to it,” said Amy.

  The gorgeous home, now a tourist attraction, took Merissa’s breath away. Snuggled in the heart of Old Town it stood two stories high surrounded by thick hedges and varieties of palm trees. The covered porches reminded Merissa of the Victorian home she’d planned to share with Kyle. This manor boasted a lengthy sitting area on both levels, stretching across the full width of the house.

  “Isn’t it incredible how the overall grandness of the outside is merely a background setting for all the construction details that scream, notice me?”

  Merissa jumped at the male voice behind her and turned to see Chad. He barely acknowledged her, his attention riveted to the museum.

  “His home is much like his writing. The simple way he spun a yarn that painted a picture and drew you deeper into his story. It was almost magical.

  “Really? You two are pathetic,” said Skip.

  Amy moved closer and grabbed Skip’s hand. “How about me and you bow out of this tour and hit the other sights this town has to offer?”

  Skip’s smile was huge, and without a second glance, the two of them strolled off down the street.

  “I’m sorry, Merissa. They appear smitten with the magic from the turtle doves.”

  “Christmas includes a touch of magic. Even if it’s only July,” said Merissa.

  “Did you come on this cruise seeking magic, or maybe a miracle?” asked Chad.

  Merissa saw concern in his face, nothing ridiculing or judgemental. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

  “And you?” Merissa asked him.

  “I didn’t think so, but that play last night hit home. I’m gone with my job so much I barely get to church anymore. I miss it.”

  “Sunday is all that keeps me sane some weeks,” said Merissa.

  “Well, it’s Monday, and if you’re willing, I’d enjoy going on this tour with you. I think we’d have fun,” said Chad.

  His voice cracked, like words chewing through eggshells, and it hit her that this stranger knew her situation. Somehow Amy had spilled the news about Kyle, probably through Skip, and it had reached his ears. She hated that Chad knew and considered saying no – that she’d go inside by herself and to leave her alone.

  “I see that look. I’ve treaded in places I have no business going. I warned you of my defect. I’m sorry,” said Chad.

  Again, she could see nothing in his expression that should send her into
hiding – and she was so tired of feeling isolated.

  The next two hours they spent listening intently to their tour guide and pouring over the many details that caught their attention. Lush gardens in full bloom tickled her senses, and the forty cats that called this their home took turns sidling up against her leg whenever she stopped. On the balcony, she gazed far beyond the town to the turquoise waters that lapped at the seashore. She could imagine Kyle completing his unfinished book here, loving this solitude that enveloped your soul.

  “You’re crying?” Chad whispered.

  Merissa wiped at the tears that escaped. “I suppose I am.” When she glanced his way, she smiled. “Part of that miracle healing you alluded to earlier.”

  “If ever you want to unload. I’m told I have a good listening ear.”

  The force of a tidal wave shot the words from her mouth. “Why should I bear my heart when Amy has done it for me?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The reason I’m here, on this cruise,” Merissa explained.

  “I know nothing you’ve not told me. And I avoid gossip at all costs. I prefer hearing the tale first hand,” said Chad.

  Merissa chuckled as she mopped away the last streak of moisture from her face. “Says the man who doesn’t know how to mind his own business.”

  “Touché.”

  “I’m not sure why, but I believe you, Chad Livingston. But mine is a long, sad story. Sure you’re up to it?” asked Merissa.

  “If you lived it, surely I can listen to it,” said Chad.

  Merissa leaned against the rail and stared into the beauty of the Keys as she told her story – meeting Kyle, their dreams, their wedding plans, his work, and finally his death. She did not include the honeymoon gift she’d shredded and had somehow reappeared packaged from the North Pole. Merissa wondered if the half-cruise ship ornament tucked in the safe in her room had been a gift from Kyle. A gift he’d not had time to give her. She’d never know.

  When she finished, Chad spoke. “I can’t imagine your grief. To have your entire life altered in a moment.”

  “Thank you. Too many people think they can,” said Merissa.

  “Amy?”

  “She says what’s on her mind – all the time – but Amy’s been my lifeline. Dragged me out of the house on over one occasion.”

  “I promise not to invade where you don’t want me, but I would feel privileged to hang out with you – help reintroduce you to life in the fast lanes.”

  Merissa laughed. “Well, the old me resurfaced last night, and it was fun. Thank you, Chad.”

  “Take encouragement from the man who lived in this house. Four wives must have been at least three broken hearts to mend,” Chad said.

  Merissa grabbed hold of Chad’s hand. “Let’s get some of that ice cream Skip was bragging about.”

  “I thought you’d never ask. I’ve been drooling ever since I saw that young chap licking triple time to keep the drips from running up his arm.”

  Amy and Skip were already sitting at a table, finishing the last of their three scoops of ice cream packed on top of a waffle cone.

  Merissa groaned. “How can you eat so much, Amy? You’ll never fit into those new jeans you paid a small fortune for.”

  “Maybe I’ll join you on your morning runs – or not! I think I will just dance harder and longer.”

  “Hear, Hear!” agreed Skip. “I can help you there.”

  When Merissa and Chad finished their modest cones, the troop began to trek up and down the streets, visiting the array of interesting shops and picking up souvenirs to bring home. Chad and Merissa split from their dawdling companions, leaving them in some high-end clothing store with two baskets of garments to try on.

  “Interesting choice of friends you and I have?” Chad commented.

  “I’ve heard opposites attract.” Merissa smiled. “And Amy helps to keep my life unpredictable.”

