“Leeches?” Sophie whispered. “I don’t want leeches. I want Dr. Nichols.”
The curtain around her bed parted, and there stood, not Rudy, but Trevor March. He was wearing a stethoscope and a white lab coat over jeans. The coat hung open to reveal a beautifully sculpted bare chest.
“What seems to be the problem?” he asked.
“I’m dying. I have West Nile virus. Or maybe bubonic plague,” she informed him.
“Let’s listen to your heart,” he said. Instead of using his stethoscope he pressed an ear to her left breast. “A rapid heartbeat.” He pulled away and looked into her eyes. “Your pupils are dilated and you’re flushed.”
“What have I got, Doctor?”
“Nothing that can’t be cured by a night with me.” He pulled out two chocolate bars and said, “Take these and call me in the morning. I make house calls. Or better yet, you can make the house call.” Then he kissed her on the cheek, winked at her and left her sitting on the bed, holding a chocolate bar in each hand.
The nurse returned to the room and handed her a piece of paper. It was pink and shaped like a heart.
“What’s this?” she asked. “A prescription?”
“Dr. March’s address,” said the nurse, who suddenly looked like Athena.
“What happened to Dr. Nichols?” Sophie asked.
“He’s not available. And why do you want Dr. Nichols? He’s old enough to be your father.”
“Um,” said Sophie.
Nurse Athena glared at her, pulled out a hypodermic needle the size of a hunting knife and snarled, “Get out of here before I have to use this on you.”
Sophie got out of there and the next thing she knew she was standing in front of a two-story house made entirely of chocolate. The front door opened and there in the doorway stood Trevor March. He’d changed out of his white coat and jeans and was now wearing nothing but red underwear with little candy canes on them.
“Come on in,” he called. “What are you waiting for?”
She went up the front path—made of white chocolate slabs—and stepped onto the chocolate porch.
“How are you feeling now?” he asked, and slipped an arm around her.
“Not so bad,” she said.
“Come on back to my bedroom. I’ll make you feel even better,” he said, and kissed her neck. “Here, let me take your coat. Let me take your everything.”
He took his time taking and Sophie was only down to her bra and panties (red with little candy canes—they matched!) when she awoke with her heart beating, her hair damp and her throat dry. She was sure she was flushed. Was her subconscious trying to tell her something?
She frowned. Her subconscious needed to shut up. Trevor March the chocolate man seemed like a pretty great guy. But she didn’t need a great guy. She needed a doctor.
6
“How much you want to bet a certain doctor will be looking for you this morning?” Denise said to Catherine as they entered the dining room for breakfast.
“That would be nice, but really, I’m not interested,” Catherine said. “I’m in no shape to be thinking about a relationship.”
“Shipboard romances aren’t relationships. They’re a fun diversion,” Denise argued. “I can tell you right now, I intend to enjoy flirting with Charlie. You should enjoy yourself, too. You never know. Sometimes those diversions can lead to something serious,” she added.
“I doubt it,” Catherine said.
“Who says you can’t fall in love more than once in a lifetime?”
“Someone who’s not sure she’ll have a lifetime ahead of her.” There was a depressing thought. Her chances of surviving this were good, but sometimes that dark road beckoned and she couldn’t help but go down it.
“Don’t say things like that,” Denise scolded. “You’re going to be fine. You should live like you believe that.”
“I don’t know if I do,” Catherine said with a sigh. “There are no guarantees.”
“Okay, then,” Denise said, “all the more reason to live life to the fullest right now. Will you look at this spread?” she said as they approached the breakfast buffet.
It was, indeed, a spread. Set up in the middle of the dining room, it offered every imaginable breakfast food—pastries, cheeses and cold cuts, a variety of breads, fruit, yogurt, cereals, coffee, tea, milk, juices and fruit. And an omelet station with a chef standing ready that drew Catherine like a magnet.
What would she like in her omelet?
Cheese, bacon, tomatoes, peppers and onion.
No problem.
She watched as the chef poured in premeasured egg, swirling it in the pan to make sure it reached the edges, adding ingredients, expertly folding it all and then sliding a perfect, golden-brown omelet onto Catherine’s plate.
When was the last time anyone had made breakfast for her? She thought it was when the kids were in fourth and sixth grade. They’d brought her cereal on a tray for Mother’s Day. Now she got a card from her daughter and chocolate-dipped strawberries delivered from her son. Would it be tacky to ask them to come over the next Mother’s Day and bring her cereal in bed?
If she had a next Mother’s Day.
Denise had already helped herself to some yogurt and fruit and scoped out a table for them. A waiter showed up with coffee just as Catherine sat down, asking if they’d like some.
“Yes, please,” she said to him. “It’s such a luxury to have someone wait on you,” she told Denise. “I think I could get used to being pampered.”
“I think you should. When was the last time that happened?”
Hard to remember. Catherine was always the one taking care of others—starting with when she was a teenager taking on cooking for her two younger brothers and her father after her mother died. She’d been seventeen. After two years of college, she’d married, and in another few years she was taking care of her own family. Eventually, her father had moved in with them and she took care of him before he died. Then it had been Bill’s parents who needed help. It seemed she’d always been watching over someone. But now, who was watching over her?
