Page 120 of Ten Years and Then…
While they waited for their appetizers, he asked her, “So what do you want to do tomorrow?” They’d be at Port Canaveral—close to both Orlando and the Kennedy Space Center, and the ship offered a dozen different excursions.
She had an immediate answer. “I figure you want to see the space center.”
He absolutely did, but he didn’t think it would be her top choice. “I mean, that would be cool, but there’s also Disney World. I know we’d probably only get four or five hours in the park, but that’s enough time for a few rides, and maybe we can get a picture with Cinderella. Or the mermaid …?”
“Ariel,” Leanne said with a laugh. “Or Woody and Buzz. Actually, forget them. My nephew has Toy Story on video, and the last time I babysat, he made me watch it with him three times in a row.” The waiter interrupted their conversation momentarily to bring her French onion soup and his salad. “Actually, I’m not sure about Disney. We’ll have to wait on lines everywhere. What about the beach instead?”
There was a bus from the ship to Cocoa Beach, only fifteen minutes away according to the brochure that had been left under their door this afternoon. They could sunbathe, swim in the ocean, enjoy colorful overpriced cocktails with umbrellas in them, and there were supposed to be plenty of shops right off the beach.
He could live with that. “Sure, that sounds great. We can stop by the excursions desk after dinner.” Except—what if Nora chose the beach, too? They’d barely avoided disaster this morning when they were both fully dressed. He had no illusions that he could keep his composure if she was laying out in a bikini ten feet away from him. And he was certain Nora would lose her cool if she saw him wearing only a bathing suit and the necklace she’d made for him.
He’d just need to figure out where Nora would go after dinner tonight, and come up with some way to get her alone for five minutes to plan out where they were both going tomorrow. It would probably mean yet another lie to Leanne, but better that then an ugly public scene tomorrow.
Maybe they could plan out the whole rest of the cruise, and make certain they wouldn’t encounter each other anywhere. That could work.
It had to work. If it didn’t … an ugly public scene probably wasn’t even in the top ten worst things that could happen.
Nora, nine o’clock
She was sitting by herself, near the back of the South Seas Lounge, waiting for karaoke to start.
And also waiting for Daniel.
She would have come anyway; when she saw on the daily schedule that there was karaoke, she’d told Greg she wanted to see it, and maybe even get up and sing herself. But he was wiped out from all the walking today, which she couldn’t blame him for. Most days at work, he didn’t get out of the lab or the classroom much, while she made a point of taking a long walk every day, if not at lunchtime then before work. So he was in the cabin, and she was here—and if Daniel was going to try and find her, well, he remembered their performance at that karaoke bar in Kansas City just as well as she did.
And here he was now. He sat down next to her just as a couple who were probably in their fifties began butchering Summer Nights.
She whispered, “Are we safe?”
“Leanne’s taking a shower and going to bed early. I told her I wanted to see how bad the singers were. She said she’ll come tomorrow night if they have it again.”
She nodded. “Same here, except I don’t think Greg would come at all. Karaoke is totally not his thing.”
They just listened to the rest of the song in silence. When it was, mercifully, over, Nora said, “Olivia Newton-John would turn over in her grave if she heard that.”
“She’s not dead,” Daniel reminded her.
“She’d want to be if she had to listen to that.” But they had more important things to talk about. “Before the next song starts, where are you going tomorrow?”
“Cocoa Beach,” he said. “I figured she’d like that better than Kennedy Space Center.”
Nora chuckled. This might work after all. “I guessed you’d take her there, or Disney. We’re going to Kennedy—Greg will love it. He’s a physicist, so it’s right up his alley.”
Daniel looked—not quite pained, but something close to it. It had probably been a mistake to say anything about Greg at all. “Okay. So that just leaves us five more days to avoid each other.”
She sighed. How were they going to manage that? “Wait—I have an idea.” Hadn’t she seen a notice board, around the corner from the customer service counter on deck five? “You know where the note board is?”
He nodded. “Deck five. I saw it yesterday.” For a moment he seemed confused, then he smiled and his eyes—God, they were even prettier now than they’d been back in college!—lit up. “We can leave our plans on there for each other. We just need to come up with names—I know!” Say Anything. “Lloyd and Diane.”
That was perfect. How did he always know the right thing to say, to do? “Except you gave me the pen, so you’re Diane and I’m Lloyd.” Why hadn’t either of them thought of that the first night? It would have made things so much easier.
With that settled, they sat back and enjoyed—if that was the word—the performances. At a quarter to ten, though, there were no more volunteers, and the very energetic young woman hosting the event was pleading for someone to come up and sing. “Fifteen minutes left—come on, someone’s got one last song in them!”
If this was going to be the last time they were together, the last time she’d be able to be this close to him and look into his pretty eyes and listen to his voice, then they needed to mark the occasion.
She got up, took his hand and dragged him to the stage. The hostess handed her the songbook, and she quickly flipped through it. There—that would work! “Number 106, please.”
Daniel looked both excited and resigned; she wouldn’t have thought both of those things could show on someone’s face at the same time. He took his microphone from the hostess, and put an arm around her, and then the music started.
