Love Like Theirs

What a strange mind she had! To turn her exes into dolphins like that. But she wondered who the whale signified. Not a new boyfriend, she assured herself. That wasn’t the plan, not at all. She decided the whale signified her career, the way she was going to put it first and forget all traces of her ex-boyfriends in order to excel. There was no rebound affair on the horizon. At least, that was the plan…

CHAPTER SEVEN

Keira landed in Berlin, Germany – where the ship would be embarking from – several hours later. Her mind hadn’t quite gotten over the hilariously strange dream it had shown her on the airplane, and it took a bit of concentration to switch focus to the real world.

She maneuvered through Berlin Tegel Airport, collecting her case and following the signs that she hoped were taking her to the exit. It felt good to be on her own this time. No guide to show her around, or take any of the responsibility off her shoulders. This time it was just her, and it made her feel powerful.

She made it out of the airport and hailed a cab. The driver was in his fifties or so, with graying hair and a stern expression. But his attitude was far friendlier than his fierce expression would have indicated.

“You’re going on the Scandinavian cruise?” he asked in perfect English and just the smallest hint of an accent.

“I am.” Keira beamed. “I’m so excited.”

“I’d love to go one day,” he said. “It’s a bit too expensive for a taxi driver though. Do you mind me asking your profession?”

“Oh, I’m a writer,” Keira told him. “This is all paid for by the company.”

“You’re very lucky,” he said. “What do you write?”

“Travel articles. Well, sort of. They’re a bit of a mixture. Travel and romance.”

From the back seat, Keira saw his reflection in the rearview mirror as he raised his eyebrows.

“Travel and romance?”

“I know, it sounds strange. But it’s more like personal accounts of the countries and my experiences within them, with dating and trying new things, meeting new men. It’s a bit of a mishmash but I’m starting to get a loyal following.”

“Weird question,” he said. “You don’t write for that Latin-sounding magazine, do you? Viaduct, or whatever?”

“Viatorum,” she told him, a little surprised he’d have heard of her New York City publication all the way over in Germany. But then again, they also e-published and anyone in the world could access the content online. “Have you heard of it?”

“My wife loves it,” he said, with an air of frustration. “You’re the one on the cover, aren’t you? I recognize your face now.”

The cover. With Cristiano. Keira groaned. She’d known at the time the image would come to haunt her one day, but she’d let Nina and Elliot have their way. She regretted it now.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she said, hunkering down defensively.

“It’s your fault I’m taking her to Paris for her birthday,” he said, jovially, in spite of the complete discord with his stern face. “Great, she’ll want a cruise next. You’re going to bankrupt me.”

“Sorry about that,” Keira mumbled.

She gazed out the window, trying to switch her focus from the somewhat awkward conversation to the sight of a new, foreign city passing her by.

Berlin was stunning. Keira had heard about the city reinventing itself and moving on from its troubled history, but she hadn’t expected it to be quite this vibrant and artsy. It seemed very youthful and cosmopolitan, like the quirkier parts of New York exemplified.

Her driver must have noticed her staring, because he said, “We’ll be passing by a part of the wall soon.”

Keira hadn’t been sure whether she’d get a glimpse of the wall that had once divided East and West Berlin, splitting families apart and cleaving the city by political affiliation. She shuddered now as it came into view, a crumbled relic that the German people had torn down with their very hands. Mallory had watched the momentous occasion on the news, and it was a moment of triumph in history she seemed privileged to have witnessed. Keira felt humbled by the sight of it and took a photo with her cell phone in order to show Mallory when they were reunited at Christmas.

The cab carried on, drawing closer to the harbor. Keira caught sight of the ship even while they were still some distance away. It was huge, a gleaming white monstrosity. Her stomach fluttered with excitement.

Her driver pulled in to the drop-off spot. Keira took some euros from the envelope provided by Heather and handed them over his shoulder.

“Tell your wife hi from me,” she said, feeling a little strange to be saying it.

“Enjoy your cruise,” he replied in his incongruously warm voice and blank face.

Keira collected her case from the trunk and stared up at the enormous ship that was to be her home for the next fifteen days. She took a deep breath to quell her excited butterflies, then headed confidently toward it.

*

The cruise ship was so much more beautiful than Keira had expected. Inside, it was decorated in an Art Deco style, with rich colors, bold geometric shapes, and ornaments. And even better than the unexpected glitz and glamour was the lavishness of a swimming pool and Jacuzzi on deck! Keira hadn’t expected such luxury. She was going to love making this ship her home.

Filled with awe, she ventured to the bow, where there was a route all the way to the tip of the ship. It was impossible not to think of Jack and Rose on the Titanic, although she knew there was no love story in store for her, and she prayed there would be no icebergs either!

