Shut Up and Kiss Me

by Julie Cannon

  “Faith,” Lowe said, and I almost gave in. The sound of my name, the deep tone of her voice was almost enough to make me abandon common sense again.

  “I don’t think we have time to do anything else today,” I said quickly, not giving her a chance to go where I didn’t want her to. “By the time we get back to the Escape, it’ll only be a few hours until we depart.”

  I turned to Lowe when she didn’t answer. She was frowning, her expression intense. I could see she was debating with herself as to whether she should push the subject or let it go. At least that’s what I’d be doing if our roles were reversed. I wouldn’t let Lowe get away without clearing the air between us or kissing her senseless. I wanted the latter but had no idea what she would do.

  Lowe’s eyes roamed every inch of my face, returning several times to linger on my lips. My heart was pounding, and I was sure Lowe could hear it. I was barely able to control my breathing and tried my hardest to appear calmer than I felt.

  “I suppose you’re right,” Lowe finally said.

  Somehow, I knew she was agreeing only to my comment about the time.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Day Nine

  Akaroa, New Zealand

  I was up early and, from the privacy of my patio, watched as we docked in Akaroa at eight that morning. I hadn’t slept much the past two nights, and I kept remembering the stricken look on Faith’s face as she stepped out of my arms at the observatory. It was bad enough she didn’t want anything to do with this arrangement, and after the clinch in the dark, I felt guilty for putting her in this position. What had started out as an opportunity was now anything but. It was somewhere around one in the morning when I decided I’d make this the best experience I possibly could for her. She might feel like she had to accompany me, but I was going to make it as enjoyable for her as it was going to be for me.

  Akaroa, the guide had told us last night in the briefing, is a village a little more than seventy-five minutes from the more famous city of Christ Church. “Akaroa means long harbor,” the bald man explained. “It was named best cruise destination in Australia and New Zealand in the Cruise Critics’ award in 2017,” he read off a piece of paper in his hand. We’re here for two days, enabling us to tour the galleries and craft stores, enjoy a hot stone massage, or play a round of golf on their famous mini-golf course. All those activities sounded a bit too boring, so I’d signed up for kayaking and possibly an hour on a jet ski. I passed on the Alpaca Farm Tour.

  Faith was waiting for me on the main deck when I stepped out of the elevator. She was wearing a pair of jade-green shorts with a light-green tank top and a pair of water shoes. She held the same bag she had carried in Hobart and had a death grip on the Nike visor in her hand. We exchanged polite greetings, then took the elevator to deck five, where a ferry would take us to the dock.

  Two men with almost identical neatly trimmed beards helped us onto the worn, weathered dock. One of the men was much taller than the other and had an accent so strong I could barely follow what he was saying. Thankfully, he didn’t talk much.

  We bounced along a steep, narrow road in a caravan of four-wheel-drive Jeeps. The scenery was magnificent, with green rolling hills. There were eight of us, three couples, Faith, and me. There was only one single kayak, so I offered to double up with Faith. We were fitted with compact life vests and a paddle, and after fifteen minutes of instruction, we were ready to slide our bright-yellow kayak into the water.

  Faith was up front, so she climbed in first, her position giving me a perfect view of her fine ass as she maneuvered into the tight seat. Once she was settled, I did the same, but certainly not as elegantly as she had. We dug our paddles into the sand and pushed off into the water.

  Our guide took us along the outer coast of the Pohatu Marine Reserve, where we paddled through narrow passages of towering rocks that jutted into the clear blue sky. The water was crystalline, providing an excellent view of the reefs below and some very colorful fish. I pointed out a colony of seals sunning on a large rock in the distance to Faith. Passengers in another kayak exclaimed when they saw several dolphins in the area.

  “Did you know that Pohatu is home to the largest penguin colony in New Zealand?” I asked, trying to impress Faith with my odd snippet of obscure information I’d read on one of the many websites last night.

  “I didn’t know that,” she replied over her shoulder.

  I couldn’t tell if she was impressed.

  “You can sign up to spend the night in their colony,” I added. Not my idea of an enjoyable time, but if Faith wanted to, I’d be curled up behind her. I wasn’t surprised when she said she wasn’t interested.

  We were on the water about ninety minutes before we dragged our kayaks out. Our guides pulled out a cooler from the back of one of the Jeeps, and I took an ice-cold bottle of water and leaned back against a rough rock, Faith nearby.

  We chatted about the excursion, and I sensed her mood shift as she described how some of the fish were chasing each other. I’d love to chase her until she caught me, I thought.

  Our rest break over, we squeezed back into the Jeeps to begin our ascent back to the pier.

  “How about a jet ski?” I asked, pointing to several of the watercraft pulled on shore. A sign sticking out of the sand gave the price list. It was early afternoon, and we still had several hours of daylight left before the ferry returned to the ship.

  “After that quiet, tranquil, calming experience, you want to ride on a jet ski?” Faith looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “Come on. It’ll be fun.” I started walking in the direction of the little guy in the bright-green hat who was manning the booth next to the sign. I waved my arm, not giving her much chance to decline. That was my plan. She’d been on guard all day, and I just wanted her to relax and have some fun.

