Fearless

by Fern Michaels

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’m going to enjoy this.” Once again, she held her flute up high as if she were proposing a toast. “And maybe a nap.”

  “As you wish,” he said, standing in the doorway. “I’m only a button away if there is anything you need.”

  She nodded. “Thanks.” This would go on forever if she didn’t send him on his merry way. Feigning a yawn, she said, “That nap is calling.”

  Finally she had the place to herself and decided to explore her temporary home for the next seven days and six nights. The master suite was much larger than she’d anticipated. A king-size bed with a magnificent view looking out over the Gulf of Mexico would, she hoped, lull her to sleep at night. In addition to the bed and the view, there was a luxurious whirlpool tub on one balcony, and a flat-screen TV. Guerlain bath products and plush robes and slippers ensured a spalike experience. When Mandy said the accommodations were top-of-the-line, she wasn’t kidding. Double sinks steeped in marble, a telephone, and a second flat-screen TV were just a few of the luxuries the ship provided. Tonight, she would take a bath, a much-loved pleasure, which she did most nights if her schedule allowed. Most of her free time was devoted to her daughter.

  She wandered into the kitchen area and saw an espresso coffeemaker, her favorite brand of coffee, Kaya Kopi—no doubt Mandy’s doing—plus a large assortment of the Norman Love chocolates she adored. From what she could see, Mandy had all the bases covered. Speaking of which, she was supposed to call Mandy when she had settled in.

  Thankful for the satellite phone, she dialed Mandy’s cell. Mandy must have been waiting for her because she answered on the first ring.

  “I take it you like your room?” Mandy didn’t bother with “hello.”

  “More than like,” Anna said. “It’s the size of an apartment. I don’t even want to ask how much it cost because it might ruin the trip.”

  “Right. You could rent the entire ship and not worry about pricing,” Mandy teased.

  She could, it was true, but she did not go around advertising her wealth. She’d always thought that doing so was a little on the tacky side. “This is perfect. I’m glad you decided I needed time away. I didn’t realize I needed this until I saw the tub overlooking the Gulf.”

  “Pretty ritzy then?” Mandy asked.

  “Let’s just put it this way. If this were an apartment in New York City, it would sell for millions.”

  “I am always happy to help out,” Mandy informed her. “Let me tear Christina away from Mr. Waffles. Hang on.”

  Anna smiled. Mr. Waffles had been a fantastic birthday present.

  “Hey, Mom,” Christina said. “How’s the deep-sea stuff?”

  “So far, so good. How’s Orlando?”

  “Hot but awesome. Disney is everywhere. They have Mickey Mouse telephone lines. Mandy cussed a few times in the traffic, I’ve had fast food all day, so it’s totally off the charts.”

  Typical thirteen-year-old speak, Anna thought. She was not happy about the fast food, but it was her vacation, too.

  “Sounds fun. How’s Mr. Waffles?”

  “Awesome as ever. I’m glad we didn’t have to give him that sedative. He’s super nosy right now. I took him out of his carrier once we got the rental car, and he slept on my lap the entire time we were in traffic. It was like he knew he had to behave.”

  “He’s a charmer, no doubt. What’s on tomorrow’s agenda?”

  “SeaWorld, then Typhoon Lagoon, and Epcot the day after. Mom, seriously, you should think about coming here next trip; of course, I’ll come along. It’s gonna take us weeks to see all Orlando has to offer. Can we do this again next year?”

  Anna heard the excitement in her daughter’s voice. She knew Christina might have a totally different opinion on hanging out with her mom next summer, so she said, “Yes, we’ll definitely do Disney together.”

  “Promise?”

  “You’ve only been there for a day!”

  “I know, but I want to come back,” Christina said in her whiny voice.

  “Tell you what. Spend the next six days seeing all the sights, and we’ll plan a trip when we’re both at home. How’s that sound?”

  “You’ll love it here.”

  “I’m sure I will; now put Mandy back on,” she said, then added, “Love you, sweetie.”

  “Love you, too.” Christina returned the sentiment.