After a whistle-stop glance at the top deck, Keira went in search of her room. She’d been expecting to venture below deck, but to her surprise, her cabin was actually on the top deck. She found the door and went inside.

There was a round window, a proper brass-rimmed one like from a movie, and the view was straight out onto the ocean. Keira had been half expecting a cheap room, a little cubbyhole near the kitchens that smelled of food and was always noisy, but this was the opposite. Quiet, cozy, luxurious.

Her bed was made of chestnut wood, varnished so that it gleamed, and there were creamy silk sheets on it. On one of the small side tables was a silver bucket filled with ice and a bottle of champagne. She wondered who at the magazine had arranged that. Elliot wouldn’t think to be so kind, and Heather would hate the extra, unnecessary expense. She wondered then if Nina had had a hand in it. They hadn’t been on the best of terms since the furor over the Paris trip, where Nina had become so over-focused on the outcome she’d forgotten that Keira was a person with thoughts and feelings. But then she saw that there was a small card beside the champagne bucket. She picked up the card and opened it.

Welcome aboard, Keira Swanson! May I take this opportunity to express our deepest gratitude that your magazine has chosen our cruise company for your latest article. We are huge fans of Viatorum and can’t wait to be featured in your next issue.

Keira stopped reading, discarding the card. The champagne wasn’t from one of her caring work colleagues at all, but from the cruise company, attempting to butter her up so she’d write good things about them. Was the whole tour some kind of promotional thing? Some corporate back-scratching?

She grabbed her phone and texted Nina.

Is the cruise company advertising with us?

Nina replied quickly.

They’re funding the trip. I assumed Elliot would have told you that.

Keira sighed. So the article was just basically a huge advertisement? It would’ve been nice to have been told in advance. At least that explained why Elliot had just plowed ahead and booked the trip without getting her final consultation as he’d promised last time around. Keira didn’t want to sound like a spoiled brat, but Viatorum messed her around quite a lot. They certainly seemed to expect more from her than she did from them.

She sent another text to Nina.

How am I supposed to write about the cruise ship? A ship isn’t a country.

When Nina texted back, her response shocked her.

You’re not writing the next Great American Novel here. This isn’t On the Road. Just say something nice so we all get paid.

Keira pouted and put her phone away. Nina was in a mood. Again. She didn’t want it to spoil her enjoyment, so she pushed her irritation to the back of her mind.

Just then there was a knock on the door. Keira frowned and opened it. Standing outside was a young man dressed like a hotel bellboy. Keira immediately realized he was some kind of delegate from the cruise company, here to sweet-talk her. She really didn’t feel like listening to the spiel.

“Hi, I’m Vince,” he said, smiling and holding out a hand. Keira shook it despondently. “I’ve come to give you some brochures for our ship,” he continued. “The Revontulet, which is the Finnish term for the Northern Lights.”

Keira felt her smile return. She was excited to know in just a few days’ time she’d be witnessing the infamous light display!

She took the brochures from Vince, feeling her mood improve considerably.

“Thanks. And for the champagne, too. It was a nice touch.”

Vince nodded, his little hat bobbing as he did. “Your minibar is also stocked with liquors and snacks, all complimentary, of course.”

Keira smirked. They were going to buy her affection through her stomach. It was quite a good strategy, she had to admit.

Vince hovered at the door. “If you’d like to be given a tour I can come back at a convenient time to show you all the facilities.”

“I’m good,” Keira said, declining. “I prefer to explore on my own terms.” She held up the brochures he’d given her. “Besides, I’ve got all the info I need in here.”

“Okay. If there’s anything you need, just come to the information desk and ask for Vince.”

“Will do,” Keira said, knowing that she most definitely would not.

She shut the door and started to look through the brochure. Inside were all the details of things to do onboard the ship; there were comedy shows, live music events, karaoke, dances, even a cinema! She wouldn’t be short on events to distract herself with, she thought wryly. Procrastination aboard the Revontulet might be hard to fight.

Then her stomach growled, reminding her that a diet of airplane food was hardly sufficient to get her through the day. She found the information on food. Dinner would be served in the main dining room. Again, she couldn’t help but think of the Titanic.

It dawned on Keira then that she had no one to eat with. No tour guide this time, no one to discuss things with or bounce ideas off of. Eating alone had to be one of the loneliest activities in the world. She could always try video calling Bryn or one of her friends, but that would probably look a bit odd.

She decided then that instead of a lonely sit-down dinner, she’d spend the first evening aboard the Revontulet on the top deck, munching through some minibar snacks and drinking champagne. The company was footing the bill after all, so she ought to do what she wanted and what made her happy while she was here. It seemed like a much more enjoyable way to spend her time, she decided.

