Hearts Ahoy

by Stephanie Taylor

  Julia couldn’t help it—she laughed. “Sorry,” she said, taking another drink of champagne. Suddenly she could see that this girl was young enough to be Martin’s daughter—hers, too—and that for all her cute surface attributes, she wasn’t someone he’d take particularly seriously. “My cupid said the same thing about Martin.”

  “Who do you have?” Kerry asked.

  “Blaine. He thinks Martin is hiding a secret past as a boy band member.”

  Martin choked on his champagne and started coughing, but behind the cough was genuine amusement. “A boy band? What, like Menudo?”

  Kerry looked puzzled.

  “Before your time,” Julia reassured her, reaching up and touching her fingers lightly to the girl’s bare forearm.

  “Why does he think that?” Martin asked, thumping himself on the chest in an attempt to bring the coughing fit to an end.

  Julia moved her champagne glass around by the stem as she shrugged and looked at Martin shrewdly. “He just thinks you’re hiding something.”

  “So, Martin,” Kerry interrupted. “Should I cancel your date tomorrow in Honolulu with Marian?”

  Martin glanced up at Kerry like he’d forgotten she was there. “I didn’t know I had a date in Honolulu.”

  “Yeah,” Kerry said, nodding enthusiastically. “That’s part of the gig, You come on the cruise, you get matched, then you date around till you find someone you like.”

  Julia cleared her throat gently behind one hand.

  “Oh, I mean, I see you found someone you like, so should I cancel on Marian?”

  “Yes, please,” Martin said smoothly. “And give her my best regards. I have plans for tomorrow already.”

  “Right.” Kerry squinted one eye cutely, like she was making a mental note. “Oh, and you might want to check with Blaine,” she said to Julia. “I bet he’s got you set up for a date tomorrow, too.” She gave them both a little wave before walking away.

  Martin leaned forward and met Julia’s eye. “I do have plans for tomorrow, don’t I? We hadn’t exactly talked about it yet.”

  Julia felt inexplicably happy. There was something reassuring about being put up against a woman half her age and still holding her own. She knew her fashion wasn’t cutting-edge anymore, and there were signs of life marking her in ways that they hadn’t in her twenties, but Martin hadn’t even given Kerry a passing glance. Maybe he was just inherently a gentleman, but either way, it left her feeling as if she had his attention—like she truly mattered.

  “Of course. A day in Honolulu with you would be wonderful.” She looked up as the waiter set a platter of sushi rolls on the table between them.

  “Spicy tuna, crunchy California, asparagus rolls, and a special vegetable roll, courtesy of the chef,” he said, passing a hand over the platter to indicate which roll was which. “Enjoy.”

  After a delicious meal, Julia followed Martin to the multi-level theater at the center of the ship and chose seats on the bottom level, about eight rows back from the stage. An emcee in a sequined red tuxedo jacket and matching bowtie was at the podium, shuffling notecards as he prepared for the show.

  “So,” Martin said, putting out a hand to hold Julia’s purse while she sat down, “I guess I never really got around to talking about myself the way you wanted me to during dinner.”

  Julia took her purse back and set it on the ground near her feet. “We got a little distracted by all that sushi,” she agreed. “And I got a tiny buzz from the champagne.”

  “Oh, yes, very tiny,” he teased, elbowing her. It had quickly become apparent to them both that Julia was a lightweight. “But I hope you’ve sobered up, because they have the right to call either of us up there to participate, and I’d hate for you to go up there and trip or something.”

  If Julia still felt at all buzzed, it disappeared in an instant. “Say what?” she said, her face horror-stricken. “I don’t want to go up there.” She shook her head emphatically.

  “The chances are infinitesimal,” he promised, patting her knee. They looked around, taking in all the single people sitting in the theater with fruity alcoholic beverages or glasses of wine resting on the little bean-shaped tables scattered down the rows of bench seats. The stairs were lit with strips of lights, and the stage was set with four plush-looking purple chairs that vaguely resembled thrones. “Should we get another drink?” he offered. “I’m getting the feeling that this will either be hilarious or nerve-wracking.”

