by Debby Mayne
Just when I started to turn around the receptionist cleared her throat. “Perhaps I might know this woman of which you speak.”
“Ah ha. I thought so.” Sheila gave her a pensive look. “Spill the beans, if you please. We don’t have all day.”
“And vhat do I get in return?”
Sheila paused and I could practically hear the wheels clacking in her head. “You get me, not telling your boss that you almost accepted a bribe.”
“Sheila!” I glared at her once again.
“I vill call my manager at once.” The woman’s gaze narrowed. “Perhaps she will help you.”
Turned out the manager, a large Swedish woman, was more open to conversation once she heard ship security was involved. She flipped through the schedule and then shook her head. “I don’t see anyone named Meredith on today’s schedule.”
“What about yesterday?” Sheila asked.
“She was with us at the beach yesterday, Sheila,” I said. “Not here.”
“I don’t see her on yesterday’s schedule, anyway,” the manager said. “Let me check Monday.” A couple of minutes later we had our answer. “Yes, here she is. We saw her at one o’clock on Monday afternoon. I remember her now. She’s the one who was getting married the following night in the chapel.”
“Only, she didn’t,” I said. “She hasn’t been seen since Tuesday afternoon in Cozumel.”
The receptionist clucked her tongue. “Mexico eez dangerous.”
“Actually, there’s a record of her coming back on-board the ship,” Sheila explained. So maybe zee ship eez dangerous.”
I would’ve jabbed my friend in the ribs as a punishment for her rudeness but the pain to my burnt elbow wouldn’t have been too much to handle.
The manager gave Sheila a confused look. “I do remember now. The camera crew stopped by on Monday to film their advertisement for the spa. They must’ve come while Meredith was here.”
“I guess that makes sense.” It disappointed me, of course, but answered the “When did she go to the spa?” question.
I thanked the manager for her time and she disappeared down the hallway.
Sheila turned back toward the elevator. “Let’s get out of here, Annie. I’m in a lot of pain.”
“Vee have a mud bath to help zee sunburn,” the receptionist said. “Half price for senior citizens.”
Sheila grunted and took off for the elevators. I turned back and shrugged. “Not today, thanks.”
The woman mumbled something under her breath. Still, what was up with the senior citizens comment? Did everyone on-board Navigator of the Seas think we were elderly?
I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirrored doors at the elevator. With the sunburn, every wrinkle in my elderly face seemed exaggerated. No wonder.
Well, I’d prove them wrong. I’d prove them all wrong. This old lady would be back up and running in no time. And I’d find that bride, too, if it was the last thing I did.
Chapter Eight
Moonlight on Water
At sea, I learned how little a person needs, not how much.
—Robin Lee Graham
W hen our guys returned from the pirate ship adventure we dressed for dinner and headed down to the dining room. No one in the bridal party showed up, which threw me a little. Maybe they had decided to take all of their meals in the Windjammer. Maybe—just maybe—one or more of them was deliberately avoiding us.
“Annie, are you with us?” Warren spoke above the noise in the dining room.
“Hmm? What?”
“I was telling you about the pirate ship excursion. You would’ve loved it, Annie. Right up your alley.”
“Yeah, they made some of the people walk the plank and everything.” Orin laughed. “And they even tied this one guy up to the mast pole and poured a bucket of ice on him.”
“Then they made the kids swab the decks.” Warren couldn’t stop laughing. “Tell her about that one kid, Orin.”
“The one with the attitude?” Orin chuckled. “They ended up dressing him in a pirate costume and commissioning him to work on-board the Esmeralda. That’s the name of the pirate ship, by the way.”
“So, they didn’t deputize either of you?” Sheila asked. “Cause if either one of you have converted to the pirate’s way of life, you’d better let us know.”
“Nah. My stomach couldn’t take life on the sea.” Warren reached for the bread basket and a pat of butter. “The Esmeralda was rockier than the Navigator, even at its worst. And that’s saying a lot.”
