by Clare Revell
“I’m more of a wing defence than a goalkeeper actually,” she shot back. “Or a centre as you don’t have to remember what line to run to.” She paused. “Netball. Many years ago, when I was young. It’s a bit like basketball but with lots more rules. Like no running with the ball. No moving when you have the ball.”
“I know what netball is.” Oliver flicked water at her. “And you’re not old, woman.” He dried his hands. “Come on. Let’s go.”
They headed up onto the top deck. “Oh!” Connie exclaimed. “They have mini-golf. I haven’t played that in a while, but love it.”
He smirked. “I’m somewhat of a golf pro. Even if I do say so myself.”
“Really?”
“My handicap is six.”
“Ah, but that’s real golf. I’m an expert in mini and crazy golf.”
“That sounds like a challenge.” Oliver grinned. “Stay here and I’ll get the clubs.”
Twenty minutes later, he reluctantly admitted she was better at mini-golf than he was. He’d hit at least three balls over the side of the ship, much to Connie’s amusement. She currently stood almost twenty strokes ahead of him.
Connie putted the last ball into the hole. “So how’s the humble pie? You want some custard with it?”
“I’d prefer ice-cream actually.”
Her eyes widened. “Yes. I’ll buy. Two scoops or three?”
“Three,” he replied. “I’m on holiday. No strawberry though.”
“Grab a couple of deckchairs and I’ll be over.” She blew him a kiss and headed across the deck.
Oliver returned the clubs and apologised again for the loss of the balls.
“Uncle Ollie, can I have a word?” Johnny appeared by his side.
Oliver eyed him suspiciously. “Are you going to make me pay for hitting the balls off the ship?”
Johnny laughed. “Not unless you want me to. It’s kind of an occupational hazard here.” He moved to the side of the deck, leaning against the railings. “I have a favour to ask. The ship’s chaplain, Rev Patterson, has a family emergency and had to leave the ship. I can’t get a replacement until we reach New York at the end of next week. It’s not going to be a huge issue…except tomorrow’s Sunday. I was wondering, hoping, you’d be able to preach at the service tomorrow morning.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow, mind whirling. He could reuse the one he’d preached last Sunday in Lyme Regis. It was hardly likely anyone on board would have been there.
“I know it’s short notice and you’ve probably got nothing prepared. And I hate to ask, when you’re on vacation and all…”
“I’ll do it. How long a sermon were you after?”
Relief shone all over Johnny’s face. “The service is usually an hour. How many people attend varies each week. If the weather holds, which it should do, we can have it on deck.”
He nodded. “That sounds good. What about hymns?”
“You can choose whatever you want. I’ll send Ensign Matthews to find you later with his laptop. He can project the words onto a screen and play the music through the speakers for you.” Johnny grinned and angled his head to the left. “Someone is trying to get your attention. You and Mrs Johnson are getting on well, I see. Wait… Connie… The Connie?”
Oliver beamed. “Yes. I was meant to be meeting her in New York, but decided to surprise her.”
“Are you finally going to marry her?”
“I haven’t asked her yet, but…” Oliver broke off. He needed this conversation with Connie before anyone else. Oh, and Paul. He wanted to do this right and ask Paul for permission to marry her.
Johnny winked. “I can always marry you on board the ship. She’s a British ship, but she’s registered in Bermuda so it’s perfectly legal. Although you’d probably want a church service, same as I would.”
“Anthony won’t like it either way.”
“Anthony doesn’t like anything that puts him last. Just ignore him and do something that you want for once. Connie makes you happy. I haven’t seen that glow in your eyes since Aunt Patricia died. You’d better get over there before your ice-cream melts. The service is at eleven hundred hours. I’ll put out an announcement that you’ll be preaching.”
“Thank you.” He patted Johnny on the shoulder and stepped across the deck to where Connie sat and waited.
She held out a glass dish of ice-cream. “I got you coffee, mint choc chip, and vanilla.”
