Anchors Aweigh - 6 (11 page)

Oh, crap. What to do? What to do?

“Tressa? You look weird. Doesn’t she look weird, Sher? Are you all right, Tressa?”

“That seems to be the question of the day,” I said.

An arm snaked its way around my waist and squeezed. “And one we’re waiting with baited breath to learn the answer to,” I heard.

I turned to find Ranger Rick behind me and said, “Excuse me?” I gave him a wide-eyed look.

“Who is this, Tressa?” Courtney asked, and I chewed a nervous lip.

Tressa Turner, meet your biggest hurdle.

“I’m Rick Townsend, Tressa’s first cousin. By marriage,” Rick supplied, and I continued to stare up at him.

“First cousin? Really?” Courtney said. “How…bizarre!”

“Isn’t it?” Rick said. “And you’re—?”

“Courtney. Courtney Kayser. I met Tressa and Manny last night at the Stardust. Didn’t I see you there, too?” she asked Townsend.

He nodded. “I was in and out.”

“Where is Manny, Tressa? We were hoping we could convince him to be our team trainer,” Courtney said.

“Manny?” I asked, not knowing what else to say.

“Your fiancé,” Courtney elaborated, and I wanted to kick her.

“I’m not sure—”

“Oh, I’m sure you can convince him to train the Scallywags. Do you like the name? We voted on it. The girls wanted Starfish but the guys nixed that. But good, right, Sherri?”

Sherri smiled and nodded at her friend. “That’s right,” she said.

“It sounds fine—” I said.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Tressa? You don’t look well at all—huh, Sherri?” Courtney asked.

“She does look a little pale,” Sherri agreed.

“Well, you see what happened was—”

“What Tressa here is trying to say here—not very clearly, ladies—is that her memory is a bit fuzzy,” Townsend said.

I looked up at him. “I am?” I asked.

He nodded. “You see, she took a rather bad fall down a flight of stairs early this morning and struck her head. She was out like a light for some time, and the blow seems to have wreaked havoc with the hippocampus and cerebral cortex, the areas of the brain that store memories,” Townsend the resident neurologist lectured.

“They do?” I said.

“She did? Do you mean she’s lost her memory?” Courtney asked. “For real? You’ve lost your memory, Tressa?”

“That’s what they tell me,” I said, not taking my eyes off Townsend for a minute. “How did you—”

“Your father told me all about it,” Townsend answered, anticipating my query. “He and the rest of the family seemed to be under the impression you were resting in the health clinic. Are you sure you should be up?”

“Oh, Tressa! What an awful way to start a cruise!” Courtney said, and reached out to take my hand. “We met last night at the Stardust. I’m Courtney and this is my best friend, Sherri. You met my husband, Steve, and Sherri’s husband, Ben, too. Oh, this is just terrible,” she added, and surprised me by reaching out and giving me a tight bear hug. “Is there anything we can do?” she asked.

I patted her back. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine,” I said.

“I’m a licensed practical nurse, so if there’s anything you need—anything at all—you just let me know. Oh! You’ll miss out on the exercise programs and the team competitions!” she pointed out. “I’m sure you’ll have to take it easy for a day or so. Rest and relaxation for you.”

Cowabunga! Even more perks! I had to keep from dancing a Snoopy happy dance.

“I suppose it would be best to take it easy for a while,” I admitted. “I couldn’t rest all that well in the infirmary. I had some really whacked dreams. Like I was drowning. Unable to get my breath. I woke up with my pillow covering my face,” I told Courtney, figuring it would get around that I placed no sinister meaning to the second attack and, hopefully, would prevent someone from coming after me again. I wasn’t like my gammy’s kitty cat. I only had one life to live. And I meant to hang on to it for a while.

“Head injuries can mess a person up pretty bad,” Courtney agreed. “We’d better go break the news to the rest of the Scallywags. They’ll be disappointed you’re out of commission. Maybe you’ll feel well enough to join in on some of the competitions they’ve got planned,” she said. “They’re giving away some really cool prizes.”

“We’ll have to see—”

“I’m sure Manny will take good care of you, Tressa,” Sherri spoke up. She gave Townsend a red-faced look. “Er, and your cousin here, too,” she added.

Townsend squeezed a love handle. Mine. “Even if she doesn’t know it now, Tressa will soon learn she’s got more than enough protectors to get her through this difficult time,” he said.

“Right,” Courtney agreed, pulling Sherri back to the tribe. I watched the curious glances directed my way as chatterbox Courtney broke the news about my injury and memory glitch.