Her friends, she reminded herself. Thank God for them.
“Feel free to join us,” Denise offered as Rudy approached, his daughter trailing him like a shadow. He held a plate with cold cuts, cheese and a crusty roll in one hand and a small glass container of yogurt in the other.
Athena was carrying only a bowl with hot cereal. Like Denise, not a big eater, which explained the fact that she was equally as svelte. Catherine looked down at her own breakfast. In addition to her omelet she’d gotten a pastry, yogurt, some cheese and cold cuts. Oink.
Well, it was a cruise. And hadn’t Denise just advised her to live life to the fullest?
“This is quite the breakfast, isn’t it?” Rudy said to Catherine as he slipped into the seat on the other side of her.
She’d just stuffed a chunk of pastry in her mouth so all she could do was chew and nod. What a sparkling conversationalist.
“We were just saying how nice it is to be waited on,” Denise said, speaking for both of them. “It’s a real treat for Catherine, who’s always doing for everyone but herself,” she added, singing Catherine’s praises like a true best friend.
Rudy smiled at Catherine. “Everyone deserves to be waited on once in a while.”
“How did you sleep?” Denise asked him.
“Great,” he said. “And you?”
“I was out like a light,” Denise said. “So were you,” she told Catherine.
“I was tired,” Catherine confessed.
“Adjusting to the time difference can be tough,” said Rudy.
“Yes, but you know what they say about that,” Denise said. “When the going gets tough...”
He nodded. “The tough get going.”
“No, the other ‘you know what the
y say’—the tough go shopping. I’m going to do that when we hit Cologne. I read it’s got one of the world’s biggest Christmas markets.”
“We’ll have to check that out, won’t we?” Rudy said to his daughter. “Some blown glass, perhaps? Or some Christmas decorations for your tree.”
“I want to buy a cuckoo clock when we get to the Black Forest,” said Denise.
“Me, too,” said Catherine. “I always wanted a cuckoo clock.” Maybe she’d have to get herself one. Merry Christmas to her from her. “But that’s jumping pretty far ahead. I think I’ll just concentrate on enjoying today.” To the fullest, like Denise advised. If she concentrated hard enough on today, maybe she could dodge the shadow of an uncertain tomorrow.
“I’m sure we will,” Rudy said, and the smile he gave her made her heart do the jingle bell rock.
Shipboard romance, what would that be like? Outside of a movie or a book she hadn’t enjoyed much romance since the night Bill proposed.
They’d left Seattle and driven out into the country, far from city lights where they could find clear skies and stargaze. He’d taken her to a park on the edge of a lake, laid out a blanket and produced a bottle of champagne and two plastic cups. Then he’d told her she was the most important thing in his world and promised to love her for the rest of his life.
He’d kept his promise. And if his idea of love was mowing the lawn and keeping her car running, so what? He’d never remembered their anniversary (she’d always been the one to make the plans) but he’d never forgotten her birthday. The gifts weren’t wildly romantic—a Crock-Pot, then, when she hadn’t been overly thrilled with his practical present, cash. Later on, when they got popular, it was gift cards. But they always came with a birthday card signed, Love, Bill. It would have been nice if he’d brought her flowers or chocolates once in a while, but then she’d never asked. So whose fault was it, then, that she never got any?
Really, most men weren’t romantic. Not like in books and movies. Anyway, there was more to life than romance. Like someone making you an omelet, getting to choose from a variety of delicious pastries, cruising on a beautiful ship and watching the world go by. And getting to see a windmill close-up.
“I’m looking forward to seeing the windmills,” she said. “I always thought it would be fun to go in one. I never thought I’d get to, though.”
“Yeah, but who’s going to blow on the paddles and make them turn?” joked Charlie, who’d stopped by the table to visit.
Catherine looked out the window. “It looks like there’s a bit of a breeze now.”
“It’ll be a cold one,” Charlie predicted. “Better stick close to me,” he said to Denise. “Body warmth and all that,” he added, waggling his eyebrows at her, and she gave him a flirty grin in return.
* * *
Good, thought Athena, watching Denise and Charlie. One down, one to go. Technically speaking, two to go, if you counted Sophie. At this point, though, Athena wasn’t. Daddy wasn’t showing any interest in her.
Catherine, though...Athena had seen the way he looked at her—as if they were on a Valentine’s Day dinner date. And Catherine was eating it up, all shy smiles and downward glances.
And all that talk of shopping! If he started spending money it would be like hanging a sign around his neck that said Sugar Daddy. She hoped she could convince him to keep his wallet out of sight.
Breakfast over, everyone dispersed to their rooms to brush teeth and fetch jackets. “I sure do like Catherine and Denise,” Daddy said as they made their way to their staterooms. “Don’t you?”
Okay, this had to be handled with finesse. She couldn’t diss the women or he’d get defensive, demanding to know what she thought was wrong with them? Not that he cared what she thought of Denise. Denise was the smoke screen.
“They seem nice,” she said cautiously.