  “Sounds like she’s having the time of her life. Just go easy on the junk food. I’m afraid she’ll refuse to be my taste tester,” Anna joshed. “Mr. Waffles digging the condo? No marking his territory?” The first week home, the cat peed all over the house, letting them know it was his place, too. Thankfully, it’d been on the tile flooring.

  “Nope, at least not yet. I think he’s inspecting the place,” Mandy told her. “We’ve got all of his toys and his bed set out for him. He nosed around when we arrived, but no peeing. Speaking of peeing, how many guys have made a mark with you?”

  Anna laughed. “That’s gross! And I haven’t had a chance to mingle. We had to go through all the safety regulations first. When we finished, I came straight to my cabin.”

  “Exciting, Anna. Promise me you’re not going to hole up in that luxurious cabin for the entire cruise.”

  “My steward is hot,” Anna said, just to get a rise out of Mandy.

  “Tell me all about him,” Mandy encouraged.

  “His name is George. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, very handsome. Sexy brown eyes. I think he’s Jamaican. He’s well-spoken, courteous. All that a steward should be; at least I think he is.”

  “Then go for it,” Mandy practically yelled into the phone.

  “Mandy, if I had to guess, I would say he’s all of twenty-eight at the most.”

  “So what? Age is simply a number.”

  Anna rolled her eyes. “Stop! I’m not going to hit on George. He’s cute but not my type.” Whatever that is, she thought. “I don’t plan to sit in the cabin for the rest of the week. I’d truly have cabin fever. There’s a welcome-aboard dinner tonight at eight. I plan to attend. And mingle.”

  “Wear that Prada dress. You look drop-dead gorgeous in that,” Mandy said. “And don’t tell me otherwise.”

  The Prada dress was very expensive; she had bought it for a special YouTube event in Dallas but never wore it. “I’m wearing that on the last night. The itinerary says that’s dinner-with-the-captain night. Surf and turf. Listen, you and Christina enjoy Orlando. I’ll call you tomorrow at ten, just to say hi. Take care of my baby, and be careful.”

  “Absolutely, Anna. Enjoy yourself,” Mandy said.

  Grinning, Anna returned to the kitchen and made herself a cup of espresso. If she was going to mingle at dinner tonight, she’d need the caffeine. Two glasses of champagne were one over her limit. Without the coffee, she would fall asleep on that tempting bed.

  Wanting to soak in the tub but knowing she was a goner if she did, she opted for a cool shower. All the glass made her feel exposed. Afterward, she wrapped herself in the plush robe and took her cup of coffee out to the balcony.

  The cruise would take her to the Cayman Islands. For years, Mandy had been telling her about her trips to the Caribbean, Mexico, and the Panama Canal. She’d been to Spain and Italy, places Anna had only read about. She would never tell Mandy, but she had been envious of her faraway trips. She and Wade hadn’t been on a honeymoon. They’d agreed when they decided to go, it would be the trip of a lifetime. Sadly, that was old news, and Anna doubted she’d ever have a honeymoon because she knew in her heart she would never replace her husband. She could have grieved her loss forever, but fortunately, she had a child to care for. In a sense, it was what had saved her from drowning in her own sorrow. In the beginning, it was her grief that had saved her, and now, looking back, she knew she wouldn’t have been nearly as successful had she not started her vlog on the subject. Life had a strange way of giving back, she thought. She’d seen so much death. First her father, then her mother, and, finally, her husban
d. Would anyone be interested in someone like her? Would they see her as some sort of bad luck, a dark omen if she were to reveal this?

  She tried to clear her mind, but her thoughts kept returning to her fear of death. Everyone she’d ever loved had died. Suddenly, she felt the familiar gnawing sensation in her stomach. Her mouth went dry, and her hands started to shake. Anna felt the familiar tightness in her throat and painful stomach cramps. She tried to take a deep breath, easing it out slowly, just as she’d been taught all those years ago. In and out. She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds. Focus. Laughter. Music. She took another deep breath.

  Voices. Glass breaking. Seagulls. The ship’s engines.

