Julia’s body shifted direction involuntarily. Instead of heading back out the door, it took a step forward toward Martin as she felt herself being pulled in his direction.
“Hey!” he said, looking thrilled. “Julia.” Julia approached, but held her hands clasped in front of her in a move that she didn’t even realize was self-protecting. “‘Of all the gin joints in all the world…’” Martin said in his best Humphrey Bogart impersonation. He pulled out a chair for her.
“Hi,” she said, tucking her hair behind one ear. “Wow. I wasn’t sure what I was walking into here. I had no idea I’d be on the auction block the second I walked in the door.”
“Ukulele Dave specializes in forcing strangers to pair off uncomfortably,” Martin said, shooting a meaningful look at Dave, who sat just feet away on his stool on stage watching them with a smirk. Dave lifted a shoulder semi-apologetically.
“Ukulele Dave actually specializes in romance,” Dave said into his microphone, offering Julia a knowing wink. “So how about a nice love song?” Without waiting for a response, he launched into “Can’t Help Falling in Love” and Julia was able to turn her attention wholly to Martin.
“So did your dinner date fall through?” Martin signaled the bartender to bring over two of whatever he’d been drinking.
Julia crossed her legs under the table. “Actually,” she said, “the date is over.”
Martin frowned and looked at his watch with comic disbelief. “A man let you go this early? What is he, crazy or something?”
“The man I went to dinner with is eighty-one,” Julia said, smiling up at the bartender as he set two pink blended drinks on the table. “He’s in the cabin next to mine, and we met this afternoon.”
Martin burst out laughing. “You went to dinner with a man in his eighties on your first night on a cruise for single people trying to find love?”
Julia shrugged and plucked the little yellow umbrella out of her drink. She leaned forward and stuck the end of it in her mouth to taste: another daiquiri, this one strawberry-mango. “He gave me a corsage,” she said, holding up her wrist so that he could examine it.
“So he did.” Martin inspected the flower as he held Julia’s hand in his. “Damn, this guy’s got game. I’m gonna have to work on my moves.”
Julia lifted her drink and took a sip. “His name is Arthur, and if you want any tips, he’s in room 1126.”
“And if he’s your next door neighbor, then that means you’re in room…let’s see,” Martin tapped a finger to his chin, “even numbers, so—1124? 1128?”
Julia raised the daiquiri in the air and gave him a little salute. “I guess you’ll have to knock on a few doors and see.”
“You’re not very sly, offering me your room number like that. We just met, lady,” Martin said, feigning horror. “I’m not that kind of guy.”
“I’m not entirely sure what kind of guy you are, sitting here alone with Ukulele Dave, sipping pink daiquiris.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a second as the cold drink hit her like a brick wall.
“Brain freeze?” Martin asked sympathetically.
“Yeah,” Julia said, pounding the heel of her hand against her forehead. “Okay, it’s gone.”
“I have an idea,” Martin said, standing up and holding out a hand. Julia stared up at him. “Let’s dance?”
Julia’s first inclination was to turn him down—not to be rude or even to be coy, but because she was happy to be sitting there and to not have the eyes of every person in the bar on her for a minute. But when she realized that a good looking—no, scratch that, an incredibly handsome—man was offering her the chance to dance to Elvis, she stood and took his hand.
For the first minute it felt completely foreign to be in the arms of a man who wasn’t her husband. Julia held herself stiffly, one arm resting on Martin’s shoulder, the other hand sitting hesitantly in his large palm as they swayed to the song. It didn’t take long for Julia’s shoulders to loosen though, and for the rest of the song she was able to relax by recalling all the other times she’d danced with men who weren’t Will: senior prom; her sister’s wedding in Denver when she was nineteen; in bars during her first year at college; and at her own wedding as she’d taken turns in the arms of her dad, grandfather, and father-in-law. This wasn’t so bad, really, or so strange.
