by Julie Cannon
We chatted for another ten minutes about nothing in particular as Captain Waverly finished his coffee. I wondered how many cups of caffeine coursed through his system on his rounds of meet-and-greet with his charges.
“Is there anything we can do to make your trip more enjoyable this year?”
I started to say no, but then a thought hit me. “As a matter of fact, there might be.” I’d never asked for anything or taken advantage of my parents’ resident position on the ship, but, hey, it was my vacation, and if I had to spend it with my parents, didn’t I deserve a little reward?
Chapter Fifteen
“You bought me?”
Faith was standing in the hall, her hands on her hips, looking angry. I’d answered the insistent knock on the door while my parents and Victoria were finishing breakfast. I glanced behind me to make sure no one was coming to investigate Faith’s raised voice, but the coast was clear.
“No, I didn’t,” I said, careful not to make Faith angrier.
“Then what would you call it?”
I fought the smile threatening to break across my face. She was kinda cute when she was pissed. “The captain asked if there was anything that would make my visit more enjoyable.”
“And you said me.”
I stepped into the hall and closed the door behind me. “Can we talk about this somewhere other than in the middle of the hall?”
Faith looked around, her expression falling. It appeared she’d just realized where she was and, unfortunately, who she was talking to.
“Come on,” I said, taking her by the elbow and leading her to the outdoor terrace in the middle of the deck. Neither of us said anything until we’d sat.
“I am not a bonus that comes with the house payment.” Her eyes burned, her words clipped.
“I know. You made that very clear before. I just mentioned to Captain Waverly that I enjoyed your company while we were in Hobart. He knows I’m here alone and asked if I’d like for you to accompany me on the excursions I had planned. It won’t cost you anything. I agreed to pay for you.”
“Now you really make me sound like a whore.”
I couldn’t tell if she was angry or hurt. Either way, her reaction was not what I intended or expected, for that matter. “If it upsets you so much, I’ll go back and tell him no thanks.”
“No,” she said quickly. “That won’t be necessary.” Her voice quieted. “I apologize for my outburst. I didn’t fully understand the situation.”
Realization hit me that Faith actually believed she didn’t have a choice. The mere fact that my parents owned one of the most expensive units on the ship entitled them and, by extension, their guests to anything they wanted. I felt ashamed that I had taken advantage just because I wanted to spend more time with her.
“You aren’t under any obligation, Faith. If you don’t want to do it or it makes you uncomfortable, then—”
“No. It’s fine. No problem.”
I think she was trying to convince herself.
“The purser will keep me informed of whatever activity you select. I’ll be on the main deck fifteen minutes before departure time to go ashore.”
“Faith,” I said. She looked defeated, which was the last thing I wanted.
“Have a good rest of the day”
She got up and hurried down the hall, then disappeared into the stairwell. I started to follow her, to…what? Tell her how captivating she was and how she had completely fascinated me in the very short period I’d known her? That I wanted to know more about her? See her smile? Hear her laugh? Maybe feel her touch me? Yeah, right. That would make her feel at ease with her new assignment. I was still shaking my head when I returned to my parents’ apartment.
“Who was that, Lowe?” my mother asked, as if anyone would dare solicit on their doorstep.
“It was Faith Williams,” I said, assuming a nonchalant expression. “She’s going to be my tour guide for the next few days, and we were just getting some of the details ironed out.” That was one way to describe the last few minutes.
“I didn’t know they offered private tours.” Victoria’s interest showed.
“I think this is just a one-time thing,” I said, then changed the subject. The last thing I wanted was for Victoria to get an idea that she could have Faith as her personal escort.
***
“Milford Sound, a fiord southwest of New Zealand’s South Island, is within Fiordland National Park.” I read from Wikipedia on my iPad screen in front of me. The sun was almost touching the horizon, the air chilly. I glanced at Faith, seated across from me at a small table on the back deck. Her polite expression had been there since she sat down a few minutes ago. It didn’t take an astrophysicist to realize she was still angry. I’d wondered all day how long it would take for her to find me. I continued anyway.
