Never Say Never (2 page)

“Well, early seating is at 6:00 p.m., and late seating is at 8:00 p.m.” Chelle rolled over on her stomach and looked up at her mother.

“I'd probably get too hungry if we wait until eight, wouldn't you?” Charlotte dropped onto the other bed and slipped off her sandals.

“Yeah, let's sign up for the early one. But that means breakfast is early, too.”

Charlotte picked up some of the information from her folder. “Doesn't it say something about being able to eat breakfast somewhere else besides the dining room?”

“Sure.” Chelle looked back at the schedule. “There's an Oceanic Grille on deck nine that serves meals most all day.”

“Then breakfast shouldn't be a problem.” Charlotte stood up and stretched. A knock sounded on their door. She opened it and peeked out. A crewmember in a white uniform stood outside, so she opened the door wider.

“Madame, I'm Rigoberto, your cabin steward.” He held a large white envelope. “I'm here to take care of your every desire. If you need me, I will always be on this section of your deck.”

“Thank you, Rigoberto.” Charlotte smiled, wondering if she should tip him now. She knew her travel fares included some tip charges with the price of the cruise, but she wasn't sure what all was included in that amount. The purser had said to read all the information before doing anything else. As soon as the steward was gone, she intended to do that. She didn't want to start out with a faux pas.

“Oh, yes, and Madame, I was told by the purser to give this to you.” He extended the envelope.

“Now who can this be from?” Charlotte asked Chelle as she closed the door after thanking the steward.

“Open it and see.” Chelle was still as curious as she had been at three years old.

Charlotte turned the envelope over to see if there was any indication as to who sent it; the only thing written on the outside was their names. However, it did bear a gold
Pearl of the Ocean
seal. She loosened the flap, pulled out a card, and read aloud, “The honor of your presence is requested at the captain's table at eight o'clock tonight.”

“What?” Chelle shouted. She grabbed the envelope from her mom and turned it over. “It's addressed to both of us. Wow! We're going to eat with the captain on the first night of the cruise. Wow! I guess that rules out the early seating.”

❧

Charlotte looked through her hanging clothes, trying to decide what to wear to eat with the captain. The schedule clearly stated that the first night was not formal, so she finally decided on a soft floral cotton gauze dress. She liked the way the full skirt swirled around her legs. It made her feel feminine. Why that made any difference tonight, she didn't know.

Before leaving the room, they studied the map to see where the main dining room was located. Charlotte folded the map and stuck it in her tiny shoulder bag in case they needed it later. They took the elevator up to deck four. A cruise employee waited to show passengers the way. When they arrived at the dining room, Chelle handed the maitre d' the invitation. He immediately led them toward a table on a raised platform surrounded by railings. Charlotte glanced around, taking in the burgundy plush carpeting as well as the muted draperies on the windows. Or were they portholes? But they weren't round. The high-ceilinged room was open in the middle with balcony seating on the deck above. This dining room was like an upscale restaurant on land, except that the floor was not completely steady. Charlotte had trouble with the movement of the ship for about an hour, but now she'd found her sea legs.

When the maitre d' pulled out her chair, she glanced at the other people at the table. Five besides herself and Chelle—a couple who held hands as if they were newlyweds, an older couple, and the captain.

Charlotte couldn't believe her eyes. That man on the deck, the one with the piercing blue eyes, was the captain, and he sat right beside her. Suddenly, the comfortably air-conditioned room felt too warm and something inside her quaked. She worried that she wouldn't be able to eat a thing with her stomach acting this way. Charlotte had been sure she wouldn't have a problem with motion sickness, but now she wondered.