  Ten minutes and a hundred bucks later, I had settled behind Faith, my legs straddling hers, my arms around her waist as she hit the throttle. I’d purposely let her drive because I’d yet to forget how good it felt with our bodies pressed against each other. Life was good. If we didn’t have on such bulky life vests, it would be close to perfect.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Day Twelve

  Auckland, New Zealand

  “We’re climbing it?” I asked Lowe, my head tipped back so far I almost fell backward.

  A fear of heights was rapidly rising in my throat. We were at the base of the Auckland Harbor Bridge, an eight-lane box-trussed bridge over the Waitemata Harbor.

  As a child I’d climbed onto the roof of my house and couldn’t get down. It was forbidden to climb the large tree in our neighbor’s yard, but Max Cargill had dared me one boring summer day.

  I was generally a rule follower, but Max had been after me for weeks. Finally, after one name-calling too many, I shimmied up the big tree. I was going to show the neighborhood bully I was not to be messed with, so I scooted along a crooked branch and dropped onto my roof. I had just turned around to gloat in my accomplishment when my pop pulled into the drive.

  After he went inside, I knew I’d better get my scrawny butt back on the ground before I got caught. He wasn’t mean or abusive, but he did expect the rules to be followed. Max, being the chickenshit he was, ran into his house, leaving me like a castaway on an island. A very high island. I carefully retraced my steps to the branch and was shocked when getting back onto it was impossible. The first time I tried, I lost my footing and barely caught myself from falling two stories to the ground. I didn’t try again.

  I was on the roof in the hot Florida sun for over an hour. My mother thought I was next door with Max and didn’t expect me home until dinner. Max knew I was stuck up there and, a few minutes later, even went so far as to wave at me from his bedroom window, the little jerk.

  Finally, my pop came outside, and I had no choice but to call for help. I was so scared he had to carry me down the ladder.

  “I hear it’s a must-do in Auckland,” Lowe said, excitement in her voice. />
  It was, but I wasn’t sure I was up for it. The top of the bridge was two hundred feet above the water, and you ascended to the top of the bridge secured to a specially engineered catwalk. Lowe wasn’t Max Cargill, and I felt no pressure to go. I also felt safe with her.

  “Let’s do it,” I said firmly to convince myself.

  After a thirty-minute safety briefing and donning the required climbing gear, we followed our guide to the first stop on our climb. He pointed out the safety features of the bridge and its engineering history and answered dozens of questions from our fellow climbers.

  I stayed close to Lowe, trying not to panic myself into embarrassment. I felt safe next to her, as if she could save me if I started to fall.

  At the summit, the view was stunning. The sky was clear, offering a stunning view of Auckland. It was windy, making conversation difficult, but nothing I could have said could describe the thrill of the climb or the beauty of the country from that view. Lowe was equally silent, as she had been when we shared the sunrise. Our guide snapped our picture before we descended.

  Along the way, we stopped at a platform specifically designed for bungee jumping. We watched for a few minutes as a man in a harness prepared to jump. When he did, he screamed the entire time.

  “Are you the adventurous type?” Lowe asked, coming up behind me.

  “Absolutely. You?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied, her smile amusing.

  My stomach tickled. “Let’s go then.”

  Once again, I found myself trussed up in a harness attached to what looked like a giant rubber band. Lowe and I were jumping together, so we were also attached to each other. We stepped out onto the platform, and Lowe grabbed my hand.

  “Ready?”

  I nodded. We jumped.

  I think we both screamed as we fell toward the water below. While other jumpers chose the full dunk, we elected to fall far enough to touch the water before we were yanked up. We gently bounced up and down several times before we were lowered to the deck of a pontoon boat.

  “Oh my god,” Lowe said, hugging me. We’d had an exciting, mind-blowing experience. “That was freaking awesome.”

  My adrenaline was still pumping, and all I could do was nod in agreement. My stomach was still somewhere in my throat.

  Back at the base of the bridge, Lowe hailed a cab to take us back to the Escape. We chatted like excited teenagers, clasping our photos in our hands. I had had more fun than I could have imagined with Lowe, and when she invited me to dinner instead of returning to the ship, I couldn’t refuse.

  The taxi dropped us off at a quaint restaurant on the bay. We were seated on the patio, and when our after-dinner wine arrived, the lights on the bridge were ablaze.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” our waiter asked, pouring the wine.

  “Absolutely.” I meant both the light show and the entire evening with Lowe. She’d kept the conversation going, entertaining me with stories of ridiculous customer demands. She laughed when I shared some of the more interesting things I’d seen people do in places the Escape had stopped.

  We sipped our wine, comfortable with the silence between us. I kept telling myself this was not a date, but it sure did feel like one. We were two lesbians sitting across from each other at a table covered with a white tablecloth, a candle in the center flickering in the dim light. Soft music came from somewhere, and the waiter was attentive but discreet.

  “We should be getting back.” I didn’t want to leave, but we had only an hour to get to the ship. An erotic thought crossed my mind of what might happen if we missed the departure.

  Lowe, sighed, her disappointment apparent. “I suppose so,” she said and signaled for the check.