“That is saying a lot,” I agreed. “Last night was awful.”
“Well, I’m glad you made it home safely.” Sheila took a sip of her tea. “We had a few adventures today, too, but nothing like that.”
Warren looked my way and I just shrugged. “Sheila bribed a woman in the spa.”
“You did?” Orin gave her an admiring look. “That’s my girl. Did you get a free massage out of the deal?”
“Nah. I’m too burnt for a massage.” She set her tea glass down. “Maybe when I’m feeling better.”
“Well, speaking of feeling better. . .” My husband gave me a compassionate look. “If you still aren’t feeling well tomorrow, we can just skip the excursion in Jamaica.”
“No!” Sheila and I spoke the word simultaneously.
“I’ve been dying to go to Dunn’s River Falls,” I said. “Ever since I looked it up online. It’s beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. And I want to see it in person. This might be the only time in my life I get to do so, you know?”
“Okay, if you’re sure. But I’m going to put my foot down about you climbing the falls. You’re in no shape to do that.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“You know what I mean, Annie.”
“Okay, okay. No climbing for me. I’ll just look as others climb.”
“Me too,” Sheila chimed in.
“Me too,” Orin added. “Don’t think I’m up for it.”
No doubt. The poor guy was barely past his chemo, after all. He’d done well to do the pirate ship excursion today.
“What about you, Warren?” I asked. “Are you wanting to climb the falls or just go as a sightseer?”
He shrugged. “I guess I’ll make up my mind tomorrow.”
We spent the rest of the dinner hour engaged in conversation about our day. Warren didn’t seem terribly pleased that I’d gotten involved in the missing bride story, but didn’t say anything to put a stop to my ponderings. He knew me well, that Warren.
“Annie, I know your heart,” he said as we wrapped up our dessert. “You want the best for everyone. God put that inside of you, so who am I to argue with it?”
“I just want to see her returned. . .and happy.” A shrug followed as I thought about the blissful look on Meredith’s face just a few days ago. “I’d want that for my own girls. You know?”
“I know.” He shrugged. “So, what’s next?”
“I have to figure out if the mother of the bride might be up to tricks.”
“Annie, that’s just silly. A mother doesn’t kidnap her own daughter.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. Did you see that one Dateline episode? The one about the girl in Oregon? Her parents kept her locked up from the time she was a little girl.”
“I saw that episode.” Sheila took another nibble of her chocolate pie.
“They were psychopaths.” Warren quirked a brow.
“Exactly! So, one never knows. Psychopaths could be walking among us.”
I didn’t realize the waiter was standing behind me until he cleared his throat. “I’ve been accused of many things in my life, but I’ve never been called a psychopath before.”
I turned to face him and smiled. “Oh, you’re no psychopath. You’ve been the best waiter ever. You’re like one of the family now.”
This led to a lengthy discussion about his family in Thailand.
After we finished eating, Sheila and I headed off to the ladies room to freshen up for the big show in
the theater. I’d been waiting for the 50s show all week, so tonight would prove to be fun. I hoped. If I could stop thinking about the conversation I’d had with Mrs. Williams earlier today. And the tears coming from Natalie as she talked to Jake on the upper deck. Sheila and I stared at our burnt faces in the mirror for a couple of minutes, talked about how awful we looked, then, convinced there was nothing we could do about it, decided to touch up our lipstick. Afterwards we left the teensy-tiny bathroom to see if our husbands were ready for a walk down the Promenade deck.
We found them seated on a bench, looking pretty wiped out.
Sheila laughed when she saw them. “Too much food, fellas?”
Warren nodded, but I could see the concern in his eyes as he silently gestured to Orin, who didn’t look well.
“Maybe we should skip the show?” Warren suggested. “It’s been a long day.”
“No way.” Orin rose—slowly—and plastered on what looked to be a strained smile. “My girl’s been looking forward to 50s night all week. So have I.” He started to loop his arm through Sheila’s, but then looked at her burnt skin. “Oops. Sorry.”
