by Janet Dailey
"I know where that is," Selena nodded. "Thank you."
She knew generally where the boat was docked. With the towering trade center building in sight, it was easy to walk to it. Once there, she had to ask for more specific directions to the wharf. Reaching the wharf buildings, she stopped at the parking garage to ask again.
"The Delta Queen? She'll be tied up by the excursion boats," a security guard informed her. "You can walk through the garage, if you like, then turn right."
A sudden breeze tugged at her floppy hat brim as she walked on to the concrete walkway running the length of wharf buildings on the riverside. Holding onto the brim, Selena turned right, moving past the silver-painted monolith called The Admiral.
Farther down the dock, she could see a stirring of activity and walked toward it. Her view of the Delta Queen was blocked by other boats until she was almost upon it. At the first glimpse of the name painted on the black hull, she slowed her steps, letting her gaze run up the four-storied lady of the river.
Deckhands were moving around the forward deck, while uniformed porters carried luggage off the boat, followed by strolling, unhurried passengers. A few other spectators had gathered along the dock, some to meet disembarking passengers while others, like the family Selena had seen in the café, were simply there to see the Delta Queen.
At the head of a gangplank, a sign was posted that read Sorry, No Visitors At This Time, and Selena experienced a feeling of regret as she walked toward the stern. The polished teak handrails circling the top three decks and the black smokestack with its gold crown perched behind the pilothouse made her wish she could explore the interior. At the stern the red paddle wheel rested, not required to churn muddy water until the boat again left port.
One of the crew—judging by the curved figure Selena realized it was a female—was repainting the Delta Queen's name on the large signboard above the paddle wheel. The gold whistles of the calliope gleamed in the morning sunlight.
Here and there, Selena caught glimpses of the boat's age, most of them artfully concealed with a fresh coat of paint, reminders that the legendary Delta Queen was the grand old lady of the riverboats.
"Like something out of the past, isn't it?" a voice said.
Startled, Selena turned, becoming aware only at that moment of the older woman standing near her. "Yes, it is," she agreed, recovering quickly to smile. "Somehow I never realized it was such a large ship."
"Boat," the woman corrected gently. "Any vessel that plies the river is a boat, no matter what her size."
"A large boat, then," Selena conceded, her smile widening.
"Yes," the woman nodded. "She'll accommodate one hundred and ninety-odd passengers and a crew of seventy-five," she added in a knowledgeable tone.
"You know a lot about the Delta Queen, don't you?" Selena commented running a considering eye over the woman.
Almost as tail as Selena, the woman had dark hair except for a pair of silvered wings at the temples that gave her a distinguished air. There was a suggestion of crow's feet at the corners of her brown eyes, but otherwise her facial skin was relatively unlined. Selena guessed that the youthfulness of the woman's features was due to the strong bone structure of her face, because she was certain the woman was in her late fifties or very early sixties.
Although the woman was large boned, she was trim and neat in her blue summer suit. The simple lines of the tailored outfit bespoke class and the woman wore it with the ease of one accustomed to wearing good clothes. Selena suspected that the woman had never been a beauty, even in her youth, but she decided that she had probably been attractive in the same strong sort of way that she was now.
"I am very familiar with the boat and her history," the woman answered.
"You're from New Orleans?" Selena was positive that there was something in the picture the woman was presenting that she wasn't seeing.
"Yes," was the brief reply and then the woman's brown gaze was riveted on the steamboat.
Selena let her attention slide back to the boat, trying to disguise her sudden intense curiosity about the woman beside her. She couldn't stop herself from probing further.
"Have you ever taken a trip on the Delta Queen?” she asked, certain the woman didn't work for the company.
"Yes, I have…many times." There was the slightest pause in her words, the length of a heartbeat, leaving Selena with the impression that the woman had a catch in her voice.
With a sideways glance, she studied the woman again. Initially she saw the same image as before—an older woman, calm and composed and completely in control. Then Selena noticed the flaws.