Good. You spread the word, Courtney, I thought. Spread the word.

“We need to talk, Tressa,” Townsend said, taking my arm. “By the way, nice buff,” he said, leading me to a long row of loungers. “It suits you.” He sat me in one and stretched out next to me in the other. “How’s the head?” he asked, lying on one side, facing me, one tanned, toned, manly leg bent at the knee, his brown muscular arm resting on that knee. With his white Department of Natural Resources T-shirt, khaki shorts and brown Tommy Bahama sandals, he looked like the professional cover model for a cruise ad—a Kodak moment that hadn’t gone unnoticed by others, as well. Believe me. While the female contingent of fellow passengers feasted their food-deprived libidos on Ranger Rick’s fine looks and fantastic physique, the male population was no doubt envisioning the unsuspecting ranger slow-roasted on a spit.

I placed my head gingerly against the back of the chair. “The head’s…improving,” I said in response to his query. An awkward silence followed. And since I never saw a silence I didn’t want to break, I broke it. “So? We’re cousins, huh?” I asked, trying to get a feel for where Townsend was coming from—and in the process, find out just how suspicious he was of me. And suspicious he had to be.

He smiled. “Cousins for all of three days now,” he said with a grin.

“I see. Do we…get along?” I asked, and his grin got wider.

“We’re very close,” he said. He crossed his fingers. “Like this,” he added.

I raised an eyebrow. What was the rogue up to now?

“Really?”

“In fact, before your fiancé came on the scene, there was a time I thought—” He stopped.

“You thought…what?” I asked, my mouth suddenly dry.

He shrugged. “I shouldn’t be bringing this up now. Not with you in such a weakened state,” he said. “You’ve got enough to be concerned with given the sticky situation you find yourself in.”

I frowned. “Sticky situation?” I echoed. “What do you mean?”

“Your fiancé, Manny DeMarco. You really don’t remember him, huh?”

I shook my head. “I have no memory of having a fiancé,” I said. That much was true. Manny was my
faux
beau.

“Won’t that make for some—shall we say—awkward moments come time to retire to your quarters this evening?” Townsend pointed out, and I said at least half a dozen really bad words in my head. Ranger Rick
was
trying to trip me up. He knew I was sharing a cabin with Taylor. But I couldn’t know that, now, could I?

“I understood from Tyler that she and I were cabin mates on this cruise,” I responded.

“Tyler?”

“My sister—I guess.”

Townsend nodded. “Oh, right.
Taylor.
So Taylor told you. You must’ve been surprised when you found out you had a fiancé on board,” he suggested. “Who broke that news, by the way?” he asked, and I blinked trying to remember who knew and when they knew it. Jeesch. I sounded like I was involved in some freaking Watergate conspiracy or Arms for Hostages deal.

The truth was, my folks had no idea of my faux fiancé folly. Thank goodness. Ditto for my gammy, or everyone in Grandville would know by now. Joe I wasn’t sure of, but I suspected from his foolish interference he’d somehow found out. Perhaps Manny had even told him. Beyond Manny, Mo, Taylor—who I’d ‘fessed up to some time back—and my boss at the
Gazette,
Stan the Man Rodgers, I didn’t know of anyone else who knew about Manny and me. Well, the let’s-pretend Manny and me, that is.

“Uh, Tina mentioned Manny as well,” I said.

“Tina?”

“My sister.”

“
Taylor,”
he corrected again. “You two seem to be getting along for a change.”

“We don’t normally?” I asked, not thrilled that our sibling rivalry was apparent to those outside the family.

Townsend shook his head. “Regrettably, no,” he responded. “But maybe that will change now—you being injured and all. A silver lining to your cloud.”

Since when did Rick Townsend get to be so freakin’ philosophical?

“Maybe,” I said, noncommittal. “So, are you here with your girlfriend?” I couldn’t help asking. I was either a glutton for punishment or a fool in love. Or both.

“I thought so,” he said.

“You thought so? What does that mean?”

“Things got a little complicated—like they often do where she’s concerned,” he said with a poignant little smile. “I suspect she’s commitment-phobic.”

“Oh.”

“But enough of me and my troubles, let’s focus on you. Are you comfortable there? Do you need a pillow? Are you thirsty? How about something tall and cool to drink?” he asked. “Or am I being too bossy? You hate to be bossed around, you know,” he said.

“Who doesn’t?” I asked, totally taken aback by the accommodating man beside me.

He nodded. “How about that drink?”

“That would be nice.”

“Lemonade maybe? With a lot of sugar?” he asked.