She looked through the little fridge, taking out a selection of foods, then grabbed the cool bottle of champagne. Drips ran down the sides and fell to the carpet as she left her room and headed for the deck.

On the port side of the boat were a series of sun loungers. Despite the evening weather, half of them were already occupied with lone travelers who’d had more or less the same idea as Keira. She selected one, laying her snacks out before her and placing the champagne bottle onto the table beside her.

As she settled in, the boat began to move. The sensation was bizarre, a sort of lurching undulation unlike anything her body had ever experienced before. Thinking now was as good a time as any, she grabbed her champagne bottle and popped the cork. Then, realizing she’d forgotten to take the cup from her room, she shrugged and took a swig straight from the bottle. Classy? No. But she didn’t care.

She looked over her shoulder as Berlin began to grow smaller, its lights turning into little more than twinkling stars. Then she turned the other way and looked out at the blackness, at the ocean and dark sky, filled with excitement. She raised her glass to the air, toasting herself, her independence, and toasting the trip and all the new possibilities that lay ahead of her.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Slightly tipsy from the champagne, Keira felt her stomach begin to complain. Minibar food and plane food might have been sufficient for sober Keira, but tipsy Keira was ravenous. Plus, the bubbles made her bolder, and so she headed toward the dining room for dinner alone.

The dining room was as opulent as the rest of the ship, Art Deco as well. There was hardly anyone here at this time of evening, since it was approaching ten p.m. now. Keira followed a server to a small table that was positioned right beside the huge glass windows, affording her a wonderful view out to the open decks and the ocean beyond. She scanned the menu, pleased that it was written in English. She didn’t feel like accidentally eating anything as exotic as the things Cristiano had in France!

It did feel very strange sitting alone. She had become accustomed to looking up from her menu and seeing Cristiano’s gorgeous face. But no, not now, and she refused to get upset about it. She’d toasted her future, after all. It was all about being bold and independent now.

Although… it had been a long time since she’d spoken to Shane. She wondered how the family was since his father had passed. There was no Cristiano to glare jealously at her anymore, or make her feel bad about caring about her other ex’s tumult. Maybe she should get back in touch with him, see how he was doing…

Before she had a chance to get her cell phone out of her bag, Keira became very aware of the sensation of eyes upon her. She turned her head and saw a woman at a nearby table quickly look away. She frowned and turned back to her table. Distracted from whatever it was she’d been about to do, she began to peruse her menu again.

The server returned then, taking Keira’s order of a salted beef sandwich, fries, and Coke, before heading away. Keira followed his trajectory, looking over her shoulder to see whether she was still being observed by the woman. She was.

Her heart started to hammer then. Was it because she was alone? Way to make her feel worse about it, Keira thought. Surely people did this all the time, dining alone, being brave and independent. She couldn’t be the first person in the world that lady had ever seen eating dinner in her own company!

Her food arrived, and Keira ate with purpose, her ears burning from the sensation of being watched. She wondered whether everyone was looking at her with such judgment. But whenever she glanced about her at the few other diners they were all occupied with themselves, their own companions, their conversation, and their food. Only the middle-aged woman behind her seemed to be staring.

Keira grew more and more frustrated as she ate, formulating rebukes in her head for the woman along the lines of “Did no one ever teach you it’s rude to stare?” As her fries diminished, she worked herself up into something of a frenzy, gearing herself up to go over and say something. When her plate was empty, she turned to discover the woman had gone. The moment had passed.

So it was with great alarm she turned back to her table and discovered the woman standing over her. Keira squealed loudly.

“Sorry!” the woman said, holding her hands up. She had a Texan accent. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

She was blond, with a heart-shaped face and delicate features.

“Where did you come from?” Keira exclaimed, looking around her, her heart racing with shock.

“I was just watching you all through dinner because I recognized your face,” the woman admitted.

She was blushing suddenly. She pulled something from her purse and handed it to Keira. To Keira’s surprise she was looking at an image of herself, in black and white, looking like a film star. And there was Cristiano. It was the front cover of Viatorum. The Paris issue.

“Oh,” Keira said, feeling a strange sense of loss over the sight of the image.

“It is you, isn’t it?” the woman asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” Keira replied, sounding glum. “That’s me.”

The woman clapped her hands. “I knew it! I knew it! None of my friends believed me.” She pointed to the bar, where the rest of her party had moved after vacating the dining table, and gave the four other women watching a thumbs-up.

The whole thing felt extremely odd to Keira. First Meredith in the office, then the taxi driver, and now this woman. She was becoming recognizable, something that, as a writer, she’d never really wanted to be! She knew she shouldn’t have taken the cover image. It was so mortifying to be recognized from that silly, fantastical image rather than the more sensible one in her by-line!

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