Hearts Ahoy

by Stephanie Taylor

  “Hey, hey, hey.” Arthur put a hand on her shoulder. “Lighten up on yourself, will you? Human emotions can blind us just a little bit. And you were feeling…”

  “Desperate,” the gruff man across from Arthur interjected, looking down at his own cards.

  “Willard,” Arthur said with a note of warning.

  “Am I wrong?” Willard looked up at them. “We all feel desperate when it comes to love sometimes. That is what we’re talking about here, right? Love?”

  The wind had passed and Julia let her hand fall from her hat to her lap. “Yeah,” she admitted with reluctance. “We’re talking about love.”

  “Right.” Willard squinted and pulled his incredibly bushy eyebrows together. “So cut yourself some slack. Like your pal Goldman here says, swallow your pride and pick up the phone. We all get desperate sometimes.”

  “Yeah,” said another man, sitting down next to Willard so that he was facing Julia. “But for Willard here, desperation is a way of life.”

  “Arrggghh,” Willard growled, pulling his eyebrows even tighter. He waved a hand at the newcomer and went back to his cards.

  Arthur leaned in closer to Julia and patted her between the shoulder blades. “You go on and call him,” he said quietly. “Let me deal with this group of grumpy old men, and you go and find out what’s going on with your young fella.”

  “He’s a damn lucky young fella,” Willard said, holding a finger up as if he were making a point. “If I were young again, I’d make sure I soaked it all in. Treated every lady to a tall glass of Willard love if she even so much as glanced my way—“

  “Okay!” Arthur actually stood up, nearly knocking over his lemonade as he did so. “Up you go,” he said, offering Julia a hand.

  She smiled to herself at the way he wanted to whisk her away from anything inappropriate that might come out of Willard’s seemingly unfiltered mouth.

  “Good luck, and if you want to have dinner tonight, my reservation is for six,” Arthur added, still standing politely as Julia stepped back from the table.

  “I’d love to. It’s a date,” she said, waving at him and his friends.

  As she walked away, she could hear Willard say distinctly: “Maybe you’re the lucky fella, you old bastard,” he grunted at Arthur.

  “Oh Willard. Shut your mouth and play cards, you old crank.”

  Julia chuckled to herself and fished her phone from the bag she carried over her shoulder. How could she have not reached out to Martin yet? She could smack her own forehead at the idiocy that left her licking her wounds as if he’d somehow wronged her.

  At the fore of the ship she found a quiet nook filled with oversized round porthole style windows and sank into a comfortable chair that faced the water.

  “Get you anything?” a waitress asked in a voice that sounded quiet and hushed to Julia’s ears after being outside and talking over the roar of the wind and sea.

  “Coffee, please,” Julia said, setting her bag by her feet. “Cream and sugar too, if you don’t mind.”

  The waitress disappeared to get her coffee, and Julia unlocked her phone, scrolling for Martin’s number. She hesitated only briefly before punching the red call button and listening for the line to connect and ring.

  After several rings, Martin’s voicemail picked up and Julia waited for the beep. “Hi,” she said, then paused. “This is Julia. Of course you know that—duh—my name will be on the message. I think. That is, if you’ve added me to your phone by name.” She stopped and squinted tightly before soldiering on. “Anyway, I really called to say that I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. Or text. Or anything, really. I should have checked to see how your granddaughter was doing, but…I wanted to give you space with your family and I figured you’d let me know if there was anything I could do. Not that I could really do anything, but…your family is in my thoughts and prayers,” she added, already mentally berating herself for not planning this message out better before calling. The waitress set a tray on the low table before her and she nodded her gratitude before continuing. “So, if you have a chance, could you just let me know how things are? I’ve been thinking about you. A lot. Okay, bye.”

  Before she could say anything that made her sound like more of an idiot, Julia ended the call, locked her phone, and set it on the table. Her first instinct was to panic and think of ways she could retract the message, but of course there wasn’t a way to do that, so instead she poured hot coffee from the carafe into the cup on the tray, then added cream and sugar and stirred. Finally, she sat back in the chair and looked out the windows, watching the blue water beyond.

