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Braving Strange Waters

By Sarah Hanks

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Chapter One

Stella stared at the text, her thumbs hovering over the screen in indecision. A simple Have fun. I love you, from her fiancé should be the most natural message in the world to respond to. But guilt at what she’d done—or rather hadn’t done—ate at her.
“Hey, Stella, come look at this view!” Wendy called to her.
Without responding to the text, Stella locked the screen and slid the phone into her pocket. She’d handle it later. Right now, her friends deserved her sole focus. She jogged to where Wendy absorbed the ocean view.
Stella leaned against the cruise ship’s pristine top railing, stretching her arms wide and grinning. “Hello, vacation.” She’d needed this for so long.
The sun beat down hot as the Comfort drifted from the Seattle shore. Party music emanated from the pool area below them, along with cheers at the blast of a horn.
“Come on, ladies, let’s take a selfie.” Stella waved her two best friends to the front of the boat.
Wendy readily complied, but Claire seemed lost in her own world. Stella stifled a giggle as Wendy’s curly chestnut hair whipped her face from every direction.
“I swear,” her friend said while batting curls out of her eyes and pulling a strand from her mouth, “wind is overrated.” But once Wendy found her place next to Stella, the breeze hit just right, blowing all the offending strands over her shoulder, and setting them up for the perfect shot.
Stella laid her head on her friend’s shoulder. “Thanks for this trip.”
This fifteen-day bachelorette getaway Wendy had organized and funded for her was more than generous. There was nothing Stella wanted more in this moment than carefree time away with her friends.
Stella snapped a picture of the two of them, then called Claire over again. But Claire didn’t budge.
Wendy joined in. “Come on, Claire. Quit scoping out cute guys and take a picture with us.”
Claire pulled her attention from her perusal of the pool deck below, tucked a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear, and sauntered over. “Happy last hurrah before your big day, Stells.”
She scooted in on the other side of Stella, dropped her oversized white sunglasses an inch down her nose, and angled her ginormous sun hat to the right. Stella reached her arm out as far as it could go but couldn’t get all three of them fully in the shot. She lowered the phone camera an inch. No, that was worse. She raised it three inches. Better, except now their arms looked huge. And the way the sun glinted on her fair skin and hair made her look washed out.
Claire sighed. “No, you have to …” Claire tried to maneuver Stella’s arm to the correct angle. “Actually, just let me take it.” She reached into her bag.
Stella readjusted slightly down and to the right. “There. I think I have it.”
“Yeah, that’s great,” Wendy said holding her pose.
But Claire was already pulling out her phone. Thrusting her phone in front of them, she bumped Stella’s arm. Stella’s phone fumbled and fell from her grasp, crashing onto the deck and sliding across a freshly mopped section of flooring.
After a gasp in unison, all three of them scrambled after it as it slipped under a table and past a lounge chair toward the edge of the railing.
“Oh no.” Stella lunged for it, bumping one bystander’s arm and nearly tripping another.
She strained her fingertips as the device teetered precariously on the ledge. At the slightest touch, the balance tipped, and it careened downward several flights until it clanked against a railing far below, where it busted, splaying what looked like little pieces of metal confetti before plunking into the ocean.
Stella’s gaze snapped to her friends’ horrified faces. Wendy gripped her stomach as if she were going to be sick.
Claire’s hand covered her mouth, her face pale. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.”
Stella looked overboard again to the spot where her phone had disappeared. She waited for her stomach to sink. Waited for panic to rise. Yet the feeling that ambushed her senses was … relief. Her shoulders relaxed.
She was free.
Claire wrapped her in a hug. “I feel horrible. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll buy you a new phone when we get to Hawaii.”
Stella shook her head. “Wouldn’t that be crazy expensive? Besides, there’s no way I’d want to waste a beach day at a cell phone store.”
“But how are you going to get by without it?”
“I didn’t buy onboard Wi-Fi anyway. Everett was aware I’d be out of contact once we got out to sea.” She shrugged.
Claire needed social media to build her business. Her YouTube sensation friend wouldn’t understand how being without technology could be cathartic. But for Stella? What a relief to be completely untethered from her boss. No need to send vague replies to his cringy texts. No need to politely remind him she was on vacation. The only downside was not being able to text Everett one last time before they went off-grid and then connecting with him again at ports. But she could always borrow one of her friends’ phones to shoot a quick text.
“It’ll be fine. Really.”
Her friends exchanged a worried look with each other, and Wendy wrung her hands, but at least neither lost their lunch over the ordeal.
She took a deep breath of salty air and smiled. “You ready to take that selfie, Claire? Only let’s do it sitting on that couch over there.” She pointed to a cushion-lined wicker sofa a safe distance from any railings.