❧

Gareth hoped that what he felt earlier in the afternoon had been a one-time thing, but when the two Halloran women swept into the room, he knew it wasn't. Charlotte. Doug said the woman's name was Charlotte. Her hair was pulled back on the sides and held by combs with pearls, which gleamed among those shiny ebony curls. A becoming blush stained her cheeks with just the right amount of color to set off her blue eyes accented by long lashes. Filmy fabric covered with light-colored flowers floated around her like a cloud as she walked across the room, inspecting everything in it along the way. Then she sank into the chair beside him, and he felt her presence as if she were touching him, but she wasn't. What in the world was wrong with him?

“Mrs. Halloran, welcome to my table.” Why did it sound so intimate when he welcomed her, and it hadn't when he welcomed the other two couples? “Is this young woman your sister?” Why had he asked such an inane question? He knew she was her daughter. An idiot could have thought of something better to say.

“My name is Chelle.” The girl giggled. She was even younger than he had guessed.

The blush in her mother's cheeks darkened.

“Other people have asked us that before, Captain,” Chelle answered. “Mother has always looked young for her age.”

❧

Charlotte had heard that often, but this time it made her sound so ancient. She glanced at the captain. He looked intently at her, just as he had earlier in the day.

“And is Mr. Halloran on the cruise with you?” A feminine voice interrupted Charlotte's thoughts.

For a moment, she wondered who asked the question. The older woman on her right was smiling at her.

She gulped back the sob that threatened. “I'm a widow.”

“Oh, dearie, I'm so sorry.” The woman patted Charlotte's arm. “Don't mind me. My husband is always telling me I'm too inquisitive.” She smiled up at the man seated on her other side. “We're the Watsons. And these young folks are our newlyweds, the Nelsons.”

Lively conversation buzzed around the table all through the meal as the diverse people got acquainted. Charlotte had a hard time keeping up with it all. She was too aware of the man sitting next to her. She felt every move he made, even though they were several inches apart. Thankfully she wasn't across the table from him. To look into those arresting eyes all evening would have been impossible. Although she had been hungry as they approached the dining room, her appetite deserted her. So she pushed her food around her plate, eating only a few bites. There had been five or six courses, but after she and Chelle returned to their room, Charlotte couldn't remember one thing they were served. This was not supposed to happen to her. If she didn't know better, she would have thought she was experiencing attraction to a person of the opposite sex.

❧

On other trips, Gareth participated in mild, harmless flirtations with women at his table. And he had thought that was what would happen when he invited the Hallorans tonight. But it wasn't. How could he mildly flirt with the woman when something in her called out to his heart? And why did it? He vowed when Britte died three years ago that he would never go through the pain again. He didn't want a relationship that called for a commitment. But he couldn't imagine any other kind with Charlotte Halloran. And not having a relationship with her was no longer a viable option for him. While he hated to think of her suffering from the grief of a deceased spouse, it had been a relief to find out that she was unattached. Feeling such a strong attraction to a married woman would have been disastrous, and he would never have explored that connection.

Gareth paced across the large expanse of his luxurious apartment. He glanced out into the dark night, watching the lights on the bank of the Mississippi slowly drift by. While they moved down toward the mouth of the great river, the ship couldn't go very fast. Even though this vessel had very little wake, he didn't want to chance swamping small fishing boats that shared the waterway with them. The restlessness that ate at his insides made him want to shift the ship into high gear and sail past these shores at a fast clip. Anything to get away from his disturbing thoughts.

What was he going to do about Charlotte? Of course, he could see that he never came in contact with her again on the voyage. Perhaps that would be best. This crazy night was just a fluke, a blip on the radar of his life. He would forget it happened. . .and forget Charlotte Halloran. . .with her creamy skin, bright blue eyes, and dancing black curls.

He continued to pace from his office, through the living room, to the kitchen, and back, unable to relax until after midnight, when they were free from the mouth of the river. The engines shifted, and the ship sped up for its voyage across the Gulf of Mexico. Now he could go to bed. As he undressed, he reiterated his decision to forget what happened earlier in the day. Then he fell into his king-sized bed to be lulled to sleep by the motion of the gentle waves.

