by Clare Revell
He shook his head. “Such a child,” he deadpanned.
An officer appeared beside them. “Is everything all right?”
Connie’s cheeks burned.
Oliver chuckled. “Fine. The lady fell in and I jumped in after her.” He slowly moved towards the side. “Put your feet down, honey. It’s not that deep here.”
The officer helped her out of the pool and handed her a towel. “There you go.”
“Thank you.”
Oliver hauled himself out and stood beside her, taking the other towel. “You really should learn to swim,” he told her.
“Are you offering to teach me?” she asked.
He looked her up and down. “Not in that outfit.”
Connie glanced down at her soaked clothes. “Not sure how I’ll get them dry and clean. But at least it wasn’t my evening gown.” She eyed up his tux. “Sorry about the suit.”
“Well the jacket is dry,” he chuckled. “I took that off before I jumped in after you.”
The officer looked at her. “Leave your wet things outside your cabin. Housekeeping will take care of them for you. The same with your tux, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Oliver frowned. “You’re shivering. We should get you into dry clothes. A warm bath might help as well.”
She nodded. “Then perhaps we can meet somewhere for hot chocolate or something. I wouldn’t mind some company over my Bible reading tonight.”
Oliver beamed and kissed her cheek. “That’s the best offer I’ve had all day, honey.”
Chapter Seventeen
Friday 27th July 2018.
Oliver knocked on Connie’s door on his way to breakfast, determined to make the most of the time alone with Connie before the ship docked and Anthony has the chance to interfere.
As he stood there, the young woman from the night before passed him. “Did you lose your key? I’m sure the purser could find a spare one if your wife is still sleeping.”
Oliver smiled. “Connie isn’t my wife and this isn’t my cabin. She’s my girlfriend and my cabin is next door.”
“Oh… I assumed you were married.”
He shook his head. “No. So separate rooms and all above board. We’ve been friends for forty-eight years. It turned into more after we were both widowed, but this is the first time we’ve met since childhood.”
She smiled. “How delightful. I hope it all works out the way you want. And it’s nice to see the old values being adhered to still. Better go.” She hurried off.
Oliver grinned and knocked again.
Connie opened the door, looking amazing in her blue and white striped tee shirt, white slacks, with canvas deck shoes.
“Morning, beautiful,” he said. “You look just the part today.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze took in his casual polo shirt and slacks. “At least we’re not clashing.”
“If we did would just be too bad.” He took her hand and walked down the hallway with her. “Did you fancy seeing Jersey today? I’ve never been.”
She nodded. “Ezra and I went once. We did the Bergerac tour which took in most of the island in one go. But they probably don’t do those anymore.”
“We have until six. We could see a lot in that time.”
“I’d like to see it with you.”
“Then we’ll do just that. But first breakfast.” He led her to the restaurant. “What do you fancy this morning?”
“I was going for toast, but that bacon smells good too.”
Oliver chose his normal cereal, but also added a plate of bacon, eggs and maple syrup, along with toast, and peanut butter and a small jar of strawberry jam.
“Ewww.” Connie scrunched her nose.
Oliver chuckled. “I’m not sure why they’d have peanut butter out for breakfast, but not complaining. And I do like it with jam…although it’s called jelly in the States.”
“Not going to say it.”
“Say what?” He raised an eyebrow innocently, knowing exactly what she was going to say.
“One, it’s definitely jam and not jelly, because you have jelly with ice cream, not toast and definitely not peanut butter. Two. Syrup goes on said ice cream, not bacon. Syrup also goes in sandwiches.”
Oliver did a double take. “Say that again?”
“Syrup sandwiches. Paul lived on them when he was little. Syrup sandwiches and peppermint creams. That reminds me, I packed the things I need to make them for you. Maybe we could do that tomorrow, unless you wanted to see Ireland.”
“So long as I’m with you, I’m good.”
She frowned. “And what does that mean?”
“It means I’m fine.”
She smiled, covering her bacon with tomato ketchup. “Ah, right. Same here. I only want to be with you. Anything else is a bonus.”
Jersey was as beautiful as Connie remembered. Only different. This time rather than walking next to someone, she walked with them. Oliver had taken possession of her hand and only let go when he had to.
The sand was warm beneath their bare feet as they walked along the rugged coastline past the lighthouse. The waves rushed over them, and then retreated, teasing them with the promise of cool refreshment. Connie couldn’t remember a time when she’d been more content.
Had things ever been this easy with Ezra? She doubted it. It hadn’t ever just been them. There had been his family, her family, and then the kids. They didn’t stand a chance, even if he had truly loved her. She’d spent years thinking it was her fault, but perhaps it wasn’t. Well, not entirely. They’d both made a conscious choice as teenagers, and then had to live with the consequences of their actions and subsequent responsibilities. It had robbed her of her childhood, her youth, and any real chance of love and a life.
She tugged her mind back to the present and the man beside her. Would this second chance she’d been given turn into the forever love that she craved?
Oliver squeezed her hand. “There’s one place I’ve always wanted to go.”