Claire tilted her head. “You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
After more than a dozen pictures of several different poses, they were back to laughing, the incident seemingly forgotten. When Claire tucked her phone away, the trio stood.
Stella swept in between her friends, wrapping an arm around both their shoulders as she guided them toward the elevator. “This trip is going to be perfect, ladies. I’ve been looking forward to spending time with my two favorite people for months.” She gave them a squeeze. “I’ve missed you this past year.”
Claire scrunched her nose. “Gosh, yeah. It has been that long, eh?”
Two years since college graduation. One year since they’d converged in Kansas City to celebrate surviving as adults. Stella adjusted Claire’s twisted pink bikini strap for her, then slid the matching cover-up over her shoulder. “You know what they say.”
“Time flies when you’re having fun.” Claire grinned.
She shrugged. “If you can call it that.”
Claire may have had one killer of a time, but Stella had been trudging through mud, counting down the days until this trip and then until her new start with Everett. A fresh beginning after her grandma’s diagnosis, decline, and death, and after a bumpy start at her new job.
“Where are we going?” Claire cast a glance behind her to the sparsely populated lounge chair–strewn deck. “I wanted to work on my tan.”
Stella stepped forward, engaging the automatic door to the interior. “There’ll be plenty of time for that. I’m hungry.”
“I hope they have salad.” Claire scrunched her nose. “I’m not about to gain five pounds on this trip.”
Wendy patted her stomach. “I’m fully prepared to gain ten.”
“Seriously?” Claire frowned. “You won’t be able to fit into your bridesmaid dress.”
Stella smiled. “That’s why I scheduled alterations for after the trip.”
Stella pushed the down button for the elevator and studied the map of the boat while they waited. It would take her a while to find her way around. Even though this was one of the smaller cruise ships, as a first-time cruiser, the layout intimidated her.
“Hey, what happened to the thirteenth floor?” She pointed to the floor listings as Wendy came to look. “We’re on floor fourteen right now, and then it skips to twelve. There’s no thirteen.”
“Hmm. Strange.”
“With my luck, that’s where I’ll end up. Murphy’s Law and all.” Claire tucked her sunglasses on top of her head. “You’ll be wondering where I went, and I’ll be wandering around the unlucky thirteenth floor.”
Stella rolled her eyes. “Would you stop? There’s no such thing as luck. You know that.”
No luck and no coincidences. All three of them believed that, didn’t they? They’d bonded in college over their Christian faith. Women with three completely different majors who wouldn’t normally mingle in the same circles, but at the campus Bible study, they’d found a sisterhood.
The elevator finally pinged and opened, and the three friends slid inside. Wendy pushed the down button to take them from viewing the pool from above to dining beside it. “Don’t worry about a thing. Let’s just enjoy this time together.”
Stella would toast to that. Having time to connect with these people who loved her despite her flaws was like a cool drink of water on a scorching hot day.
The elevator opened, and the scents of grilled onions and cumin from tacos and burgers tangoed in the air. Sunlight shimmered off the pool. Perfect. Forget luck. Forget Murphy and his law. Freed from all contact with her life back home, this was going to be the best vacation of her life.
~
With a plate overloaded with tacos, Wendy maneuvered through a sea of people in various states of dress—from swimsuits to one man in a three-piece suit—toward the poolside table Stella had commandeered. Her best friend was already scarfing down a burger, apparently with no thought of her fitted wedding dress. Good. At least the two of them would fully enjoy their girls’ trip while Miss Health Nut nibbled on rabbit food.
A glob of ketchup dripped onto Stella’s sleek black cover-up. Well, at least it added some color. Wendy was no fashion expert, but even she could tell when someone with bleached blonde hair and eyelashes so light they were nearly nonexistent without mascara wore black, it only accentuated their pale features. Hence, why Wendy had chosen mint green for the color of the shirts she’d purchased for the three of them to wear on their first day at sea tomorrow. Never mind she’d look ghastly in it. This trip was about Stella, and she’d endure looking like an Easter egg if it gave her bestie a chance to shine. Claire? Well, Claire would look good wrapped in brown paper. The brat.
Speaking of which … Claire stood a few feet away from their table, salad bowl in hand, chatting with a hunk of a shirtless guy. Wendy slowed as she neared so she could catch their conversation.
The man shook his head as though puzzled. “No, that’s not it. But I swear I know you from somewhere.” His eyes lit, and he pointed at Claire. “Oh wait, you’re the yoga girl from YouTube!”
Claire’s coy smile didn’t fool Wendy. Her friend was likely shuddering on the inside from the man’s blunder.
“Pilates, but yes. I have the Claire-ity Fitness Channel. I’m surprised you recognized me without my mat.”
Wendy couldn’t walk any slower without being uber awkward, so she passed the flirty couple and sat across from Stella, who’d already devoured half of her burger.