But not this time. When Gareth finally rose, after tossing and turning all night, he realized that he had only slept intermittently. How in the world was he supposed to run a tight ship on so little sleep? Something would have to be done about it. His closest friends on the crew were his first mate, Homer Wilson, and his purser, Doug Baxter. Maybe they should have breakfast together. The two men could speak words of sanity to him, help him move away from this explosive situation.

Two

Charlotte left the dining room without lingering to talk to the other passengers. She couldn't even remember what she gave as an excuse. First she tried hiding in her cabin, but although it seemed roomy when they first boarded, she felt like a caged tiger as she paced the small area. When Chelle finally came in from dinner, Charlotte asked if she'd accompany her out on deck for a while so they could get some exercise. She hoped it would calm her nerves enough to sleep. They decided to change into sports clothes for the trek. Charlotte stuffed the map brochure into the pocket of her hooded sweater.Although it was after ten thirty, a lot of people remained on deck, probably excited about the start of the cruise. But that wasn't what kept Charlotte so agitated. The breathless sensation that gripped her chest when the captain looked at her was way too unsettling.

“Why are we going so slow?” Chelle's question caused Charlotte to turn from the rail and look at her daughter, who stood beside one of the young crewmen. Chelle gazed up into his face. “It doesn't feel as if the ship is even moving.”

The blond young man smiled at Chelle. “We're still cruising down the Mississippi. If we go any faster, we might disturb small fishing boats sharing the water with us.”

“Wow!” Chelle beamed at the attention from the handsome crewman. “I never thought of that.”

Charlotte took her daughter's arm. “Let's walk on one of the upper decks.”

When they stepped off the elevator on deck ten, only a few people shared the vast space. She pulled the map out of her pocket. According to the brochure, this deck could be used as a jogging track. People probably jogged in the morning or early evening, not at this time of night. But Charlotte liked the isolation. She leaned against the railing and gazed toward where she supposed the bank of the river to be. In the inky blackness, she really couldn't tell. The sky must be overcast, because she didn't see the moon or any stars.

A cluster of lights that might be a house looked far enough away to be on the riverbank. About halfway between those lights and the ship, a single lantern bobbed above the water on one of those fishing boats the crewman mentioned.

“Mom,”—Chelle put her arm around Charlotte—“this is going to be fun. Please don't be so sad about Daddy.”

“Okay, honey.” Charlotte pulled her daughter close. Chelle probably thought she was still bothered because the woman at dinner had brought up old memories. And she wasn't going to tell her anything different. How could she explain what she didn't understand herself?

Arm in arm, she and Chelle started to walk around the ship.

“Look, Mom.” Chelle pointed to the space at the very back. “It's a rock-climbing wall. I want to try that.”

Charlotte's gaze traveled up the length of the structure. It jutted out at the top and had various colors and shapes of rocks embedded in the concrete surface. “It doesn't look that safe to me.”

“M–o–m.” That teenage whine always set Charlotte's teeth on edge. “You know they wouldn't let anything happen to me.”

Charlotte didn't like the spark of adventure in her daughter's eyes. She had seen that same glint often enough in her husband's eyes. She knew his tenacity ran through Chelle, too. Maybe Charlotte could interest her in something tamer and safer, and she would forget about trying to climb that thing. If Philip had been with them, he would have encouraged Chelle to do it, but since Charlotte was the only parent, she felt a strong need to protect her only child.

After midnight, the ship entered the Gulf of Mexico and picked up speed. Thinking the walk around the deck and the night sea air would help her sleep, Charlotte suggested they return to their cabin. As they got ready for bed, she hoped the gentle motion of the ship would rock her to sleep. But it didn't. Every time she closed her eyes, Captain Van den Hout's face swam behind the lids. This could not be happening. She would just have to stay out of his way. Surely that wouldn't be difficult on a ship as large as this one. She had experienced a wonderful romance in her past. She knew that other women who had good marriages and lost their husbands wanted to experience it again, but she just couldn't be like them. Why would she want to complicate the future?