  She’d finally come to her senses and put her own girlish and self-centered emotions aside, reaching out to Martin and letting him know she was here for him. Julia sipped her coffee and inhaled deeply. Now all she could do was wait and hope he didn’t think less of her for not doing it sooner.

  “Julia! Julia Delmonico!” Blaine waved frantically from across the art gallery. When he was satisfied that he’d gotten her attention, he dropped his arm and straightened the pink pocket square that peeked out from the breast pocket of his navy blue blazer. Julia squashed an eye roll and waved back.

  “I am SO GLAD you’re here,” he said with unnecessary emphasis, taking both of her hands in his and pumping them excitedly.

  “Oh, me too.” Kerry, Martin’s cupid, approached Julia with a semi-enthusiastic smile. She was sipping a pink martini, holding the glass daintily with the tips of all ten fingers as she tried to surreptitiously assess Julia’s evening attire.

  “We’re both glad,” Blaine said. His tan had somehow deepened over the week they’d been at sea, and his cheeks shone under the overhead lights. “I didn’t know you were an art fan.” He gestured around at the landscape paintings and gaudy portraits on display. “But I was going to try to catch up with you later and let you know that Gilbert is dying to see you again.”

  Julia coughed politely and pulled one of her hands from Blaine’s so that she could cover her mouth. “Oh,” she said, making a face like she couldn’t quite recall the man who’d sent her scurrying away from the 80s prom. “Gil…right.”

  “He did say he was dying to see you,” Kerry confirmed, glancing around the art gallery as she spoke. The more Julia observed her, the more she realized that Kerry was probably not much older than Christina.

  “I’m not sure that I’m interested in getting together with Gil again,” Julia admitted. “He’s a nice man, but I think I’ll just hang out on my own for the rest of the trip.”

  Blaine couldn’t have looked more stunned if Julia had taken off her top and lit herself on fire. “You have got to be kidding me,” he said, reaching for her shoulder and giving her a shake that was actually kind of rough. “No way, Julia Delmonico. A woman of your sexual potency cannot just hang it up and walk away right now.”

  Julia snorted involuntarily. “My sexual potency?” she parroted back. “Puh-leez. I like to read a lot and go to bed early. When I’m not cutting loose on a cruise for sad singles, I’m at home, grading the questionably-written essays of high school freshman. None of that exactly reeks of sexual potency.”

  “Girl,” Kerry said, lowering her martini glass and leveling her gaze at Julia. “You snared a total hottie already, and that alone got you some clout. You can have any guy you want here.”

  “Come again?” Julia looked back and forth between the two of them.

  Blaine gave a slightly annoyed grimace. “She means that bagging an ex-con with dark and dreamy good looks got you on the market in a big way.”

  “Sure,” Kerry added, swirling her drink and making a bored face. “Other women want to know your secret, and other men think you’re kind of a bad baddie. Guys like that.” She shrugged noncommittally. “But if you want to let that kind of street cred go to waste, then…it’s whatever.” Kerry looked across the room and gave a little wave at a couple standing next to a painting that looked like a Monet knock-off. “Sorry, I see someone I need to talk to.”
Without waiting for Julia or Blaine to respond, she glided away.

  “She’s not wrong, Julia,” Blaine said, arching a perfect eyebrow. “This cruise ain’t over yet.”

  Julia let out a tired sigh just as she spotted Kay The Librarian walking in her direction. “Blaine,” she said, giving him an apologetic look, “I feel like this cruise is over for me.”

  It was obvious that Blaine had more to say, but he simply stared at her with an open mouth as she walked out of the art gallery and made her way to the dining room for her dinner date with Arthur.

  19

  By the last night of the cruise, Julia still hadn’t heard back from Martin, and she knew that somehow she’d screwed up. If not through her actions pushing him away, then by sleeping with him and having expectations that were sure to be dashed all along. She’d essentially resigned herself to the fact that she’d gotten through her first post-Will romantic entanglement, and after a lot of self-talk, she’d even convinced herself that things would be fine the minute she got home and back to work again.

