by Scott, Lisa
Lucy let the hot water spray over her body, realizing for the first time since the accident that she was excited about the day ahead of her.
And that scared the crap out of her.
***
Lucy joined Joe in the dining room, wearing the only clean outfit she had left. Joe was dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved, button-down shirt. He was clean-shaven and his hair was damp; totally different from her ex, Dirk. Dirk was tall with blond dreads and a perpetual smirk. Most of his clothes did not have buttons. She’d been taken in by his sweet, artistic soul. Turns out he was more than a kickass guitar player, he was quite the actor, too. In the end she’d realized there wasn’t anything truly sweet about Dirk at all.
“There’s a pool on one of the decks if you’d like to go swimming,” Joe offered.
“I don’t have a suit,” she explained.
Joe stirred his coffee and tapped the spoon against the mug. “I won’t look.”
She laughed. “Too bad I didn’t know I’d be cruising for a few days. I don’t have enough clothes, no books.”
“Just relax in the sun and do nothing,” Joe offered.
She propped her elbow on the table and set her chin in her hand. “I’ve been doing nothing for six months.”
“Couldn’t you tackle some song writing?”
“I told you, I don’t even know if I’m going to sing again,” she said.
“Then someone else could sing your songs. But all those things that come tumbling out of your heart ought to make it onto paper.”
“Maybe you should be the one jotting down your words. Some of them come out real pretty.” She picked up her fork and scooped up a mouthful of eggs. They were warm in her belly.
“Nah. Remember, I tell people the things they don’t want to hear? You tell them the things they didn’t realize they already knew. Now that’s a talent.”
The back of her neck tingled and the reservoir of snappy comebacks seemed to be dried up, so she said, “I don’t even know what I’d write. I used to have dozens of songs itching to get out. Now? Nothing.” She speared a piece of cantaloupe on her plate.
He took a sip of his coffee. “All those things you didn’t get to say to Leah? Write a song about that.”
She blinked at him.
“Or to your ex, for leaving you when you needed him most.”
She frowned. “I didn’t need him. I’m glad he’s gone.”
“You wrote your biggest hit because of the homecoming queen prank. I can’t imagine what you could do with everything you’re dealing with now.”
She finished her breakfast without saying anything else.
“I’ve got some work to catch up on, so I can give you your space. There should be a notebook and paper in the desk back in your room. If you need me, I’ll be in the lounge.” He stood up from the table.
She smiled at him. “I thought this was going to be a few days of hell on this ship. It’s turning out to be real nice. Thank you, Joe.”
***
Lucy spent a beautiful day on a lounge chair under an umbrella, sipping her fill of fruity drinks, jotting down phrases and chords. Then crumpling up sheets of paper that were going nowhere and starting over again. Funny that in the end “You Wronged Me” should’ve been about Leah, she thought. By the time dinner rolled around, she had the basics of a song scribbled down on her pad. She likened fading friendships to a pair of favorite boots you thought you’d lost, only to realize they got pushed to the back of the closet but had always been there. She wasn’t sure if it worked or not, but it was a start, and the day had flown by as she wrote and watched the clouds making cheerful, puffy shapes overhead.
Joe was excited to hear about her progress at dinner. “See? You’re stronger than you know,” he said.
She smiled. “I like how that sounds.”
***
After dinner, they watched a movie on an outdoor screen on one of the decks. “I don’t think Tripp is going to regret buying this behemoth thing,” she said.
“He’ll be able to use it for lots of corporate events.”
“Or rent it out to celebrities who need a break from the limelight. This has been wonderful.”
“You have no idea how happy I am to help,” Joe said, his arm brushing against hers as they sat next to each other in the circular seating area.
When the movie ended, she stood up and stretched. “I’m going to bed. All that writing wore me out.” She shivered as a cool ocean breeze swept across the deck.
He stood up and wrapped an arm around her. “Cold?”
She nodded, and he took her in his arms and held her tight.
She looked up at him and smiled. “Is this happening?”
“If you want it to,” he said.
She nodded, and he laced his hand around the back of her head and pulled her in for a kiss.
But before their lips met, his thumb brushed against the scar on her cheek. She jerked back and her hand flew to cover it. “I forgot about that. I didn’t even put my scarf on today.”
Joe grabbed her other hand. “Good. You shouldn’t worry about it.” He traced his finger just above the scar. “Your fans aren’t going to abandon you because of a scar and a limp. They’ll respect you and love you even more.”
The very idea of getting onstage again frightened her. She couldn’t dance like she used to or jump around. “I haven’t even tried to sing since the accident,” she said. “I’ve been too scared. I don’t know if the scar would restrict my mouth at all.”
“So try,” Joe offered. “I’m the only one who will hear.”
She shook her head. “No, I’ll hear too. And what if I can’t? I don’t think I can handle that.” She shrugged. “I wrote a few words today. That’s as much as I can do now.”