When Charlotte awoke, Chelle was not in the stateroom. That wasn't a problem. Chelle was seventeen and about to finish her junior year in high school. She had always been pretty responsible. Besides, she had to be somewhere on the ship. Charlotte figured that if Chelle had finished breakfast, she was out by the pool.

After getting dressed, Charlotte decided to have her meal at the Oceanic Grille instead of in the dining room. Maybe she wouldn't run into the captain there. As she entered the sunlit room with walls of glass, most tables were empty. The only crewmembers present served behind the large buffet lines.

Charlotte filled her plate with more food than she could possibly eat, but her stomach growled with hunger after that fiasco last night. Besides, with so much to choose from—scrambled eggs, a breakfast casserole, French toast, pancakes, waffles, bacon, ham, sausage, various fruits, and biscuits—her plate was full, even though she only took a little bit of several things. At the middle of the room, another buffet setup included cooked cereal, dry cereal, several kinds of sweet rolls and pastries, and bagels. Extra weight really showed on her short figure, but she would have a hard time not gaining any on this trip. Charlotte sat at a table by the windows that looked out over the bow of the ship and started to read a book as she ate her breakfast. Occasionally, she glanced up to take in the expanse of gentle, gray blue waves. The peaceful sight calmed her, and the story moved toward a mystery that pulled her along.

“Charlotte?”

A familiar masculine voice poured over her just like the warm syrup had covered her waffle a few minutes ago. She turned toward the tall officer.

“It is all right for me to call you Charlotte, isn't it?”

All she could do was nod as his intense gaze captured hers.

“And you must call me Gareth.” He pulled out the chair across from Charlotte. “May I join you while I drink my coffee? I only have a few minutes before I go back and relieve the first mate.”

Charlotte wondered how he had entered the room without her being aware of it. His presence seemed to fill the space. She must have been really engrossed in that book, but now she couldn't even remember its title.

❧

Gareth hadn't intended to ask that last question. Even after his heart-to-heart with Doug and Homer over an early breakfast, he planned to keep his distance from this beautiful woman. Although
Doug encouraged him to develop a relationship with her, Homer agreed with Gareth that it wasn't a good idea. But here he was sitting across the table from her, and she looked like a reindeer caught in the headlights of a car. Large, luminous eyes with just a hint of fright in them. Why was she afraid? He wouldn't hurt her for the world. But he knew, even at this early stage, that she could hurt him if she wanted to.

“I see you had a good breakfast.” Now why did he say that? “I mean, after not eating much of your dinner last night.”

Charlotte's tense shoulders relaxed. “Yes, I was hungry. And the food is really good. You obviously have wonderful chefs aboard.”

“Yes, over a hundred at last count.”

She brushed dark curls back from her forehead. Gareth imagined his fingers tangled in those silky strands. The thought amazed him. When he carried on mild flirtations with women on cruises, he never touched them. At least not in that kind of way. He was very careful to keep everything light and. . .unentangled.

What was it about her that drew him? Last night when that other woman asked about her husband, he recognized the pain in her eyes. A shadow of it still lingered this morning. She was emotionally tied to her deceased husband. He knew all about such ties. Although it had been several years since Britte's death, he still loved his late wife very much.

Charlotte stood and started to gather her bag, sunglasses, and book. “I think I'll go see if I can find my daughter.”

Gareth reached across the table and touched her arm. “Please don't leave just yet. I'm sure she's okay. There are crewmembers all over the ship to give passengers any help they need. Tell me a little about your family.”

Charlotte sank back into the comfortable chair. “There isn't much to tell.”

“Where are you from?” Gareth leaned his crossed arms on the small table.

“Texas. . .the Dallas-Fort Worth area.” Charlotte hoped she looked all right. Her hair had fallen across her face while she was reading, and she had brushed it back several times. It probably looked like a rat's nest, and she knew she had eaten off all her lipstick. She gritted her teeth to keep from mashing her lips together to bring more color into them. Why did it matter? “Where are you from, Captain, uh. . .Gareth?”

