by Clare Revell
“That bad, huh?”
Connie giggled. “I’ve seen worse. How many attempts?”
“Too many to count,” he muttered. “I don’t own a clip-on tie. Something I aim to rectify as soon as possible.”
Johnny grinned. “It’ll do. Come and sit. And I’ll introduce you to the others.”
Oliver pulled out a chair for Connie. “My lady.”
“Thank you, kind sir.” She eased into the chair.
He sat beside her and leaned in. “I’ll cut your food for you if you want.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You want to eat it as well?”
He snorted. “I asked for that one. But sure, if you want me to.” He gazed at her. The easy banter and effortless conversation from their letters and phone calls had crossed seamlessly into face-to-face chatting. His heart sang and he wasn’t sure he could eat a thing, never mind a three-course meal.
Once dinner was over, Oliver took Connie’s arm like it was the most natural thing in the world and led her onto the dance floor. “You’ve seriously never danced?”
She shook her head. “No. Ezra would never do it.”
“Not even a waltz around the kitchen?” Amazement filled him. “Even after Patricia was in the chair, I’d dance with her, both in the chair and in my arms.”
What could only be envy flickered in her eyes, then she shook her head. “Ezra constantly told me, ‘Constance, really. Good little Baptist girls do not dance. And they most certainly do not sing or enjoy themselves in any way.’ He said it so many times I began to believe it.” She dropped her gaze to the floor. “That went for just about everything else as well. Holding hands in general and so on.”
He lifted her face to his. “Yes, Christians do dance and sing and everything else. David often danced before the Lord. And show me a commandment that says you can’t enjoy the life He has given you.” He kissed her forehead. “And dancing is easy.”
“Is it?”
He nodded. “Just lean into me and move slowly with me in time to the music.”
“And if I stomp on your foot?”
“I have another one for you to stand on. But this isn’t the jive or anything too fast.” He gently pulled her into his arms. “Slide your arm around my waist.”
Connie did so, leaning against him.
The breath caught in Oliver’s throat as her soft frame melded against his firmer one. Not as firm as it once was, middle age hadn’t been kind, and old age… He broke off the thought a conversation with his daughter running through his mind. They’d celebrated his birthday a week early as he’d left the States on the actual day.
“Sixty-two is the new forty-two,” Abi had said. “With people living longer, Dad, you’re not old. You’re middle-aged.” She shot him a wicked grin. “Besides, at one point, people died at thirty and no one lived past forty, so you’re positively ancient.” Dancing out of his reach she’d laughed. “Besides, compared to Melchizedek, you’re a toddler. God’s given you a second chance here. If Connie really does make you happy, the same way Mom did, grab that chance with both hands.”
“What are you thinking?” Connie asked. “You’re miles away.”
He smiled. “Just remembering Abi telling me that sixty-two is the new forty-two and therefore I’m not old.”
She grinned. “I always thought you were only as old as the person in your arms.”
He snorted, unable to resist. “Then I’d better trade you in for a teenager.”
Connie frowned. “That’s not friendly.”
He winked. “Teasing.” He pulled her closer as they danced slowly. Despite her worries, she hadn’t trodden on him yet. “I should have done this years ago.”
“We were both married.”
“I should have come and visited,” he insisted.
“I wanted to, but Ezra wouldn’t. He never said he minded me writing, but I think in a way he was jealous. See, I could tell you things I could never tell him. He was hardly home and when he was we were like strangers. You were the one constant friend I had.” She gazed up at him, eyes glistening. “I’d have given up years ago if not for you.”
Oliver caught the tear with his fingertip before it fell. He tucked her hair behind her ears. “Me too. You’re looking tired.”
“I am,” she whispered. “But I don’t want tonight to end.”
“Oh, honey. We have tomorrow and plenty of days to come. Let’s get you to your cabin so you can sleep.”
“Only if you’re sure it’s not out of your way.” A playful glint shone in her tired eyes.
