Goodbye, My Darling

By JoEllen Conger

Recently widowed after thirty-five years of marriage, Maude MacGinness steps aboard the Windjammer Cruise ship determined to make this Wedding Anniversary trip her last farewell to her husband's memory. However, this time she travels alone. Her roommate would be a stranger instead of her life-time partner. Sharing her stateroom, a willowy Chinese gossipy teenager turns up with more luggage than royalty, its contents perpetually scattered about their shared quarters. In spite of this inconvenience, Maude is determined to make this trip, so struggles to be polite to this disruptive youngster. She concentrates on videographing the voyage for a proposed travel log that she plans to sell to the school system. Then, a red-headed passenger catches her eye. Everywhere she goes, he turns up. Watching him she realizes the man doesn't seem to be aware that he is being stalked. She struggles to ignore him. His fate is none of her concern, but she finds her heart being snared by this boisterous, often tipsy storyteller. She discovers this man of intrigue isn't who he claims to be. The name he is using is not listed on the ship's manifest, and she aims to find out why.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9781597050869

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Dedication

WE WISH TO ACKNOWLEDGE everyone who believed in us, even before we believed in ourselves as storytellers, including our families... past and present.

Prologue

WIDOWED BY HER HUSBAND’S untimely death, Maude MacGinness held the Barefoot Cruise tickets longingly to her breast. Jim had so much wanted to go. He’d bragged of nothing else for months. He’d told all their friends how he’d planned for years to give her a second honeymoon for their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. The vacation of a lifetime. And she’d been so proud of him for making all the arrangements himself.

She couldn’t bring herself to return the reservations for a refund although she’d told herself a dozen times it was the sensible thing to do. But somehow, as long as the tickets remained on her dresser, she could pretend a little longer that Jim was across town playing with his grandchildren, or lounging about the small boat harbor, or visiting with his cronies, not lying silently under the sod in the local churchyard.

Then she had made a bold decision. Jim had wanted to give her an adventure of a lifetime, and she wasn’t about to deny him his last wish. She loved him too much for that. A plan formed in her mind. She would go, and bless each memory she had of him when they had sailed those waters together. When she packed her bags for the trip, she had included pieces of his jewelry, intending to leave a part of him at each port of call. Then in the years to come, she could always remember that he had been there with her, not only on their Honeymoon cruise, but on their last Barefoot Cruise adventure as well.

One

Knees nearly buckling from the unaccustomed heat of the tropics as it boiled over her, Maude MacGinness deisembarked the commercial airliner. Fighting the weight of her carry-on bag and the awkward, rigid, suitcase-sized camera case, she struggled to catch her breath in the humid air. Perspiration instantly dewed her upper lip and trickled down her temples. Her sunglasses slid down her nose. In exasperation she balanced her bag and shoved her glasses up.

The other passengers impatiently pushed and shoved while she paused briefly at the top of the debarkation steps waiting for those who had deplaned ahead of her to continue downward.

Maude forced her eyes to focus on the three-foot-high letters, St. John’s—Antigua, which shimmered in the intense sunlight. This was where she and Jim had started their honeymoon venture so long ago. She squinted against the brightness of the tropical sky and pulled her sun visor a little lower over her face.

The sharp corner of a briefcase jabbed into her ample form, throwing her off balance. She staggered against the railing, and glanced about with a caustic glare. The gentleman behind her winked and made a wry face. She took in his tousled shock of red hair, his knobby knees poking out obtrusively beneath his travel-wrinkled walking shorts. His clunky hiking boots and sagging boot socks. The impression was indelibly forbidding.

Sorry, he muttered, gracing her with a sheepish grin.

Maude forced a weak smile. That’s all right, she assured him.

Jostled from behind by the crush of passengers eager to escape the confines of the plane, he bumped against her again.

I’m really sorry, he muttered with embarrassment, levering himself upright.

She took a deep breath to control her irritation. Nothing is going to spoil my mood.

She’d come a long way to pay homage to the man she held dear in her heart.

The heat had everyone on edge, she realized. All she need do was to show a little restraint, and they’d all be through customs and onboard the ship before long.

Maude grimaced a weary smile again. As she shifted to make room for the unkempt man behind her, the corner of her camera case jabbed the woman ahead of her. The woman glowered.

Oh! Forgive me! Maude exclaimed, hugging the over-sized case closer to herself. That’s what happens when you stand in judgment of someone else, she thought. God has a way of showing you you’re no better.

The line of passengers finally moved again, and everyone took one more step downward. Finally reaching the tarmac, Maude felt the shimmering heat intensify. It radiated up against her body in waves, making her feel a bit light-headed.