“Thank you.” Even if that was a weird combination he would never tell her.
“Everything okay?”
Oliver nodded, easing into the deckchair next to her. “Kind of. Johnny asked me to preach tomorrow morning. The chaplain had to leave the ship. Johnny wants me to fill the gap.”
“Are you going to?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Just need to pick hymns to go with the sermon. I’m going to use the one I preached last weekend in Dorset. I will need to tweak it a little, however.”
Connie took a bite of the ice-cream. “Then this afternoon I can sit and crochet and catch the sun, whilst you sit there and polish your sermon.”
Oliver flashed her a smile. “That sounds like an idyllic afternoon.”
Queen Mary 2. 28th July 2018. 14:27hrs.
[Email to Paul Johnson from Oliver Voight.]
Hi Paul,
Email isn’t ideal for this, but I’m guessing you’ll be at work so didn’t want to call and worry you. Yes, you read the address right. I am on the ship with your mother, neighbouring staterooms if you can believe it. I arranged the trip to surprise her and because I wanted to spend time alone with her. Not that we can ever really be alone as there are over three thousand passengers and crew on board.
I know how fast your family grapevine works. She’s fine now, no more sling. Not that she let a few bruises stop her from doing anything. She thrashed me at mini-golf this morning.
Anyway, the point of this email is…
May I have your blessing to marry your mother? Our friendship has bloomed and grown over the years. I love her with all my heart. She makes me whole again. I haven’t spoken to her yet because I wanted to ask you first.
I promise I’ll love her, protect her, and put her first.
Love Uncle Oliver.
Durham. 28th July 2018. 18:36hrs.
[Email to Oliver Voight from Paul Johnson.]
Dear Uncle Oliver,
I rang Dorcas, Zipporah, and Micah. And we all came to a unanimous decision.
Yes! Yes you can marry Mum. You make her happy. Happier than she has ever been.
So with all blessings you may marry her.
Love Paul.
PS. The others say if you go for a shipboard wedding, yes we know it’s possible, that’s fine, so long as you have a video call going with us at the same time. That way we can attend and I can give her away. When you get back, we’d like a blessing service at church so we can all be there.
Moonlight glistened on the waves as the ship moved away from the coast of Ireland and out into the deeper waters of the Irish Sea. Before morning, they’d be skirting the coast of Southern Ireland and heading towards the Atlantic Ocean. Connie and Oliver sat on the top deck of the Queen Mary 2, the cool breeze a relief after the stifling heat of the afternoon. She’d spent the entire afternoon crocheting dolls clothes whilst Oliver read and scribbled notes on sheets of paper.
After dinner, Connie popped back to her stateroom and picked up the box of peppermint creams from the mini-fridge. Returning to the deck she placed the container onto the table between them. “Did you finish tweaking your sermon?”
Oliver nodded. “I did. But you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to hear it.”
Connie pretended to pout and sulk.
He grinned. “It’s worth waiting for, I promise.”
“You’d better hope so. I’ve never heard you preach.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Never. But Jeff, Dorcas’s husband, was converted under your ministry.”
“S
mall world. So was First Officer Rand. But Jeff? Wow.”
A ship’s officer came over to them. “Mr Voight? I have a message for you from Captain Merrick.” He handed over a sheet of paper.
Oliver took it. He read and frowned. “Tell him thank you. I’ll deal with it.”
“Something wrong?” Concern prodded Connie hard as the officer left them.
“It’s only Anthony. He’s wondering if I’m okay as I haven’t replied to any of his messages. I’d better go and get my phone. I’ll be right back.”
“Can’t it wait a little longer?”
“You could come back with me. We can sit on my balcony or yours.”
She wanted to, oh so much, but common sense prevailed. “You have a reputation to uphold so best not. I’ll wait here.”