“It’s a good start. Let me walk you to your room.” Joe kept his arm around her as they walked downstairs to the staterooms. He lingered outside her door. “I’m right across the hall. Do you want me to come in again if it sounds like you’re having another nightmare?”
She felt so safe in his arms last night. Usually, falling asleep felt just like that—falling. But with him holding on to her, she felt secure. Lucy nibbled her lip. “What do you think about sleeping with me?” She held up a hand. “Just sleeping, that’s all I meant. Then you wouldn’t have to rush across the hall.”
“Yes,” he answered, before she even finished her sentence. “Go get ready for bed and I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
Lucy went into her bathroom and brushed her teeth and washed her face. Staring at the water swirling down the drain, she steeled herself and looked up in the mirror. She angled her face at first so she couldn’t see the scar. Then she slowly turned until it came into view.
She gulped. The pale pink swirl ran just above her jaw. She stared at it and for the first time it didn’t seem to dominate her face. It just looked like something that was there.
Flicking off the bathroom light, she tugged on her nightgown and got under the covers. Joe knocked on the door. “Come in,” she said.
He slipped into the room wearing a robe and holding a blanket. “It got a little cold last night.”
“Sorry,” she said.
He walked over to the bed and lay down, leaving a good six inches between them.
She turned off the light and rolled over on her side, facing him. Her knee grazed his thigh, but he didn’t move it.
“Sweet dreams, Lucy,” he said.
“That would be a nice change.”
***
When Lucy woke up screaming, Joe’s arms were already around her. “You’re okay. I’m right here.”
Tears streamed down her face. “I didn’t know how drunk he was. I lost track of him at the party.” She sucked down a sob. “And I begged him to slow down. I begged him to let me out.” She buried her head in his arms.
He stroked her hair. “I’m glad they sent him to jail.”
“He’s already out.”
“Good. I can find him
and kick his ass.”
She laughed softly through her tears. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”
“Me, too.” He stroked her arm until she fell asleep.
***
Joe watched Lucy sleep, sad to know she’d be leaving later that day. The tenuous connection they were forming would no doubt be severed and forgotten once she stepped off the boat.
Her deep red hair splayed against the pillow, and he ran his finger along a curly strand. Her eyebrow ring glinted in the morning sun. He resisted the urge to run his tongue across her eyebrow to feel the cold metal. That’s when he decided it was best to scoot a few inches away from her.
Her eyes fluttered open and she caught him watching her. “Thanks for staying with me last night. It helped, it really did.”
“Imagine how much it would help to let other people back into your life.”
“I promise to think about that once I get home,” she said.
He sat up and swung his feet off the bed. “The captain said we’ll be in Baltimore by noon. I’m catching a flight to Dallas and can drive you to the airport or to get a rental car.”
“I could use the drive. I always think up good lyrics on a long road trip.”
He grinned. “Excellent. I’d be sad if I never heard another new song from you.”
“Look me up if you’re ever in Nashville,” she said.
He wanted to reach out to her but she was saying her goodbyes. “I’ll find a reason to be in Nashville,” he promised.
“Good.”
They stared at each, other saying nothing. Because really, what could be said?
“I’m going to get my things ready.”
That was his cue to leave. “I’ll meet you in the dining room for breakfast.”
***
After breakfast as Lucy sat on the deck with her suitcase and purse, Joe checked in with the captain. The captain frowned when Joe approached him. “It seems the press knows we’re coming. There are cameras waiting on the pier for Miss Jordan. They must’ve had an alert out in all the eastern ports to be notified of our arrival.”
Joe swore. “Well, proceed as planned and dock. I’ll find out what she wants to do.”
Joe found Lucy on the deck, smiling in the sun. He hated to give her reason to chase away that content look. “Bad news. Somehow the press found out we were coming. Cameras are waiting for you. What do you want to do?”
Her smile disappeared and she looked down at her feet. “I’m not ready to face them. But what choice do I have? I guess I’ll just have to walk past them and say no comment.”
Joe shook his head. The Lucy he pictured in his mind had her head held high, confident and vibrant. “No, you’re going to face them on your terms. There’s still plenty of work I can get done from the ship. We’ll keep sailing and find another port.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s not a problem. This yacht has to be taken to Galveston anyway. Two extra passengers doesn’t change anything. But we could use some supplies. Make a list of what you need—we can call it in to a few stores and have everything delivered to the ship.”
She looked at him with the tiniest smile, shaking her head. “I can see why Tripp hired you.”
***
Five hours later they were back at sea. Lucy was unpacking her new clothes and toiletries when Joe knocked on her door. “Can I come in?”
“Sure,” she said.
“I took the liberty of getting a few things for you,” he said. He was holding something behind his back.
“What is it?”
He brought both arms from behind him. One held a guitar, and he raised it in the air. “So you can do some writing.” The other hand held an ornate walking stick. “So you can be a boon to the carving industry.”
