Fearless

by Fern Michaels

  She saw that Mona and Jeb, her housekeeper and groundskeeper, were home, since she could see their ancient white Subaru parked next to the small guesthouse where they lived. She’d met them when she was in college; they’d owned and operated a small family diner close to the college. When she returned to Lubbock after Wade’s death, she had looked them up, found out that they had sold their diner, and retired. When she built this new home, with her studio, she’d added a guesthouse almost as an afterthought. Needing a housekeeper because her house was much too large for two people, another crazy indulgence, she’d contacted Mona, and the rest was history. They’d kept their small home in Idalou just outside Lubbock, but most nights they were here. Tonight, she was grateful because she knew Mona would make an appearance to find out why she was home from vacation so soon.

  Dragging the luggage to the side of the garage, she punched in the code on the new alarm system she’d had installed, opened the side door, and stepped into her ultramodern mudroom. Knowing Mona would be here shortly, she didn’t bother to reset the alarm. She kicked off her sneakers and left the luggage by the washing machine. A second door led to her gourmet kitchen. She smiled. This is where she felt the happiest. The kitchen she filmed in was quite similar to her personal kitchen, but smaller. She had a studio that served the purposes of her vlogging. A living area to film in, a kitchen, a small bathroom when she was sharing beauty items, and, of course, the main studio, where she sometimes did voice-overs for her channel. Anna knew she was blessed to have such a perfect workspace, but she’d worked very, very hard to earn this.

  Anna hit a control switch that illuminated the kitchen in soft light while she opened the plantation blinds. There were still a few hours of daylight left, and she planned to take advantage of them. Opening her custom-made refrigerator, she took a can of Coke, flipped the metal tab, and its fizzy foam spilled over the side of the can onto her hand. Wiping her hand across her jeans, she sat on one of the stools at the island she’d had built specially for this kitchen. She had every gadget one could ever need, all of them built-in. Phone chargers, flash drives, notebook charging. Anna was a neat freak; dangling cords had always been a pet peeve of hers. This way, all the electronics when charging were out of sight. Most modern homes addressed these issues in today’s high-tech world. She placed her phone on the charger for now. She’d call Mandy and Christina from the house phone tonight.

  As predicted, she heard a light rap on the mudroom door, then another.

  “Mona, the door’s open,” Anna called out.

  Mona entered the kitchen. “That was a right quick vacation, Miss Anna.” Mona’s Southern twang made each word sound as if it had at least two extra syllables.

  Anna couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, it was.”

  “Why’d you lit out like a bat outta hell? If ya don’t mind me askin’.”

  A true Texan, Mona. Anna knew she wouldn’t relent until she explained why she’d come home. “I was sick. I spent most of the time in bed, and honestly, I didn’t like being on that ship. Cruising is fine for some, but it’s not for me.”

  Mona slid onto the stool beside her. As always, she wore faded Levi’s, the old dark blue kind, stiff, that took hundreds of washes before they were comfortable. She wore a floral-pattern blouse, faded, and a pack of Camel nonfiltered cigarettes was in her breast pocket. What was so odd about that was that Mona had never smoked a day in her life. Both of her parents had died of lung cancer when she’d been in her early twenties. She told Anna this was her way of remembering them. Personally, Anna thought it was a bit morbid, but Mona wasn’t your average seventy-one-year-old. She competed in Lubbock’s annual rodeo and most of her friends were old college students she’d befriended at the diner years ago. Jeb once told her that this was her way of caring for the children they’d never had. It made sense, and Anna adored her for her quirky ways. Mona was tall, slim, and wore her long silver hair in a braid that almost reached her knees. In essence, she was stunningly beautiful and couldn’t care less.

  “Me neither, though I ain’t ever been on one. I’ll stay right here, where I can walk outside without havin’ to swim. You didn’t see that stalker, did ya?”

  Anna laughed despite the seriousness of her question. “No, nothing like that.” She hoped. Taking the focus away from a topic she did not want to get into, she went on. “The ship was like a floating city, really. Though I admit I didn’t explore all they had to offer, it’s just not my thing,” she said, wanting to tell Mona more but unsure if she should burden her with her problem.