  “I’m so glad you’re here with us!” Daisy Schwartz shouted over the band that was playing Top 40 hits loudly from the stage in the ballroom. She was holding onto Julia’s wrist with one slightly shaky hand as she smiled at Arthur. “I know you and Arthur are friends,” she said, giving Julia a meaningful look that recalled Daisy’s initial impression that Julia might be interested in Arthur romantically (the notion was no less far-fetched now than it had been then), and Julia reached out and gripped her hand, giving it a squeeze.

  “I’m glad I came tonight, too,” she said, watching as Arthur flagged down one of the busy servers.

  The ballroom had been decorated with what looked like thousands of gold and silver balloons that hung from the ceiling, and in the low lights, it looked like a steady stream of glitter was blowing from somewhere up above, coating everyone in a shine and sparkle that made the room seem like a movie set.

  On one wall was a banner that shouted “Farewell Doesn’t Mean Goodbye!” and the photo booth beneath it had a long line of people queueing up to pose with other people for a strip of black and white pictures to commemorate the event.

  “Do they always do this?” Julia asked loudly, cupping her mouth as she leaned toward Arthur. “On every cruise you’re on?”

  Arthur shrugged helplessly. “Don’t know,” he said. “I usually spend more time in my room. I haven’t gone out to dinner or dancing with beautiful ladies this many times in years!”

  Daisy looked at him adoringly. It really was charming to see them, Julia thought. Especially given how opposed Arthur had been to any hint of romance just two weeks earlier.

  “You two should dance,” Julia said, reaching out and grabbing each of them gently by the elbow. “Seriously. I’ll watch our spot here.” She gestured at the tall table that held their drinks and both women’s purses. “Honestly, go ahead.”

  Without any further prompting, Arthur offered Daisy the crook of his elbow and led her out onto the dance floor.

  Julia glanced around, praying that Kay The Librarian and Gil The Uncharming 80s Prom Date didn’t materialize. As she did, the band finished a song and paused, leaving just enough of a window between the cacophony of sounds for her to hear the chiming of her phone. She reached for her purse and pulled up the flap, digging it out and unlocking the screen quickly. There was a message from Martin.

  Julia badly wanted to leave the ballroom and find somewhere quiet to read the text, but she’d promised Daisy and Arthur that she’d stay with their things, and as she watched, they moved smoothly across the room, laughing and talking as they pulled out dance moves not seen since sometime shortly after WWII.

  Impatiently, Julia tapped her phone against her palm and waited for the song to end.

  “Hey, young lady,” Arthur said as he squired Daisy back to the table, both of them slightly out of breath. “How would you feel about taking a spin on the dance floor with an older gent? Strictly in honor of our last night aboard the ship,” he coaxed, sensing her hesitation.

  Julia had been just about to beg off for the evening so that she could see what Martin had sent her, but something about Arthur’s hopeful face made her reconsider. She shoved her phone back into her purse and left it on the table.

  “I got it,” Daisy assured her. “My turn to watch our stuff.” With a wink, she picked up her drink and held it up in a small toast as Arthur put his arm out for Julia.

  “Looks like we got a slow song here,” he said, putting one hand on the small of Julia’s back and holding the other out for her to place her palm in. “I hope you don’t mind that you’ve got a few inches on your dancing partner.”

  “I don’t mind in the least,” Julia said, falling into position and beginning to dance with Arthur. “This has been—“ she said, but her words collided with Arthur’s as he started to speak: “Mrs. Delmonico, I think—“

  They both laughed and then Arthur nodded slightly. “Ladies first,” he offered.

  “I was just going to say that this has been a real treat for me,” Julia said. “Being your neighbor and getting to know you. This life you’re living…” She glanced around the ballroom as he held her in his arms. “It’s pretty remarkable.”

  “What a way to go out, huh?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “Oh! That’s not what I meant.” Julia felt mildly horrified he might think that was what she was saying.

