Norah's Ark

by Judy Baer

  “When are you going to let me out of here?” Lou demanded. “You’re the only pretty scenery in the place and you’re taken, so I might as well go home.”

  I choked back a laugh. Apparently that was Auntie Lou’s idea of flirting. Maybe that’s why she never remarried.

  “Did you want to discuss this with me while your friends are here?” Dr. Andrews asked. “Or would you rather we do so in private?”

  “Nothing’s private from those two. Norah’s like my own daughter and policemen don’t talk anyway.” She peered at Nick. “Do they?”

  “Not when they’re not supposed to.”

  That seemed to satisfy Auntie Lou which in turn satisfied the doctor.

  “You’ve had a small stroke, Lou, a TIA. We’ll get your blood pressure down with medication. It was very high and probably the reason you had trouble. You will also have to look at areas in your life that are giving you stress and try to resolve them. I can send you home tomorrow if I have your promise that you’ll take the medications I give you and have your blood pressure checked frequently.”

  “That’s good news, Auntie Lou.”

  She harrumphed at me. “Tomorrow? Why not today?”

  “I need to make sure you’re regulated. Besides, this is your chance to put your feet up and rest. Enjoy it.”

  “Enjoy it? That’s like the executioner telling the condemned man to enjoy his last meal.” She crossed her arms over her chest and she reminded me of an irate capuchin monkey.

  “Think of me as your cruise captain, Lou, I’m just telling you we aren’t going to dock until tomorrow so you might as well find a nice book and sit on the deck for one more day.”

  Cruise captain? I nearly groaned out loud. I’d almost forgotten about Connor’s party tonight.

  I stewed for nearly a half hour about what to wear, spreading clothes on the bed to study them. Too bright. Not bright enough. Too casual. Too formal. Too…too. Finally Bentley came to my rescue. He’d been sitting in the door of my closet holding a pair of black velvet slippers as if he knew exactly what I should wear with them. I might as well ask, I thought to myself. He knows me better than anyone else.

  “You pick it out, Bent. What should I wear tonight?”

  He stood up, walked deliberately around the bed and sat down in front of a black velour pant suit. The jacket is quilted in a delicate Oriental design and the pants are trim and fit like a glove. It is one of the few things in my wardrobe of which Lilly approves.

  Why not? It would be cool on the water and a jacket would feel wonderful. Besides, it matches the shoes Bentley held in his mouth.

  “You’re right. It’s perfect for a party on a cruise boat. More points for you.”

  Bentley dropped the shoes in front of the outfit where it lay on the bed and looked up at me with hopeful, pleading eyes.

  “Yes, you can have a bone. Come on.”

  Bentley led the way into the kitchen. He has a funny little walk, a side-to-side waddle that shows that he’s well fed and reveals some Staffordshire bull terrier in his bloodline.

  I know I anthropomorphize animals, attributing them with human characteristics, but God created and gave us authority over them so whatever helps to make them more endearing to me can’t be all bad. Besides, I’m around Bentley and the other animals more than I’m around people.

  I have definitely got to get out more.

  Just for the fun of it, I unleashed my long curly hair and let it float mysteriously around my face. I even gave it a little pump of glitter hairspray—a gift from Lilly, of course. That, and some eyeliner and sparkle around my eyes made a picture that surprised even me.

  “Not bad for a lady who just came off the Ark,” I murmured to the reflection in the mirror. “And here I am, ready to get onto another boat.”

  My place is only a brief walk to the dock and the streets were deathly quiet. Shoreside is one of those little towns that roll up their streets at night. We have more than our fair share of events on the water—races, triathlons, art fairs—but the nights when nothing big is planned, it morphs into a sleepy little cove town.

  Tonight is the kind of night that Bentley loves to go for walks. Since everything alarms him—cars, motorcycles, people, noise, fire hydrants and the like, a quiet evening is perfect for him. I’m working on acclimating him to the real world a bit at a time. It’s funny really, for a dog who is often mistaken for tough, to be soft as a fresh marshmallow on a sunny day.