Oliver shook his head. “No. Anthony can wait a little longer.” He scribbled on the paper and rose. “One second.” Crossing rapidly to one of the deck stewards he held out the paper, speaking too quietly to be heard. Then he came back and dropped into the deckchair. “I asked him to give the note to Johnny. He can pass on the message to Anthony.”
He gave the peppermint creams a pointed look. “Besides, I think I’ve been patient long enough.”
Connie laughed. Was there nothing about this man she didn’t love? “So the only question left is do you want pink, green or white?”
“All three,” came the immediate response. His hand dived into the box and brought up three.
Connie watched with bated breath as he chewed slowly, and then relaxed as he beamed. “You like?”
“They are wonderful.” He licked his fingers, seeming to take delight in the lingering flavour. “You’ll have to give Abi the recipe. Or even better, teach her.”
She nodded. “I’d like that. I want to meet your children at some point.”
He rose and stood in front of her. Grabbing Connie’s hands, he gently pulled her to her feet. The moonlight caught his hair, shining around him like an aura. He looked like an angel. Her angel. “Dance with me.”
“Here? Now? There’s no music.”
“Who needs music?” Oliver pulled her close and began to move.
Connie leaned against him, his cologne filling her senses. His heart beat in her ear, as they danced to the music only they could hear. She could stay like this forever. If only she could stay like this forever.
Oliver raised her face to his and kissed her.
Wow! If he wasn’t holding her, she really would have melted into a puddle of grey-haired goo at his feet.
He broke off and grinned at what must be the dazed expression on her face. He quirked a brow. “What?”
“The man still has it,” she whispered.
“Anyone would think you were sweet sixty and never been kissed.”
“Not like that I haven’t,” she admitted.
“Then marry me. And I’ll kiss you like that every hour of every day for the rest of our lives.”
“Are you serious?” She wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. Perhaps the kiss had sent her witless.
“I’ve never been more serious.” Oliver dropped to one knee. “Connie, the way I feel about you has been forty-eight years in the making. Please, do me the honour of becoming my wife.”
Connie could hardly breathe, never mind answer. Would she marry him? Yes, yes she would. She ran her tongue over her lips, trying to persuade them to move in response.
Oliver continued to kneel, holding her hands, looking up at her, fear and expectation in his gaze.
Footsteps echoed somewhere on the edge of her perception. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” a voice cut through the proposal like a knife.
“Can’t it wait?” Oliver glanced over his shoulder, the trace of a frown flitting across his features.
“I’m sorry Rev Voight, but the Captain needs to see you now. He says it’s urgent.”
Disappointment seared Connie as Oliver got to his feet. She sucked in a deep breath. “How about I give you an answer over breakfast?”
He kissed her cheek. “I’ll hold you to that. I’m sorry, honey.” He trudged after the steward.
Connie wanted to jump up and down like a kid and scream. He wanted to marry her. He loved her that much.
She leaned on the railings, looking out at the moonlit waves dancing across the ocean. God is good. “Thank you, Lord, for Oliver. Thank you for this chance at love after all these years of wandering in the wilderness. Like it says in Jeremiah, You know the plans You have for us. Thank you for bringing us together finally. Let our life together be honouring to You.”
Chapter Nineteen
Sunday 29th July 2018. 08:00.
Oliver knocked on Connie’s door to take her to breakfast. What would her answer be? He’d hoped to meet with her last night after he got back from talking with Johnny and then on the phone with Anthony, but she hadn’t answered when he called. It had been rather late and he assumed she was sleeping.
Connie opened the door and hugged him. “Morning.”
He hugged her back “Good morning, honey.” He kissed her gently. “Can I interest you in some breakfast?”
“Yes, please.” She shut the door behind her and took his hand as they headed to the dining room. “Is everything okay at home?”
“Of course. Why shouldn’t it be?” He glanced at her wanting to downplay the ruinous end to his proposal.
“This big emergency last night, that Captain Merrick needed you for?”
