He was making a major concession, both in his acceptance of her criticism, and his attempt at explaining his position. Maura felt the tension of her irritation ease. She glanced at him from under her lashes. “I suppose you have a point."
He smiled, warmth lighting the darkness of his eyes. “You don't give up easily, do you? My grandmother will be happy to know that someone has taken her job of bringing possible reasons for complaint to my notice."
“That wasn't why I brought it up,” Maura said, though she could not prevent her own lips from curving in a response to his lighter mood.
“I know. You were annoyed with me for sending Stephen about his business."
“Not exactly, though it bothers me that you consider it necessary."
“It may be,” he said, a reflective note in his voice, “that I find it not necessary, but preferable."
There it was again, that hint of jealousy, of personal interest. To allow herself to acknowledge it, however, would be the greatest folly.
“Speaking of your grandmother,” she said carefully, “I haven't asked how she is, or what the doctor said."
He leaned back, his regard stern, before he answered. “She is resting comfortably, having dinner in her room. She wanted to get up, but the doctor thought it best that she have an early night. As for the diagnosis, there was nothing new. She overdid it today, with the result, entirely predictable, that you saw."
“She is so gallant, so strong-willed, it's hard to believe she is really that ill."
“It isn't apparent because she herself refuses to believe, or to act the invalid."
“You have to admire such an attitude,” Maura suggested.
“I try my best,” he said with a wry grimace, “when I'm not busy preventing her from overextending her strength."
“It's a pity she had to miss the Grand Buffet."
“She will not mind since the concept was hers. It was inaugurated many years ago on this run, a substitute for the barbecues on the seashore or seafood cookouts that invariably end with stomach illness among the passengers. But I have strict orders to bring you to see her when we are finished here."
Maura looked up from her plate. “Are you certain she is well enough for visitors?"
“She says so, and the doctor is in agreement as long as she doesn't become excited. However, if you have other plans, there is no reason to disturb them."
Stiffness entered his voice as he spoke the last words. Maura suppressed a smile. “No, that isn't it at all. I will be glad to see her."
The words she had spoken were true, but there was more to it than that. She was gratified at the invitation, at being included. The depth of her pleasure was surprising, and also troubling.
“You aren't eating,” Nikolaos pointed out
“I—I'm not very hungry tonight."
He put down his fork and reached to touch her cheek with the back of his fingers, drawing them down its gentle curve with the feel of a caress.
Maura flinched, then as he drew back at once, managed a light laugh. “I'm not feverish, if that's what you think."
“I thought,” he said with soft irony as he surveyed the soft color in her face, “that you might be coming down with heatstroke."
“Nothing so dramatic,” she said, taking his words at face value, though the glint in her emerald eyes let him know she recognized his reference to her concern for coolness.
“It must be that you didn't find what you liked then,” he said smoothly, and summoning Stephen, sent him to refill Maura's plate from the bounty. Between the two of them, she was urged to try Greek-style stuffed eggplant, tiny spicy meatballs called keftethakia, an assortment of salads with olive oil dressing, a small slice of every kind of meat available, and for dessert, baklava, the extremely sweet Greek pastry drenched in honey and butter. As the tense atmosphere at the table was banished, Maura's appetite returned, but at last she had to call a halt.
“No coffee and sherbet?” Stephen asked as he cleared away the dessert plates.
“No!” Maura said. “I couldn't eat another bite. I have absolutely no more room."
“Tomorrow evening will be Greek Taverna night. She will like that, will she not, Mr. Vassos?"
“We must hope so,” Nikolaos replied.
“Indeed yes, there will be squid and yogurt and moussaka —"
“Please!” Maura said, in mock distress.
Chuckling to himself, Stephen took his tray of dishes away in the direction of the kitchen.
It was in the same mood of cordiality that Maura and Nikolaos left the dining room and made their way to the stateroom suite he shared with his grandmother. Inside, he stepped to the door of the bedroom she occupied, knocked softly, and pushed the panel open.
The elderly woman looked up from the book she was reading. “So you are back,” she said to her grandson. “Did you bring Maura? Ah, yes, there you are my dear. Do come in."
Maura stepped past Nikolaos to take the hand Mrs. Papoulas held out to her. It may have been imagination, but it seemed her grip was more frail than earlier in the day, and there was a yellowish tint to her skin.
“How are you?” There were times when the conventional phrase had its uses.
“Feeling terribly spoiled and lazy,” the old woman said, “and about ready to let the ship rock me to sleep. I wanted to see you before then."
“Was there something special?” Maura asked, her green eyes steady.
Mrs. Papoulas smiled, concern in her dark eyes so like those of her grandson. “I was afraid that I may have done the wrong thing this afternoon, asking you to keep the fact that I had felt unwell from Nikolaos, especially in view of what happened later. I think I know you well enough by now, Maura, to understand that you will feel responsible. I would not have you take the guilt upon yourself. It was no one's fault except my own."
