UPDATE:
Poll closes Saturday, Feb 7, 11:59 PM Eastern
This afternoon, we open voting for your favorite heroine, because YOUR votes will choose Brent's special lady and determine the ending of the book, which will release on Kindle for FREE on Valentine's Day! Come back this afternoon and vote! The poll will remain open through February 7, so be sure to tell your friends.
After you read Chapter Eight below you can send us your guesses for which author wrote which chapter for a chance to win books and an Amazon gift card! Send your guesses in the body of an e-mail to editor[at]writeintegrity[dot]com. Submit your guesses by Saturday, February 7. Winner will be announced February 17.
For those just joining us, here are links to the previous chapters:
The Love Boat Bachelor
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter
Eight
Port
of Call: St. Maarten
Brent’s thoughts spiraled. So many
emotions, and such amazing women. Choosing an inland excursion on St. Maarten
that promised relaxation and diversion seemed perfect, especially one likely to
attract an older generation. All the women his age hit the beaches or markets.
He hadn’t reckoned on being all
alone, though, with only his thoughts to keep him company. Exactly what he’d
tried to avoid. Thankfully, his driver doubled as a tour guide and kept up a
monologue of island facts in a French accent.
The ride ended in front of a long,
low shed needing paint. A muted yellow sign in the shape of a large butterfly
identified The Butterfly Farm. Looked
like an outbuilding from any number of places back home.
Brent unfolded himself from the rear
seat as his guide leaned out his open window. “Ask the owner to call when you
are ready to return. I will come.” The man shifted into gear and sped off.
The already humid morning stuck
Brent’s t-shirt against his back. Maybe he should’ve opted for a more
adventurous excursion. At least on the coast, he’d have a breeze to cool him.
Melodic tweeting filled the air,
enough to let him know the world rejoiced in a new day. Why couldn’t he? What
was wrong with him? He had beautiful women interested in him. Yet, all he could
think about was how quickly life had become complicated.
He eyed the sign again and noted the
business hours between nine and three. Great. So much for getting a jump on the
day. That gave him an hour to wait and without a French exposé to distract his
unruly thoughts.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make it work.” A
soprano voice hushed the birds for a second. He scanned the area. The female
couldn’t be too far away, and from the edge in her tone, it sounded like she
struggled with something.
“This is silly, child. Call for help.”
An older voice, slurred, sent thoughts of his father’s drunken bouts. But this
man’s response seemed much kinder than anything he’d ever heard from his dad.
“I can do it … ouch.”
He picked up his pace toward the
conversation. A silver van perched on the asphalt edge of the two-lane road. A
white-haired man sat in a wheelchair beside the front door while a young woman
stood above the decimated rear tire. She swung dark, wavy hair over her
shoulder and sucked on the side of her finger.
“Are you hurt?” Obviously, she was
far too petite to be attempting such a task.
Dressed in blue jeans and a
pink-striped top, she jumped and flashed a pair of vivid blue eyes. “Where did
you come from?”
“South Carolina a few weeks ago. The
Butterfly Farm just now. Waiting for
it to open.”
She wiped her finger on her jeans.
“It’ll be a long wait. They’re renovating.”
Oh, man. He wiped his palm across
his head. Who would call for his ride now? He hadn’t even gotten the driver’s
name or a phone number. “Well, at least I can fix your flat for you.” He held
his hand out to the man. “Brent Teague.”
The gentleman shook his hand and
nodded. “Henry Lacewell.” The s-sound in his name lingered a bit.
“Daughter—Mercy.”
“Nice to meet you.” She had gone
back to pushing on the jack, though it refused to lift the car.
“She’s stubborn.” Mr. Lacewell
chuckled.
“I’ve done this before, Daddy.”
“I don’t mind. Really.” Brent laid
his hand on hers on the handle of the jack. Skin soft as silk warmed his
fingertips.
Her gaze locked with his before she
withdrew her hand and backed up. “I really have changed a tire.”
“I believe you.” He forced the jack
into motion with a grunt. “Hmm. That was
stuck.”
As he switched out the spare for the
flattened specimen, Mr. Lacewell held up the conversation with a description of
the butterflies inside the farm. Sounded interesting, but the woman holding the
lug nuts in the hubcap intrigued him more.
The man peered at him. “What’s a
young fella like you doing atta butterfly farm?”
Brent snapped the hub into place.
“I’ve done exciting excursions. I sort of craved something a little slower,
more relaxed, today.”
“Should come w’thus.”
“Daddy ….” Pink tinged Mercy’s
cheeks.
Mr. Lacewell clasped his hands. “He
needs a ride. We’re off t’ Fort Saint Louis.”
“I hate to intrude on your time
together.” He stowed the tire in the empty wheel well.
“No trouble. We’re heading your direction
afterward.”
How would he know?