  Opening her eyes once again, she had calmed down. She returned to the kitchen, took a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and gulped down the entire bottle. She closed her eyes and went to her happy place, a technique she’d learned when she was in therapy. It had been so long since she’d had an attack. Why now? If she had to speculate, she blamed the person who had been stalking her. Now that she was on her own, with no one covering her back, she felt vulnerable.

  She should have gone to Orlando with the girls. If she did that now, then she would most likely ruin Christina’s vacation since she adored being alone with Mandy. At this precise moment, she couldn’t care less about her own trip.

  Just thinking about why she had panic attacks caused her heart rate to triple and her palms to go damp. “No!” she shouted. “Christina is fine!

  “I am not going through this shit again.”

  The physical act of talking calmed her down. She didn’t care if anyone was outside her door listening. And who would be, anyway? George? The captain? No, she was letting her thoughts drive her back into that dark place.

  She’d spent too much time in therapy to have it all go down the drain over her first vacation alone. All the skills were within her; she hadn’t forgotten them. What she had forgotten, though, was that she might need to use them again.

  Calm down, she told herself.

  In the middle of the Gulf of Mexico, alone, knowing no one, as much as she didn’t want to, she went to the bathroom, opened her cosmetic case, and took out the bottle of pills she had brought with her. They were always with her. A security blanket of sorts. Yes, she’d dipped into the amber bottle a few times when she really needed them, but if ever there was an appropriate time, it was now. Before she could change her mind, she swallowed the yellow pill. Hating herself for being weak, she knew that if she was going to get through this evening, she didn’t have much of a choice.

  Xanax. Her dirty little secret. Not even Mandy knew of the stash she kept in that little bottle. Christina had found it once when she’d asked for some cash, and Anna told her to look in her purse. Her daughter asked her what the medication was for, and she’d lied to her, telling her it was for cramps. She felt horrible for lying to her daughter, but she couldn’t tell her daughter about her hang-up.

  If she did, who knew what kind of harm it might cause her? She was thirteen and vulnerable. She didn’t know her like this, the old Anna. The Anna that for years had lived in constant fear of losing her daughter because she blamed herself for her family’s dying and feared it could happen to her child. And the current Anna, who had been looking over her shoulder for weeks. The phone calls. The letters. The e-mails. The constant feeling of being watched. She didn’t want Christina to learn about this side of her.

  How quickly she’d reverted back to her old ways, believing she was a jinx because all of her loved ones had died. She knew it sounded insane, but she had felt that way, and been forced to deal with it. When she started therapy, she’d learned there was no way she could have caused their deaths. In time, she was able to put the bad thoughts away and focus on Christina and her own career. She’d never been away from Christina for more than two or three days at a time. The separations were always work-related, and she had managed just fine.

  Until now. She was allowing her thoughts to get the best of her.

  Being out here in the middle of nowhere, away from her daughter, her work, and all things familiar, had caused her to panic. She was out of her comfort zone, out of control. This, and the crazy jinx she believed herself to have.

  Fifteen minutes later, the Xanax started to take effect, more so than normal as she’d had those two glasses of champagne.

  She knew better. She wasn’t thinking clearly. Knowing she was in no shape to mingle, or do anything else, Anna gave in to the alcohol and the effects of the anti-anxiety medication.

  Chapter 3

  Anna woke to the sound of a symphony. At first, she thought they’d gathered outside her door, performing solely for her. Lying flat on her back, it took a few seconds before she remembered where she was.

  The cruise ship.

  She opened one eye, then the other. Sunlight attacked her eyes. Quickly closing them, she moaned as she recalled the events of the night before. She’d had only two glasses of champagne. And a Xanax. Shit, she’d mixed an anti-anxiety drug with alcohol. A definite no-no. With her eyes closed, she inched her way upright into a reclining position, slowly, so as not to encourage her brain or her stomach to react to her stupidity.