Maura glanced at Nikolaos who had come to stand beside her. He had not told his grandmother that she had confided in him. She had not expected so much consideration.
“It is kind of you to try to relieve my mind,” Maura said, turning back to Mrs. Papoulas, “but you should not be worrying about such things."
“They are important, these matters. It would distress me very much if I should be the cause of any misunderstanding between you and Nikolaos."
This time, Maura refused to look at the man standing so quietly beside her. “I'm sure there is no great danger of that."
“Then it's settled. I won't keep you any longer. The night is only beginning and you must enjoy yourself, both of you."
They were dismissed. When their good nights had been said, Maura preceded Nikolaos from the room. They left the suite, moving along the corridor that led to the promenade deck.
“Thank you for not telling her I had already broken my word,” Maura said, her voice a little husky.
“There seemed no reason why she should know,” he replied.
“No, I suppose not. It didn't really make any difference, one way or another."
“I was able to get to her quicker when she needed me than I would have otherwise."
“But not quick enough to prevent the attack from happening."
“She was right; you do blame yourself,” he said, turning to stare at her with surprise in his dark eyes.
“No, not really."
“But you do not absolve yourself, either?"
“Does it matter?” she asked with a small shrug.
“I think so, because your given word is also important to you, something unusual in a woman."
“Surely not."
“I have found it so in the women of my acquaintance."
“Then I can't say much for the company you keep,” Maura said, touched by a fleeting memory of his grandmother's reference to his pillow friends.
“You may be right."
Surprise at his agreement held her silent. As they passed near the stairwell, the music of the nightly lounge entertainment could be heard drifting up from the lower deck.
N
ikolaos paused. “Would you like to go down to the lounge?"
“The show is nearly the same as last night, isn't it?"
“Basically."
“Then I think I will pass, if you don't mind."
“Not at all,” he answered easily. “Would you rather stroll on deck instead?"
Maura gave her assent without hesitation. As she passed through the outside door that he held for her, she knew that it would be wiser for her to make an excuse to go to her cabin. Still, as Mrs. Papoulas had said, the night was only beginning, and she was filled with a restless longing for activity after these last days of doing nothing more strenuous than ambling around tropic ports. Confinement in a small room in the depths of the cruising ship was the last thing she wanted.
“Look,” Nikolaos said as they moved along the deck beside the rail. He halted, directing her attention to the spreading wake of the ship and the sea froth stirred up by their passing.
It was phosphorescence. The silver-blue light sparkled and glinted in the water, outlining the top of the wake, touching the tops of the nearest waves with a twinkling glow. It kept pace with the speed of the ship, a cool glitter like sea lightning. Maura watched with a feeling of wonder. She had read of the phenomenon, but never seen it, not even on the other cruise she had taken with her great-aunt.
“It's fascinating,” she breathed.
“Yes,” Nikolaos said, but when she looked up, he was watching her rapt face.
They moved on. The tap of Maura's high-heeled sandals seemed to follow them, sounding loud on the wooden deck in the quiet of the night broken only by the swishing wash of their wake and the deep and soothing rumble of the engines.
“It's unbelievable to me how deserted the decks are at this time of night,” Maura said, her tone musing.
“Most passengers prefer to be where there is music, entertainment, and other people."
“They can find those things anywhere. In a few days the ship will dock, the cruise will be over, and for all most of them have discovered of being at sea, they might just as well have stayed tied up at the wharf in New Orleans."
“I'm sure most of them knew they were on a ship at sea the first two days."
Maura's lips twitched into a smile. “Now that you mention it, I'm sure you're right."
“You are a good sailor,” he commented.
“I seem to be, surprisingly enough.” Maura reached out to trail her fingers along the rail.
“My grandmother was impressed, mainly because she can never go out in a boat, no matter how small, without difficulties."
“There's nothing so unusual in that,” Maura said. “I never did understand why she was so—what was the word she used—mortified?"
“The Vassos family has always been of the sea. The women who marry into it are expected to produce sailors with strong stomachs. Or at least that was once the idea; now it no longer matters. But when my grandmother and grandfather were first married it was different. My grandfather never cared, of course, but he enjoyed teasing her."
“You remember your grandfather?"
“Why should I not?"
“I don't know. I suppose I assumed he had been dead some time, because of your grandmother's second marriage."
Nikolaos shook his head. “He lived long enough to establish Vassos Lines, and to teach me to love the sea despite the fact that it had taken my father, his son. It was only after he had died that I went out on a ship as one of the crew."
“And who ran the shipping line while you were gone?” Maura asked, though she had an inkling of the answer.
“My grandmother."
“I thought as much,” Maura said with satisfaction.
“With the help of the business manager of the line, a Mr. Papoulas."
“The man she married?"
“The same. It was, in some ways, a matter of business."
“I begin to see why she is still known as Madame Vassos, at least everywhere except on the ship."
“Yes. Things are never simple between human beings, however. It never occurred to me that she minded not being called by the name of her second husband until I came on this ship with her. Now, I wonder."