He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist. “It’s a whole five yards. I think I’ll manage.”
Chapter Sixteen
Thursday 26th July 2018.
Her arm more painful than she’d wanted to admit, Connie was secretly pleased when Oliver suggested, over breakfast, that they skip the trip to Cherbourg and, instead, spend the day on board the Queen Mary 2 exploring.
Their first port of call, pun quite deliberate she decided, was to see the ship’s doctor. Oliver insisted on taking her. Was he as determined to make every moment count, the same way she was?
Dr Roger was just as chirpy as he had been the previous day. Seems he was pleased to get something other than seasickness to deal with. It turned out she’d misheard his name. It was Douglas or Dougie not Doggie or Jolly and therefore not as funny as she’d imagined. She was just grateful she’d kept that mistake to herself.
Oliver sat the other side of the curtain as the doctor examined her, his presence comforting. Ezra had never accompanied her on any hospital visits. Not even when she was pregnant. And even when she was in hospital Ezra had only visited when he had to do so. Out of obligation, not affection or concern.
Connie dressed slowly, realising she shouldn’t have been so stubborn and wasted so many years of her life in a loveless marriage. She should have just let Ezra go when he’d first asked for a divorce. They’d married because they had to, not because he loved her. Those few hours with Oliver had shown her that. The looks, simple hand holding, the way he spoke to her, all showed his love and care.
Stepping around the curtain, she then slid into the seat next to Oliver.
Dr Roger smiled. “You’re doing fine. Keep the sling on for a couple more days. Come and see me on Saturday, and we should be able to lose it completely. Any more trouble before then, come and find me.”
Fifteen minutes later, most of the passengers had disembarked. Connie and Oliver ambled slowly around the cruise liner which Connie was amazed to discover was two hundred feet longer than the Titanic. The ship even had more decks and was significantly heavier.
It was like a city afloat. They found swimming pools, a gym, casino, nightclub, and shops. Not to mention bars and restaurants and intimate little cafés.
“Why would anyone want to get off, when there is so much to do on board?” she asked.
“Well, they have seven days at sea once we hit the Atlantic,” Oliver said. “I guess they figure they can do on board stuff then. Where next?”
“Shops,” she said. “We need to find you a tie.”
He nodded. “And you a dress, or another shawl or two.”
By the time they’d done that it was lunch time. They ate in one of the café’s, with a view of Cherbourg harbour outside the windows. Afterwards they carried on exploring.
Oliver stopped outside the cinema. “They’re showing Gone With The Wind in ten minutes.”
“Never seen it.”
He turned those deep blue eyes on her and once again she found herself drowning. Although being on a ship, that probably wasn’t the best analogy she could come up with. She hoped this ship wasn’t going to meet the same fate as Titanic. But then Titanic hadn’t even made one crossing. The QM2 had made several hundred.
“Are you serious?” Oliver asked. “You’ve never seen it?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Haven’t seen It’s A Wonderful Life either. Although technically, I’ve seen the first twenty minut
es, then gave up.” She studied the list of films showing. “Now that’s a good one.” She pointed.
“Chariots of Fire,” Oliver read. “Not seen it.”
She turned to him. “Tell you what. I’ll watch Gone With The Wind with you, if you’ll see the other one with me.”
He grinned. “It’s a date. Two dates.”
His hand slid into hers as if it belonged there. Only her heart pounded, her breath fluttered in her throat and every nerve in her skin tingled as if a thousand volts of electricity sparked through her.
She thought she was too old for feelings like this. But evidently not.
They bought a huge carton of sweet popcorn, then found two seats together in the back row, and settled into them.
Connie couldn’t resist nudging him.
“What?” he asked. He’d sat next to her injured side, presumably so no one would bump into her accidently and cause more pain.
Although she hardly noticed the sling or the ache in her shoulder anymore, so intoxicating was his presence. She angled her head. “You do know the back row in the movies is where people who aren’t watching the film sit.”