“Good?” Wendy stole a fry from her friend’s plate.
Stella swallowed before answering. “Excellent.”
Wendy hadn’t taken more than a bite of her first taco when Claire plopped into the seat next to her with a huff. “What? Things go south with Mr. Hunk-o-licious over there?”
“Yes! And here I thought we had some sort of connection. Then he says, ‘Oh, my girlfriend loves your channel.’” She wagged her head while mocking his voice. “And said girlfriend sidles up wearing a white bikini. Apparently, my workouts have done her good.” She shrugged. “At least he recognized me. Even if he can’t tell the difference between yoga and Pilates.”
Wendy nudged Claire playfully with her shoulder. “I keep telling you that a cruise is not the place to find the man of your dreams. I know you’re eager to find Mr. Right. I am too. But …” She let the sentence hang.
Surely, Claire could fill in the rest. This trip isn’t about us. It’s about celebrating Stella. Their time would come. Maybe one of Claire’s other five hundred thousand YouTube followers would hunt her down and propose on the spot. She nearly snorted at the thought.
“It doesn’t hurt to look.” Claire forked leafy greens into her mouth.
Stella pointed a fry at her. “It might. What would happen if you did hit it off with someone? What are the chances he’d be from Indiana? Or even the Midwest?”
“I’d move in a heartbeat for the right person.”
“Just so you didn’t have to hear the song?” Stella’s eyes sparkled as her gaze met Wendy’s.
“Don’t you dare.” Claire’s mouth firmed into a straight line.
Too late to stop them from belting out the song from The Music Man. “‘Gary, Indiana. Gary, Indiana. Gary, Indiana.’”
Claire slumped low in her chair as her friends sang in unison. “Stop.” But playfulness lilted around the edges of her command.
Stella’s smile brightened. “Speaking of musicals, isn’t there a show one of these nights that features numbers from Broadway? We should go.”
Wendy snatched her phone from the table. “Let me find the itinerary.” No need for the bride to stress about any of the details. Wendy had pieced the trip together so the only thing her friend had to do was board and bask. “Here it is. Tell me what sounds interesting to you.”
The girls went through the activities listed each day and debated about which ones to participate in. When at last Wendy thought they had their schedule locked down, Claire sighed. “I don’t know. I thought we’d spend more time relaxing in the sun and less time at shows and the piano bar.”
Wendy wrinkled her nose. “Most of the activities are in the evening. You’ll have plenty of time to work on your tan.”
“I’ll probably hit the gym too.”
The gym? That was definitely not on her itinerary.
“And I told you I want to film a few videos for my channel, right? When we get to the beaches.”
Um, no. She’d failed to mention that. “You just said you wanted to relax. Now you’re talking about working while on vacation.”
Her expression spoke innocence. “It’s not work when you’re doing what you love.”
Wendy snorted. “Hey, I love my middle schoolers, but let me tell you, teaching is work. A whole lot of stinkin’ work.” And yes, she needed a vacation. Only not a permanent one. Lord, please. I can’t lose my job.
Stella nodded. “I love my job too. Seriously, it’s been my dream to be the editor of a newspaper. But I’d have to agree. Loving what I do doesn’t mean I don’t need a break from it.”
Wendy’s throat burned with the story of what had happened two weeks ago. She did not keep secrets from her best friend. And yet, she couldn’t ruin Stella’s celebratory trip with her own issues. She swallowed the urge to speak.
Claire shrugged. “To each her own.” She took another bite of rabbit food before her eyes sparked with mischief. She leaned in and whispered, “Hey, check out that guy. He’s a cutie.”
Wendy and Stella both rolled their eyes, but honestly, thank goodness for the distraction. Leave it to Claire to keep things light.
~
Claire forced a smile as she wedged between a mass of people in line for coffee and another exiting the lounge where trivia had just wrapped up. An elbow jabbed her ribs. She winced and glanced behind her. No apology came. She rubbed her side and cast a longing glance toward the sun-kissed deck.
When would they get to the relaxing portion of this vacation? Apparently, the three of them needed to tour every square inch of this massive boat first. She sighed. If her stress level got much higher, it’d seep out her pores and create noxious fumes. Then she’d have zero chance of pretending all was well.
Stella talked over her shoulder as she entered the lounge where the cruise line would host the comedy show in the evenings. “Isn’t the retro décor fun? What is it, like 1960s?”
Wendy smirked. “Somebody wasn’t a history major.”
Claire would have bristled at the remark, but Stella laughed. “No kidding. So, expert, what’s the time period?”
Wendy scanned the area. “Looks antebellum to me.”
Okay, she was either making up words or showing off. Claire crossed her arms and lifted a brow.