  “Okay, Miss Anna, now tell me the real reason you left,” Mona ordered in that distinctive tone, the one where she meant business.

  “You can’t tell Christina,” she said, then downed the rest of her Coke.

  “Anna Marie Campbell, I ought to turn you over my knee and bust your britches. Have I ever wagged my tongue when you asked me not to?”

  “Of course not. It’s just this is a very sensitive situation.”

  “I figured as much. Go on,” Mona said, “and tell me what caused you to lit out o’ that ship so dang quick.” Having said this, she got off the stool, went to the refrigerator, and extracted two more Cokes. She removed two glasses from the cabinet and filled them with ice. “Here,” she said, then flipped the metal pop top and filled their glasses with the sweet brown soda.

  “Start talking,” Mona demanded.

  Anna raked a hand through her hair, sighing. “Where to start,” she said, more to herself than to Mona. “The first night on the ship, the steward poured me a couple of glasses of champagne. I’m guessing this is the typical bon voyage experience, specifically for guests in the upscale cabins. Mandy really outdid herself this time; the cabin was like a small luxury apartment.” Pausing, she took a drink of soda. Her mouth was so dry, she thought she might be dehydrated.

  “I’m listening,” Mona said.

  “I was going to attend a welcome-aboard dinner that evening.” Had it been only seventy-two hours ago? “I became very anxious, panicky, and I took a Xanax.” Mona knew she’d had to take these at times, and never once made her feel as though she were crazy.

  “Mixed with champagne, I passed out.”

  “Sweetie, that ain’t the worst thing in the world, but you gotta watch them pills these days. People eatin’ ’em like candy and all, it’s dangerous.”

  Anna nodded. “Long story. I didn’t make the dinner that night, but Saturday I decided to get out and mingle, as Mandy puts it. There was a dancing contest I wanted to watch later that evening. I knew I needed to eat—I had felt like garbage earlier that morning—so I went to the dining room to have dinner before the contest. This man”—she stopped before saying his name—“Ryan. Robertson.” Her jaw slackened.

  “What?” Mona asked.

  Anna literally felt the color drain from her face. “I had dinner with him.”

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with that,” Mona said.

  “I know, I know,” Anna said, taking another sip of her Coke. “Mona, can we discuss this later? Just trust that I had good reason,” though now she wasn’t so sure that she did, “to come home. I’m wiped out. All I want to do is take a hot bath and relax.” Her thoughts raced while she tried to make sense of what she’d just recalled.

  Mona grimaced, shaking her head. “I don’t get it, but go on up, get a good soak, and I’ll clean up this mess.”

  Two glasses and three cans constituted a mess in Mona’s world.

  “Thank you. If you don’t mind locking up, I’ll see you in the morning. We can talk more then.”

  “Just so you’re all right.” Mona got off the stool, gave her a quick hug, and took the glasses and cans to the sink.

  “I’m okay, just wiped out,” Anna said. “I’ll make breakfast for you and Jeb in the morning.”

  “Nope, ain’t happening. You let me know when you’re up, and I’ll take care of breakfast.”

  “You’re right. I’ll see you then,” Anna said. She took her cell phone
from the charger, to bring it up to her master suite, in which she’d had the same hidden chargers and flash drive ports installed. She put her phone on to charge again and checked for any text messages from Mandy or Christina. None, just as she’d expected. Anna glanced at the clock, saw there was plenty of time to relax in the bath before making her call to Christina.

  She walked into the master bath, or en suite as they were called now. She preferred master bath. She’d had thousands of viewers ask this on her channel, and they’d pretty much agreed that master bath sounded better.

  She filled the giant Jacuzzi tub with the hottest water she could stand and threw in a full bag of lavender-scented Epsom salts. Anna stripped, tossed her clothes into a hamper, then placed a foot into the hot water.

  “Dang,” she mumbled when she put her other foot in the water. Gradually lowering the rest of her body into the water, she reclined against the back of the tub. She clicked a button, and the jets turned on, instantly providing relief to her sore muscles. Knowing she was doing all that she could to avoid thinking about the cruise, Anna gave in, surrendering to the images of Ryan Robertson.