Julia let herself melt a bit in Martin’s arms and her body leaned against his as “Can’t Help Falling in Love” ended. The other people in the bar applauded politely and she expected that he’d pull away from her so that they could sit down again, but Ukulele Dave merged right into “Moon River,” and Julia went completely rigid in his arms.
“You okay?” he asked, loosening his hold. It was clear he’d felt the change in her.
Julia pulled away. “I’m okay,” she said, giving him a smile that she hoped came across as at least somewhat normal. She and Will had danced at their wedding to “Moon River,” and hearing it now had been like a slap in the face—like a reminder that she’d lost her way and done something crazy by even coming on this cruise. “I’m actually just feeling really tired,” Julia said, walking quickly back to their table with Martin close behind. She picked up her purse. “I think I’ll head back to my room and just call it a night. I’m so sorry.”
Martin looked puzzled as he stood there in front of the stage watching her. “Julia,” he called after her. “Did I do something wrong?”
She wanted to assure him that he hadn’t—he definitely hadn’t—but she was already walking toward the swinging doors, clutching her purse to her chest. Martin was a great-looking man with an impish charm that amused her, but this all felt wrong somehow. Enjoying even one song in the arms of another man had felt shockingly inappropriate. Disloyal, even.
Instead of turning back to him, she pushed through the doors and bypassed the bank of elevators and the people waiting for them. As she held onto the railing, Julia paused and unfastened her high heels, sliding them off her feet. She held them by the straps as she hurriedly took the stairs up eight floors to get back to her room and to safety.
5
Julia woke the next morning to sunlight peeking around the edges of her blackout curtains. She’d left the orchid corsage on the dresser next to the handmade cards from her students and the card from the radio station, and she lay there, blinking in the darkness as she woke up, feeling groggy and disoriented.
It had been years since she had had enough to drink that she woke up with a headache, but the combination of the glasses of alcohol she’d had throughout the day before had clearly melted together and combusted into a massive hangover tinged with regret.
“Ohhhh, noooo. Yuck.” Julia leaned into the mirror in the bathroom, the pads of her fingers touching the bags under her eyes gently. Her hair hung limply at the sides of her face and her skin looked dull. “No daiquiris today.”
She’d at least had the forethought to hang out the breakfast order card on her doorknob before turning in for the night, and now, clad in the thick white robe that she’d found hanging in the closet, Julia opened the door when she heard room service knock and let the young man in uniform pass her by to set the tray on the table by the balcony doors.
“Thank you,” she said, double-checking that the magnetic “Do Not Disturb” sign was still stuck on the outside of the door before closing it.
The wind off the ocean held a slight chill, but Julia found it refreshing. She set her orange juice and coffee on the little table next to the lounge chair and then brought out the plate of eggs and bacon she’d ordered. As the caffeine slowly worked its magic, and she inhaled deep breaths of fresh air, her headache began to subside. Julia speared a forkful of eggs and chased it with a big sip of coffee.
“Mrs. Delmonico?” Arthur called from the other side of the partition. “You out there?”
Julia set her plate on the table and clutched her robe around her collarbone instinctively, though she knew that Arthur couldn’t see her through the opaque glass.
“Go
od morning,” Julia said in response. “I’m having my breakfast out here. Did you sleep well?”
“My dear, I haven’t slept well since about 1980, but if anything is going to lull me into what resembles a sleep-like stupor, it’s going to be a boat.”
Julia smiled. “I’m glad to hear that you at least fell into a stupor.”
“Are you attending any of the events today?” Arthur’s chair scraped across his deck as he moved around.
“I haven’t even thought about it yet. In fact, I think I had a wee bit too much to drink yesterday,” Julia admitted. “I’m a complete newbie when it comes to cruising, and I’m afraid I never once said no when someone offered me champagne, whiskey, or a daiquiri.”
“Ah, and now you’re feeling the regret that comes after a night of fun.” Arthur sounded amused and knowing—without question, he’d experienced a few of those nights himself.