  I glanced at my watch and was surprised to be early for a change. I’m usually the last one to a party, hoping there is food left and that all the good gossip hasn’t already been rehashed. Fortunately I’m a terrible gossip. My mind is like a sieve where hearsay and rumor are concerned. I wasn’t too early however, because the crew members were waiting on the dock to greet guests.

  They were dressed in white and looked very official. “Welcome to the Lady of the Lake, Miss Kent. We hope you have a wonderful evening on board. Please step inside. There are refreshments waiting.”

  First I had to take a good look at the Lady.

  I stepped onto the main deck and was taken aback by how sleek and lovely she was. Rich dark cherry paneling on every surface, large windows overlooking the water, intimate tables set with white linen and fresh flowers, a granite-topped bar with small plates of escargot, shrimp and canapés. It didn’t get much better than this.

  Then I checked out the ladies’ restroom.

  If I had a powder room this lavish in my home, I’d sit in there just to enjoy the view. It was hard to believe I was actually on a boat. The sink rested in an antique cherrywood chest. There were mirrors and fresh flowers everywhere and something was pumping both classical music and a delicious floral scent into the room.

  I was making my way aft to the stairs to the sundeck when I felt a small lurch. I grabbed for the handrail and peered toward the dock to see what had happened.

  We were backing out of port! Why hadn’t we waited for the rest of the guests?

  It took a few minutes for the light to come on in my befuddled brain. Nothing had gone wrong. In fact, everything had gone exactly right. Me and my assumptions had walked into this with my eyes wide open.

  I stormed up the stairs to confirm my suspicions. There it was, proof that I am an all-time innocent idiot.

  On the observation deck a single table was set in linen and with roses. A wine cooler filled with ice sat on the table with the label of the bottle turned conspicuously outward, sparkling grape juice. Connor even anticipated my kind of drink.

  Instead of regular deck chairs there were two, believe it or not, wing chairs for opulent leisure as we sailed the lake. How could I be so obtuse? I’d assumed this was a large party and had never asked otherwise. Connor hadn’t said he was inviting others, though I’d assumed it to be so. If I’d thought for a moment that I was going to be alone with the man Lilly has convinced herself she’s in love with, I’d never have come. Now it was too late to abandon ship. The Lady was headed directly for the middle of the lake and, even as athletic as I am, I can’t swim that far.

  Besides, Connor was coming toward me in a suit and tie, looking like the world’s richest investment banker—and delighted to see me. Things were going to be sticky.

  “Norah! You look wonderful. Is that a bit of sparkle I see in your hair or is it fairy dust?”

  Had I walked right into this one, or what?

  “Connor, what a lovely…surprise.” I hoped the frog in my throat would jump out soon. “I didn’t realize this party was just for me. I’d expected…” I waved my hand in the general direction of shore—and of people.

  “I’ve wanted a full evening alone with you ever since we ate at Ziga’s. You’re very hard to pin down so I took matters into my own hands. How do you like the Lady?”

  “She’s beautiful. I had no idea—” clueless, that’s me “—that she was this lovely. And elegant. And glamorous.” There was no way the word romantic was going to squeeze its way through my lips.
r />   He took my hand in his. “So are you. Beautiful, elegant, glamorous…”

  I’ve never been so flattered to be compared to a boat. Especially when he could have used words like barge or tug.

  Deftly, I retrieved my hand. “Connor, I have something to confess.”

  Those personable smile lines appeared around his eyes. “A confession? This sounds serious.”

  More than you know.

  I thought of Lilly’s reaction if she found out about this charming little tête-à-tête. Since Connor had come to town, I’d learned just how insecure even a beautiful woman like my friend could be. One more reason she needs God. It’s very helpful to get your worth through Him, not yourself.

  “I thought you were having a larger party tonight. I assumed I’d be one of several on board. If I’d known…” I let my voice trail away. I was sounding like a real stuffed shirt and not the least bit grateful for what might be the most romantic dinner of my life.