She covered her mouth with her hands and walked up to him. She wasn’t sure which treasure to grab first. “Thank you,” she whispered, taking the walking stick from him. She ran her hands over the dark wood. A vine of thorny roses twisted around it, capping off with one big flower on top. “I can’t imagine how long this took to make.”
“And it took a long time to find. I called all over the city to find just the right one.”
She set the tip of it on the floor and leaned her weight against it. “This is definitely an upgrade from my granny cane.”
He handed her the guitar. “I know you play the fiddle, but I read an article about you once that said you use the guitar to write your music.”
“After everything that happened between us in high school, I can’t believe you bothered to follow my career. I figured you hated me as much as I hated you.”
His smile fell. “I was glad to see you do well.”
She set the guitar on the bed and put the walking stick down, too. She went to Joe and set one hand over his heart. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t hate you. I hated what I thought you did. Thank you for helping me. Thank you for these gifts. Thank you for helping me see that life can be good again.” She slid her arm up his chest and around his neck. Then she brought her lips to his.
Later that night when he lay beside her as she fell asleep, the nightmares didn’t find her for the first time in months.
***
Lucy spent the next few afternoons writing songs—including a follow-up for Joe called “Mr. Wronged.” She felt the same rush she used to get when creativity surged through her during song writing sessions. But as great as her days were, she anticipated the nights even more. Her nights were for Joe. When they finally found themselves entwined in each other’s arms, wanting more, she gave herself to him, scars and all. She let him trace his fingers along every jagged edge that marred her body and fell asleep in the warmth and security of his embrace.
A week after they’d left Boston, it looked like the blissful time at sea was coming to an end. They had just eaten breakfast and were reading on the deck. “I finished my song,” she told him.
“Which song?” He was lying next to her and nudged her with his knee. “The one explaining how wrong you were about me?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I already wrote that one. No, this is the one about everything I’ve been through lately. The one you suggested I write.”
“Can I hear it?” he asked.
She closed her eyes. She hadn’t sung in front of anyone since the accident. She hadn’t even sung with the full volume of her voice. But she wanted him to hear her. To hear her story. So she started singing, softly at first, then belting out the mournful words about being pushed around and pushed down but getting back up again.
When she finished, she opened her eyes to see his reaction.
His eyes were locked on her. “That was beautiful—your voice, the words, everything. But the song of you fighting back shouldn’t be sad. It should be happy. Full of spirit and promise. You need to take those same words and infuse them with energy.”
She looked out at the gray expanse of the ocean around them. “You’re right.” She stood up. “I need my own fight song.”
Joe snapped his fingers. “That’s what it needs. It needs some of your fight in it.”
“I’ll be back. I’m going to my room to work on this.”
***
When she came back a few hours later, Joe looked serious. “I was thinking we could try docking in Miami today. The crew needs to stock up on supplies and I think we’ve lost the paparazzi.”
“Oh, right. Yes, sure. I’ll get packed.” Lucy went back to her room to get her things together. She folded her clothes and gathered the pages of notes and lyrics scattered across the desk. She broke into tears. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to leave Joe. The confidence and hope she’d found during the past week seemed to be draining from her. Being with Joe made her look ahead to the future instead of wallowing in the past.
Joe tapped on her door. “Can I come in?”
“Just a second.” She brushed away her tears and plastered on a smile. “Come in.”
He opened the doo
r. “The captain called ahead and it looks like it’s all clear in Miami. We’ll be there in a few hours. You can finally go home.”
The tears came back full force.
He rushed to her. “What is it?”
She covered her mouth with a shaking hand. She was no delicate flower, yet here she was wilting in front of him. “I don’t want to leave you. Just me and you on the yacht—it’s been perfect. And I don’t want to say goodbye.”
He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “Then don’t. We can stay here until the ship gets to Galveston, then we’ll figure out what’s next. You don’t have to be alone anymore, Lucy. I want to be with you. You bring light and laughter to my life. Could you work on your music from Dallas?”
“I can write anywhere.”
“Good. Because I talked to Tripp and we have a special job we need you to do for McCall Me.”
“Can I ask for one more favor,” Lucy said.
“Anything.”
“Can you set up a press conference for when I arrive in Galveston? I’m ready to face this now. I’m ready to move beyond it all. With you.”
***
Lucy stood off in the wings at the hotel conference room. She peeked into the room and saw the dozens of photographers and reporters waiting to talk to her.
Joe set his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be scared. You control this, Lucy. You have the power to make this a sad song or a happy ending. Go out there and talk to your fans. The ones who love your spirit. The ones who’ve been worried about you. The ones who want to hear you sing again. Go show them what happens when life knocks you in the mud. Go show them your fight.”
She gripped the rose on top of her walking stick. “I will. And I will never forget this is all a happy ending because of you.”
He kissed her forehead and she walked out to take back the rest of her life.
***
One year later…
Joe tapped the microphone and the crowd quieted down but the butterflies were whirling in Lucy’s stomach. It was a good feeling.