“Catherine reminds me a little of your mother.”
Catherine wasn’t anything like Athena’s mother. Athena’s mother had been slender and well-dressed. Vivacious. Classy. Catherine was...unremarkable.
“How does she remind you of Mom?” Athena asked.
“It’s her smile. You can tell she’s kindhearted.”
“Just from her smile?”
“Doesn’t she strike you as kindhearted?” Daddy asked.
“I don’t know her well enough.” And neither do you.
People did that all the time, read into other people the kind of character they wanted to see. Athena had done it when she got married.
So had her father on his second time around.
“Daddy, promise me you won’t rush into anything,” she pleaded.
He frowned at her. “Athena.”
It was the beginning of a scold, she could tell. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I don’t want to see me get hurt, either.” He put an arm around her and hugged her. “Don’t worry, honey. I learned my lesson.”
Athena wasn’t so sure. If you asked her, her father needed a tutor.
* * *
Sophie had overslept and Sierra had been moping around the room, moving slowly. As a result they got to the dining room at the tail end of breakfast and there was no sign of their new friends. Crudballs.
“We’ll see them when the tour starts,” Sierra said with a shrug, and headed for the buffet.
Sophie frowned. She was willing to bet Catherine and Denise had gotten to the dining room in plenty of time to see Dr. Rudy and his daughter. They’d probably bonded over pastries. She found a plate and helped herself to a Danish. No guilt. It was only one and this was a cruise, after all.
Surprisingly, her sister, who normally avoided carbs, took one, too. Then she grabbed a doughnut, as well.
“Pastry?” Sophie asked, surprised.
“Hey, it’s a cruise, and I’m eating for two—me and Mark.” Sierra frowned and took a big bite out of her Danish.
“I’m sure you’ll hear from him today,” Sophie said as they made their way toward a table. “He probably hasn’t figured out the time difference.”
They sat down at the table and Sierra stared at her plate. “I should have stayed home.”
“No, Mark should have come,” Sophie said firmly.
“If I’d known he wouldn’t have been able to get away, I’d never have booked this. I still don’t get it. I thought he could take the time off. In fact, I’m sure I remember him saying back in October that he had some days he needed to take off before the end of the year or he’d lose them.”
Even though Mark had tried to explain his job to Sophie once, she still didn’t really know what he did. He was some kind of something that had to do with claims at an insurance company. Was he so important he couldn’t take some time away? Surely his boss could have let him take a week’s vacation, especially after assuring Sierra it would be no problem.
“Maybe you were right, maybe you guys do need some time apart,” Sophie offered, echoing her sister’s weak excuse when she’d first called Sophie with the news Mark wasn’t going.
“I just need to hear from him.” Sierra took a vicious bite of her pastry. Then she shoved aside her plate and stood. “I’m going to the room. I’ll see you there.”
She was probably off to text Mark. For the third time since they’d boarded the ship. Well, there was the time difference.
Except the night before would have meant morning for him. Even accounting for meetings or whatever, he should have had time for a one-sentence reply. The fact that he hadn’t said a lot. Poor Sierra. Hopefully, she and Mark would be able to resolve their issues.
Of course they would. This was only a bump in the road. Meanwhile, though, Sophie was going to do her best to distract her sister from that bump and make sure she enjoyed the German scenery.
She was seated by herself at the table, finishing her coffee, when the German class walked p
ast, a giant amoeba with twenty-four legs. Except amoebas didn’t have legs. They were just blobs. And there with the...whatever...was Trevor March’s brother. She didn’t see any sign of Trevor, though. Maybe he’d overslept, too.
Just as well. Sophie needed to concentrate on Dr. Rudy.
She lingered over her coffee another twenty minutes, wanting to give her sister some alone time, then went to the room to get ready for the morning tour. She found Sierra sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out their French balcony window.
“I guess we should start getting ready,” Sophie said. “The tour starts in half an hour.”
“You go. I think I’ll stay on the ship and read.”
“You paid a lot of money for this,” Sophie reminded her. “You should at least try and enjoy some of it.”
“I am,” Sierra insisted.
“How?”
“I’m eating.”
Yeah, pastry. “Which means you’ve got some calories to burn. And what better way to burn them than looking at old windmills.” Sierra didn’t say anything, so Sophie went into sales pitch mode. “That is a once in a lifetime experience, something you might never get to do again.” Still no reply. “Mom will want to see pictures of us having fun together.”
“Send her a picture of you having fun. She’ll be fine with that.”
“It will be interesting,” Sophie promised. “And you can just as easily wait for a text walking around sightseeing as you can sitting in the room. Anyway, there’s nothing you can do about Mark. He’s in Washington and you’re here. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen.”
Wrong thing to say. Sierra looked like she was going to cry.
Sophie rushed on. “But you don’t know what that is, so why spoil something you paid for and were looking forward to by worrying?”
“I can’t help it,” Sierra said miserably.
“Don’t let Mark be the Grinch and steal this trip from you. You’ve been excited about it for months.”
“I was excited about doing it with him.” Sierra’s cheeks turned pink. “Sorry, Soph. You know what I mean.”
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