My eyes narrowed at the seemingly innocent query that could have been a landmine. “Who knows? Surprise me, cousin,” I said, and he raised an eyebrow.

“I might do just that,” he said, getting up from his lounger. “Cos,” he added with a wink, bending down to give me a quick kiss on my buff. “Be right back.”

I watched him walk away, tracking the easy, casual moves of his body with a hungry look. I replayed our conversation in my head but couldn’t decide if Ranger Rick realized I was faking my memory loss or not. Sometimes I’d swear he was trying to trip me up. At others, he seemed genuinely concerned. Helpful. Even…loving. It represented a riddle.
He
represented a riddle.

I swallowed loudly. I was pretty sure that Tressa Jayne Turner couldn’t resist a good riddle.

CHAPTER TEN

“Well, if it isn’t the Jill of all trades, Tressa Turner! May I join you?”

I looked up to discover David Frazier Compton, the dude with three names, staring down at me. Without waiting for a response, he took the lounger Townsend had vacated. Sitting sideways on the chair, he adjusted his navy visor and pushed his sunglasses back up on the bridge of his nose. “I understand from the Scallywags over there that you sustained injuries in a fall this morning and, consequently, are having difficulties with your memory,” he said. “I just had to come over and see if it was true. Is it?” he asked, wiping his sweaty face with a Scallywag tribal buff.

I stared at the buff.

“So, is it?” he asked, and I shook my head trying to get over the fact that he had access to the same buff that my attacker had left behind.

“Is it what?” I said, trying not to appear shaken.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“That you’ve lost your memory!”

“How would I know if it’s true or not?” I responded. “All I have are other peoples’ words for everything,” I pointed out. “Which begs the question: Should I know you?” I asked.

He gave me a considering look. “You should. We met last night. Coral LaFavre is my wife. You met her as well.”

“Coral. What kind of name is that?”

“A stage name,” he said.

“Coral’s an actor?” I asked.

“Among other things,” DFC replied. “It is rather a bizarre stroke of fate that you’re afflicted with amnesia, is it not?” he asked. “Dreadful timing and all that, I imagine,” he said.

I frowned. “Is there a good time to have a case of amnesia?” I asked.

Compton leaned closer to me. “Oh, I can think of times when it could come quite in handy,” he said.

I frowned. “Handy? How so?” I asked.

“Oh, say you’ve broken the law and you get caught. Or maybe you owe the IRS a large amount of money. You couldn’t very well aid in your own defense if you lost your memory,” he said, “so your case would have to be continued indefinitely. True?”

I shrugged. “Beats me,” I said, thinking it odd how crime and debt figured so prominently into Compton’s thought processes.

“Or maybe you have a cheating spouse—or you are a cheating spouse,” he continued. “A conveniently timed case of amnesia could conceivably save a marriage.”

David Frazier Compton had a weird way of looking at life—and a seriously messed-up way of promoting the perks of amnesia to a supposed victim.

“The cheating would still be there, whether or not the spouse had knowledge or recollection of it,” I pointed out. “And is a marriage worth saving if one spouse cheats?” I asked, wondering if infidelity played a role in his marriage and, if so, who was doing the cheating.

“I suppose it would depend on the couple,” he said. “How much they loved each other. How forgiving they could be. Could you forgive your fiancé’s infidelity, Tressa?”

I swallowed. Could I? Hell, no.

“I don’t remember having a fiancé,” I said. “But no, I don’t think I could forgive something like that,” I told him.

“Coral was quite taken with your Manny the other night,” David went on. He took a long swallow of his drink. “Then again, so was every other individual of the female persuasion—plus several who weren’t of the female persuasion,” he added, and I knew he was referring to Dolph and Major. “But of course you won’t remember any of that.”

I shook my head. “Did I miss something…significant?”

He looked at me for an uncomfortable moment before he replied, “No, no. I should think not, love.” He reached over and patted my hand. “Do be a good girl and let me know when your memory returns, won’t you? So I can pass on the happy news to Coral.”

“Of course,” I fibbed. “Of course.”

“Take care, my dear,” David said and left.

I put my head back on the recliner. Remembering I had no memory was exhausting. I caught a sudden movement off to my right and discovered Security Sam Davenport conducting not-so-covert surveillance from behind a potted plant. I watched as he took off in the direction of the three-name wonder with a serious case of the sweats. It appeared Davenport had taken my concerns regarding Coral to heart and was keeping a close eye on her hubby. The fact raised my spirits considerably.

“Your drink.” Townsend had returned.