Julia’s smile fell away as she gazed out at the water, listening to Arthur’s disembodied voice from the other side of the partition. Sitting in the morning sun, smelling the salt of the ocean air, and feeling the wind on her bare skin were such primal sensations; such intensely pleasurable feelings of wholeness with the world around her that Julia felt herself go still. This was the first moment of true quiet she’d felt in ages. After Will had passed, there had been times she was alone, sure, but that completely centered feeling of silence wasn’t something she came by often, and she was experiencing it now.
“Arthur,” she said, coffee cup held in both hands. “I feel regret about…a lot of things.”
Arthur was quiet for a moment. “Julia, I’m about to go for a walk. Would you care to join me?”
“I’m not dressed yet,” she said, glancing down at her robe, which had fallen open when she crossed her legs to reveal her bare thighs. “And where would we go?”
“There’s a track on the top deck that a group of us like to walk. How soon can you be ready?”
Julia blew a puff of air out and considered washing her hair and putting on some concealer to cover her puffy eyes. But in the end, she realized that a quick shower, a baseball hat to cover her wet hair, and sunglasses to hide the fact that she wouldn’t have any makeup on would completely suffice. “Give me ten minutes?”
“I’ve got nothing on my hands but time, dear girl,” Arthur said with a smile in his voice. “And I am more than accustomed to the time it takes for a lady to do her morning routine. I’ll be here as soon as you’re ready.”
In less than twenty minutes, they were out on the red track that was painted around the outskirts of the upper deck. Several other octogenarians were already out pumping their arms and power-walking in their swishy tracksuits and sun visors, and several of the women raised their hands to wave at Arthur.
“Good morning, Artie!” a woman called to him, cupping her gnarled fingers around the sides of her mouth. She had long, glossy nails painted a bright coral color, and several gold rings on her fingers.
“Daisy Schwartz,” Arthur said to Julia. “Somehow she ends up on every cruise I’m on. Every. Single. Cruise,” he said, pausing between each word for emphasis. He shook his head like the very thought of such coincidence bedeviled him.
Julia chuckled. “You think she might have a crush on you?”
“Oh, pshaw,” Arthur said, waving a hand. His thick, gray eyebrows pulled together in a look that reminded Julia of a young boy protesting having to eat his vegetables at the dinner table, and she got a sudden image of a much younger Arthur. “No way. We’re too old for that stuff.”
They ambled along, in no hurry to get anywhere as they took the loop, dodging people already clad in bathing suits for a morning of sun-worshiping. Julia looked down at the top of Arthur’s nearly bald head and realized that she had a solid six inches on him.
“I don’t think you’re ever too old for that stuff,” Julia countered, clasping her hands behind her back as she looked up at the morning sky. She breathed in deeply again, feeling her heart beat steadily and calmly as she’d done on her balcony. The breeze blew a stray tendril of her hair that had escaped from her baseball hat and she tucked it back under; she’d deal with drying it or flat-ironing it into submission later.
“And what about you, Miss Regret? Are you feeling too old to be here? Too out of place?” Arthur looked up at her and in his eyes she saw understanding. “Or is it really just that you drank too much yesterday?”
Julia shrugged. “I don’t know.” She kept her eyes trained on a bird swooping over the water in the distance.
“I see.” Arthur clasped his hands behind his back, mimicking Julia’s stance. As he did this, his round stomach protruded in front of him, and that—coupled with his height—made him appear endlessly adorable to Julia. “I don’t want to pry, Mrs. Delmonico—after all, we’ve known each other but a day, give or take a few hours—but do you think any of your hesitation has to do with your late husband?”
Julia stopped walking and turned to face Arthur. As they both paused, the group behind them split and walked around them to accommodate the roadblock they’d inadvertently created.
“Like, do I think I’m not ready to move on yet?”