The queue of passengers immediately picked up speed as they raced across the blacktop toward the airport buildings. Perspiration trickled down between Maude’s breasts as she huffed to keep pace with the stampeding crowd. Irritably she stanched the errant flow with a quick jab of her fingers.

The redheaded man trotted along beside her. Why in the world are we running? he gasped in her direction.

It’s a universal failing? she panted. We sit patiently... for hours in our plane seats... but as soon... as we touch ground... we have the urge to charge off... like desperate lemmings.

Ain’t that the truth! He grinned.

We’ll just have to wait in line again, she commented.

Right again, he agreed.

Maude maintained her breakneck speed around the terminal building in hopes of outdistancing her boorish companion. The arriving vacationers hurried along a length of cyclone fencing and poured through an open gate toward the building’s side entrance. They seemed to be racing against time, against the sun, against each other to reach the haven of the chilled interior.

Once inside the air-conditioned terminal, sanity returned. Lines formed in front of the customs booths. Maude deliberately edged away from the over friendly passenger, hoping for a moment to catch her breath. She shifted the heavy video hard-pack from one hand to the other.

Jim had offered many times to replace her old, full-sized video camera with something newer and lighter. But even knowing other professional photographers had updated their equipment, she hadn’t been willing to abandon a tried and true friend.

It takes wonderful pictures, she had argued again and again, forcing Jim to acknowledge that she was a good cinematographer. An old broad for an old broad, she remembered teasing. The thought brightened her eyes, and she smiled. The camera was as dear to her as her children, and her grandchildren—as dear to her as her memories of Jim.

As she waited, a small three-year-old, skipping alongside her mother, distracted her reverie. Immediately Maude’s mind chose favorite scenarios, wishing she could film the moment. She watched the girl’s bobbing kinky, black braids. The soles of her shiny, black patent leather shoes clacking on the tile floor with a resounding slap, and her full, multi-layered skirt flouncing with every hop.

How precious. Maude smiled down into the child’s precocious, black eyes, which stared up at her.

Hello. Maude smiled despite her discomfort from the heat. The child cocked her head, and her plump thumb popped into her bow-shaped mouth. Her eyes sparkled with interest, but she shyly hid behind her mother’s skirt. When she peeked out, Maude waggled her fingers in a playful gesture. The child giggled and darted behind her mother again.

Motherhood, babies and cuddling small warm and squiggly bodies filled her mind, and the irritation she had previously felt melted away.

Next! called the customs officer.

Maude struggled to pull her passport free from her bag and presented it to the officer. The uniformed woman glanced at the picture of Maude taken years ago when she had been younger and her hair still had been brown. She studied Maude for some time, comparing her to the photograph before she finally decided that they must be one and the same.

"Your first time to Antigua?"

Actually no, I’ve been here before.

Where will you be staying?

"The vessel Mandalay."

With a brusque motion, the woman passed Maude’s identification back to her and waved her on. Enjoy your stay. Next.

Maude jammed her passport back into her canvas bag, then made her way slowly past the inspection station. The violent in-swing of the doors nearest the tarmac announced that another planeload of passengers had arrived.

Startled by the commotion, Maude jumped, her heart racing as the next onslaught of vacationers flooded into the building, all chattering at once. They surged forward joining the lines before the customs officers, their voices reverberating in the austere building.

Goodness sakes, Maude exclaimed to no one in particular. Now I suppose everyone will be looking for their luggage all at once. She shook her head in consternation, scanning the jumble of suitcases on the conveyer belt, trying desperately to spot her own.

The luggage passed in review sporting bright red, yellow, or blue tags. She recognized them as cruise line stickers, like the one she had placed on her own bag. Suitcases came and went, circling lazily. Finally, Maude spotted her own bag approaching on the moving belt.

Can I help you? a jovial voice asked.

Turning her attention away from the circling suitcases, Maude was startled to see the redheaded man standing beside her. Before she could answer, he reached passed her and pulled her bag from the circling conveyer belt. Almost at once, a porter appeared at her elbow, pulling the case from his grasp.

I’ll get that for you, lady, the man announced. His wide grin portrayed his goodwill. He expertly balanced her suitcase on his cart.

You got another one, lady? the West Indies man asked, scanning the conveyer belt for a mate to the suitcase he held.

No, just the one, she answered quickly.

The obviously disappointed redhead continued to stand beside her, looking every bit the lost soul.

Thank you, anyway, Maude said with a shrug, secretly grateful for the porter’s timely arrival. The Red Cap reached for her camera case.

I take that too, lady.

No, no, insisted Maude, stubbornly fending him off with an extended hand. It’s a professional video camera. I’ll keep it.

Okay, lady. You keep.