His voice was brooding, and there was a pensive look on his strong features as Maura turned her head to look at him. “I haven't known your grandmother that long,” she said quietly, “but I think that if she had minded, she would have said so."
For a long time they kept track of the lights of a ship passing on their starboard side. From the position of the far-reaching beams that outlined a low profile in the water, it seemed she must be an oil tanker. She was headed away from them, toward New Orleans. They appeared to run parallel for some minutes, then the tanker gradually drew away, her lights growing dim and disappearing beneath the horizon.
“I forget,” Maura said, “that all this isn't new to you. If there's something else you would rather be doing, I will be fine on my own."
“Are you trying to be rid of me?” he asked, coming to a halt. Despite the belligerence of the question, she did not think he expected an affirmative answer, from the ease of his stance and the smile that tugged at one corner of his mouth.
He did not receive one. “No, of course not."
“In that case, I am content. It gives me a new perspective to see things through your eyes."
They walked on, stopping now and then to watch the sparkling phosphorescence. At the prow of the ship, they paused to grip the railing, staring into the far reaches of the night and the endless stretching ocean. Here, the movement of the ship was felt the strongest as the bow rose and fell, breasting the gently rolling waves. There was no protection from the wind of their steady progress. It whipped their hair and fluttered the capelet of Maura's dress around her shoulders like wings.
“Out there somewhere,” Maura said, “is Jamaica."
Nikolaos leaned closer, the better to hear and be heard against the rushing of the wind. “One hundred and eighty miles, give or take a few, dead ahead."
“How long will it take us to make it?"
“We should reach Montego Bay by breakfast. Passengers can go ashore as soon as the ship is cleared by local authorities. We sail at three-thirty in the afternoon, so there is nearly the whole day in port. That should please you."
“It's better than staying only a few hours, you'll have to admit."
“Easily. I take it you do intend to have a look at Montego Bay?"
“I wouldn't miss it,” Maura answered.
“Rose Hall, home of the white witch? The Straw Market? Shopping? The beach?"
“A little of all of it, I expect.” She half expected him to offer to serve as her escort, but he did not. Her disappointment was an unpleasant shock, until she considered that he would feel obligated to stay on board with his grandmother.
The wind that buffeted them was warm and fragrant with the ever-present tang of salt. Still, facing it for any length of time was impossible without their eyes beginning to tear, and their hair feeling like tangled straw. They pushed away from the rail, promenading once more. As they rounded the turn of the prow, Maura glanced up at the bridge windows noticing Captain Spiridion and his second officer inside, moving back and forth in front of the faintly glowing light
Alexandros was not on duty. Alexandros. Until that moment, she had forgotten. He expected her to meet him in the lido bar after dinner. Was he waiting for her there now? If so, she doubted that he was waiting patiently.
She should excuse herself and go at once to meet the third officer. Though she had not agreed to the rendezvous in so many words, she had let him assume she would be there.
Somehow, she could not bring herself to do it. She could not imagine what Nikolaos would have to say if she were truthful about the reason for her hasty departure, and she didn't care to hear it. That was the main reason for her reluctance. She also was not anxious to listen to the protestations and recriminations of the ship's officer. Any other reason for preferring to remain in the company of the mana
ging director of the line was, naturally, a mere detail.
They were nearing the steps that led up to the lido deck. Nikolaos tipped his head in their direction. “Would you like to go up?"
“If—you like,” Maura said after a brief struggle with herself. At least she could see if Alexandros was in the bar.
They climbed the steps and moved along the deck toward the bar, skirting the rows of empty deck chairs and the deserted pool with the sheen of moonlight reflected on the gently shifting surface. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the bar, they could see a few people dancing while others sat at the tables that ringed the room. There was no sign of officers’ white. “Shall we have a drink?” Nikolaos asked. The prospect of Alexandros finding her in the lido bar with Nikolaos was not one Maura favored. “I couldn't, not so soon after dinner."
With easy agreement, Nikolaos avoided the flashing lights and music of the ship's disco, moving toward the stairs that would take them to the plexiglass-protected games deck.
On that upper level there was a ping-pong table sitting to one side with a ball and pair of paddles lying out where the last players had left them. Nikolaos took up a paddle, weighing it in his hand. A challenge was issued and accepted, and they played a slow game, lobbing the ball back and forth. Maura had difficulties in her heels, however. She could not move fast enough on the polished deck. On the third time she missed the ball, it bounded over the deck and rattled down the stairs to the lido deck.
They went after it. There was a strong updraft on the metal steps, and Maura had to grab for her lightweight voile skirt to keep it from blowing above her waist.
“I have the feeling,” she said on a laugh, “that I'm not dressed for this."
“Perhaps not,” Nikolaos answered from above her, “but you are beautiful, all the same."
Maura turned to look at him, but the expression on his face was unreadable. It was a relief to be able to turn once more, pretending concern over her footing on the steep, rubber-treaded steps.
Love at Sea Page 11