“Where’s that?”
He grinned. “A proper English castle. The information they gave us on the ship said there are several.”
“There’s one within walking distance of St Helier. We could go there. Combine it with shopping and lunch.”
One short taxi ride later, Oliver led her out along the causeway to Elizabeth Castle. The views from the ramparts were spectacular. Connie posed for photos and giggled as Oliver took selfies of the two of them.
“Dorcas did show me how to take photos on my phone. I’m not very good with it, as you already know.”
“You’ll have to give me that number as well. Then I won’t have to limit myself to ringing your landline.”
“I don’t honestly know what it is.”
He laughed. “Do you have it with you now?”
“Dorcas insists I take it everywhere.” She pulled the phone from her sling and handed it over. About the only thing the sling was good for. “The code is 1958.”
Oliver unlocked the phone and typed swiftly. “I’ve added my number and sent myself a text so I have yours.” He grins. “We should take a selfie on here and send it to your kids.”
“You’ll have to do that as I don’t know how to send photos.”
“It’s easy, I’ll show you.” He took several photos.
“Paul set up a group chat on some app, so everyone can talk in one big conversation.” She pointed. “That one.”
Pleased he didn’t laugh at her lack of technical know-how, Connie took the phone he offered. “You want me to do it?”
“You learn better if you do it yourself rather than being shown. So open the app and then the group chat. See the camera button where you type the message? Click there.”
Connie did, wishing her fingers were a little more slender. “Okay, thought it’d be easier two handed.”
“Then you can either take a new photo or choose one from the photo library.”
She touched the last one he’d taken and it appeared in the message b
ox. “Oh, clever.”
He nodded. “Then you can add text to say where it was taken or not bother and just hit send.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. What did she say? Slowly with one finger she began to type. uncle oliver decided to surprise me and joined the ship in southampton. we're on jersey today.
She hit send and put the phone away. “It’ll be so much easier without the sling. Can we find somewhere to eat? My head is starting to ache and that’s usually a sign my sugars are falling. I don’t really want to pass out.”
Oliver smiled. “Though I wouldn’t mind having you in my arms again. But sure. Where do you want to eat?”
“So long as I’m with you I don’t mind.”
“Then how about we grab a quick bite here and then go into St Helier and find the covered market? Something else that should be worth seeing.”
The tide had come in whilst they ate, so they caught the water taxi back to the main island. Oliver kept tight hold of Connie’s hand. She looked tired, but probably wouldn’t admit it if he asked. He angled his head. “Did you bring any pain meds with you?”
She nodded. “I was just thinking I should probably take one. I was going to with lunch, but I really don’t want to get dependent on them. Besides, it’s nowhere near as bad as it was when I did it.”
“Did you take any pills today?”
“No.”
He rolled his eyes. “You are one stubborn woman.” He pulled a bottle of water from his backpack and held it out. “Take them.”
“Okay.” Connie did so without arguing.
“That sore, huh?” he asked gently. “We can find somewhere to sit and rest. That’s not a problem.”
“I don’t want to spoil the day,” she said. “I’ve waited so long to be with you. So,” she handed him back the water, “how about hitting the covered market? We can probably sit down there if you’re tired because I’m good to go for a while yet.” She elbowed him. “Besides, it’s my shoulder that aches, not my knees. I don’t plan to walk on it.”
“You’re not going to do a handstand?” he asked, keeping his face straight.
She snorted. “Not since I was fifteen. Even then I couldn’t do one-handed ones.” They began to stroll again, finally reaching the town centre which was crammed with lots of little shops.
Connie stopped by the window of a porcelain shop and pointed. “Oh wow. Look at those figurines. They have a Dorcas and a Zipporah. I have to go in and get them for the girls. Perhaps they can ship them directly, save me carting them around New York.”
“Sure, we can go see.” Oliver caught sight of the store next door. “Actually, why don’t you pop in there? I’ll come find you in a minute. Can you see if they have an Abigail as well?”
“Sure. Where are you going?”
“Jewellers. I need cufflinks. Anthony forgot to pack mine and I can’t keep rolling my sleeves up under my jacket. I won’t be long.” He kissed her cheek and headed into the jewellers.
An assistant appeared almost immediately. “Can I help you, sir?”
“I’m after some cufflinks,” Oliver said. “I don’t have anything particular in mind.”
“Of course. I’ll bring some out for you.” The assistant headed across to a counter on the far side of the shop.
Oliver caught sight of a counter full of rings. One in particular held his attention. A gold band with a line of three rubies interspaced with tiny diamonds. He knew ruby was July’s birthstone as he and Connie shared the same birthday. But what size was she? He couldn’t exactly ask. He took a deep breath and thought. Her hands were smaller than his. If he remembered rightly when he’d bought Patricia’s ring, they were four sizes different.
“The cufflinks, sir.”
Oliver turned. There were four sets to look at. “Thank you. And could I see that ring, please? I’ll need it maybe three sizes smaller than my ring finger.”
The assistant measured his finger as Oliver looked at the cufflinks. One pair had tiny rubies set into one corner.