A white linen handkerchief edged with lace was being twisted by agitated fingers. And the luminous quality of the woman's brown eyes was produced by a fine mist of tears. Too many times, members of her father's congregation had come to the parsonage, ostensibly for a friendly visit, only to have something in their behavior betray an inner turmoil, as this older woman was doing now.
Selena was not her father's daughter for nothing. "Excuse me, but—is something wrong?" Unconsciously she adopted the gentle, consoling tone she had so often heard her father use. She removed her sunglasses so the dark lenses would not shade the woman's reaction.
"I—" Instant denial formed on the woman's lips. As she caught sight of the compassion gleaming quietly in Selena's eyes, she checked the denouncement and turned away. "It's—nothing."
"I don't mean to be personal, but I can tell something is troubling you. Sometimes it helps to talk about it—to a stranger." Selena noticed the faint quivering in the woman's chin.
"You're a very astute young woman." The reply was accompanied by a stiff smile. "Not many people your age would be concerned enough to inquire," she sighed.
"It's probably a case of environment and upbringing." Selena dismissed the idea that she was in any way special, only different. "My father is a minister."
"That no doubt accounts for it." The woman glanced at her lace handkerchief and nervously tried to smooth out the wrinkles she had twisted into it.
"My name is Selena Merrick." Selena offered her hand to the woman.
"Julia Barkley," the woman returned, clasping Selena's hand warmly but briefly. "Are you here on vacation?"
"Yes. I'm your typical tourist, sight-seeing and all." Selena understood the woman's reluctance to confide in her and let the conversation take its own direction. "That's what brought me to the wharf. I heard the Delta Queen had docked and wanted to see her."
"Where is your home?"
"In Iowa," Selena acknowledged.
"Coming from the farmlands of the prairie, you probably don't mind the flatness of our delta land, do you?" the woman who had identified herself as Julia Barkley asked, smiling.
"No," Selena agreed with a wry twist of her curved lips, "although we do have more hills than you do. Do you live in New Orleans?"
"Actually my family's home is outside of New Orleans, but I keep a small apartment here so I can get away every once in a while to be on my own." Unconsciously the older woman stressed the words "get away."
Selena immediately guessed there were family problems at home, possibly a daughter-in-law that Julia Barkley wasn't able to get along with. That thought became sidetracked as she caught the woman staring again at the massive paddle wheeler in an attitude that could only be described as wistfully reminiscent.
"You have a special attachment to the Delta Queen, don't you?" Selena observed softly. "Because of something that happened to you."
The woman's tears were in definite evidence, welling diamond bright in her eyes, but there was a radiant happiness, too, about her expression. Her reddened lips curved into a faint smile.
"I met Leslie on that boat," she whispered absently.
"Your husband?" Selena guessed.
"No." Julia Barkley blinked away her tears before glancing at Selena. "I'm not married. I'm the old maid of my family, literally," she tried to joke about her advanced years as Selena reacted with surprise.
"That's why they think I'm being overly romantic and silly now. Women of my age aren't supposed to act the way I do."
"What do you mean?" Selena was thoroughly confused. Her guesses about the elderly woman and her family problems had obviously not been accurate.
"Do you believe in love at first sight, Selena?" she responded to the question with another question, then added, "may I call you Selena?"
"Of course you may, but as for your first question—" Selena laughed "—I'm not exactly an expert. I've never been in love before—a few near brushes here and there, but never the real thing. I have no idea if it can happen the first time you meet."
"Believe me, my dear, it can. It did for me—with Leslie." Her brown gaze swung again to the boat, distant and vaguely dreamy.
"What happened?" Selena dared the question.
"He asked me to marry him." A mixture of pain and confusion seemed to flicker across the woman's smooth forehead. It was quickly masked with a polite smile as Julia Barkley turned to Selena. "I was on my way to church. Would you like to join me? Afterward, if you have no other plans, perhaps you'll have Sunday dinner with me at my apartment? Don't hesitate to say no if you'd rather not come. I'll quite understand."
