Shore Leave: The Conclusion

Once on the street, Nigel raised his arm to flag a taxi, but after a few seconds, brought it back down. “Traffic’s too heavy,” he said. “Would take us forever. Can you run?”

They bolted down one street after another, maneuvering around locals laden with groceries and workers strolling their way home. At one point, the sidewalk narrowed and the cars came so close that Holly could feel their steamy exhaust.

“We will make it, won’t we?” she yelled to Nigel, who was a few feet ahead of her. The trucks drowned out his answer.

Though the sun was going down, the thick air was a sauna, weighing on the couple’s energy.

As they neared a cross street, they were forced to stop to let cars pass. Red-faced, breathing hard and light-headed, Holly wondered if she’d be able to keep up the pace.

“You okay?” Nigel said, as he tugged at the front of his sweat-stained shirt. Drops of moisture trickled down the side of his face.

Holly nodded and managed to say, “What time is—?”

Nigel looked at his watch. “6. Our only hope now is if they’re holding the ship.”

The couple was now running side by side, but as they shifted to avoid a rusty overturned child’s bike, Holly’s sandal caught the edge of the handlebar, and she tripped and landed on her knees. This time, she couldn’t stop the tears.

“Holly, Holly, don’t…we’re almost there.”

She looked up at him from the ground and pushed her matted hair from her mascara-streaked face with the back of her hand.

Nigel reached out to help her up. “Come,” he said firmly.

The couple continued their run, past mango trees, hibiscus and coconut palms, toward their jobs, their friends and their ocean home. As they got closer, Holly said, panting, “We…we should be seeing it any minute now.”

“I know. The smokestacks.”

When they got to the yacht club, Nigel suddenly stretched out his arm in front of Holly to motion her to stop. “It’s not there,” he said flatly.

Holly stared at the spot where the Neptune had been. The pier was empty. She coughed a few times, slowly walked to the grass under a tree and sat down. She pulled off her sandals and rubbed her feet.

Nigel sat down next to her, stretching his legs out in front of him.

Neither said anything and the only sound was Holly’s wheezing and occasional cough. A foot-long scaly green iguana crept closer, but the couple didn’t notice.

“What do you want to do?” Holly said at last. “Find our way to San Juan?”

Nigel was silent. He stared at the sea and squinted, as if looking there for the answer.

When he finally spoke, his voice took on the softness he had used in bed. “We could always stay here and have a honeymoon.”

Holly looked up at him quizzically, unsure she heard him right.

“Yes, yes, that makes sense,” he said, more to himself than to his companion, as he nodded slightly. “Then we can fly back to London…Remember I told you my uncle offered me a job in his company when I came back…”

Holly pushed back all thoughts of the family issues that would inevitably lie ahead to get caught up in Nigel’s growing excitement.

 “Looks like I missed the ship, but I didn’t miss the boat,” Holly said with a small smile, gently falling back against Nigel’s warm, damp body.

A port guard, just coming back from his break, was taken aback to see the strange tourist couple sitting alone on the ground at the darkening deserted pier, on an island that was all their own. 

Shore Leave: Two Crew, One Ship and a Race Against Time

In the spirit of the holidays, this posting is something a bit different. What follows is pure fiction. Hope you enjoy it.

Holly was determined to go. No matter what her mother said. Yet, she still dreaded The Conversation. She planned the timing carefully and as her mother darted her eyes from her cookbook to the stove, Holly began, “Ma, I got a job on a cruise ship.”

The rest came out in a breathless rush of rationale. She was picked from 200 applicants to run the children’s program on the Neptune, a new ship sailing the Caribbean…it would bring in some money…look good on her resume…get her out of the Boston winter…

 

Then she paused ever so briefly—so it wouldn’t look rehearsed—and jumped back in with her strongest argument. “Besides, the school laid me off ‘cause it was broke. The whole district’s got problems, so who’s going to give me another teaching job?”

What she didn’t tell her mother is that working on a ship wouldn’t hurt her social life, either. And right now, at 32 years old, spending her days in her fraying PJs, robotically combing the job boards, her social life could hardly be worse.

There were, of course, objections to counter. And Holly tried, “Family members get a discount.”

Her mother shrugged, but then changed the subject. Holly was so relieved that she didn’t hear another word her mother said for half an hour.