“It’s the world’s top travel destination, according to an international survey, and is New Zealand’s most famous tourist destination. Despite its name, Milford Sound is not a sound, but a fiord, the only one in New Zealand accessible by road. However, because it is bounded by steep cliffs and dense rain forest, its special features are unspoiled. Rain or shine, Milford Sound captivates even experienced travelers with its ink-dark waters, gushing waterfalls, and captivating views.”
I pulled out all the stops to sound like an excited tour guide, including varying highs and lows in my speech cadence. It wasn’t working. I switched to a different site.
“According to Trip Advisor, and I quote, Rudyard Kipling pronounced the breathtaking Milford Sound as the eighth wonder of the world. The star of glacier-carved Fiordland National Park, it provides an emerald-green, waterfall-rich backdrop for hiking, biking, and kayaking. Frequent downpours only enhance this South Island beauty, sending waterfalls cascading down the cliffs. Passionate nature lovers usually book in advance to hike the thirty-three-mile Milford Track, a legendary route through alpine passes and temperate rain forest.” I wondered if there was a degree in brochure writing.
“Rudyard Kipling? Didn’t he write the Jungle Book?” Faith asked from across the table. It was the first time she’d indicated she was listening with anything other than professional politeness.
“And The Man Who Would Be King,” I added after reading one of the footnotes. I picked up a different brochure lying on the table in front of me.
“There’s an underwater observatory.” I read the information, this time to myself. I doubted Faith wanted me to continue reading to her. “This is interesting,” I said, unable to keep my mouth shut. “It says the observatory is ten meters, under the Pembroke Glacier. That’s about thirty-five feet for us non-meter citizens,” I added, trying to inject some interaction between us. My attempt didn’t appear to be working. “A layer of fresh water on top of sea water traps the light from getting too far past the surface and creates an environment similar to deep in the ocean, where we can see fish and coral and other deep-sea creatures we wouldn’t be able to spot otherwise. Here,” I said, handing the brochure to Faith. “It’s like the opposite of an aquarium. We’re stationary, and the fish swim around us. That’s pretty clever.”
My pulse kicked up when Faith took the brochure and studied it. Maybe she was interested after all. I wanted to spend time with her, but not if she felt like an indentured servant.
“I didn’t buy you or your company,” I said, putting the elephant on the table. “I enjoy being with you, and I thought the feeling was mutual.” I hesitated a moment, an old, uncomfortable feeling resurfacing. “Or were you just being polite because it’s your job?” I tossed back at her.
When I was growing up, and well into college, I was never sure if people liked me or my family’s position, i.e. their money. They thought that knowing me would open doors that would normally remain closed, locked, and welded shut. They could meet the “right people” and gain entry into a world of wealth and, with it, power. I could further their career ambitions, position on the social ladder, or marriage prospects. Because of these possibilities, they ne
ver fathomed that I could also be a loyal friend—nonjudgmental, genuine, trustworthy, forgiving, dependable—a great listener, and accept them just as they were.
My entire life everyone had deferred to me because of my family. I’d gotten out of that cruel, superficial atmosphere when I separated myself from that life. I’d worked hard to be me, not a descendent or recipient of something I didn’t earn. A thought occurred to me, and I chuckled.
“Obviously you think this is humorous,” Faith said, tossing the brochure onto the table and crossing her arms over her chest.
“Actually, I think it’s more ironic than humorous,” I said flatly.
“Please share, because at the risk of losing my job, a job I love by the way, I don’t see this as either.”
I had to admit Faith was pretty brave putting that out there in the universe. “The only thing I ever wanted was to be seen for me, not my parents and not for how much money others thought I had. What’s ironic is that here, on the Escape, I can’t.”
Faith frowned, obviously not following my statement.