  He was extraordinarily handsome. If he had been unkind, she didn’t remember. Closing her mind to all negative thoughts, she pulled up her ability to calm herself by visualizing the flow of a stream—smooth, clear, and constant. Sounds of water gently lapping against stones, the sweet scent of honeysuckle, the light touch of a breeze against her bare skin.

  “Forgive me for staring, but aren’t you the Anna Campbell?”

  “I am, indeed.”

  “I’m a big fan.”

  “Thank you.”

  Anna sat up so fast that she knocked a small candle off the edge of the tub, sending it shattering to the floor. She grabbed a towel from a decorative wire basket she kept beside the Jacuzzi and stood, wrapping the towel around her, and stepped out of the deep water, careful to avoid the shards of glass.

  Her hands shook as she sidestepped around the sharp objects. She dropped the towel on the floor, removed her robe off a hook, slipped it on, and secured the belt. “Just what I need,” she said aloud. She hurried downstairs to the kitchen for a broom and a handheld mini vacuum. Quickly, Anna cleaned up the mess, going over it several times, hoping she hadn’t missed any tiny shards. Mr. Waffles roamed the house, and it would only take a tiny sliver of glass to cut his tender paws.

  Ryan Robertson. His name had a nice ring to it.

  His name!

  Given how tech-savvy she had to be in her profession, she sure as hell had missed the boat here. Before she changed her mind, she went to the small writing desk in her room and booted up her laptop, the one she used for personal business.

  Anna brought up the search engine and typed in his name, then added “Lubbock, Texas.”

  One million two hundred thirty thousand hits. Knowing what he looked like, though she couldn’t remember if he’d said what his profession was, she clicked on the first one. She clicked for the next hour, finding no image of the Ryan Robertson she’d met. Next, she went to Facebook and brought up her private page, the one in which she only used her surname and her initials in order to keep it private. She’d opted to use a stock photo image in place of a legitimate picture. In the search bar, again, she typed in his name. Several hits. She scrolled through the dozens of Ryan Robertsons until she finally hit pay dirt!

  Anna recognized him immediately. She clicked on his page. TO SEE WHAT HE SHARES WITH FRIENDS, SEND A REQUEST.

  No way, she thought. She went through the tabs at the top of the page. TIMELINE ABOUT FRIENDS’ PHOTOS.

  Anna couldn’t stop herself. She clicked on the ABOUT tab. Two red capital T’s, one imposed over the other, the college she’d attended, her alma mater. The good old Red Raiders. Texas Tech.

  Then she remembered.

  “I’m a professor at Texas Tech.”

  Chapter 7

  There’d been more to his statement, but it didn’t matter. After debating with herself for a few minutes whether or not to send him a friend request or e-mail him through his public e-mail address at the college, she decided against both. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand.

  It was time to call Christina; then she’d hash this situation out with Mandy.

  Using the landline, she punched in Mandy’s cell, and, as expected, she picked up without saying hello. “You’re all snug in bed with a mug of hot tea and the latest murder mystery,” Mandy stated, amusement in her voice. “And the alarm is set.”

  Anna chuckled. “No, no, no, and yes. Let me talk to my daughter. I miss that girl—then if you can, I need to talk without Christina around, if you can manage.”

  “Sure,” Mandy said, then called Christina to the phone without bothering to place her hand over the receiver. Anna held the phone away from her ear.

  “Mom, how are the high seas? Are you eating a lot? Mandy says that’s all people do on cruises, and drink, too. Have you been drunk yet?”

  Anna burst out laughing. “Christina, you little rat! I think I’m going to have a talk with Mandy. To answer your questions”—she hated lying to her but didn’t want her knowing what an idiot her mother was—“the seas are high, normal food intake and”—here she goes—“no, I have not been drunk.” What was one more lie in a small hill that would soon become a mountain of lies if her daughter continued with these kinds of questions?

  “You’re having fun, I hope. It is so freaking awesome here, I can’t wait to come back next summer. I’ll probably want to bring Tiffany if her parents will let her go with us. You’ll talk to them, right?”

  “Christina, slow down. You’re still there. Of course, we’ll try to go next summer, and yes, I’ll ask Barb if Tiffany can go with us. Now tell me what you two did today, and I want to know all about Mr. Waffles’ new love.”