“Darn. And I was hoping to do the arm thing sneakily.”
She knew what he meant, but asked anyway. “The arm thing?”
“You know. The yawn, stretch, end up putting my arm around your shoulders thing.” He demonstrated.
She giggled. “That’s fine with me.” She leaned against him, the popcorn cosily between them as the film began.
His fingers moved against her arm as they watched the flickering images on the screen. This was so different to anything she’d ever experienced before. Even though his attention was elsewhere, he was letting her know he was there and thinking of her.
As the end titles ran, Oliver turned to her. “What do you think?”
She pursed her lips. “Honestly? The woman is an idiot. He was there all along and she just… Oh, it simply serves her right.”
Oliver chuckled. “Patricia always said the same thing.”
Actually, Connie had never wanted to slap a film character more, but wasn’t about to admit that to anyone.
Oliver helped her to her feet. “So you think we should take the chances we’re given and not run after mist on the wind?”
“That’s good. I like that. Put it in a sermon.” She grinned. “But yes, I do. If someone keeps crossing your path, I believe God put them there for a purpose.”
“Are you including me in that?” he asked quietly.
Connie nodded. “Yes. Yes I am.”
Oliver took her hand and led her up on deck. The ship was leaving port. The wind blew his hair and he ran a hand over it. At this rate he’d have to invest in hair spray just to make it stay put. He drew Connie to the railing.
Behind them the sun began to set, shooting amazing golden rays heavenward.
Oliver gazed at her, his heart full to overflowing. “After Patricia died,” he began, “I didn’t think I’d ever love like that again. For a while, after she was gone, I just wanted to be with her so much it hurt more than I thought I could cope with. You were my rock during those dark times. Your letters gave me a glimmer of light in a very dark valley. God was there as well, of course.”
Connie squeezed his hand. “He’s the Rock rather than a rock. But likewise. My affection for you has grown over the years, changed and deepened. Now standing here…” She broke off. Her tongue moistened her lips. “I feel like a teenager again. Which is crazy. We’ve talked on the phone about how we felt, but standing here with you…what did I ever do to deserve this? To get a second chance at finding someone who really loves me. I see you, and my heart pounds, my stomach does that head-over-heels fluttering thing. You take my hand and I melt.”
Oliver’s gaze searched hers as he tucked the stray strand of hair back behind her ears. His fingertips grazed her skin sending shockwaves cascading through him.
She shivered.
He closed the gap between them. He dipped his head and as his lips touched hers, the sunset hit the water and a blast of fiery light encompassed them. He kissed her gently, then deeper, his heart exploding with joy as she returned the kiss.
When he pulled back, breathless, he held her gaze. Was she just as breathless? He ran his fingers over the back of her hand. “May I walk you to your cabin? We ought to change for dinner. Not that I’m hungry.”
She smiled. “Nor am I. I could live on love forever, but we probably should eat.”
They turned to find a young couple passing them. Already dressed for dinner, the young woman smiled. “I hope our love lasts like yours,” she said. “How long?”
Oliver couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment.
“Forty-eight years,” Connie said. “It’s grown deeper as the years went by.”
“I hope our marriage lasts as long.” And with that the couple headed across the deck.
Oliver stood there. “I…”
“Don’t you dare apologise for kissing me, mister,” Connie said. “If they want to jump to conclusions before I’ve finished explaining, so be it. We’re doing nothing wrong. We have separate staterooms.”
Oliver grinned. “We can catch them up and explain if you want.”
“I would, but you said something about dinner and, despite all that popcorn we ate, I should probably eat something savoury or I’ll be up all night on a sugar high.” She took his hand firmly. “Are you going to wear your new tie?”
He snorted. “The other one is going in the bin. Which colour shawl are you wearing tonight?”
She pursed her lips, making him want to kiss her again. “The red one you chose I think. And then after dinner, can I have that moonlight walk you promised me last night?”