We walked from one end of the Promenade deck to the other. When we reached the theater, we realized we were early. Really, really early. The show wasn’t scheduled to start until eight o’clock. It was just now six forty-five.
“I say we walk off some of this food.” Orin rubbed his belly. “I think I’ve gained ten pounds over the past three or four days.”
“Are you sure you’re up for a walk, Orin?” I could read the concern in Sheila’s eyes. “You don’t want to sit in the café and have some decaf coffee or something?”
“I’m up for it. I’ve been wanting to see the library. And the chapel. We never made it up there, since the wedding was, well. . .”
“Right. Well, let’s go for a walk, then.” I took my husband’s extended hand—grateful it didn’t hurt—and we took off on an adventure around the ship. As always, Sheila got us turned around. Every time we came to a fork in the road, she advised us to go the wrong way.
“You’ve got your aft and your forward mixed up,” Warren explained.
“Nothing new there.” Sheila laughed.
Before long we found the library, filled with all sort of people playing cards and board games.
“Now there’s a good idea.” Sheila pointed at a wall filled with books and games. “On Friday and Saturday when we have nothing else to do, we can come up here and play games. Or cards.”
Sounded like fun. Well, until I remembered what a serious game-player Orin was. He didn’t like to lose. Hmm.
After visiting the library we finally located the skylight chapel—up, up, up above most everything else on the ship. The room was small, but pretty. I sat on one of the benches and Warren took a seat next to me. Orin plopped down on my husband’s right, but Sheila—sweet Sheila—paced around and commented on everything—the stained glass, the various architectural features. Everything.
“I think this wood is fake.” She pointed to an altar. “Kind of tacky, don’t you think?”
So much for a peaceful, spiritual moment.
We were interrupted by something else, too. From a little side room just off the chapel—a prayer room of some sort—I heard someone weeping. The others heard it, too. I couldn’t help myself. I had to see if that someone—whoever he or she was—needed our help. I rose and tiptoed to the entrance of the dark room and peeked inside.
I saw a woman—well, a woman’s back, anyway. I couldn’t really tell much about her, except that she appeared to be weeping. Her brown hair put me in mind of someone right away, but I wasn’t sure who.
I took Sheila’s hand and tugged her away from the entrance, then whispered, “Do you have your camera?”
“My camera? Sure.” She reached into her tiny purse and came out with her smart phone. “Why?”
“You can zoom in, right?”
“Sure.”
“Just act like you’re taking pictures of the chapel, but zoom in on the woman to see if she’s familiar.”
“Take her picture?” Sheila’s hoarse whisper was a bit too loud.
I shook my head. “No.”
Our husbands took off for the outer hall. Cowards. Sheila and I made our way—on tiptoes—back to the prayer room entrance, where we heard the weeping continue.
Sheila zoomed in on the woman until we saw something startling.
The earrings.
The earrings.
I did my best not to gasp aloud. I grabbed Sheila’s hand and pulled her out of the chapel into the hall with the guys.
“Was that who I think it was?” My best friend’s eyes widened. “I’d recognize those earrings anywhere.”
“Who?” Warren looked confused.
“What earrings?” Orin echoed.
The bride was wearing a certain pair of earrings that first night at dinner. I remember commenting on them,” Sheila whispered.
Warren’s eyes widened. “What do we do now?”
“We, um. . .” I looked around and noticed the ladies room across from the chapel. “We wait in here until she comes out.”
“All of us?” Orin looked terrified by this prospect.
“Sure. We’re the only ones on this floor,” Sheila said. “No one is going to see you.”
Warren shook his head. “But. . .”
He didn’t have time to finish. We heard the woman walking toward us and we flew into action. Warren opened the bathroom door and we all rushed inside. When we realized the woman was coming into the ladies room, Warren and Orin headed into one stall, and Sheila and I headed into another. That left only one empty stall.