  We rode back to the ship in silence, and Lowe took my elbow as we got out of the cab. We started walking toward the ferry gate, but Lowe pulled me aside into a shadow and took my hands in hers. My pulse skipped, and I knew she was going to kiss me.

  “I had a wonderful time this evening.”

  There was enough light for me to see the smoldering look of desire in her eyes. It was strong, and I wanted to melt into it.

  “I did too.” My heart was still beating fast from the entire evening, and when she tipped her head toward mine, the world stopped.

  I was stunned when, instead of kissing me, Lowe kissed the back of each of my hands. Her lips were warm and moist, and when she withdrew, I felt just a hint of her tongue. Her gesture was gracious and gallant and made my stomach tickle.

  “The whole day was wonderful.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Day Fourteen

  At sea

  Auckland, New Zealand to Great Barrier Reef

  I tied my bow tie, my reflection in the large mirror clearly showing I hadn’t put on enough sunscreen the last few days. We were halfway through our three days at sea and would be arriving at the Great Barrier Reef the day after tomorrow. My nose was sunburned, and you could see the distinct outline of where my sunglasses had been all day. My mother had, of course, not approved but mercifully hadn’t said anything about it.

  She had reminded me no less than three times about the diamond jubilee celebration that the Cobalt family was throwing for their parents tonight. They had invited all the residents on board and most of the staff as well. I had reluctantly packed for the occasion. It wasn’t as if I minded dressing up. I often attended various charity functions, but I didn’t look forward to my mother’s comments and disapproval of my choice of formal wear.

  I knew the Cobalts and spent time with them on my visits. They were a genuinely warm and friendly couple, obviously just as much in love today as they were sixty years ago. They both were physically frail but mentally still very sharp.

  I would spend a few hours in the afternoon with Mr. Cobalt sitting by the pool or on the atrium deck. I was usually reading a business journal, he working a crossword puzzle from the thick book he habitually had in his lap. “Crossword puzzles keep the mind sharp,” he would say, and I believed him because he did them in ink. A few days ago, I’d made it a point to stop by their apartment and thank them for inviting me to the party. The Cobalts have four children, twenty-seven grandchildren, and, at last count, eight great-grandchildren. The guest accommodations on the Escape were limited, so only his children and their spouses would attend. I knew the Cobalts had probably spent more than a small fortune getting their family here. If my parents ever had a celebration like this, it would be a more private affair, and I was certain the only staff in attendance would be the wait staff.

  I thought about the conversation I’d had with my mother this morning. We were seated at the table, a plate of muffins and assorted fresh fruit between us.

  “You’ve been spending quite a bit of time with one of the members of the crew.”

  I’d just finished my first cup of coffee. I knew what she was really saying because I’d heard it my entire life. It was her “disapproving yet trying to not show it” voice.

  “I see a lot of people while I’m here.”

  “Yes, I know, dear. But I’ve heard you’re spending an extraordinary amount of time with Faith Williams.”

  A spark of anger flared in my chest. I didn’t like the way my mother said Faith’s name. She could have very easily said, “that woman.”

  “She’s my tour guide.” I didn’t want Faith to appear to be something she wasn’t. “And your point is?” I asked when it was apparent that was my next line.

  “I’m not sure if that’s a wise thing to do.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Well, she’s…”.

  “She’s what?” I prompted my mother.

  “She’s a member of the crew.”

  “And what’s wrong with that? She has a job, just like I do. There’s nothing wrong with working here, is there?”

  “But that’s different,” my mother said. “You don’t need to work.”

  I clenched my jaw so that I wouldn’t blurt out what was on the tip of my ton
gue. I’d never considered selling myself out to live off money I hadn’t earned. A view completely lost on my parents. Instead I said, “And how do you know Faith isn’t in the same position?”

  “Because she’s working here.”

  “So? I work in a pack-and-ship store.”

  “That’s different. You own the store.”

  “I see,” I replied. This was a status thing, a class distinction. Before my parents moved onto the Escape I had wondered if their life on the ship would help or hurt their disjointed view of the world. It had gotten worse.

  “And how do you know she doesn’t own this ship, or the cruise line?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Lowe,” my mother said dismissively. “She…”

  “I’d be very careful how you describe her,” I warned her, my undertone clear.

  “I’m just saying that she works here. What could you possibly have in common?”

  More than you’ll ever know, I thought.

  “What will happen when we arrive back in Sydney? When you go home?”

  For the last few days I’d wondered the same thing. Every other visit I’d literally counted the days down until I was able to leave. Since meeting Faith, I counted the days until I was scheduled to. “I don’t know, Mother, but I think that’s between Faith and me.”

  My mother’s eyes flared. She didn’t like to be challenged,

  and she certainly wouldn’t be happy if I had a relationship with Faith.

  “I just think it would be difficult for both of you,” my mother said, adjusting her tone, evidently hoping to appear she was simply offering sage advice to her eldest daughter.

  “I appreciate your concern, Mother but I’m thirty-six years old, and I know what I’m doing.”

  Silence stretched out between us, and before too long my mother asked, “You did bring something appropriate to wear to the Cobalts’ anniversary party, didn’t you?”