The man opened the side door and
lifted himself into the backseat. Mercy folded his chair and tucked it into the
other side of the van.
“We’ve been visiting an old friend
of Daddy’s for a few days.” She took the lug wrench from Brent and dropped it
into the cargo bay. “Came in on one cruise ship, leaving on another. This trip
has been on Dad’s bucket list for years.” Her tone dropped off, and a tiny
wrinkle formed between her brows.
She reached for the jack, but Brent
avoided her and set it deep in the wheel well. “Last item on his list?”
Sniffing softly, she nodded and left
him to close the hatch. She straightened. “Let’s go find your pirates, Daddy.”
The sing-song had returned to her voice as she pulled her father’s door shut.
Her light attitude and a joy-filled
countenance covered what had to be deep concern.
They had barely traveled a mile on
the narrow road before Mr. Lacewell leaned forward. “S’cuse an old man’s
bluntness. Do you know Jesus loves you?” He placed a red ball cap on his head
with “Jesus Loves You” emblazed across in a white script.
“That’s very direct.” Brent eyed the
man.
“I’m old. No promise of tomorrow.”
Genuine joy spilled from his eyes.
“Daddy, please.”
“’S’true. No time for political
correctness.” He pointed at Brent. “Jesus loves you more than you can ’magine.”
Brent smiled. “You encourage and
shame me, Mr. Lacewell. I’m the chaplain for a cruise ship. I should have been
the one asking. But I love the way you took advantage of the opportunity.”
“No tellin’ when my last chance’ll
be.” He went on about the Lord’s love, then the items on his bucket list,
interspersed with scripture and Bible truth.
Silence from the driver’s seat
caught Brent’s attention. A natural glow tinted Mercy’s cheeks. She wiped a
finger under one eye.
“So tell me about Fort Saint Louis.”
Brent switched topics to ease Mercy’s concern. “I thought that was somewhere in
Louisiana.”
The lady beside him brightened and
began sharing some tourist facts with a lilt to her voice. The car climbed
above the capital city of Marigot. Mercy pulled into a spot where the pavement
ended and hauled out her father’s chair.
“This place’s beautiful. You kids go
to th’ top. I’ll stay here.”
Brent eyed the well-worn path. A few
steps, rocky walkway, but not too steep. “We can get you to the top.”
“Sure we can.” A tender smile lifted
her face as again she turned toward him. How fascinating that they matched the
color of the bay behind her.
After a minute more of convincing,
the three set out for the remains of the fort. Though not a difficult climb,
they struggled with ruts and rocks. Mr. Lacewell’s joking left them weak with
laughter by the time they finally reached the grass-covered foundation of what
had once been a stronghold in the Lesser Antilles.
While Mr. Lacewell ventured from
plaque to plaque, absorbing the history, Brent followed Mercy toward a low rock
wall broken by small cannon replicas. Painted roofs in Easter-candy colors
crowded the wooden pier edging the bay, pressed by the mountain rising behind.
The cerulean water echoed the color scheme with bobbing boats.
Breathtaking view, but the lady
beside him commanded his attention even more. The ocean breeze tossed her hair
about her shoulders. “I can see why my dad wanted to visit this place. Thank
you for helping me get him up the path.”
“What’s wrong with your father, if
you don’t mind my asking?”
“I almost lost him last year to a
stroke. He’s come back marvelously.”
“People live with those for
decades.” He’d had an aunt who taught school for fifteen years after suffering
a stroke.
She looked away with a sad smile.
“The doctors have him on meds, but they can’t do everything. Another could come
at any moment.”
“Isn’t that true of any of us?”
“I suppose. Only …” She focused on
the bay. “Lately he’s been talking about my life after he’s gone. I think he
believes it’s time.”
That said a lot. Brent closed the
gap between them, hoping his nearness could give her encouragement where his
words failed.
Mr. Lacewell buzzed with his newly
learned information all the way to the cruise ship, on which they’d booked
return passage back to the States. The man was so full of enthusiasm, so
brimming with joy over every moment, both good and challenging. Surely, Mercy
had been wrong in her estimation of his health.
Brent was surprised to find that Mr.
Lacewell and Mercy were setting sail aboard his
ship. At the ship, Brent helped her unload their luggage then checked-in
their car with a liaison waiting on the dock. By the time he returned to the gangway,
they’d disappeared.
He scanned the atrium. They couldn’t
have moved so fast. He took an elevator up a deck and used the higher vantage
point. A lot of people milled, returning from the island, but not a single
chair wheeled across the wide space. Where could they have gone?
Short of stalking the hallways, how
would he find them again?
At dinner in the main dining room,
he scanned all the tables, intent on finding Mercy. But he was immediately
joined, probably accosted was a better word, by two women in their late
thirties or so. Despite their battle for his attention, he kept his eyes on the
room, observing every new arrival. No Lacewells.
