But all of that needed to be in person. Instead, he said, “Just a long day. Tell me more about the fishing villages. Any good stories?”
They talked for the next hour, an easy conversation that helped fill the hollow feeling in Bert’s chest. Mary told him about the colorful houses lining the harbors, the friendly locals who’d shared stories about fishing traditions, and the way the light had looked on the water at sunset. She talked about Diane and her nephew, Colin, and how she thought George wanted to spend more time with Diane, but Colin kept butting in. Bert told her about Casper’s new rifle and Frazier’s upcoming Denver detail.
“I miss you,” Mary said suddenly. “Is that weird to say? We talk every day, but I still miss you.”
Bert’s heart leaped, and his hands trembled slightly. “No, it’s not weird at all. I miss you too. The compound doesn’t feel the same without you.”
Silence followed, and his stomach plummeted.
“I’ll be home soon,” she said, but he knew it wasn’t soon enough. “Thanks for checking on my house. And my plants. And for being you.”
They said good night and disconnected.
Her last words swirled in Bert’s head for a long time. For being you. Three words that moved through him, filling his soul.
When she came home, he’d know for sure. He’d tell her how he felt, lay his heart on the line, and hope like hell that Lenore and Vivian and all the others were right, and that Mary felt the same way. That the risk would be worth it.
He felt the separation in days as much as miles. But God, seeing her again was going to feel like forever.
Bert set his phone aside, got ready for bed, and lay in the darkness thinking about blue eyes and soft laughter, and the way Mary said his name like it meant something.
19
Mary woke on the fourth morning of the cruise to the distinctive sensation of the ship moving through the water and the sound of rain pattering against her window. During the night, they’d left their last port and were now cruising toward their next destination, a full day of sailing with no shore excursions planned. It was meant to be a relaxing day, a chance for passengers to enjoy the ship’s amenities, attend lectures or cooking demonstrations, or simply sit on the deck and watch the riverbanks pass by.
She went through her morning routine, dressed in comfortable clothes, and made her way to the dining room. The breakfast service was more casual on sea days, with passengers filtering in at their leisure rather than adhering to the strict schedule that governed port days.
Mary had fallen into a pleasant routine over the past few days, recognizing faces and exchanging greetings as she moved through the ship. Eleanor was a retired teacher from Boston who always had her nose in a book. Thomas and Carolyn were celebrating their fortieth anniversary, and they held hands at every meal. James and Susan were brother and sister, traveling together to scatter their mother’s ashes in the waters off Nova Scotia.
“Good morning, Mary,” Eleanor called from her table near the windows. “Enjoying the sea day?”
“Just starting,” Mary replied with a smile. “How’s your book?”
“Riveting. Maritime murder mystery. Very appropriate for the setting.” Eleanor held up the paperback with obvious delight. “I’ll lend it to you when I’m done if you’d like.”
“I’d love that, thank you.”
Mary continued to Diane’s usual table, surprised to find only Diane there, no Colin in sight. The older woman was dressed impeccably, as always, in navy slacks and a cream silk blouse, but something was slightly off about her expression. She looked tired, or perhaps distracted, staring out the window at the passing coastline with an unfocused gaze.
“Good morning, Diane,” Mary said as she rolled up to the table. “Mind if I join you?”
“Oh! Mary, of course not. Please.” The older woman’s smile was warm but didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I was hoping you’d come by. Colin’s been dealing with my broker about some stocks this morning, so I’m on my own for breakfast.”
A server appeared to take their orders, and Mary requested the fruit plate and yogurt while Diane ordered tea and toast.
“How are you feeling?” Mary asked, concerned by Diane’s subdued manner. “You seem a bit tired.”
“Do I?” Diane touched her face absently, as if checking for signs of fatigue. “I suppose I am. Colin’s been handling so much for me lately. The financial decisions, the travel arrangements, and keeping track of my medications. It’s a relief, really. I used to manage everything myself, but it’s nice to have someone competent to deal with the details so I can simply enjoy the trip.” She sighed heavily.
Something in her tone didn’t quite match the words. Relief, yes, but also an undercurrent of confusion or perhaps uncertainty. Mary couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
“That’s what family is for,” Mary said carefully. “Though you’ve always seemed quite capable of handling things yourself.”
“Oh, I am. Or I was.” Diane frowned slightly, stirring sugar into her tea with slow, distracted movements. “Though Colin mentioned some recent financial decisions I’ve made that I don’t quite... well, I’m sure I approved them.”
“What kind of decisions?” Mary asked, alarm bells starting to ring quietly in the back of her mind.
“Stock transfers, I think. Some adjustments to my portfolio. Colin showed me the paperwork with my signature, so I obviously approved it. I just don’t remember the specifics.” Diane’s laugh was self-deprecating but held a note of genuine concern. “Isn’t that silly? Signing important documents and then forgetting all about it? Getting older isn’t for the faint of heart!”