  “It’s so cute. SeaWorld pet-sitting service is so awesome. Bell is staying there, duh, but Lisa, she’s one of the pet keepers, she said that Mr. Waffles followed Bell around all day the first day. Then when we picked him up, he hissed at us. Lisa brought Bell to him, and he kept rubbing against her, and she was rubbing all over him, and he stopped hissing. They’re totally in love; Lisa thinks so, too. She said Bell’s parents wanted to meet before we left, so maybe we can hook them up later. He’s neutered, right?”

  “Yes, he is. Take pictures of Bell if you can; I’d love to see her. So other than manipulating Mr. Waffles and Bell’s romance, what parks did you visit today?” Anna knew perfectly well where her daughter had spent the day, but the joy in Christina’s voice was so intense, Anna needed to hear all about her day, at least her version of it. This call could last all night, Anna thought.

  “Typhoon Lagoon was a blast. I’ll send you some pictures. Mandy and me look like two tomatoes, though. We forgot the sunscreen, but we did use the after-sun cream once we came back to the condo. We both took naps; and then we went to Epcot. That place is a total blast, and we’re going back tomorrow because we didn’t get to see a lot, just the fireworks and laser lights. We’re going to the Magic Kingdom the day after that. Mandy’s taking me to swim with the dolphins, at Discovery Cove. Can you believe it? I am so stoked I could scream. It wasn’t easy to get reservations, but she did, and I am going to swim with a real live dolphin. Mom, I wish you were here, but I know you’re having fun. Have you started to tan yet? I’m hoping this sunburn turns into a tan.”

  Anna laughed. “I am sure I packed sunscreen for you both. Use it, or you’ll get wrinkles and skin cancer. No, I’m not tanning. I’m good using the fake stuff. I miss you, kiddo, but I want you to enjoy yourself, okay? Give Mr. Waffles a good scratch on his belly for me, and put Mandy back on. Love you, baby,” Anna added.

  “Love ya, Mom. Hang on.” Christina gave the phone to Mandy.

  “Sounds like she’s having the time of her life,” Anna said to Mandy. “Make her use that sunscreen. And you, too.”

  “I will. Okay, she’s just taken the cat to her room. What did you want to talk about?�
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  “The ship thing . . . maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. It would take all night to explain what happened, and yes, it involves me and a handsome guy. I may have left too soon.” For the next half hour, Anna gave Mandy the footnote version of what’d happened the two and a half days she’d spent on the cruise, ending with her illness.

  “Are you one hundred percent sure you had norovirus? You saw the ship’s doctor?”

  “Not exactly, but on the flight home, I sat next to a doctor. I just told him I’d gotten ill on the cruise and had to leave. He asked me if I’d been throwing up, and all.”

  “As smart as you are, I can’t believe you didn’t inform the ship’s doctor. People can die from that. It spreads like wildfire. How are you feeling now?”

  “A thousand percent better. Do you think I should call the travel agent, tell her I had that virus? Maybe she could check to see if anyone else is sick?” Anna realized the rash decision she’d made might have dire consequences, especially knowing the Center for Disease Control would have to get involved.

  “Get your ass to the emergency room tonight. Tell them what you think you have, but don’t tell them you were on a cruise ship. I’ve been on enough cruises to know that virus is contagious for several days even if you feel better. If you don’t, no harm, no foul. If you do, I’ll call the cruise line myself. Now, hang up. I’m going to have Mona spy for me, so if you don’t go, she’ll tell me. Now what else did you want to tell me?”

  “Nothing; that was it. I’m going to the emergency room. I’ll send you a text when I get back, though I don’t know if they’ll be able to figure this out or not, but you’re right. It was stupid of me not to report to the ship’s doctor.”

  “Text me the minute you can,” Mandy said, then hung up. Before Anna made the trip to the emergency room, she Googled norovirus. Sure that she had it, even though she felt better now, Mandy was right. If this was true, the cruise line needed to be made aware of it. She put on a fresh pair of navy capris with a white top. She ran a brush through her hair, took her normal Louis Vuitton bag out of the closet, and checked her wallet to make sure her insurance card was there. She’d been such a slacker when she’d packed for the cruise, she hadn’t even bothered to bring it with her, though she did have a photo of the card saved on her cell phone. Still, she was not up to par.