“I’m on the Escape and can’t escape from it.” I sighed heavily and dropped back into my chair, realization surrounding me like a thick, dark cloud. It was smothering.
The silence between us was uncomfortable. I stared into the rolling waves of the Tasman Sea, looking for answers but knowing they wouldn’t just jump out of the water and into my lap. My life had never been that simple, or that whimsical. Reality became crystal clear as the sun peeked out from the clouds overhead.
“Forget it,” I said, gathering up the brochures and flyers of excursions. “It was a bad idea. I’ll let Captain Waverly know that I changed my mind.”
“No,” Faith said, but I interrupted her.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he knows my decision has nothing to do with you or your willingness to go along.”
“I’d like to see the observatory. It looks interesting.”
I looked down into Faith’s eyes, judging if her statement was for real or more of the deception life too often tossed my way. Her eyes were direct, focused on mine, and unwavering. I wanted to trust her, really wanted to trust her. At the risk of being disappointed, or worse yet, hurt again, I asked, “What time would you like to leave?
Chapter Sixteen
Day Seven
Milford Sound, New Zealand
What had I gotten myself into? I’d agreed to, what? Accompany Lowe everywhere she went on her vacation? Be her travel buddy? Personal tour guide? I’d been furious with Lowe when Jacobs told me. I’d thought, how dare she assume I was available for her own personal use? The gall of her to presume I’d want to. I was still apprehensive about what was involved in this arrangement, but after I calmed down and thought it through, my gut told me to do it. Raul, however, sensed it was something else, and he’d called me on it last night.
“What’s got your girlie boxers in a wad?”
Raul was sitting across from me as I stabbed at my dinner on the plate. Raul, a twenty-eight-year-old Cuban, was my gay BFF. At six foot, four inches, he was taller than most Cubans, and a birth defect had left him with four fingers on each hand. We’d met during new-hire orientation and had instantly hit it off.
It was after six, and I was still hot about my new assignment. I’d been stunned, then furious after Jacobs, the captain’s executive officer, informed me that, how did he phrase it, “You’ve been assigned to Miss Lowe Carter for the duration of her visit.” I wasn’t sure if the expression on his face was a sneer, a look of envy, or his belief that I’d been purchased.
“Captain Waverly pimped me out to Lowe Carter.”
Raul coughed, choking on his water. “He what?”
I told him of my conversation with Jacobs, then my idiotic confrontation of Lowe.
“Wow. All I did was fold sheets all day.”
One of the perks of being a resident was the twenty-four-hour laundry service.
“What are you going to do?”
“Keep my mouth shut and my map handy.”
I’d thought about Lowe all night. She was unlike any resident, or very rich person, I’d ever met. When others were pompous and self-important, Lowe was kind, humble, and unassuming. I’d heard stories confirming how my peers were treated like little more than the hired help, which I had experienced as well. Lowe, however, treated everyone with dignity and respect. My friends and colleagues who had come in contact with her couldn’t stop raving about her.
Maybe she was different? Maybe she was exactly as she seemed to be—honest, caring, and interested in the people around her. I had to admit I was attracted to her. Jesus. I’d almost let her kiss me. But that was not going to happen again.
I hurried to finish dressing because I wanted to be on deck as we approached the fiord. I’d done my own research on our port of call, and even though I was still hesitant about what the day would bring, I was excited to see the towering, sheer-granite walls, waterfalls, and lush greenery.
It was early, and I was alone as I stood at the very tip of the bow. I’d secured my hair at the base of my neck, but the strong breeze had tugged a few strands free. The air was chilly, and I was glad I’d pulled a light jacket from my closet before leaving my room. As we approached, the sun was starting to peek out from the horizon, the first morning rays painting the cloudless sky in a blaze of colors. I was lost in the splendor of the exploding sunrise and didn’t hear Lowe approach until she stopped beside me. An overwhelming sense of calm and tranquility instantly settled around me. The stillness of the dawn was filled with a complete sense of rightness. We stood silently shoulder to shoulder until the bottom edge of the sun cleared the horizon.
