"Why the tear my tall beauty."
I meant to cheer the lean brown haired near forty-year-old lady watching the first Panama Canal lock raise us on our way to the level of Gatun Lake. She shot me with a glare that would have been appropriate to give a convicted axe murderer.
"Sorry, the day is so young and beautiful. So are you. The tear seemed out of place. I only wanted to talk with you and hopefully put a smile on your face."
She must have re-judged me, "Tall, mid-fifties, well dressed and graying hair -- he must be harmless." I had turned and taken a few steps away when she spoke, "I didn't mean to be rude. I'm not used to having strangers start up personal conversations."
"I won't be a stranger, if we swap names. I'm Jim Thomas from Seattle." She recoiled as I reached out and wiped the tear from her cheek with my right palm.
"That is so much better. Your green eyes sparkle nicely even without tears."
She blushed a deep red and diverted her eyes. "Ginny Linsome from Coeur d'Alene, Idaho."
She let me reach out and shake her hand in both of mine. It was too limp. "Nice to meet you Ginny. You couldn't be traveling alone."
She was opening up now. She had noticed my wedding ring, "No, I'm with my friend Betty. How about you? Are you with your wife and family?"
"Just my wife. You'll like her. Everyone does. She is wheelchair bound but loves to take cruises. We do at least two a year."
"This is my first cruise. I've never traveled much."
"No kids, hubby, etc."
"Divorced two years ago. Ex has a church in Idaho and our two girls are married and still members there."
"Sounds strict. Your daughters have to be very young."
My attempt at a compliment went unnoticed. "Strict isn't the word. Yes, they are seventeen and nineteen."
"How about a coffee? I want you to tell me all about yourself and your traveling companion. I miss having someone to talk to early in the mornings."
Over coffee I discovered Ginny had grown up in a near cult, married its rising star at seventeen and then rebelled at his control twenty-five years later. She desperately wanted to experience life but had no confidence or knowledge about how to do it. Her serious demeanor seemed to get even more intense as she told me about her traveling friend, Betty. She told me that Betty was in her mid thirties, a recent widow, shy, had become reclusive since her husband's death and that this trip was her attempt to get some purpose and life back into Betty.
"I have to get back, Ginny. I hope to see you and Betty at the lunch buffet. My wife and I will be there about one."
I was a little surprised when Ginny and Betty joined my wife and me for lunch. All three women hit it off. I got in a few words but mostly Ginny and my wife Carole talked and Betty sat quietly and smiled. Betty's eyes glanced down every time we made direct eye contact. I was curious about that but I used cruises to catch up on my writing deadlines. I left them chatting away for a couple of hours and went to write in the library.
I was not making much progress when Betty showed up at my table. She had been sent to retrieve me. Carole was tired and wanted me to take her back to the cabin. Betty had a strange, but not shy, air about her.
"Betty sit with me a few minutes while I finish this idea. I can write while you talk; tell me all about yourself."
She confirmed all that Ginny had told me. She had been widowed as the result of a strange hunting accident ten months ago. She really missed the strength and companionship of her husband, was fighting depression and seldom left her house. When I stood, she stood. When I took her hand, she squeezed mine. When I gathered my papers and computer, she helped. When I put my arm around her to guide her away, she molded into me and moved almost as a part of me. Now, I knew. As the elevator door closed, I took a handful of her hair and tilted her head toward me and looked deep into her eyes. She closed her eyes. I kissed her closed mouth and licked her lips. She sighed just as the elevator door opened and I returned her to her friend.
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After an early evening buffet, Carol wanted to return to the cabin and spend a quiet evening. This is how it usually went. I wanted companionship, to talk, to dance, to laugh. So off I went to find a dance partner or two.
Ginny and Betty were shopping in one of the ship's jewelry stores when I found them and invited them for a drink. Neither knew what to order and neither was initially at ease in the bar. Neither knew how to dance. As we talked I discovered they knew very little about anything. Under great protest, I pulled Ginny to the dance floor. She was relaxing by the end of the first song and had learned the two-step. At the end of the second song, I kissed her lightly on the lips and said, "Thank you for dancing with me." Her eyes were as big as saucers.