The duo which sandwiched him during
the meal did remind him, though, that he needed another souvenir for the sweet sister who sent him on this Love
Boat. Maybe a barracuda or a cougar
since he’d encountered so many of the female persuasion on this trip.
Turning in, he felt sure he’d run
into Mercy again at some point before they arrived back in Charleston. But the
next morning on the jogging track was the last place he expected to see her.
Her hair caught in a ponytail, she
wore calf-length yoga pants, which showed off her curves, and a baggy gray
t-shirt. He sprinted to catch up then matched her stride.
She glanced in his direction and
tugged out an earbud. “Hey there. I didn’t know you were a runner.”
“I looked for you and your dad last
night. Thought we might have dinner together.”
“That’s sweet of you.” She slowed
her pace and stepped off the track. “Dad was pretty exhausted yesterday. He
puts on a good front, you know.”
“Maybe lunch?”
“I’d like that. We were planning to
go to a musical review this afternoon. Wanna join us?”
Brent smiled and completed their
plans. He didn’t continue his jog, though, until he also had her cabin number.
She wouldn’t disappear on him again.
That afternoon, their lunch and show
stretched into dinner and a walk. Brent enjoyed the banter with Mr. Lacewell
and Mercy.
The next day was filled with
chaplain duties. Well past dinner, Mercy surprised him, strolling into his
office. “Long day?”
“Crazy. I must’ve counseled with six
couples today.” He stretched and leaned against the front of his desk.
“Marriage is entered into so lightly
these days. Is it any wonder there are so many problems?” She shook her head,
then shrugged. “I just came by to say hey.”
“I’m glad you did.” He smiled. “I do
have a vow renewal service tomorrow. A couple I’ve talked to a few times in the
last couple of days. Gloria and Gerome.”
“That gives me a renewed sense of
hope in marriage.”
“Could we have lunch after the ceremony?
It starts at noon.”
She nodded. “About two?”
****
After Gloria and Gerome's vow renewal ceremony, which went very
well, Brent met with the Lacewells for a late lunch and browsing through the
duty-free shops. Mr. Lacewell came alongside Brent as he eyed a turquoise
necklace his sister would probably love. “Got a girl back home?”
“Thought I did. She got married.”
“I understand.” From the look on his face, he probably discerned
more than Brent wished.
“My sister sent me on this trip.” He cleared his throat. “To help
get my mind off … things.”
“Ha. Or on them.”
Brent warmed. “Probably so.”
“Musta been a special lady. They don’t come around so often.
Mine’s been gone a long time.”
“Tough times.”
He nodded. “Had to be mom and dad. Mercy’s a special girl,
though.” He glanced in her direction. “Spittin’ image of her mom.”
Brent followed the man’s gaze. “Beautiful.”
“I would do juss about anything for her.”
She caught them gawking and fussed at her dad for peeking at the
souvenir she’d picked out for him.
How different from Brent’s experience. His father had never wanted
a moment with him. Complained when he made noise. Yelled when he watched TV.
Nothing Brent did was acceptable.
Crazy that he still felt the ache of his childhood. What a
blessing to befriend a man who was the sort of father he wanted to be someday.
As Mercy stepped away to pay for her purchases, the man turned to
Brent. “Think you can get me to my cabin?”
“Are you all right, Mr. Lacewell?”
“Enough to insist you call me Henry.” He laughed and pulled his
ball cap from where he’d tucked it in his chair. “Mercy’ll fuss. But I don’t
want her hanging around the cabins tonight. Can you take’r to dinner and a
movie?” His slurring escalated.
Brent nodded. The activities of the busy cruise could wear out
anyone.
Mercy joined them with her bundle, but Henry waved her off. “Brent
and I have matters t’discuss.”
Brent touched her elbow. “I’ll meet you here in a half hour?”
Her brows furrowed a bit, but she acquiesced and turned toward the
center elevators.
“That’ll do.” The man nodded and released control of his chair. He
seemed to relax as Brent pushed him to the elevators. Heavy breathing confirmed
he needed a good rest. At the aft cabin, Brent woke him to collect his key
card.
“Sorry I drifted off.” He handed over the card. Between Henry’s
strong arms and Brent’s athleticism, they got the man onto the bed.
“You’re a good man, Brent Teague. I’m happy to know you.” Henry
held out his hand. “Don’t let my daughter worry too much. She deserves … night
off.”
“Got it covered, sir.” An electrical charge skinned up his spine
at the promise of the evening. Being alone with Mercy had been a hard
opportunity to find, though he enjoyed Henry’s jokes and his obvious admiration
for his daughter.
Brent made his way to deck nine. The elevator doors opened at the
entrance to the cafe. He spotted Mercy near the deli bar. She lifted her
fingers in a casual wave.