  “Do you consider us opposites?” Chad asked.

  Merissa looked to see if he was kidding but confronted his earnest expression. “We’ve barely met.”

  “Yet you’ve bared your heart to me. That must count for something.”

  “You asked, and my life is not a secret, as much as I’d like it to be. You’d have found out, eventually.”

  Chad glanced away, but not before she saw the disappointment in his face. He didn’t like her answer. What did he expect?

  Merissa liked him enough to try again. “Total opposites between a man and a woman would definitely present challenges, but I think stretching helps us to grow and mature as individuals. You, sir, stretch me – in a good way – and that’s all I know about us right now.” She grasped his hand to draw his focus back. “No two people are alike in all things. God did not create carbon copies.”

  When he redirected his attention back to Merissa, she saw a grin spread over his face. “So, you’re saying you need some prickles but mostly roses in a relationship. Did I get that right?”

  “Eloquently put, sir.” Merissa glanced to the sea, and the ship drew her. “Have you had enough of this excursion? I think I’d like to sit in the pool for a while before dinner.”

  “That sounds wonderful. Let’s go.”

  Much later that evening – after food, theater, and music – which Chad had excused himself from; Merissa soon tired of watching couples on the dance floor. She wandered out on the deck, drinking in the cooler evening air, and watched the waves lap against the ship far below her. She shivered, her spaghetti strapped dress insufficient to stop the breeze from creating goosebumps on her arms. It was time to turn in.

  When Merissa reached her stateroom and stepped across the threshold, she heard something crinkle under her foot. She closed the door and bent down to pick up a thin envelope slipped under the door. Someone had scrawled, Merissa on the front with precise calligraphy. She sat on the end of the bed – beside the crafted turtle dove made with towels and left by the stewards – and ripped the seal. Unfolding the paper enclosed, she read.

  Dearest Merissa

  Thank you for a wonderful day. I’m enjoying your company probably more than you’d like. I sent a letter rather than embarrassing you with a face-to-face unveiling of my heart.

  An interesting fact about those turtle doves is that they mate for life. Can I be so selfish as to tell you I’m a tad grateful that you and Kyle never made it to the altar? For you, dear girl, are as precious as one of those dainty birds, and it pains me to see you hurting as a dove that’s lost her mate. Some even associate doves with rain in nature, and I’m confident that the many tears you’ve shed have made it to the healing floors of heaven.

  The dove in Christianity symbolizes innocence and gentleness, both of which I see in you, and two doves, express faithful, enduring love. Others think it hints at the Old and New Testament and I hope that brings comfort, as it is His Word that will give you the strength to face your future.

  And, believe me, it will be splendid! Some lucky man will never be disappointed to make his nest with you. God created you for a happy-ever-after.

  Have a good sleep and dream of those French hens that will invade the ship tomorrow.

  Respectfully

  Chad.

  A Day At Sea

  Merissa rose early. She dressed in shorts and a matching top made of a wicking fabric designed to draw the moisture away from the body for her morning workout. Today she’d start with a run around the track located on the top deck. Running got her heart pumping, and she’d be sure to catch the sun rising over the ocean somewhere along the route. Merissa escaped the room with only one sleepy rollover from Amy. In the elevator she grabbed the sweatband from her pocket and pulled it over her head, managing not to disturb the French hens that sat on perches along the walls of the small space. The crew exhibited superb attention to the finest details of the Christmas theme. Impressive indeed.

  On the fourth time around, she ground to a halt and jogged in place. The man who could write such poetic words designed to heal wa
s also a health fanatic. “Well, good morning, Mr. Livingston. Tell me the secret how you look cool and refreshed while running?”

  “First time around. I had trouble crawling out of bed but Skip’s snoring pushed my procrastination out the window and got me moving.”

  “Come on then. I’ve been talking to myself – to help the exercise element – and looking slightly crazy in the meantime.”

  “So, you want to talk about yesterday?”

  “You were great company, and I had fun. Thank you again for sticking with the sourpuss.” Merissa never mentioned the letter he’d slipped under the door and wondered if his question really fished for a response to that.

  “When we met on Sunday, I got the impression we were both here for the rest,” said Chad.

  Merissa laughed. “Yet, here we are, working up a sweat before breakfast.”

  “Did you notice the new hen decor? Wondering how many eggs got laid last night in the hundred perching nests I see scattered everywhere?” said Chad as he moved alongside her and picked up the pace.

  “Do French hens lay a better brand of an egg than fowl from other countries? That’s my question,” said Merissa.

  “We shall have to ask the chef,” said Chad.

  “Is that shortness of breath I hear – already?” asked Merissa.

  “My secret is out. I prefer working out on the equipment in the gym, and when I do run, it’s better defined as a quick walk,” Chad confessed.

  “Then why are you out here?”

  “You want the honest answer?” asked Chad.

  “Yes.” Merissa glanced sideways and saw the grin.

  “On the way to the gym, I saw you and thought I’d play the runner today. But it appears I got caught.”

  Merissa laughed. “Interested in the sweaty girl-type are you?” She slowed the pace. “Let’s fast-walk one more round and then head for your place of comfort.”

  “A good compromise. Thank you.”

  Forty minutes later, they hurried to their staterooms to shower and dress for breakfast and a lazy morning at the pool. That was Merissa’s agenda for the day at sea, and when she entered the room, she noticed Amy thought along those same lines. She wore her bathing suit and cover-up and was ready to head out the door.