  Julia looked at the servers making their way up and down the aisles, passing out drinks from round trays.

  “I’ve probably had enough,” she said, “but you go ahead if you want.”

  “Nah, I better stay sober. I want to commit everything you say to memory when they call you up there,” he teased.

  “Martin!”

  The lights dimmed and the crowd settled a bit.

  “Hello! Good evening!” the emcee boomed into the microphone. “Look at all these gorgeous, brave, single people.” There was a smattering of nervous applause. “Thank you all for coming to the ‘Getting To Know You’ gameshow event!”

  More anxious applause.

  “When you checked in at the desk near the doors,” he said, waving a hand in the direction of the doors that led into the theater, “you essentially signed up for a game of Russian roulette.”

  Without tearing his eyes away from the stage, Martin reached over and took Julia’s hand in his. She couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be reassuring or if it was meant to be romantic, but either way she tightened her grip on his fingers and kept her eyes trained on the game show’s emcee.

  “So without further ado,” the red-tuxedoed man said, leaning both hands on the podium, “I’d like to invite three of you up here to tell us all about you and to hopefully entice another sexy single to take a chance on you!”

  “Ugh,” Julia said, swallowing her distaste. “No.” She wasn’t sure if it was the term “sexy singles” that put her off, or the idea of sitting on a purple throne and answering personal questions for a roomful of half-sozzled strangers, but something inside of her was telling her to bolt. “Martin,” she whispered, tugging on his hand to get his attention.

  “Our first victim of the evening,” the emcee said, holding up a notecard and squinting at the name in front of him, “is Emily Nathan from Albany, New York! Emily, come on down!” he shouted, waving a beefy hand to invite the poor woman up to the stage.

  “Martin,” Julia tried again, putting her head next to his and saying his name just a bit louder.

  “Next, we’ve got a man joining us from The Sunshine State, Mr. Martin Estradaaaaaa!”

  “No,” Julia said instinctively, refusing to let go of Martin’s hand as he stood. “Let’s go, Martin. We don’t need to do this,” she begged. But he didn’t hear her over the crowd’s hooting and cheering, and instead of pulling her up and running from the theater with her as she’d hoped, he leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek.

  Julia didn’t even hear the name of the second man who was called to come up, and soon, all three thrones were filled, with Martin in the middle. She had to admit, he looked devastatingly handsome under the stage lights, but there was a hint of sweat on his brow that gave away his nervousness.

  “My first question for these gorgeous people is why did you come on this cruise?”

  “I came because I believe in love,” Emily said, leaning into the microphone offered by the emcee. The crowed clapped politely.

  “Excellent.” The emcee moved on to Martin. “And you, sir?”

  Martin looked out into the crowd as if he were searching for Julia, though she knew he’d never be able to find her with the bright stage lights in his eyes. “I came here because I wanted to find someone who I could share my life with. I wanted someone who’d be there for the good and the bad and everything in between.”

  The women in the crowd went wild, whistling and shouting at him all around Julia. Her comfort level plummeted just as her anxiety sky-rocket
ed.

  The last guy on stage gave a pat answer about wanting to find the woman of his dreams, and then the emcee pulled out a new notecard and started firing questions at the three guests in random order. Within minutes, the audience had insight into Emily’s two divorces, knew that she loved candy corn and men with red goatees, and the men in the crowd were hooting at her bra size, which ended in a DD.

  Julia clapped along half-heartedly as the other man on stage, whose name turned out to be Eddie, stood up and did an awkward shuffle to “Ice, Ice Baby” for the audience’s amusement, admitted that he liked to sleep naked, and was somehow coerced into giving up his body count, which was “Something like eighteen.”

  The acid in Julia’s stomach roiled like a stormy sea as the emcee paused in front of Martin, giving him a long look. He shuffled his notecards and glanced at the words, then back at Martin. Back at the card, back at Martin.

  “So,” he said, giving a loaded pause as his eyes scanned the audience. “It looks like Mr. Estrada has a few skeletons in his closet.”