He handed me a cute pink drink with an adorable turquoise umbrella stuck in it. I thanked him and took a long sip, expecting the sugary sweetness of pink lemonade, and instead getting a heaping helping of total tartness. I made a
bleah
face and shivered as I managed to swallow the foul brew known as pink grapefruit juice.

“Is something wrong, Tressa?” Ranger Rick asked.

I shook my head, trying to keep from actively gagging. “No, not at all. It’s good,” I managed, becoming more suspicious of Townsend by the minute. “Yum yum!”

He grinned down at me. “They’ve asked me to help out with some of the shipboard activities, monitoring some of the teams in the workout rooms. Things like that. Are you going to be all right here?” he asked. “I could get someone to sit with you. Your grandmother. My granddad. Taylor.”

“No!” I sat up. “I mean, no, I’m good. Really. It’s not as if I’m helpless, you know.”

“Just a little more clueless than usual. Right?” Rick said.

“Am I usually clueless?” I asked.

He looked at me for a long moment. “There are areas where you seem to be somewhat dense,” he said at last.

I flinched. “Dense?”

He nodded.

“What areas are you talking about, exactly?” I asked. “Math? Foreign languages? Politics?”

“Biology. Oh, and chemistry, too,” he told me with a wink.

I frowned. “Am I missing something here?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said.

“Huh?”

“Your memory. Remember?”

“And apparently, according to you, I’m normally deficient in the sciences, as well.”

“Maybe I should have been more specific and said that interpersonal relationships and communication are areas of concern,” he amended.

“How so?” I asked. “I’m told I have a fiancé, so I must be doing something right. And you yourself told me just minutes ago that we were like
this,”
I went on, crossing my fingers as he had earlier. “So I must not be a complete dud in the relationship department.”

“I don’t think you’re a dud at all,” Ranger Rick said, sitting on the edge of my chair. “In fact, I think you’re dynamite,” he added, taking my hand in his.

“You do?”

He nodded. “And cute,” he said, leaning in my direction. “And funny.” More leaning. “And sexy.” Closer still, his lips mere millimeters from mine.

“You forget engaged?”

The clipped query was as effective a mood breaker as a cold glass of grapefruit juice upended over his head. Townsend straightened, his smile forced.

“Not me, Mrs. Dishman,” he said. “Tressa here’s the one who can’t seem to remember she’s engaged,” he added, getting to his feet. “Looks like you’re in good hands, Calamity, so I’ll leave you in your Aunt Mo’s custody,” he said to me. “And remember. Don’t overdo it,” he said, wagging a finger. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Wait!” I yelled. “Stop! Come back!”

But he strolled off, turning more than a few heads in his direction as he swaggered away. Mo’s included.

“That man’s too good-lookin’ for Mo’s peace of mind,” Mo said, settling into the seat next to me, her dyed hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a white shirt with light pink fringe across the front, white spandex Capri leggings, and pink and white sandals. A big, white hoop earring dangled from each lobe. “But he’s right about one thing. You shore don’t act like a bride who can’t wait to walk down the aisle,” she pointed out. “Now, I don’t mean to put no pressure on you, Tressa, but the fact of the matter is I got this here heart condition to consider. You almost lost Mo here last year, you know. I was sure I was gonna go to the hereafter without seeing my Manny happily married, but the big guy up there? Well, he had other plans for Mo. Now here I am on a cruise ship of all places feeling peppier than I have in a long time—and lookin’ forward to making weddin’ plans and seeing my Manny and you wedded and bedded, and dandling the fruit of Manny’s loins on my knee—”

An image of Manny DeMarco’s muscular loins sent a rush of heat through my body and I fanned my face as I bravely took another sip of my lip-puckering drink.

“—and being here for my family,” Mo said. Her Pouty Pink acrylic fingernails fished into her clunky, retro bag. “So, when works for you?” she asked, pulling out a pocket calendar and a gel pen. She looked at the buff on my head and the tangled locks falling around my shoulders. “Mo’ll have to see what Carlo at Carlo’s Creations can do with that head of hair of yours. He’s a miracle worker. If he can’t do it, it can’t be done.”

She grabbed one of my hands, looked at it, dropped it, moved down to the foot of the lounger and proceeded to peruse my piggies. “Girl, you need an overhaul,” she said. “Head-to-toe deluxe treatment. It comes with one of them hot stone massages and a full-body wax. Is that a problem?” she asked me.

For the waxer. I had a low tolerance for pain.

“I’m thinking we can pull this together by late summer, early fall. How does August thirtieth sound?”

Hot as hell.

“Or maybe we should wait ‘til one of the first Saturdays in September. How about September eleventh?”