"I would like to come," Selena accepted without hesitation.
Despite the wealth and status implied by her clothes and manner, Julia Barkley was a lonely woman plagued at this moment by memories of a lost love. Selena sensed it as surely as if it had been put into words.
And Selena enjoyed people too much to even consider that a few hours in the older woman's company would prove boring. Besides, she had twelve full days of her vacation left, so what did a few hours on a Sunday matter?
Just for a moment, she imagined she could hear her mother laughing and exclaiming, "Stray dogs and orphans couldn't find a better home than with you, Selena." Even at twenty-three, Selena had to admit she was sometimes too trusting of strangers.
Look what had happened yesterday with the dark-haired man in the hotel passage. She smiled to herself. Obviously she hadn't learned a thing about strangers, because here she was going to dinner and church with another. She pushed the thought of the tall, muscular man to the background of her mind.
It returned to haunt her at an inopportune moment. It had happened during the church service while the collection was being taken. Her handbag slipped from her lap, nearly spilling all its contents onto the floor before she could catch it. But the large denomination of bills the man had tucked in her purse did slide silently to the floor. Selena had forgotten all about the money until that embarrassing moment.
A frown of concern creased Julia Barkley's forehead as she whispered to Selena, "You shouldn't carry so much cash with you. It really isn't wise."
"It's n-not mine," Selena explained nervously and self-consciously. "I'm just keeping it for someone. I'll be returning it…later."
Just how, she wasn't sure, but she would think of some way to return the money to the man, short of knocking on his hotel room door, of course.
Fortunately Julia Barkley accepted her explanation. Or at least, she was too polite to question Selena about it any further.
At the conclusion of the church service, a car was waiting outside for them, a previous arrangement made by Julia Barkley before she had left her apartment.
But Selena was a bit confused when the car stopped at the canopied entrance of a building complete with a doorman. It had all the earmarks of a hotel. When she stepped out of the car, her suspicions were confirmed by the name, Hotel Ponchartrain.
"The hotel has suites they let on a permanent basis," Julia explained as they entered the marbled lobby.
It was a beautiful suite of rooms that Julia guided her to, a luxurious apartment filled with lovely, old furniture. Some of the pieces, Selena was positive, were valuable antiques. Yet it was a very comfortable place.
Selena was quick to attribute the atmosphere of the rooms to her hostess, who was both charming and friendly, if at times a bit preoccupied. Their dinner, an oven meal prepared in advance by Julia and served on genuine china, was simple and excellent.
As Selena helped clear the dishes from the table, she noticed a bedroom door ajar in the hallway. Selena happened to glance inside and her eyebrows lifted curiously at the suitcases and clothes covering the bed.
"Are you going on a trip, Julia?" she questioned, not wanting to stay if her hostess had more urgent plans to attend to.
Julia's hands trembled slightly as she set the china plates on the counter. "Do you know, I can't make up my mind?" The hiccupping sound that came from her throat was half laughter and half sob. "Isn't that silly?" She looked at Selena, tears gathering in her eyes again.
Not since they had left the wharf had Selena noticed any crack in the older woman's composure. Now it was there and widening.
"There are some decisions that are difficult to make at any age," Selena offered. She hesitated to probe, but she felt Julia wanted her to ask. "Were you planning to return home to your family?"
"No." Julia turned away to discreetly wipe the tears from her eyes and smooth the silvered wing of hair into the dark. "I have a passage booked on the Delta Queen tomorrow—to meet Leslie."
"Leslie?" Selena echoed, grateful the woman couldn't see her startled expression. For some reason she had thought Leslie was dead.
"Yes," she answered with a hesitant nod. "He's to meet me in Natchez—where we're to be married."
"Really?" This time Selena couldn't mask her incredulity. Then she saw the woman's tightly clutched fingers and the frown of pain wrinkling her brow. "You are going, aren't you?"