Once onboard the Neptune, Holly knew she made the right decision. Though she worked long hours and never seemed to get enough sleep, she still liked the work better than teaching.

To her, the ship was a pumping, pulsating organ, shooting adrenalin from the crew’s I-95 at the bottom of the ship to the gleaming guest disco at the top. She awoke each morning with new excitement that still anything was possible.

 And her social life improved. After a few weeks on the ship, she began seeing one of the junior officers, Nigel Woods, a quiet and steady Brit. Like so many others cultivated in the petri dish that was the Neptune, theirs was an improbable romance. His family was listed in Burke’s Peerage. Hers came to the U.S. in steerage. He was Church of England. She was Temple of Sinai.

It didn’t matter that Nigel wasn’t religious. Holly’s mother, the daughter of a cantor, would never speak to her again if she knew.

Yet the couple continued to squeeze bits of time out of their hectic days to meet. But as they both had roommates, they had little chance to be alone. 

At last, the couple was able to get an afternoon off together while the ship was docked in Charlotte Amalie, St. Thomas. To celebrate, Nigel suggested splurging for a room in one of the nicer hotels in town. Holly couldn’t wait.

When the day finally came, she traded her regulation khakis and navy blue top for a red and orange flowing skirt and peasant top, and pulled up her thick brown hair in a ponytail. She met Nigel at the gangway with a light step and big smile, and they took their place on line with guests waiting to get off the ship.

“Remember, crew are due back onboard at 5 p.m.—an hour before sailing and half hour before the guests,” said the security guard sternly, as he checked the couple’s ID cards. Then he met Holly’s eyes, winked and whispered, “Have fun.”

Though she’d never been to St. Thomas, Holly was content to go straight from the ship to the hotel. Now standing at the front desk next to Nigel as he checked them in, she dreamily felt like a wife. She could hardly remember the long, hot walk from the Crown Bay pier. It felt like she had floated there.

In case they fell asleep, Nigel asked the young desk clerk to call them at 3:30 p.m. and they made their way to their room. They ordered food and wine but after a few bites and sips, abandoned their spread to instead savor each other’s company.

Nigel was the first to fall asleep. He lay on his back, breathing softly. Holly smiled tenderly at his unlined face—he looked as if he had not a care in the world. So different than onboard the Neptune, when his face often showed what he didn’t express.

Soon Holly followed Nigel into sleep. It was a heavy, deep, dreamless sleep, unlike any she had since leaving home. And when she finally awoke, she was at first confused, and then the memory of the last few hours came streaming back. She looked over to Nigel, who was now on his stomach. With blond hair and fair skin, tall and lean, Nigel was her Adonis, she thought as she watched him. And what a nice, kind man he was. If her mother would only give him a chance.

When she at last looked away, she noticed the sunlight that had pierced through the blinds and illuminated the room when they first arrived was now gone. In a panic, she reached for her watch from the nightstand and brought it up to her face.

She made a small gasp. “Nigel, Nigel, get up!” Holly said, as she shook his shoulder. “The clerk never called. The ship’s leaving in 20 minutes!”

“Huh?” said Nigel, blinking a few times.

Holly had already jumped out of bed, and was climbing into her skirt. “It’s 5:40—we were supposed to be back more than a half hour ago. Now we may miss it completely! Nigel, hurry!”

Now fully awake, Nigel bolted out of bed and darted around the room like a frightened rabbit, grabbing his strewn clothing.

As the two frantically dressed, a mile and a half away, back on the Neptune, the PA system boomed again and again, “Crew members Holly Baum and Nigel Woods, please call 233.”

Nigel put on his running shoes and looked at his watch. “It’s going to be close, Holly. Are you ready?”

Once out of the building, the couple ran through the parking lot and onto the street. Nigel stopped abruptly, and thrust his hand into the pocket of his shorts.

“What?” Holly said.

“My wallet. I must have left it in the room.”

Without a word, the couple ran back to the hotel. Nigel got the key from the desk clerk while Holly stayed in the lobby. Left alone, her anxiety grew. What if they missed the ship? Even if they could catch up with it at the next port, they would be immediately dismissed. How could she face her mother? She fought back the tears as she saw Nigel approaching. He jerked his head toward the door without pausing and with his long stride, Holly had to run to catch up with him.

Check back next Friday for the conclusion of “Shore Leave.”