  “You wouldn’t have come?” He didn’t look offended. In fact, he looked rather pleased. “I admire a woman who has principles and stands by them. You’re in no danger of a compromising situation here with me. And there is a crew of three on board.”

  Frankly, it wasn’t my honor or my reputation I was worried about. I can take care of myself. It was Lilly’s reaction. How could I steer Connor’s interest away from me and toward Lilly without hurting either his or my best friend’s feelings?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I mulled over my conundrum all through the dinner that Ziga’s chef had perfected before we left dock.

  Some of the homes on Lake Zachary are so large and ostentatious that I would have been content to live in their accompanying boathouses. Although my father was successful, our lives were simple. There was always more than enough of what I cared about—love and pets. Maybe it’s a good thing I can’t afford to build one of the beautiful homes on the lake. It would probably look suspiciously like a barn. Or, if I actually knew what a cubit was, an ark.

  Connor is a perfect gentleman. Not an ounce of impropriety in his bones. That, however, didn’t delude me into thinking that his interest in me was purely platonic. I’ve been around enough to recognize the look in his eye. If only his gaze were directed toward Lilly instead of me.

  Because fools go where angels don’t dare to tread, I took a stab at diverting Connor from his original goal—me.

  “Connor, this is wonderful. You should invite Lilly Culpepper to do this.”

  Subtle as a wrecking ball, that’s me.

  He looked at me with something akin to sympathy. “But it’s not Lilly I’m interested in, Norah. It’s you.”

  “But Lilly…”

  “She’s a lovely person. There’s no doubt about that. But I can’t force myself to be attracted to someone. That just happens.” His expression warmed. “Like the first time I saw you.”

  I recalled that day trying to remember what had made me such a devastating and desirable woman. It might be useful to recreate that bit of magic again sometime but unfortunately nothing came to mind. I’m not a conscious femme fatale, either.

  “You are all eyes and smiles and curly black hair, as exotic as some of the creatures in your shop.”

  Imagine that. I had no idea that I—in walking shorts and Norah’s Ark sweatshirts, the kind with a big, rollicking boat filled with pairs of grinning critters—could be so alluring. Apparently the cliché is true. Love is blind. And deaf. And bewildering. Look what it had done to Connor’s brilliant mind. It had made pudding of a perfectly good brain. Such a waste.

  “That is flattering, but I’m not exactly looking for…”

  “And Lilly is?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Do you believe you can love on command? Or even be attracted to someone?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Then why do you assume it could happen for Lilly and me?” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. Besides…”

  I hadn’t realized before that he had dimples—masculine slashes of gorgeous dimples. I love dimples.

  “I like a challenge, Norah, and you are a definite challenge.”

  So even my hesitation was a come-on for him. Was there any way I could worm myself out of this situation without hurting Lilly? I like Connor—a lot. In another day and time maybe we…but knowing how Lilly felt about him made me very cautious. Besides, there’s Joe.

  A pang knifed through me as I realized that Joe had been almost an afterthought. He was anything but and deserved more. Then my head started to ache. Maybe I should just give up waiting for bells. Not every woman hears bells when they meet the men they are going to marry and they still have a perfectly nice life.

  But Christ came that we might have life and have it abundantly. I don’t think He planned for us to skimp in the love department, either.

  With that in mind, I decided to enjoy the ride. Maybe I’ll just give up on the idea of hearing bells altogether.

  By unspoken agreement, we didn’t talk of Lilly or of love again. As we relaxed on the top deck the breeze gently brushed my hair away from my face and cooled my skin. It couldn’t have been more perfect.

  “There’s my house.” I pointed to a small dot of light on the shore. “I wonder what Bentley is doing right now.”

  Connor looked at me strangely, unaccustomed to women who speculate about their dog’s welfare while on romantic shipboard dates. Maybe there just aren’t that many of us. Still, I think of Bentley a lot. He depends on me for life. And I depend on him for fashion advice.

  It seemed perfectly natural for Connor to move his chair closer to mine and I barely realized that he’d taken my hand as we sailed slowly across the lake. I felt a little like Auntie Lou’s cat. Had I been Silas I would have started to purr.