  “Pshaw, Julia,” he said, squishing up his features as if none of it mattered. “These are not just my golden years—these are my twilight years. No use pretending the facts are otherwise, right?”

  Julia wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she took a step closer and wrapped her arm more tightly around Arthur’s shoulders. He was a sweet, sweet man, and certainly the cruise wouldn’t have had nearly the same feel to it without him as a friend. She’d miss him.

  “But you, my dear,” Arthur went on. “You’re right there in that beautiful place, you know?”

  Julia pulled her head back so that she could look him in the eye. “This is the beautiful place?” she asked, surprised. Widowed, middle-aged, and an empty nester, she sometimes felt that life was anything but beautiful anymore.

  “Sure,” Arthur shrugged. “You’ve tasted love, so you know it’s out there. You’ve gotten to raise a child you’re proud of, and she’s out in the world, doing the things you taught her to do. You have a home to go to at the end of a day, and a job you love. You’ve also got half your life ahead of you, give or take,” he said with a smirk. “But you know how that works, the uncertainty of life and all that.”

  Julia let his words sink in. He was right, and she knew it. The things she’d been looking at from a “glass half empty” perspective could be completely flipped and viewed from the other direction. She had known love, and she did have a wonderful daughter. Plus she had an income, a home, and her health.

  “You’re completely right, Mr. Goldman,” she said, shaking her head in wonder at the easy wisdom that seemed to come with age but was still sometimes so elusive even in midlife.

  “Sometimes I am, Mrs. Delmonico. Sometimes we all are.”

  Julia relaxed into Arthur’s arms again and enjoyed the moment, knowing that soon enough it would end and that the bubble of this cruise that they’d been living in for two weeks would burst. But for the time being, she swayed in the arms of a man who’d seen far more life than she had, and let her mind entertain the possibilities of what the next forty years might hold for her.

  It was late by the time Julia and Arthur had dropped Daisy at her room, and even later when Arthur stopped outside of Julia’s room for the last time, holding up her hand and bending forward gallantly to place a kiss on her hand.

  “It’s been a pleasure,” he said, holding her gaze before turning and walking to his own room. He entered without a backward glance. Julia knew she wouldn’t see him the next morning or ever again, so she stood there in the hallway, waiting until his door clicked and locked behin
d him.

  Inside her own room, there was packing to do and she forced herself to confront the explosion of clothes in her drawers and in the closet before she’d even consider reading Martin’s message. The initial burning desire to know what he said had been muted just slightly as she realized that this was her last night and it wasn’t worth missing, no matter what he had to say.

  So after thirty minutes of stuffing and rolling clothes into her suitcase and another half hour of showering and laying out an outfit for disembarking and traveling home the next day, Julia sat on the side of her bed in the white fluffy cruise ship robe for the last time and opened her messages.

  There it was—just one sentence.

  Julia, I’m sorry—a lot has happened.

  She frowned and read the same words several more times, trying to parse them for some hidden meaning. He was sorry for what—not calling? Not texting? Or he was sorry that a lot had happened? Sorry for…leaving without saying goodbye? Or sorry that he’d gone home to a family emergency and fallen back in love with Esme—even though she was married to another man—as they watched their son and his daughter go through a major trauma of some sort? She had no idea. It was almost as mysterious as him not saying anything at all.

  Julia pondered the implications of saying nothing at all versus typing him a long paragraph detailing her thoughts and feelings. In the end, she decided simplicity was the better route and sent him back a message that was just as brief:

  I’m so sorry for your family’s stress. I hope that everything is okay.

  After she hit send, Julia plugged in her phone and clicked off the lamp, climbing under the covers in nothing but the robe so that she could fall asleep one last time to the rock and sway of the boat and the sound of the waves.

  20

  Home was as she’d left it: gray, rainy, comfortable. Julia returned from the cruise and instantly picked up her standoffish cat for a quick cuddle, sorted through her pile of mail, and threw all her vacation clothes in the laundry basket. It was good to be home.