“It was beautiful, wasn’t it?” Lowe’s words were quiet, as if she was referring to the pristine sunrise.
I simply nodded.
“Would you like some coffee?”
“That would be nice. Thank you.” We still hadn’t looked at each other.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, slowly turning away as if reluctant to leave.
Lowe returned a few minutes later with two tall white paper cups of coffee. She handed me one, and I was careful to grasp it around the thick, heat-resistant sleeve. Our fingers touched, and a jolt of electricity shot through me. I looked up and met piercing blue eyes smoldering so hot I had to look away. If I didn’t, I’d fall into them and never want to find my way out.
“Thank you,” I managed to say. My hands were shaking, and I wrapped both of them around the cup, hoping to not spill the hot contents all over myself. I sipped, the liquid almost scalding my tongue.
We didn’t sit or move away from the railing as we drank our coffee while the ship slowly maneuvered into the fiord. We’d lay anchor in the spectacular channel of Milford Sound, the actual dock too shallow for the big ship. Then we’d be tendered ashore.
The sun was well into the early morning sky when I finally found my voice. “We’d better get moving if we want to catch the boat to the observatory. It leaves at eight thirty.”
Lowe didn’t move, and neither did I. It was as if we both wanted the serenity of the sunrise to last all day. We had a lot to do in the next twelve hours, but we didn’t seem to be in a hurry to do it. Actually, it didn’t seem that we were in a rush to do anything. And I didn’t care.
We boarded the ferry a little after eight with several chatty couples and a few crew members. My peers were whispering among themselves, a few daring to look at Lowe and me several times. I was uncomfortable but knew we weren’t doing anything against the rules. Their expressions told me they thought otherwise.
The water in Harrison Bay was clear and calm, the glacial mountains grand and beautiful. Water cascaded down the mountain amid the tropical landscape. It was a scene worthy of any Hollywood movie. We arrived at the observatory, and Lowe and I were the last to disembark. She politely reached out to help me navigate the floating dock, and a surge of warmth made my arm, and other parts, tingle.
A guide met us just insid
e, where we learned about the history, geology, and wildlife in Milford Sound. At least I think that’s what he was saying when he pointed to some information on large, colorful panels behind him. I was too distracted by Lowe standing close to me. When she shifted to see a monitor showing a video of a local avalanche, our arms touched, sending a wave of excitement through me. I glanced at Lowe, and she appeared not to notice until I saw the vein in her neck pulsing rapidly. Mine followed suit.
We descended into the observatory, the space expectedly small and dark. Lowe was behind me, and I felt her body heat as we maneuvered through the tight crowds. In one area, she pressed up against me when a large man pushed his way through the crowd behind us. She had her hands on my hips to steady us, and an image of them sliding around in front of me flashed through my mind. Against my better judgment, I leaned back against her. It had been a long time since I’d felt another woman’s body against mine, and with my growing attraction to Lowe, I had little willpower to stop myself. Lowe shifted, her arms encircling me. Her breathing quickened. My head started to drop back, giving her access to anything she wanted. But a toddler squealed, and I jerked up.
I jumped out of Lowe’s arms and stepped away, my legs shaking. I didn’t dare look at her. If I did I’d be swept back into that reckless moment. I exhaled deeply, my checks puffing out as I shook my hands to regain control. Jesus. I really had to get over this insanity and pay attention to what was going on in another place than between my legs, or it was going to be a very long trip. The crowd thinned, and I put a more respectable, less tempting distance between us. I didn’t look at her.
We made our way back outside to wait for the ferry. Other than the normal small talk and comments about the fish and coral in the observatory, we hadn’t said anything since I stepped out of her arms. Lowe turned to me several times to say something, but I shut her down. I didn’t want to talk about it. I wanted my attraction to her to just go away.