  “Connor…”

  “Hmm?”

  “This is lovely.”

  “It could be like this all the time, you know. Us, sailing together. Here, Hawaii, anywhere there’s water and good weather.”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  “Just say the word.”

  Say the word? That shut me up. No way am I going to say a single word that might make Connor think I’d go sailing off into the sunset with him.

  After the Lady docked, Connor walked me home. The night was so hushed and perfect that it was easy to imagine that we were alone on the planet. At my door, he took my face in his hands and looked somberly into my eyes. “Thank you, Norah, for a lovely night. Next weekend?”

  He took my astounded silence as a positive sign, pressed a gentle kiss on my forehead and glided like an apparition into the night.

  I walked woodenly through my front door, past Bentley, who was at the door with my bedroom slippers, hardly aware of my surroundings until a harsh voice accosted me.

  “Feed me. I’m starving.”

  “You are not. I fed you before I left.”

  “I love you.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

  “Naughty girl,” Asia Mynah scolded.

  Without a second thought I dropped the cover over his cage. The last thing I needed tonight was a lecture from a bird.

  I woke up Saturday morning feeling as guilty. I also felt as though my pillow and I had engaged in a fistfight and the pillow had won. Fortunately I’d arranged for Annie to watch the shop today. I was in no shape to deal with customers—two or four-footed or even finned.

  Lord, what am I going to do? I’m in agony here. I had a dream date last night, yet I feel as though I betrayed my best friend. Lilly’s in love and I’m the one who gets the guy. Where’s the justice in that? I don’t want to hurt anyone but my choice seems to be deciding who to hurt first!

  I reached for my Bible, eager to find some word of wisdom to guide me. I can read the same verse in scripture over and over again and each time, depending on where I’m at in my life, it speaks to me in a different way. Today I Peter 3:8 jumped at me from the page: “…have unity of spirit, sympathy, love fo
r one another and a humble mind.”

  I may be reading between the lines, but this feels like a warning. If I’m being directed to seek unity of spirit, maybe that means there isn’t going to be any unity for a while—not between Lilly, Connor and me, at least.

  I splashed water on my face, pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and staggered to the Java Jockey for a triple espresso latte with sugared hazelnut flavoring and whole milk to desperately throw all the chemicals at my disposal into my system at once.

  I sat on the terrace allowing the heat of the sun to seep through my shirt and warm me. Gradually the fuzzy feeling in my head and chest subsided. Unity, sympathy, love and humility, I kept repeating to myself. My watchwords for the day.

  I might have dozed off if I hadn’t felt warm, moist breathing down my back. Then the tinkle of Auntie Lou’s sleigh bell on Sarge’s halter clued me in as to who and what was behind me.

  I turned slowly and came nose to muzzle with Sarge. He wobbled his lips in that way horses have, then yawned in my face. Evidently he’d not slept well last night, either.

  “Good morning.” Nick sounded amused at Sarge’s and my silent dialogue.

  If Sarge and I were tired, Nick was nauseatingly fresh and crisp-looking in his uniform. “You’re out early,” I muttered, sounding cross.

  “There’s a parade later this morning. Sarge and I are on duty in half an hour.” He swung off the horse in a single graceful movement and I felt a twinge of jealousy. When I’d tried to dismount Cocoa, I’d tumbled clumsily into Nick’s arms. If that horse boycotts me next time I try to ride her, I won’t blame her a bit.

  I’ve never been particularly attracted to men in uniform, but Nick looked appealing today. He was crisply pressed and spit-polished to a sheen. I, meanwhile, was masquerading as an unmade bed.

  “A little overtired today?”

  Why is it that men always notice me when my hair is electrified, my nose has a bright red blemish on the tip or I’ve put on my shoes in the dark of my closet and one is brown and the other black? I can work for hours to be a knockout and no one notices. Then I accidentally forget one little tiny thing—like untucking the hem of my skirt from my waistband or putting my sweater on backward and I get far more attention than I need.