  At this point the singles in the crowd were loose and easy, and the alcohol was flowing freely as servers circulated and refreshed drinks all around the room.

  “Ooooooh,” the crowd shouted, waiting to hear what secrets Martin was hiding behind his handsome good looks and clean image. Julia groaned out loud.

  “As it turns out,” the emcee said, giving a low whistle as he tapped the notecards against his other palm. “As it turns out, Martin here spent about two years living in a place that most of us only visit—if we ever even get that opportunity.”

  The noise in the room dimmed. Julia watched Martin’s face and as realization dawned on him, his smile began to fade.

  “Martin here took a vow of poverty during this time, giving up all of his earthly belongings and trading in these stylish threads,” the emcee said, waving the notecard up and down to indicated Martin’s jeans and black Hawaiian shirt, “to wear one simple outfit in a single color.”

  Julia felt completely still. From the look on Martin’s face, this wasn’t what he’d been anticipating. She was sure he’d been expecting questions like the others had gotten: Baths or showers? Has a woman ever completely turned you off with one single move? Do you want to get married again? But instead, he was being led down a path unwillingly, and preparing himself to face a truth that he wouldn’t have ever wanted to face in front of a room full of strangers.

  “So Martin,” the emcee said, turning his body to face the crowd and not looking at Martin at all. “Tell us—were you a monk? A priest?”

  The entire room waited. Julia gripped the armrests of her seat with both hands. The emcee turned dramatically and thrust his microphone into Martin’s face.

  “No,” Martin said, looking glazed. “I actually…I mean, it’s a long story, but—“ His eyes scanned the crowd without ever landing on Julia. He took a deep breath. “I spent two years in prison.”

  It was all Julia needed to hear. Blaine had been right: there was something about Martin. Something secret and unknowable and dangerous. She reached under her seat and fumbled for her purse as she stood up to leave. Blood pounded in her temples and pulsed through her veins as she nearly tripped on the stairs in her rush to get out of the theater. She had to get out of there—she couldn’t breathe.

  The last thing she heard as she pushed both of the double doors open to let herself out of the theater was the emcee jokingly saying, “Well, I don’t know whether it was stripes or orange, but Martin, you lucky bastard, I bet you looked good in whatever they made you wear!”

  Julia didn’t wait around to hear whether or not the crowd laughed or how Martin responded. Instead, she nearly fell against the heavy door that led to the ship’s deck, gripping her purse against her chest and rushing headlong into the wind that whipped off the ocean.

  13

  The next day Julia signed up for a half day tour of Pearl Harbor and left the ship early enough to miss Martin completely. She’d purposely worn a big, floppy hat and dark glasses, casting furtive glances at the other people as they disembarked, hoping not to bump into him as she boarded the trolley from the ship to the main tourist area.

  By the time she got back to the boat in the afternoon, Julia had taken the tour, eaten authentic Hawaiian food at Roy’s Waikiki, and found a sweatshirt and a pastel baseball cap for Christina, and a pretty stained glass wind chime for her back porch. She dragged herself tiredly off the trolley and through the re-boarding process, then up to her stateroom, where she dumped her packages, hat, and sunglasses on the bed.

  Within minutes, there was a knock at the door. Julia plugged her cell phone into the charger and ran a hand through her wind-whipped hair. The chances were good that it might be Martin, coming to track her down after she’d ignored his messages and calls all day. In fact, at one point she’d turned off her phone completely, determined to enjoy Honolulu and pay the appropriate amount of attention the tour guide at Pearl Harbor, which meant not focusing on Martin and all the questions she had and the emotions she was feeling.

  With a deep breath, Julia pulled the door open and didn’t even bother to look through the peephole to see who it was.

  “Julia!” Arthur stood there in the hallway with a glass in one hand and a smile on his face. “I haven’t seen much of you, so I wanted to invite you next door for happy hour,” he said, tilting his head at the door to his own room. “I have a few friends stopping by, and I thought it might do you some good to be around a bunch of old farts.”