He kissed her softly. “Yes, you can. So long as I can come too.”
The moonlight cast silver streaks across the water. Connie sat on the edge of the pool, waving her bare feet back and forth in the warm water. It was so peaceful. Unlike when they’d passed the pool earlier in the day and it had been full of children playing and adults enjoying the warm sunshine. She’d changed out of her dress once dinner was over, wanting to keep it as clean as possible for the week. She’d put on a pair of beige capris and a pale green shirt.
Oliver, still in his tux, sat beside her and held out a tall glass. “Think I found a drink they’d never heard of,” he said. “But one grapefruit and bitter lemon on ice for you and plain orange for me.”
“Thank you.” She grinned as Oliver removed socks and shoes, placing them next to her sandals. He rolled his trousers up to his knees and sat beside her. He plunged his feet into the pool beside her.
“Did you pack a swimsuit?” he asked.
Connie shook her head. “I can’t swim.”
He paused with the straw resting on his lips. “You’re on a cruise ship and you can’t swim?”
“Nope. I drown pretty good though. All the kids can swim, they had lessons at school, but I never learned.”
“Then maybe you should.”
“Nah. Too old now, besides, I’d need my glasses on in the pool and that wouldn’t work.” She glanced at him, playing with the tiny umbrella in her glass. “Can you?”
He nodded. “Won a couple of awards when I was younger.”
“Good. Then you can rescue me if I fall in.” She took a long sip of the cool liquid. “It’s pretty with all the lights on.”
Oliver smiled. “Highlights your hair.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. “I did seriously consider a blue rinse once. You know like all the old ladies did when we were kids. Shampoo and set and a blue or purple rinse.”
He snorted and choked on his drink. “Wasn’t orange enough? Although you might look cute with purple highlights.”
She elbowed him playfully. “So would you.”
Oliver laughed, a waterfall of pure joy. “We should have matching hairdos. Send a selfie to all the kids.”
Connie laughed with him. “Lead me not into temptati
on. For I will not only do it, I shall do it twice and take photos.” She twirled the straw in her glass, sipping slowly. “I’m glad the sea is calm. Must admit I don’t fancy being on a ship in a storm.”
“It can get a bit rough, but…”
Connie snorted. “Rough? Really?”
He laughed. “Literally. You just need to remember that no matter how big the storm is, God is bigger. And these ships are built to weather the storm anyway.”
“You hope.” She moved her feet. “Though I’m no opposed to a little rain. We haven’t had any proper rain in months. I’m afraid the fir tree in the front garden has had it. It’s completely brown now. Paul said to give it until October and then he’ll dig it up and plant a new one. It’s a shame as it was looking so lovely with the Christmas lights on it.”
“Christmas lights. In the summer?”
She pursed her lips. “Solar powered. Not my fault I forgot to take them down in January.”
“Maybe I should try that sometime.”
Connie glanced down at the reflection in the water. Two old folks gazed back at her. No, not old. Golden agers. Well, you had teenagers, middle age, so why not the golden age?
She moved her legs faster, splashing him deliberately. “If you can’t beat them,” she began.
Oliver put his glass down and reached down with one hand, splashing her back.
“That’s not fair,” she objected.
“Perfectly fair.” He splashed her again.
Connie leaned down, scooping up a handful of water and tossing it at him. Her aim was perfect and a cascade of liquid hit him square in the chest.
From there things escalated with both tossing water as fast as possible. Until Connie leaned over too far and tipped headlong into the pool.
For one terrifying moment she was submerged, falling, chest tightening with panic.
Then strong arms were around her and she was tugged upwards. Water streamed from her hair as she looked at Oliver.
He was just as wet as she was, concern filling his hazel eyes. “What are you doing, woman?”
She trod water, clinging tightly to him with her one arm. “Getting you wet,” she managed, breathless with fear as well as his nearness.