“I’ll go and see if we have one the right size.”
“Thank you. And I’ll take these cufflinks.” They’d match the ring perfectly.
A minute later, the assistant returned with the ring and a box. “Both were made here on Jersey.”
Oliver held it gently. It was perfect. Anthony wouldn’t like the expense, but too bad. When was the last time he’d actually spent any money on himself? Besides, this was his money, not the Institutes. “I’ll take them both.” He followed her to the till and paid. He tucked both items into his pocket and headed out to find Connie.
She was still in the porcelain shop. “Hi. They do shipping to the US as well as the UK. And they have an Abigail. The lady got her out to show you.”
Oliver admired the figurine. “It even looks like her. The likeness is uncanny.” He glanced at the assistant. “I’ll take her please. She’ll need sending to the States.”
It occurred to him as he slid his card into the card reader, that he’d spent more money in the previous ten minutes, than he had in the last six months if not longer. Bills notwithstanding. As he gave them Abigail’s address, he could feel the ring in his pocket. He hadn’t intended to propose so soon. But being with her was right. So right.
The second chance that so rarely came.
But he’d bide his time. Find the right moment. Somewhere romantic, like as they sailed past Lady Liberty perhaps. Somewhere she’d remember forever.
Chapter Eighteen
Saturday 28th July 2018.
Connie pulled out the ingredients for peppermint creams and plopped them onto the table in the dining area of her stateroom. She’d finally become used to the floor beneath her feet moving constantly. All she needed to make the sweets now, was a bowl and spoon. She hadn’t expected to be creating them here on the cruise ship, so she hadn’t packed utensils.
She’d have to call for the butler and see if he could find some for her.
A knock made her jump. She headed to the door.
Oliver stood there, a huge smile on his face, bowl and spoon in his hands, with a baking tray tucked under his arm. “Will these do?”
“How did you know?” she asked as he came in.
“I asked the butler. It’s amazing what he can dig up. I promised him we’d save him some.”
She smiled, shutting the door. “Sounds fair enough to me. You may have to do some of the mixing though. Not sure how strong this shoulder is yet.”
“I can do that, not a problem.” He followed her across to the dining area. “You came prepared. You know we do have those ingredients in the States, right?”
“I know, but different brands make them taste different. You need to try mine as I’ve been making them for years.”
“So tell me what I need to do.” He winked. “No sling today? You were wearing it at breakfast.”
“While you went to the chapel, I went to the doctor and he cleared me.”
Oliver hugged her. “That’s great, honey.”
She hugged him back. It felt so good to be in his arms. So right. She’d craved contact like this for so long. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked hard.
“Honey?”
She looked away. She didn’t want him to see.
Soft fingers turned her face towards his. “You’re crying. Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m just being a silly, old woman. No one has ever held me like this, used a term of endearment.”
“That’s not being silly at all.” He kissed her forehead. “We all need to be held sometimes. So, these amazing, to-die-for peppermint creams…”
“Yes.” Connie shoved down the disappointment at the change of subject. She’d hoped he’d kiss her properly, like he had the other night. “Okay, first go wash your hands.”
He grinned. “Yes, Mum.”
As they made the candy— or sweets as she called them— Oliver wished he’d acted on impulse and kissed her. The only thing stopping him was the knowledge he w
as in her stateroom. He wanted…needed everything about this to be above board. Okay, it wasn’t her bedroom, but his old fashioned values, as Anthony called them, had done him well all these years and he wasn’t going to compromise anything now. Least of all Connie.
“Smells good.” He glanced up. He was covered in icing sugar as she’d called it. He called it powdered sugar, which she assured him was the same thing.
“They taste good too.” She deftly divided the sugar paste into three sections. “Now we mix in the colouring. Green in that one, pink in this one, while the third stays white.”
Oliver did the green, whilst Connie deftly kneaded in the pink.
“Now divide it into small balls. Sometimes I roll it and use cutters, but this is easier for now. Either flatten with your finger tips or leave as a ball. Both work.”
He did so, laying them on the baking sheets. “Now what?”
“Put in the fridge for twelve hours, and wash the dishes we used.”
“Twelve hours?”
She nodded, carrying the dishes to the small sink. “So we have plenty of time to kill.”
“You want to go ashore and see Dublin?”
“If you do.”
He leaned his hip on the counter. “Hmm, depends if you’ve ever played quoits before.”
“Don’t think so.”
“Then I think we should. Leave the dishes.”
She shook her head. “Never tell a woman to leave the dishes unless you’re volunteering to do them.”
Oliver raised his hand. “Okay, I’m volunteering. Go sit.”
Connie plumped down at the dining table. “I’m sitting.”
Oliver chuckled and turned to the dishes. From behind him he could hear Connie’s admiring giggles and deliberately wiggled his hips. “You should see the way I iron,” he told her. “The music goes on and I dance away the pile of sheets.”
“Be still my beating heart,” she gasped. “He irons as well as does dishes.”
He smirked. “Abi reckons I’m a keeper.”