“Pre–Civil War,” Wendy explained. “It reminds me of the old steamboats that used to cruise up and down the rivers. I read a book about them once, and I went to a museum featuring one.”
Of course, she did.
Claire sucked in her bottom lip and, as she’d done in each room they’d toured so far, surveyed the lighting and angles for possible social media pictures and reels. She hadn’t planned on the retro décor of the ship, but she could find a way to make it play. Perhaps she could focus on history. Yes, that was it. The history of Pilates. Of course, the fitness craze didn’t date as far back as the horrid décor, but it would make a good conversation starter to discuss the origins dating back to the 1920s.
Her stomach soured. No. It wasn’t compelling enough. Not to snatch the attention of Fit TV. She had to come up with something that would wow the producer–and quick. They’d only be watching her social media for one more week to see if they’d take a chance on launching her career. And her first impression last week had been less than impressive.
“Claire?” Stella’s voice seemed to echo through Claire’s haze of thought.
Her attention snapped to her friends, who stood across the room at the exit. “Sorry.” She scurried to catch up.
What was wrong with her? She needed time to think. Or a distraction. They passed the salon, and her steps slowed. A massage. Yes. She needed a massage for the golf ball–sized knots in the back of her neck.
Her gaze fell upon the price list. Yikes. Never mind. This trip had already stretched her budget, and since she still hadn’t been able to find a steady job in her major as a physical therapist, her YouTube channel provided her only stream of income. For now. But if Fit TV picked her up—no, when they slotted her on their channel—everything would change. No more stressing about money. No more striving for every like and share.
“Stop staring at the hunk and come on.” An edge of irritation sneaked through Wendy’s sassy smile.
The hunk? Claire blinked. Oh. Next to the price list hung a billboard featuring a shirtless man with a towel wrapped around his waist. Wendy thought she was gawking at that? She fought the urge to roll her eyes. She’d be the first to admit her piqued interest regarding men, but it wasn’t so she could drool over their glistening pecs. Was it so horrible to not want to journey through life alone? To yearn for someone to know her so completely he could finish her sentences and see beyond the exterior to the depths of her heart? She was bone tired of going it alone. But whatever. Let Wendy think she was boy crazy. What did it matter? Little Miss Perfect was bent on misunderstanding her.
She forced a saucy grin. “Can’t blame a girl for looking.”
Wendy scoffed.
The edges of Stella’s eyes crinkled with her smile. “We’ve almost seen everything. Ready for the pool?”
That got Claire moving. She reached her friends in two steps. “Am I ever!”
They passed a candy store, jewelry shop, and art gallery before nearing the elevators that would take them poolside.
“Take a look at that mailbox.” Wendy ran her fingers across an old-fashioned mailbox nestled into the corner across from the elevators.
“Wow. It fits the décor perfectly,” Stella mused.
The arched doorway leading from the corridor to the deck outside of where they stood would make a great photo backdrop. It was wide enough to do wall Pilates moves on if she could find an opportune time with little to no foot traffic and decent lighting.
Behind her, Wendy and Stella went on about the mailbox. “I think it’s real. Like an antique.”
Seriously, who cared? The pool was calling! “Come on, ladies.”
But Wendy’s attention didn’t waver. “Hold on. There’s an inscription.”
This time, Claire didn’t fight the eye roll.
“I was right.” Wendy flashed a smile as if she’d won the lottery before turning her attention back to the old mailbox. “This postal box was in use in the 1800s. How cool is that?”
Claire utilized a controlled breath before replying. “Super cool.” Just not as cool as glistening water and the sun’s caress.
Stella cocked her head. “Kind of odd. The placement of it by the elevators.” She peeked inside, then yanked her hand back. “Yikes. I got a shock.”
“You okay?” Wendy asked.
“Yeah. It was nothing.”
Claire cleared her throat and took a step toward the elevator.
Wendy let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, okay. We’re coming.”
Stella laughed. “Guess we won’t take you antique treasure hunting.”
“Yeah, I’ll sit that one out.”
Wendy lifted a brow. “Sit it out? Or will you pass for an hour on a Peloton?”
“They have those here?” The gym was the only area of the ship they hadn’t toured.
“Ugh. You!” Wendy bumped her shoulder good-naturedly.
But seriously, did the gym have Pelotons? Because Fit TV made it clear they were only interested in people in peak physical condition. She couldn’t afford even a half inch to creep up on her midriff.
Stella hit the up button for the elevator, and they waited to the sound of the mechanical whir. “What floor again?”
“Thirteen,” Wendy and Claire joked simultaneously. Their chuckles blended with the ding of the door opening.
“Guys, seriously.”
“Four,” they said again in unison.
The corner of Wendy’s mouth lifted. “Great minds think alike.”
Only they didn’t. Not at all.

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