He shrugged his indifference as he added other suitcases to his already loaded cart. He was no doubt well aware of the camera’s value, and here in Antigua where poverty prevailed, it would take him most of his lifetime to replace such a camera should it be damaged or stolen while in his care.

With a flourish of his arm, he waved the impatient travelers to follow him, then sprinted toward the lobby doors. Taking note that the redheaded man had turned back to the rotating conveyer belt to look for his own luggage, Maude followed the porter at a trot. Others joined her in another senseless race.

Once the porter reached the waiting taxicabs, he quickly dispatched his load onto the sidewalk by their designated color-coding. Then, not waiting for a tip, he bolted back into the building for another load of suitcases.

Well, now that was fun, Maude wheezed, spotting her luggage among others marked with the same color-coded tags. She gulped for air and slowed her pace knowing she’d have plenty of time to reach the loading area before all the baggage could be stuffed into the awaiting vehicles.

Maude scrutinized the gaiety and bustle as one driver produced a rope to secure the huge stack of teetering luggage he’d balanced atop the roof of his cab.

Grinning, the other drivers yelled good-natured catcalls at their colleague, finally offering to help him by holding everything in place while he wound his rope through all the suitcase handles.

Maude clucked a reproach, shaking her head in disbelief. Would he have room for passengers after he’d finished his juggling act? she wondered.

She envisioned the cases slipping and sliding as he drove, breaking free and hurdling wildly about the roadside. Then his passengers—head down, their derrieres rounding above them—plucking their belongings up out of the dirt. She was grateful her suitcase wasn’t among those he’d balanced so precariously.

Her attention was drawn to a young couple who clung together, so full of love for each other they had no notice for their surroundings. Sweet, she thought, their first trip together, most likely, probably their honeymoon.

If she and Jim had stood face to face as closely as that, it was no wonder she hadn’t been aware of all the hurley-burley or the picturesque ambiance about them. But then, that had been—how many years ago? Thirty-five?

Several wide-eyed children danced passed in high spirits, their parents ill equipped to control their wild enthusiasm. Youth. Ah, to have such vigor again she thought enviously. As they say, ‘youth is wasted on the young’.

It was all she could do to resist filming them. Her eye determined angles for good shots. Her mind filled with correct F stops, lighting, shading, and background choices. The tricks of her trade all flashed through her mind in a jumble of instantaneous decisions.

Then her eye caught the gamboling antics of a florid-faced man down the causeway. Instantly she recognized the rumpled khaki shirt and shorts, the clunky, high-topped hiking boots. Him again! she muttered. It’s men like that who make traveling alone worrisome.

She scowled as she watched him cavort about the covered breezeway, clowning for his companions who laughed as he snatched a girl’s floppy, straw hat and frolicked about the taxi stand swinging the unwilling, pale-skinned blond in a do-si-do.

He seemed totally undaunted by her unresponsive behavior. The blonde graced him with a smile when he finally handed her into a taxi and returned her hat with a gallant sweep.

Maude shook her head as he gaily waved the taxi away. With a disdainful sniff, she thanked God that she wasn’t being harassed by his humiliating nonsense. With any luck, she thought, he’ll be vacationing on some other ship and I won’t have to see or meet him again.

"Mandalay?" a driver questioned as he approached her.

Yes. Please.

You be one? he verified, pointing to her frosty blue Samsonite. Maude nodded. Then, I have room for you.

Maude turned to follow the West Indian driver as he led her to the already bulging taxi. She watched with trepidation as he lifted her bag into the overloaded trunk then followed in his wake as he motioned for her to follow him. He opened the taxi’s front passenger door with a flourish and patted the front seat.

Best seat in cab, he informed her with a charming grin.

I’m sure it is, Maude agreed squeezing herself and her cameras into the last seat available, grateful she wasn’t sitting in the back seat with all the elbows and knees that seemed to be angling for space there.

We go now, he informed his passengers, jumping his cab from the curb into the flow of traffic.

Maude caught sight of the man in khaki doing a jig before he hopped into the back of a ten-passenger van. She found his uninhibited antics disturbing. Jim used to clown around like that to be the life of the party, but she didn’t remember that he’d looked so much the fool. She shook her head ruefully. There’s someone who’s really enjoying his vacation, she quipped.

St. John’s-Antigua good place to have fun, the driver exclaimed.

I’m sure you’re right, Maude had to agreed.

Her driver dodged through traffic, swerving first one way then another, using his horn liberally. She couldn’t bear to watch as he careened through town, dodging pedestrians and traffic. She closed her eyes, praying that she’d live long enough to reach the harbor and the ship.

We here now, the driver called brightly when he’d pulled up with a jerk before the Mandalay’s boarding ramp.

Maude sighed with relief. The cab doors popped open and passengers tumbled out, all talking with excitement.