I looked at her. “September
eleventh?”
I said.

She winced. “Let Mo just put a big X through that date.”

“Listen, Mo—”

“Mo knows. Tressa’s momma needs to be involved in the process. Right? That’s one reason Mo here wanted to come on this cruise. I figgered your momma and Mo here could put our heads together and do some weddin’ planning. Get this show on the road. What do you think of turquoise and mauve?” she asked.

What did I think? The mints would look vomitrocious.

“Aunt Mo—”

“You could make things easy on Aunt Mo and just get married when we dock tomorrow. Did you know they have these romantic places where you can get married onshore—all legit and everything? All you need to do is show your paperwork, fill out a few forms, and go to the chapel and get yourself hitched. All legal and binding and everything. I don’t know about you, but more and more Mo’s thinking that’s the way to go. Streamline the whole affair. No reception hall to book. No menu to plan. No dress to buy. What do you think, Tressa? Mo can get them wheels in motion in no time and have everything ready by the time the ship docks tomorrow or the next day. How about it, Tressa? Manny’s waited a long time for the right woman to come along. Mo don’t want to see him wait any longer.”

Dear God, she was serious!

“Look, Mo, there’s something you need to know,” I tried again. “Things have changed—”

“Don’t you be going there, girl,” Mo said. “Don’t you be letting that randy ranger turn your head.”

“It’s not about that—”

“Oh? So you do admit the man floats your boat?” she asked.

“That’s not the issue—”

“So he does.”

“It’s not about him—”

“I know. It’s about mathematics.”

“Huh?”

“It’s about Tressa plus Manny minus one Ranger Romeo equals wedding bells,” Mo said, and I shook my head at the addled arithmetic analogy that made it irritatingly apparent Manny had not had the talk with Aunt Mo after all, the six-foot-three sissy.

I felt myself floundering. I wasn’t equipped for long-term deception. I’d never had a poker face and, while I was no George “I-cannot-tell-a-lie” cherry-tree-ax-murderer Washington, I was far from a seasoned prevaricator. Skirting the truth was one thing. Being pathological about it was quite another.

“Oh, there you are, Tressa! Rick said you were taking it easy over here. I told him I’d keep you company while they were pretending to be fitness gurus. Right. Like my Craig would give up beer and Doritos willingly In case you hadn’t remembered, your brother is a pig.” My sister-in-law, Kimmie, dropped into a vacant chair on the other side of me. “Oh, hello,” she said to Mo. “Have you made a new friend, Tressa? I’m Tressa’s sister-in-law, Kimmie. I’m married to her brother, Craig. Isn’t it just awful about Tressa’s memory?” she asked. “Tressa always seems to have such abysmal luck. Imagine, the first day of your first cruise and you take a tumble down the stairs, smack your skull and knock yourself out, and when you come around you can’t remember a thing. It’s so…so…poignant.”

Mo did a quick visual sweep of Kimmie before her eagle-eyed gaze came back to me. “What’s she talking about?” she asked. “What are you talking about?” She shifted her attention back to Kimmie.

My sister-in-law bit her lip. “Oh. You don’t know. Tressa has amnesia,” she said. “She’s lost her memory,” Kimmie added, “but the doctor assures the family it’s just temporary.”

“Amnesia? Amnesia!” Mo looked at me. “What kind of scam you runnin’ now, missy?”

“Now just a minute, ma’am,” Kimmie objected.

“Mo. It’s Mo, not ma’am. And I know a scam when I see it. You know how many home repair rip-off artists have knocked on my door telling me my roof is about to fall in or the siding is gonna blow off in a good stout wind? How many mechanics have tried the old squirt-oil-under-the-car scam to try and rip me off? All them calls you get to send an underprivileged kid to some show where some fundraiser pockets ninety percent of the take? I watch that mustached John Stossal on
20/20.
And I smell something fishy here.”

“Well, we are on a ship,” I said.

“Attitude? You’re giving me attitude?” Mo asked.

I felt my eyes get big. “It was just a little seafaring levity,” I explained. “You know. To ease the tension.” And boy was I feeling tense.

“You’re telling me you don’t remember who I am?” Mo said, her eyes narrowing in on me like mine do on the last slice of chocolate cake at a church potluck. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“Is she supposed to know you?” Kimmie asked. “I mean, when she’s…compos mentis,” she clarified in a hushed tone.

Compos mentis? Suddenly Kimmie had gone all Freud on me. Next thing she’d be pointing fingers at my id. I know what you’re thinking. There goes Tressa and her superego again.