Oliver grimaced. “Oh, that was just Anthony doing his spoiled brat thing. He rang the ship, demanded to speak with me on a matter of life or death because I hadn’t responded to the fifty-seven texts he’d sent me since Wednesday. So I rang him back.”
Irritation flared again as it had last night. Oliver tried hard not to let it show as they walked slowly. “He’s insisting on meeting me in New York. He’s set up a meeting I need to attend, and then he wants me to go back to Breckenridge to deal with something that apparently Owen, my deputy can’t cope with.”
Connie’s face fell and her bottom lip trembled. “I see.” She turned her face away, looking straight ahead.
Oliver left out the part of the conversation where Anthony had railed against Connie, warning Oliver that his reputation would be ruined if he married her. That word had already got around he was wasting funds on a first-class trip and one donor had already threatened to pull out. Although that one rested purely on his son’s shoulders.
Oliver had spent most of the night in prayer, but still had no concrete answers. Maybe he had let the Voight Bible Institute become more important than the work it was meant to do.
“I was hoping we’d be able to spend time together in the States.” Connie sighed. “Well, at least he isn’t sending a helicopter to take you off the ship.”
“Oh, believe me, he would if he could!” Oliver scowled. “Don’t give him ideas. Evidently there is some crisis at home I have to deal with in person.”
Connie stopped outside the dining room. “Let me guess. The board found out about your expensive, top of the range, first class cruise, with a butler, and they don’t like it. They want your head on a platter, resignation on a silver server and you on the first train out of town.”
“Are you reading my mind?” He held her gaze.
“Who knew you were on board the ship?”
“Abi and Anthony. All the board knew was I had a preaching engagement in England followed by three weeks’ personal vacation.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And who changed your booking?”
“Anthony. Which he had to have done at the last minute. I didn’t tell him about the cruise until the day I left for the airport.”
“He didn’t want you to meet me at all, did he?” she asked slowly.
“Honestly? No.” He sucked in a deep, supposedly calming breath, and huffed it out.
Connie reached up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “You need to go and pray because you’re in no mood or condition to preach this morning.”
“But breakfast and your answer…” He so wanted her answer. He didn’t want to wait any longer.
“Get things in perspective. Go and pray. You need to worry about God and His word and your sermon first. And get your breakfast delivered to your suite. I won’t deprive you of your bacon. I’ll see you at the service.”
Reluctantly he had to agree she was right. “Okay. Top deck at eleven o’clock.” He kissed her and held the dining room door open for her. “Don’t be late.”
She grinned. “I won’t be.”
Connie picked a simple breakfast, no longer hungry. She took the plate to her table by the window and sat down, gazing out at the Atlantic Ocean sparkling in the sunlight. She’d been prepared to give him an answer and now she’d been interrupted again. Albeit by herself this time.
“Good morning, Mrs Johnson. May I join you?”
Connie looked up to see Captain Merrick standing there. She’d rather be alone, but wasn’t about to be rude. “Sure. And please, call me Connie.”
“If you call me Johnny.” He winked. “Maybe I should call you Auntie Connie. After all, you’re as good as family.” Johnny placed his plate on the table and eased into the chair. “Uncle Ollie loves you. He does nothing but talk about you. His eyes light up in a way they haven’t in years, and definitely not since Aunt Patricia died.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, lips moving silently as he said grace. Then he looked up. “Is Uncle Ollie joining you this morning?”
“He has a few family issues to sort out. Plus he needs to spend some time with the Lord to work through them before he can preach a sermon worth hearing.”
Johnny shook his serviette onto his lap. “Anthony still being a prize pain in the butt then?”
“Yes. And causing ripples with the board at the Voight Institute as well. Anything to make sure Oliver goes home early.”
Johnny frowned. “Anthony can be spiteful, but I never thought he’d go this far.”
Connie spread marmalade on her toast. “What do you mean?”
Johnny cut into his bacon, sausage and egg. “He’s jealous.”