❧

He liked the way his name rolled off her soft southern drawl. “I grew up in Belgium. But my family is from the Netherlands. My wife and I had a home in Oosterhout.”

“Had?”

“Well, I still have the house, but Britte has been gone for over three years.”

“Gone?”

It was a lame way to explain what happened. “Yes, she had cancer, but she hid it from me as long as she could. I spent her last nine months with her.” Gareth couldn't believe he was telling her so much about his life. He never told anything personal to the women he spent time with on the cruises.

Charlotte reached over and patted his forearm. “I understand. Well, maybe I don't understand completely. Philip was killed by a drunk driver. It was sudden. I can't imagine watching your mate waste away for nine months.” Tears pooled in her eyes, and a couple trailed down her cheeks.

Before she could wipe them off, Gareth gently touched her face. “Don't cry for me, Charlotte. I've learned to live with the pain.”

“Maybe I'm crying for me as much as for you. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to really live with the pain.” She dug in her purse and finally brought out an empty, crumpled tissue package.

Gareth reached into his back pocket and pulled out his handkerchief, glad that he'd put a fresh one in his trousers this morning. “Here.” He took her chin in one hand and gently patted the fresh tears away.

As they gazed into each other's eyes, Gareth recognized a new understanding flowing between them. Maybe they could be friends for the length of the cruise. Then they would both move on.

❧

“Mom, where have you been?” When Charlotte opened the cabin door, Chelle stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips and wrapped in one of the large, thick bath towels.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Charlotte closed the door and dropped her purse on the small table beside the couch. “You were gone when I got up.”

“I went for a run around that top deck.” She pulled a smaller towel from around her neck and began rubbing her wet hair. “When I got back, you were gone.”

Charlotte picked up the day's itinerary from beside her bag. “There's a church service in the theater on deck four. Why don't we go?”

Chelle leaned toward the mirror above the desk and inspected her face, flicking at something on her cheek. “I haven't eaten yet.” She turned back toward her mom. “Aren't you hungry?”

“I ate in the Oceanic Grille.” Charlotte looked down at the itinerary. “It says here that we can call room service anytime. Why don't we have something sent to the cabin for you? By the time it arrives, you should be dressed.”

Charlotte could tell by the look on her daughter's face, this wouldn't have been her first choice, but she agreed.

❧

“Wow, Mom, this place is huge!” Chelle stood beside Charlotte at the back of the theater.

Before them, a carpeted aisle sloped downward toward the front. At this angle all the seats in the room must be good ones. Charlotte glanced around, trying to decide where to sit.

“You don't want to go down front, do you?” Chelle's question let her know what she thought.

“Where do you want to sit?” Might as well let her daughter make as many decisions as she could. Soon enough, something would come up where Charlotte would have to be the mother.

Chelle led the way, stopping a third of the way down the aisle. She moved into the row of seats and dropped into the second one. Good. She wanted to sit by the aisle. Charlotte did, too. Soft instrumental hymns played over the sound system, setting a tranquil mood. Most of the people in the room were several rows ahead of them. She wished they had chosen a place closer, but it didn't matter. She could worship wherever she was.

❧

“Mom, did you notice that the captain was at the church service?” Chelle dug through the clothes in her drawer, destroying the neat piles her mother created when she unpacked.

Charlotte set her Bible and purse on the table and reached down to pull off her high-heeled sandals. Why had she brought them? Even if they did look good, she was on vacation, and they definitely weren't comfortable for long. “Yes, I noticed him sitting over to the side.”

“I think it's cool that the captain is a Christian.” Chelle pulled some bits of fabric from the middle of her favorite beach towel.

“Just because he was there doesn't mean he's a Christian.” But Charlotte hoped he was. Surely she wouldn't feel so drawn to a man who wasn't.