"I don't know," Julia murmured uncertainly, shaking her head.
"But you said you loved him." It was Selena's turn to frown.
"I do," the older woman hastened, then sighed in frustration. "I don't know what's the matter with me. I'm as nervous and unsure of myself as a schoolgirl."
In a gesture of bewilderment, Selena ran her fingers through the auburn hair near her ear. "I think there's some point in all of this that I'm missing. You love Leslie and he wants to marry you, but there seems to be something that's holding you back. What is it, Julia?"
"My family," the woman admitted. "My brother thinks I'm crazy. He insists that Leslie is only interested in the family money and the doors the Barkley name can open for him. My sister, everyone, agrees with him."
"Have they met him?"
"Oh, yes, they've met him," Julia assured her, and Selena realized it had been a foolish question to ask a woman of Julia's maturity and status. Of course, she would have introduced him to her family. "Leslie and I met on the Delta Queen during its autumn cruise last year. We corresponded for a time. In one of the letters, he proposed to me." Selena could well imagine that his letters were tied up in a pretty blue ribbon and secreted away in some safe place to be read over and over again. "I was so deliriously happy. I invited him to New Orleans after the winter holidays to meet my relatives. It was—" Julia stopped, unable to finish the sentence.
"Disastrous?" Selena completed it for her.
"Totally," Julia sighed the admission. "My brother, Hamilton, insisted there was too large a difference in our ages."
Selena gave an involuntary start of surprise. Was Leslie younger than Julia? It seemed unlikely at Julia's age—whether it was fifty-five or sixty—that her brother should protest about her marrying a man fifteen or twenty years older.
If he was that age, what would Julia's status and money mean to Leslie? If a man in his seventies proposed to a woman in her sixties, Selena felt he should be applauded instead of condemned.
"And the rest of my family," Julia continued, "believes that I'm foolish to take this romantic fling, as they call it, seriously. They absolutely forbid me to have anything more to do with him."
"They forbid you?" Selena repeated. Surely the woman was old enough to behave or misbehave as she wanted. "You obviously didn't listen to them."
"No, though perhaps I should have," the wom
an murmured with a rueful twist of her mouth. "But I had to write him to explain why I couldn't marry him. Initially I did refuse him," she added in quick explanation. "Then Leslie wrote me back and I answered it. Before I knew it we were exchanging letters again. In one of his letters, he told me how much he loved me." There was a definite throb in Julia's voice as she added, "And how much he wanted me to be his wife, a-and suggested that we elope…"
"Now you can't decide whether you want to marry him or not," Selena concluded.
"Oh, I want to marry him. But my family—" Her voice trailed off, the tug-of-war still going on inside. She looked beseechingly at Selena. "What would you do?"
"Don't put me on a spot like that, Julia," she declared. It seemed impossible that a woman old enough to be her grandmother would be asking her, Selena, for advice about love and marriage.
"There isn't anyone else I can ask," the woman replied with a despairing shrug. "My family is so prejudiced against Leslie. You, at least, are impartial."
"You have to live your own life, Julia." Selena fell back on the advice her father had always given to her when she had sought him out. "Whatever decision you make will be the one you'll have to live with and not your family."
Julia murmured absently, "It's the things in life you don't do that you regret." She glanced at Selena and smiled. "That's what my nephew always says when my brother begins to lecture him about his questionable escapades."
"There's a great deal of truth in that," Selena agreed, thinking to herself that there was a member of the Barkley family who evidently didn't always obey the family's edict.
"Yes, and I would always regret it if I never saw Leslie again," Julia declared in a wistful sigh.
"I think you've just come up with your own solution," Selena smiled gently.
"I have?" she returned with a startled look.
"Take the trip and see Leslie again," Selena explained. "Maybe what you once felt for him won't be there anymore. You would still have time to back out before the marriage takes place."