We heard the click, click, click of the woman’s heels as they made their way across the marble floor. She entered the empty stall, and the sound of her sniffles continued. After a moment she grew silent. I tried to figure out what to do, but couldn’t think clearly. Then again, that might have something to do with the fact that Sheila had climbed up onto the toilet.
From the next stall the woman’s voice sounded. “Do you. . .do you have any toilet paper over there, by any chance?”
I collected a wad of paper and shoved it under the partition that separated us.
“Thank you.”
I strained to make out the voice. It didn’t really sound like the bride. But. . .those earrings. Sheila swore they were the same.
At this point I decided to do the unthinkable. I had to exit my stall, as if nothing unusual was going on, walk to the sink and wash my hands. That was the only way I’d ever see this woman face to face. And I had to do all of this without Sheila being seen. Oh, and without the guys being discovered in the third stall.
I pulled open my door and stepped out just as I heard the flush coming from the woman’s stall next to me. I closed the door behind me and prayed Sheila would stay put up on the toilet. When I reached the sink, I heard the woman’s stall door open and I glanced into the mirror to catch a glimpse of the reflection.
“Mrs. Peterson?”
I turned to face Natalie. Not the bride-to-be. “Well, hello, honey. Fancy meeting you here.”
“I was just. . .” She paused and tears welled in her eyes. “I was just in the chapel. I have so much on my mind. I just needed to be away from everyone.”
“I understand, trust me.” I understood part of it, anyway.
I turned my focus to the mirror once again and reached for my purse to pull out my lipstick tube. As Natalie washed her hands, I followed her reflection in the mirror. The swollen eyes. The tear-stained cheeks. This was a woman in distress. But I couldn’t get past the sensation that she had more on her mind than just a missing friend.
As she reached for a paper towel, I garnered the courage to ask a question. “Beautiful earrings, Natalie. I love them.”
“Thank you.” She fingered them. “Meredith gave them to me. We have a matching set. We were supposed to wear them at the. . .” She began to cry in earnest now. “At. . .the. . .wedding.�
�� A sob followed. Then she finally caught her breath and added, “Which. Didn’t. Happen!” More tears came on the tail end of this.
Hmm. Maybe I’d better lay my suspicions aside and just comfort this young woman.
“I have an idea, Natalie. It’s just you and me here.” Sort of. “Let’s go back in the chapel for a minute and pray for Meredith. . .together. The Bible says there’s power when people pray together. What do you think?”
She nodded and, for the first time, offered a faint smile. “I have so much to pray about Mrs. Peterson. You have no idea.”
“Well, we’ll start with Meredith and go from there, okay?”
She nodded and then walked toward the door. As we stepped out into the hall I prayed Sheila and the guys would take the hint and scurry on down the hallway to the stairs to wait on me. I went into the chapel to discover a very large, loud family had entered to take pictures. Natalie and I did our best to pray together, but the noise made it difficult, so we barely got a few words out about Meredith before an elderly woman asked us to snap some photos. I did so, and then left Natalie alone in the room, at her request. I guess she needed more time.
I tore down the hallway and found my husband and friends in the stairwell.
“It was Natalie,” I said.
“Figured that out for myself, Annie.” Sheila rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to be a super-sleuth to stand on a toilet and listen to a conversation.”
“I learned a lot, myself.” Orin’s eyes widened. “I learned that the ladies rooms are a lot nicer than the men’s rooms.”
The chuckle that followed eased the tension. We headed to the elevators and went down to the Promenade deck, then made our way to the theater. Unfortunately, so much time had passed we couldn’t find good seats. We had to watch the 50s review from the far left side. Still, I was close enough to see Kenzie dressed in her poodle skirt. And when she sang “A Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On” we didn’t even have to use our imaginations. The ship was, once again, rocking and rolling as we pulled away from the Bahamas and out to sea.
Hopefully more clues would come tomorrow in Jamaica. For now, I settled back against my seat and hummed along, my toes tapping all the while.
