Chapter 1

 

Seven years later

 

Rai’s knuckles whitened around her iPhone and that familiar sickness crept from her lower belly up to her chest as if she had swallowed bitter acid. “Tell me.”

“There is no record of your filing,” said Anna. She and Rai had become the best of friends, having both come from abusive relationships.

“How? I filed it in person.”

“Your husband has connections, sweetie.”

“Don’t call him that! I’ve been trying to make him my ex for seven years.”

Anna cleared her throat. “Cliff hosted one of his famous parties last month. Guess who made the invitation list? Judge Hardey and Sheriff John Ramsey. After that, the paper trail for your divorce decree simply disappeared. He’s bad news, Rai, and he’s in bed with all the right people.”

Rai paced back and forth, her white cane tapping out a beat that matched her pounding heart. “I will never be free of him, will I?”

“Hey, we’ll find a way, I promise.”

“Thanks, kiddo. I appreciate your help.” Rai ended the call, then tapped her phone. Oliver, her screen-reading voice, politely announced the time with a polished British accent. “12:43 pm.”

Brian wasn’t coming. She was not surprised. He wanted more than she could give, but long- term relationships were impossible for her, thanks to Cliff.

She had changed her name, her hair color and length, and was careful not to contact her family directly. She missed them, but they understood her reasons and supported her without hesitance. Brian could not do the same.

Despite his persistence, Rai had to be firm. She had hurt him last week after dinner. Brian had left in a huff and hadn’t tried to contact her again. She hated going to these events alone. Being blind was hard enough, negotiating her way through unfamiliar surroundings was downright stressful. The white cane was supposed to tell people she had a vision impairment. More than not, it made her a target. Oblivious travelers crossed in front of her dragging their bags behind them, making the route through the cruise terminal a virtual gauntlet.

Shaking her head, she took a deep breath, grabbed the handle of her wheeled bag and tapped her way toward the boarding line. The marble floor dulled each strike of her ceramic tip. Using the echo of sound, she listened for the density of people and conversation, then moved toward the place where it was most thick.

She grew up in Seattle, and the familiar pier and cruise line terminal should have been a comfort. Today, it was not. “Excuse me,” she said to no one particular. “Is this the boarding line for Taylor’s Emerald Queen?”

Perfect, no answer. No doubt people were staring at her as if she were a private joke.

“May I help you?” asked a warm male British voice.

“Please,” she said. “I’m looking for the boarding line for the Emerald Queen.”

“I can help with that,” he said, a slight smile in his tone. “I’m Z, and you are?” A pleasant scent of bay rum wafted off his body.

“Rai.”

He took her bag and offered his arm. “Do you know which cabin you’re in?” Either the man dressed impeccably well, or his uniform was top notch. The material felt like spun silk and cashmere. She assumed he was an employee—a porter, perhaps?

“5445,” she said, fishing in her brown leather bag for the ticket. Her nerves felt raw, and she thought to forget the cruise altogether and return to the familiarity of her flat in Bremerton. She had committed her attendance, however, and she had to stick with it.

“This ticket is one of two. Are you meeting someone?”

She winced. “No,” was all she could say. It was her fault Brian was a no show. Eager to distract Z’s attention from her embarrassment, she asked, “Do you work for Taylor cruise line?”

“Yes,” he said. “My job is to ensure our passengers are well accommodated.”

“Well, I appreciate your efforts, Z. I would have missed the entire cruise looking for that blasted boarding line.”

He chuckled; a deep throaty sound that made her lower belly tremble. The sensation was a time warp that triggered feelings she had as a teen when her date escorted her to prom.

With graceful ease, Z led her through the terminal, past the security lines, and down a quiet hall that held a faint scent of new paint and polished floors.

“Good morning Mr. …”

“Just Z,” he interrupted. “Good morning Marda.”

“Yes, sir,” Marda replied with a hint of embarrassment.

That was an odd exchange, thought Rai. “You seem to have respect around here,” she commented. “What position do you hold again?”

“Does it matter?”

She thought about it for a moment. “Well, you seem to know your way around the ship, and other employees know you. I don’t think you are a thug attempting to kidnap me and toss me into a van. So, no, I guess it doesn’t matter.”

That invoked a laugh from him, a roar so deep, it rattled her bones. She was used to having male attention and heard she was a looker more than once. She wouldn’t know, seeing she had lost her sight when she was a young teen, before her body bloomed into womanhood. Her blindness added a mystery about her that seemed to intrigue most men until they had their fill of her and moved on to better challenges.

Z guided her up a ramp where the breeze flowing in from the Puget Sound whipped her honey-blonde hair with vigorous gusts. By the time they made it aboard, she was sure she resembled a banshee. Perhaps wearing it down was not the brightest idea, she thought, doing her best to smooth the waist-length locks from her face.

Once on board and out of the wind, he turned her to face him. His warm hand brushed through her wild entanglements with a gentleness of a giant. “Your hair is beautiful,” he said, in a volume just above a whisper.

“Thank you,” she replied, stepping back from his administrations. “I typically have it braided.”

“What a shame.” Having sensed her discomfort, he offered his arm once again and led her through a carpeted foyer. Each time someone tried to address him by his formal name, they stopped as if Z had issued a warning.

Rai couldn’t help but laugh. “You either have an embarrassing name, or you have something to hide.”

“The former,” he said, but the shortness in his voice didn’t back his statement. No matter, Rai thought. Once he showed her to her room, she doubted she would run into him again. The Emerald Queen was one of Taylor’s largest cruise ships—the only one of its size in Washington. Chances of her running into Z again were slim.

After checking her in, he led her to the elevators, pointing out identifiable landmarks that would help her find her way. His understanding and expert orientation techniques impressed her. Most people hadn’t a clue how to guide a blind person, let alone how to orient one.

The elevator dinged once, indicating it was going up. Z and Rai stepped inside. Strong cleaning solution affronted her nose as the doors closed. The way the sound echoed, she ascertained that one or more of the walls had a hard surface. She pressed her hand instinctively to the wall to confirm her suspicion. “Glass walls?”

“Impressive,” he said. “The buttons are always on the right side of the door. Your room is on the fifth floor.” He reached for her hand and moved it over to the third button down on the left. He then shifted her hand to the outside of the button where braille dots indicated the number five. “The braille numbers for each floor are on the outside of the respective button.”

The elevator dinged and announced the floor as the doors slid open. “There are three elevators: one aft, one mid, and one forward. We came up the mid elevator which is the easiest to access,” Z explained. They turned left and passed five doors on the right and four on the left before stopping. He opened the door with a card key. The lock made a soft moan before clicking open.

Listening to the way sound moved in the cramped quarters, she knew the queen-sized bed was directly in front of her, while a narrow piece of furniture occupied the right wall. A hollow sound on the left indicated an open closet. On the wall adjacent to the door was a low desk or dresser.

Z patted the bed. “Bed.” He walked to the right and slapped the narrow piece. “Valet. The closet is on your left, and here,” he tapped the table on the near wall, “is your dresser with six drawers. Follow it down to the privy and shower.” He tapped the door. “I have set your luggage in front of the closet. Do you need help to unpack?”

Her face burned. “No, thank you.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a twenty spot to hand to him. “You have been more than helpful, Z. Thank you. I will put in a good word for you with the boss.”

“Know him well, do you?”

“Not at all, actually, but I know folks who do. I’ll make sure Mr. Taylor hears about the wonderful service you have provided.”

“Thank you, Miss,” he said through a smile. “I’ll come by once we are underway and orient you to the ship.” He took the twenty-dollar bill and closed the door behind him.

Odd man, thought Rai, breathing in his lingering scent.