didn’t need to worry about her. She accepted the fact that Zach was gone. Time didn’t heal all wounds, but it allowed memories to offer consolation, to bring smiles instead of tears. She had simply become rather dependent on living on the ship. And she did love the Destiny, including all her history and her ghosts. Alexi didn’t lie awake at night anymore, the way she had at first.
She’d lain awake and wondered why, when the dead from so many different eras and generations found her, she’d never seen Zachary Wainwright, never had a chance to hold him and be held one last time. Never had a chance to say goodbye...
Alexi smiled. “My mom won’t be getting on this ship and without my mom—no dad. Mom’s convinced the ship is haunted, which of course it is, and she wants nothing to do with that. She’s... I don’t know...very Catholic, slightly Wiccan, possibly? She believes that spirits can find her. Don’t get me wrong, I adore my mother. But my dad always smiles and tells me that when they were married and moved into our home in the Irish Channel, she called in a priest to bless the house and cleanse it of ghosts.”
“She sounds like fun. And, hey, I agree with you that this ship is haunted! I try to say nice things to whatever gives me the chills as I walk by,” Clara said, shrugging. “In any event, they leave me alone.”
“I’ll see you in a little while,” Alexi told her. “I’m going to grab some downtime with a pillow.”
“And I’m going to pop into the lounge,” Clara said. “Come with me and say hi. We have some new people in the entertainment crew.”
Alexi didn’t particularly want to say hi to anyone at the moment; she wanted to lie down. She’d had lunch with her parents on shore, and much as she loved them, an hour or two in their company could be exhausting.
“Just for a sec!” Clara encouraged.
Alexi followed her into the crew lounge.
They didn’t separate crew down here. It was a hallmark for most people who accepted employment with the Celtic American line. Entertainers and officers mingled with room stewards, even though the lounge space was small. But there was a television, a computer, lots of comfortable chairs, plenty of snacks, a refrigerator, coffeepot and a microwave.
And right now the lounge was crowded, mostly with entertainers, those who didn’t play or perform as the passengers boarded. “Hey, new guys! This is Alexi Cromwell, for those who haven’t met her yet. She runs the piano bar and she loves it when we stop by.”
“Hi, Alexi!” Ralph Martini was the first to hail her. She knew Ralph. He’d been on her first contract schedule.
Ralph continued with, “I’m not new. I’m just saying hi first!” Ralph was a friendly, easygoing guy. She thought he was about fifty. He had a great tenor and often did a one-man show. Balding, a little stout—and totally charming. Women on board loved him.
“Alexi. I’m Simon Green,” a man said, rising and offering her his hand. He was tall and lean, with a pleasant boy-next-door face. “In the cast, my first go at it. Just a chorus guy.”
“No such thing as just a chorus guy,” Alexi said. “I’m sure you’re very talented. Good to meet you, and please, come by anytime.”
Simon Green shrugged, giving her a smile. “I’m a happy guy. I’ve been on a few cruises with Celtic American as a passenger. So I’m thrilled to be on the Destiny and seeing how it all works from the other side!”
She went on to meet Larry Hepburn, early twenties, blond, beach-boy type, out of LA, and Leanne Wilburn, from Des Moines. As they were all greeting one another, Bradley Wilcox, head of entertainment, who’d recently transferred over from the Dublin, stuck his head in.
Alexi had met Bradley Wilcox before. He, too, had been on her first run with the ship.
She stayed away from him as much as she could. He organized excellent shows, hired great bands for the various dining spots and bars—and was a complete jerk. He didn’t seem capable of compliments.
“Guitar Hero Boys, you’re due on the promenade in fifteen minutes. You should be getting in place.”
The foursome who made up the group rose and marched out. Alexi heard one mutter as he passed her. “Are you set up? Yes. Ready to go? Yes. Are you an asshole, Brad? Yes!”
She tried not to smile. And when the band had gone by, she left, too, wishing them all well—those who were new and those who’d returned to the Destiny or had switched from other ships.
In her cabin, Alexi sank down on the bed and closed her eyes, wishing she could sleep. She found herself thinking about Blake and Minnie.
Their deaths had been tragic. Minnie, a star of stage and screen, had fallen in love with Blake when he’d played Romeo to her Juliet in a touring company in the thirties. The fact that she was taking the Destiny for a transatlantic voyage had been huge news at the time; reporters and fans alike had booked onto the voyage.
The fans had included a deranged former lover, convinced that if he removed Blake from the picture, he would have his Minnie back.
Minnie had been singing an impromptu number in the piano bar. Also known as the Algiers Saloon, it was located exactly where it was now. Her previous lover, Allan Snow, had leaped to his feet after one of her numbers and declared his devotion. Minnie had claimed her eternal devotion, as well—to Blake.
So Allan Snow had pulled out a gun and shot Blake, who’d jumped in front of Minnie to be her protector. Then he’d shot Minnie and himself.
The ghost of Allan Snow didn’t seem to be aboard. Minnie told Alexi that she’d never seen him and she’d figured that God had been good, allowing her and Blake a different way to be together. She’d smiled and said their love was eternal.
Alexi figured it was natural that they’d haunt the piano bar.
She turned and hugged her pillow. Since Zach had been in the service and deployed overseas, they’d talked about the possibility of his death. She’d promised that if it happened, she’d always remember him—and she’d go on with her life, be happy.
She wasn’t suicidal, never had been. She was willing to find a new purpose, a new role, a new way of being. Just as she’d promised. Happy was more difficult.
What worried her now was the fact that he was slipping away. She thought about him often, with love. Sometimes she was happy now. She laughed at the antics of passengers and enjoyed meeting them. She’d even roamed various ports with friends she made aboard. She knew she shouldn’t feel guilty, and yet she did.
She reached into the gloomy air of her cabin, as if she could touch him.
“I just wish I could’ve said goodbye,” she murmured aloud.
Then she was startled out of her reflections when it seemed that something slammed against her door.
She jumped up and hurried to open it.
A man stood there, tall, dark-haired and...bizarre.
He was wearing a gray sweatshirt and blue jeans and strange prosthetic makeup. The man who’d raced through the piano bar!
He looked at her with beseeching eyes.
“I