  Carefully, she opened her eyes again, and this time, the sunlight streaming in wasn’t so harsh. She realized that the symphony she thought was playing outside her door was in her head. A soft tempo pulsed against her temples. Knowing it wasn’t going to go away on its own, she forced herself out of the bed and into the bathroom. Part of her wanted to heave the vestiges of last night’s stupidity, but another part couldn’t deal with the idea of hanging her head down in order to accomplish the deed. What she considered the sane part of her reached inside the shower. Adjusting the temperature to icy cold, she stripped out of the heavy robe, amazed that she’d actually slept in something so bulky. Of course, she was still in the robe because she had passed out. And without overthinking the situation, she forced herself to stand beneath the icy jets of water.

  Lucky for her, there was a seat built into the shower. She directed the waterfall toward her face, then sat down, letting the cool water wash away her brain fog. When she felt stable, she stood, adjusted the temperature to hot, and washed with the Guerlain body wash, and shampooed her hair with shampoo that smelled like orange blossoms. She quite liked it, and squinted to see the brand. Maybe they’d have it available for purchase. She would ask George.

  George.

  Rinsing the shampoo from her hair, she grabbed a thick towel and wrapped it around her hair and another around herself. On the marble counter, there was a toothbrush and toothpaste, not hers. But it would do until she unpacked. She looked at her image in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. She really felt awful, but knew she’d feel better as soon as she had a cup of coffee and downed a couple of Advil. She’d never been much of a drinker, but there were quite a few times she remembered having more than two glasses of champagne. And she had never felt this crappy the next day. It had to be the Xanax on top of the bubbly. Anna was positive she’d never mixed the two before, and there was no way she would ever mix them again. Lesson learned.

  She made a cup of coffee, thankful for the upscale espresso machine. As soon as the last drop filled the small white china cup, she brought it to her lips, inhaled the heady aroma, and took a sip of the rich, dark brew. “This is heaven,” she said aloud just to hear some sound in the room. Standing in the compact kitchen with nothing but the taste of premium coffee and her thoughts, she remembered she had told George that she would attend the welcome dinner. Had he sneaked into her room and seen her sprawled across the bed, passed out? She hoped not, but it was his job to tend to her. He probably thought she was an old drunk, looking for a man. She’d certainly understand if that was what he thought. She brewed a second cup of coffee and stepped out onto the balcony without the whirlpool. She didn’t remember closing the heavy drapes, so George must have come into her room at some point. She sat on the chaise lounge, not caring t
hat she wasn’t dressed. She would enjoy this while she had the opportunity. That’s why Mandy insisted she take a vacation. To do what she wanted, when she wanted, without fear. Last night had put paid to that theory.

  A light knock on her door sent her flying out of the lounge chair.

  “Just a sec,” she called. Hurrying to the bedroom, she took a fresh robe from the closet, slipped her arms through the sleeves, then returned to the door. “Who’s there?” she asked, feeling like an idiot for even asking.

  “Ma’am, it’s George. I’ve brought a tray for you,” he answered in that sexy Jamaican accent.

  She adjusted the belt on her robe, planted a smile on her face, and opened the door. “Come in,” she said, feeling completely washed-out.

  George was all smiles. He was wearing a crisp white jacket and matching pants creased to the nines. It was obvious that, unlike her, he had not awakened with a hangover. He was very easy on the eyes. She stood aside and allowed him to enter her suite with the rolling cart of what she guessed was breakfast.

  “You were not well last night, Anna?” he asked, as he removed silver covers from several plates.

  That was putting it mildly, but he didn’t need to know more than that. “I was a bit seasick, I think. I took Dramamine and slept like a log.” She hated lying to him but told herself sometimes a little white lie was necessary.

  “Quite common,” he said, placing the plates on the dining table. “This is what we call ‘the morning after’ brunch. It should perk you up in no time.”

  Food was the last thing on her mind, but he was right. She’d feel better with something in her stomach.

  “This is enough for a family of four,” she said, eyeing all the food.

  “This is a small feast, yes, but a bite of each and you’ll feel brand-new,” he said, a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes.

  He pulled a chair out for her. Sitting down, she assumed that he was going to stand beside her and watch her eat. “Why don’t you join me?” she asked, certain that he would decline her invitation.