Page 39 of Life, Love and the Pursuit of Happiness

She didn’t feel threatened.

She felt comforted.

Finally, the two divers could be seen yanking on their cords, a clear signal that they were about to begin the slow process back to the top. Another dud site.

She turned on her stool, thus forcing him to move his hand.

Only then did he seem to realize that he’d been touching her. He stared at his hand for a fleeting moment as if he didn’t recognize it. Then looked at her mouth. Impulsively, he leaned down and gave her a quick kiss, which was electrifying, despite its brevity and butterfly lightness.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I did that. Well, yes, I do, but . . .” He shook his head to clear it.

She wasn’t offended. More like intrigued. Wishing the kiss had been a bit more intense so she could examine why she wasn’t offended. But then, seeing how embarrassed he was, she changed the subject. “Are you terribly disappointed that today was a failure?”

“No. Not disappointed,” he said, taking a step back, as if fearful he might kiss her again, or more. “Today was more of an exploratory venture. A look around, survey the terrain kind of thing. Yeah, it would be great to make a find the first day, but it almost never happens.”

“Well, I better go below. Some last-minute things to do for dinner.”

“In case I didn’t mention it before, you’ve been a godsend. I was naive, or stupid, to think we could have gotten by, taking turns cooking.”

“Thanks for saying so, but I’m sure you would have survived. Canned soup and bologna sandwiches, maybe, but no one would have starved.”

“Look, Delilah, before Charlie comes back, can I ask you a question?” His face was serious.

Uh-oh! She was immediately wary. Had he found out something about her past? Was she about to be fired? Out at sea? Were her cooking skills not enough to keep her on the crew? Was the kiss a kiss-off? “You said you were pleased with my cooking, but did I do something wrong? Get in someone’s way? Fail to clean the frickin’ . . . um, filthy bathroom good enough? Are you gonna make me walk the plank . . . ha, ha, ha?” she tried to joke.

“What? Huh? Oh, nothing like that. I was just wondering . . . when we’re back on land, would you go out on a date with me?”

It was her turn to say, “Huh?” But then, she narrowed her eyes at him. A “date” was often a code word for something else.

“I want to get to know you better, and vice versa. On a personal level.”

No, actually, you do not. “Are you talking date date here? Like in high school?”

He blushed. He actually blushed. “High school, but better. I feel as if I’ve approached my attraction to you in the wrong way. Came on too strong.”

She arched her brows at him. “You think?”

“Maybe we could go out to dinner, someplace where we could dance, too. A club. Or something.”

“You like to dance?”

“Hell, no! But slow dancing I can manage without making a fool of myself.” Merrill was not only blushing now but rubbing a hand over the boat’s steering wheel, back and forth, back and forth.

Delilah was touched by his nervousness; she couldn’t help herself. Still, she hesitated. “Merrill, I haven’t been on a date since my junior class prom. And I haven’t been with a man for more than five years for reasons beyond my control. I am not the best date material.” Whoa, why did I reveal so much about myself? I’m usually more careful. Maybe that innocent, vulnerable attitude of his is a ploy he uses to get women to open up. Maybe I’m weaker than I realized. Or just plain lonely.

“You haven’t been on a date for more than five years? Would that have been with your kid’s father? And for what crazy ‘reasons beyond my control’ have you been celibate? That’s what you meant by being with a man, I presume.”

He waited for her to explain, which she did not.

As for his dating question, she should have told him “Thanks, but no thanks.” Instead, she said, “Ask me again when we’re back in Bell Cove.”

To which, he smiled.

And, God help her, she smiled back.

Children are gifts from . . . who? . . .

Monsters come in all sizes, and Salome Jones was sitting next to one who sat all princess-like in her throne-like booster seat. Perched between them on the bench seat was a dog the size of a small pony, a life-size Goofy, which had cost Sal a mere fifty bucks in the ringtoss game from hell.