“Or perhaps you think that he wouldn’t approve?” Arthur suggested. He gently took her by the elbow and pulled her off the red path so that people wouldn’t have to continue to flow around them.
Julia considered this. Her strange feeling the night before had started the minute she’d begun to feel herself relax in Martin’s arms. Although he was handsome and funny, and although three years was plenty of time to have accepted the realities of widowhood, something was still nagging at her.
“I’m not sure whether he would approve, to be perfectly honest,” Julia said. “But he was a practical man, and I don’t think he would have wanted me to be alone from the time I was forty until the end.”
“I sincerely doubt that he would have,” Arthur agreed, his face full of tenderness and understanding.
“I think what I’m really struggling with…” Julia cast around in her mind, trying to find the words, “I think my real issue here is with whether I would approve of him going on a cruise to find love again.”
“Ah,” Arthur said. He took her by the elbow and steered her back onto the path so that they were walking again. “That sounds like survivor’s guilt. Or something along those lines.”
“How so?” Julia frowned at him, watching his profile as he looked ahead. His arms swung at his sides now and he clenched his jaw as he thought about this question.
“Because you’re here and he’s not, and you’re trying to impose the kind of rules on yourself that you might impose on him—“
“If I were in heaven looking down on him somehow?” Julia interrupted, smiling to herself.
Arthur waved a hand as if to erase all his previous words. “Never mind what I’m saying. I don’t actually know if that’s survivor’s guilt at all. I might be talking hooey. But what I do know, young lady, is that life is long, and it’s going to be even longer if you spend it alone. Not to mention the fact that if Mr. Delmonico loved you even half as much as you clearly still love him, he’d want nothing but the best for you.” He turned his head and looked up at Julia kindly. “I mean that.”
Julia felt a warmth spread through her at being with someone who understood her situation. They might not be anywhere close in age, or have the same life experiences, but Arthur knew what it meant to lose the person you’d planned on spending forever with.
“Thanks, Arthur,” she said softly. She looped her hand through his elbow and he crooked it instinctively; Julia could tell he must have held Amelia’s arm in his just like this.
They walked for a couple of minutes without speaking and it was easy between them. Two younger women in bikinis unfurled striped beach towels onto deck chairs near the railing and Arthur looked politely away as they bent forward, revealing cleavage. He really was a gentleman from another time, Julia thought with wonder. Was it even possible to find a man
in his forties with the kind of old-fashioned manners and charm that Arthur exuded without even trying?
Just then, Daisy Schwartz and her friend brushed past them, elbows swinging animatedly as they did an exaggerated stride meant to work off the desserts they ate each night in the dining room. As they moved ahead, Daisy threw a glance over her shoulder in Arthur’s direction.
Julia felt her spirits lighten a bit after being able to verbalize what had been troubling her the night before. “Hey, Arthur,” she said, squeezing his arm against her. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Have you ever thought about taking Daisy to dinner? A wise friend of mine once told me that life is long, and it’s even longer if you spend it alone.”
“Your friend does sound incredibly wise,” Arthur said, playing long with her, “but Daisy Schwartz could talk a man into an early grave. Not to mention those dragon lady nails she’s got.” He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head disapprovingly. “I might as well try my luck with those girls back there with the bosoms and the striped towels,” he said, hooking his thumb over his shoulder but not glancing back.
“You saw them? I didn’t think you’d even looked!” Julia craned her neck, holding onto the brim of her cap as she glanced back at the girls, now stretched out languidly on deck chairs.
“Of course I didn’t look, young lady. A man has to have some decorum. Some class.” Arthur nudged her with the arm that she still held. “But come on—oy vey—a man would have to be dead not to at least notice beautiful women, you know?”
Julia nodded and smiled down at him. “Oh, I know.”
6
At Arthur’s insistence, Julia had gotten fully dressed and made up and then ventured out with the daily cruise itinerary in hand, looking for something to do.
Hearts Ahoy Page 4