  Julia laughed at this, relief flooding through her as her heart slowed a bit. She wouldn’t have to face Martin yet, and while that meant she was really just avoiding the inevitable, it was still a welcome reprieve.

  “Oh, who am I kidding,” Arthur said, holding up his glass and taking a fortifying swig of the liquid before smacking his lips with satisfaction. “I thought it would do us some good to have a gorgeous young lady in our midst.”

  “I’m not feeling very gorgeous right now,” Julia admitted, looking down at her sweaty sundress and Birkenstocks. “Do you mind if I shower and change here? I’ll bring over a bottle of…” Julia glanced over her shoulder at the counter where her photos and notes from her students were propped up. “How about I bring a bottle of tequila?” she offered. She’d purchased a few bottles of local spirits along the way, but she was happy to open one and share it with her new friends rather than lug it home.

  “I have a full bar, my dear,” Arthur assured her. “We do happy hour every evening, me and the crew, so I’ve got every variety of spirit you might desire. And yes, pop over anytime,” he added, giving her a wave and walking back to his own room.

  Julia showered and changed into a flowing maxi-dress, leaving her hair wet and twisting it into a shell clip that she’d found in a shop in Hilo with Martin. She spritzed on a bit of her favorite perfume and applied lipgloss and mascara before grabbing her room key and leaving her phone on the nightstand without checking it.

  Next door, the vodka was mixed with 7Up and there were little glass dishes filled with a variety of nuts and olives. A silver room service tray was covered in plates of cheese and crackers, and Daisy Schwartz and two of her friends sat on chairs on Arthur’s balcony, laughing in the early evening sunlight as they clinked their glasses together.

  “Shhh,” Arthur said, ushering her inside. “Promise you won’t tell the other lovely ladies that I said we needed youth and beauty in our midst,” he said, putting a finger to his lips. “Now what can I get you to drink?”

  “I would never tell, and I’ll drink whatever you’re mixing,” Julia said, smiling at a tall man in a loud Hawaiian shirt as he used a pair of tongs to pick up ice cubes from a bucket and drop them into glasses.

  “This is Jacob,” Arthur said, reaching up to clap his much taller friend on the shoulder. Like Arthur, Jacob was clearly on the far side of middle age. If she had to guess, she’d have said mid-seventies.

  “Nice to meet you, Jacob.” Julia took the
glass from him that he offered to her. “I’m Julia Delmonico.”

  “I’ve heard about you,” Jacob said, giving her the kind of wink that a father might give his daughter. “Don’t take any offense, but I think the term ‘young floozy’ might have been thrown around. I hope you’re as amused by that as I am, because that’s clearly not the case.”

  Julia nearly choked on the vodka and 7Up. “Young floozy?” she said, laughing. “Wow. I’ll try not to be offended.”

  “Julia!” Daisy said, standing up on the balcony and shielding her eyes with one hand. “Come on out here with the girls.”

  Julia gave Jacob a look with one slightly raised eyebrow, as if to confirm that Daisy was the one who’d called her names. He gave a little head tip that let her know she was on the right path.

  “Hi, ladies,” Julia said, stepping over the doorframe and onto the balcony. “Beautiful evening, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, aren’t you just a sweet young thing!” A woman in a gauzy black sundress reached up a liver-spotted hand to take Julia’s hand. “I’m Eleanore,” she said. “And this is Margaret, and I suppose you know Daisy.”

  Julia nodded at each of them in turn and took the fourth chair, sipping her drink quietly as the women talked about the last cruise they’d all been on together.

  “Do you generally plan to be on the same trips?” Julia interjected, switching her cold drink from one hand to the other as she watched the port of Honolulu slide away from the now moving ship.

  Eleanore took the same hand she’d offered to Julia and rested it on Margaret’s knee. “We’re always traveling together,” she said. “Margaret and Jacob have been sailing for about five years now, and when I lost my husband Paul, I decided I’d join my former neighbors on this adventure, and they’ve been nice enough not to complain as I third-wheel with them.”

  “Oh, stop,” Margaret said, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re no third wheel. Paul would have wanted us to look after you, and that’s just what we’ll do.”