Still clutching the heavy camera case, Maude slid more slowly off the front seat, and stood apart from the others who scrambled to identify and retrieve their luggage. She surveyed the length of the sleek, freshly painted blue and white hull of the Mandalay. It was magnificent!

The fresh paint’s heavy odor, the splashes of brilliant color and bustling activity about the harbor engulfed her senses. What a documentary it would make. She nearly drooled with the anticipation of capturing its nuances on film.

Native workers scrubbed the nearest deck with disinfectant as she watched, all flying elbows and mop handles.

On the next deck up, Maude caught sight of a steward hurrying with an armload of freshly laundered sheets. Her gaze lifted to the topmost deck where the captain leaned over the railing, shouting instructions to his crew, his two-way radio held unused in his hand.

Then her attention strayed from the sights, and she frowned. Why isn’t Jim tending to the luggage? She shifted the heavy hard-pack to her other hand, and searched the railings. Her husband was nowhere to be seen.

Shocked by his absence, her fantasy shattered. She had to finally accept her loss, though it broke her heart. He had not come to be with her.

Black dots danced before her eyes... cold, prickly sweat stung her brow, and nausea swept over her as she swayed and fought for control. What in the world possessed me to come alone, for God’s sake? Alone! How final that word sounded.

Doubt nibbled at her self-assurance as she battled her sudden despair. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. How could she have fooled herself into thinking that if she could just get to the ship, everything would be all right? Of course, Jim wasn’t here—he was dead. He’d never be here again.

How in the world was she going to manage without her husband? How could she face the rest of her life without him? She had depended on him to take care of everything for so long. Perhaps she should just return to the airport now and go home.

No! she stated defiantly. She was not going to give in so easily and run home to hide herself away. Jim had wanted her to have this wonderful trip. He had planned for it. Saved for it. How could she deny his last wish? She mustn’t forget her purpose for coming.

The driver cleared his throat noisily, waiting impatiently for his fare.

Oh, my goodness, I’m sorry. Maude’s hand flew up to cover her trembling lips. Paying the fare hadn’t even crossed her mind. Jim usually took care of such details.

Remembering she’d exchanged money for the country’s unfamiliar currency, she fumbled through her purse. She wasn’t even sure what to pay the man, and his words were spoken so quickly she couldn’t understand him. In desperation, she held out a handful of money.

Shaking his head in amusement, the driver chuckled as he selected bills then handed back her change. She trusted that he’d been honest. She had no other choice. As the taxi sped away, she poked the handful of money back into her bag.

She looked about; her suitcase had disappeared. Scowling, Maude scrutinized the wharf about her. She stood alone. Feeling conspicuously abandoned, she clutched her camera case and handbag tighter, and gulped to quiet her racing pulse. Traveling alone was a new experience, one she wasn’t sure she liked.

Insecurity struck. Is it the right day? she wondered. The right dock? Am I at the right place? Of course, it is, she assured herself. You’re a grown woman. How silly to feel so threatened and lost.

With another deep breath to steady her nerves, she searched the length of the vessel once more, impatient with her own trepidation. Spotting a crewmember toting her blue Samsonite case aboard ship, she sighed with relief. Her chin rose ever so slightly to display the self-assurance she didn’t really feel.

Although she was the last person standing on the dock, she wasn’t really alone. There was a shipload of passengers and crewmembers, all making ready to set sail.

Slowly climbing the boarding ramp, Maude noticed that the sails had been secured to their respective booms, the decks newly scrubbed. The crew continued to ready the ship for new occupancy. She paused at the rail to watch a bank of clouds obscure the sun.

A cooling, afternoon breeze sprang up and caught her white curls, tossing them across her round face. Gratefully, she lifted her hair off the nape of her neck to allow the welcomed gusts to cool her.

The heart-lifting, mellow-toned, calypso beat of a marimba band reached her ear, bringing a smile to her face. She envisioned the animated West Indies players swaying and bobbing as they beat the vibrating metal of their steel drums. It was obviously swizzle time on the upper deck.

For a moment, Maude allowed her hips to sway in time to the rhythm. She remembered that on their honeymoon, she and Jim had been so tired the night they’d boarded the Phantom, that they weren’t even tempted to climb the stairs, or to dance to the intoxicating music. Instead, they had crashed in their bunks and fallen instantly to sleep. Some way to start a honeymoon.

On that first trip, Jim had poked fun at her for bringing her own pillow. Well, she hadn’t brought it on this trip—she only hoped she wouldn’t regret her decision.

Nothing is as comforting as your very own pillow snuggled about your head, she thought.

Leaning against the railing, Maude heaved a tired sigh and turned to gaze around the harbor. The brilliant white Windsong lay resting at her mooring just behind the Mandalay,