A large group of scantily-clad women and men in bathing trunks
crowded past him. He edged his way through the group. With oblivion and
boisterous laughter, they blocked him only to move like an amoeba and create a
new barrier. By the time they finally evaporated into the elevators, he’d lost
sight of Mercy.
Feeling feathery-light fingers against his elbow, he jerked his
head around.
“For a second there, I thought you had joined the party.” Her eyes
sparkled with humor as she gave him a side-long glance.
“Ha, not my style. Besides, I have plans with someone already.”
“You don’t think she’d mind me tagging along?” She giggled and
Brent laughed as he opened the door to David’s Steakhouse. “Was Daddy terribly
tired?”
“Not so much, but enough that he didn’t want to spoil our fun. I
thought we could take in the outdoor movie when we’re done eating. I hear they
set up deck chairs with extra blankets just outside there.” He pointed to the
wide expanse.
Her fingers curled around his bicep. “Sounds perfect.”
He ordered iced tea to cover his near-miss and opened his menu.
“Please tell me you aren’t a vegetarian.”
“Nope. A good prime rib is one of my favorite meals.” She glanced
at her menu for a moment then clasped her hands on top of it. “I want to thank
you for helping my dad. He’s very impressed with you.”
“I like your father. I never spent much time with my own.” Why had
he said that? He rarely shared much about his father and his family life. “The
relationship you have with your dad reminds me of the one I have with the
Heavenly Father. Just like Him, your dad offers his best guidance and highest
praise for his child.”
Her mouth formed an O. “That’s the most wonderful description I’ve
ever heard.” Her eyes misted. “You’re so right. I had an exceptional example of
the Father’s love in front of me my entire life. But I never realized it.”
****
During the movie, they sat
in comfortable silence.
Brent had thought he had
problems before he went on the cruise. He never knew someone’s feelings could
get this muddled. Only one Person could untwist them and give Brent the
direction he needed now more than ever. Brent gazed up at the stars. You’ve
shown me I can have feelings for someone again, Lord. But can I risk being hurt
again? I don’t think I could take another rejection. Show me what to do.
****
“Next vacation in the mountains,
son.” Henry gave a final shake of Brent’s hand before he let his chair carry
him down the promenade. Most of the other passengers made their way to the ramp
that would take them across to the disembarking station.
“Colorado. Never been there.”
“If you like crisp mornings and
beautiful scenery, you’ll love it.” Mercy gripped the edge of the rail and
stared at the waves. This water was a grayer blue than her captivating eyes.
“I do like beautiful scenery.” He
trained his eyes on her forehead. What would she do if he planted a kiss on her
temple?
She glanced at him then. With a sad
turn to her smile and her brows lifting, she reached up and lightly kissed his
cheek. “Thanks again. For making this so special for my dad. And for me.”
Words escaped him. The slight
pressure of her lips still warmed his cheek. She stroked the place for a moment
then turned and joined the fast-moving line of exiting vacationers.
He sighed. Time to get back to the
reality of his life.
Brent headed back to his cabin to
gather his belongings. Fourteen days had passed, and he still wasn’t sure what
God wanted him to do with his life from here on out.
The image of a certain beauty with
warmth in her eyes and her smile rushed to his mind with a tingling sensation
that spread to his chest. Was the sudden memory a sign from God?
Brent reached the cabin door and
went inside to pack as a new certainty pushed away his doubt. Wherever God led
him next, Brent was sure he wanted the woman who held his heart to be at his
side for the journey. Now he only had to find her and pray like mad that she
wouldn’t reject him, too.
Come back this afternoon to cast your vote for your favorite heroine -
the woman you think most deserves Brent's affections.
Shore Excursions:
Write Integrity: (morning)
Marji Laine’s blog:
Fay Lamb’s On the Ledge:
Marji Laine’s blog:
Fay Lamb’s On the Ledge:
Betty Thomason Owens:
Write Integrity:
Marji Laine’s blog:
Fay Lamb’s On the Ledge:
Write Integrity: The Big Game Aboard The Love Boat
Friday:
Write Integrity: Chapter Five
Marji Laine’s blog:
Joan Deneve:
Interview on Quid Pro Quills
Julie Arduini:
Fay Lamb’s On the Ledge:
Write Integrity: Chapter Four
Marji Laine’s blog:
Fay Lamb’s On the Ledge:
Write Integrity: Chapter Three
Marji Laine’s blog:
Julie Arduini:
Fay Lamb’s On the Ledge:
Tuesday:
Write Integrity:
Betty Thomason Owens:
Marji Laine’s blog:
Elizabeth Noyes:
Fay Lamb’s On the Ledge:
Monday:
Write Integrity:
Marji Laine blog:
Fay Lamb:
Marji Laine:
Interviewed on Lena Nelson Dooley’s Blog
Marji Laine:
Interview on Carole Towriss blog: 8 Reasons Romance is a Joke
Julie Arduini:
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