“You like to read,” Merissa asked.
Skip piped in. “What else does the lone traveler have to do when the workday is complete? Heaven forbid that he crashes a party somewhere.”
Chad ignored him. “Yes, I love to read and review. And unfortunately, offer a critique. I’m a frustrated perfectionist and don’t know when to mind my business.”
Merissa bit back the grin but could not stop her response. “I can believe that, Mr. Livingston.” She stood to her feet.
“But always with the best of intentions. Thankfully, my work has helped train me to filter my thoughts and choose the words wisely.”
“Ah, so it’s the vacation that has mushed your brain?” said Merissa.
“Is it mush?” Chad laughed. “Good. Shows that Skips has not wasted his money in bringing his wet-blanket friend along.”
“You’re not so bad once I chip off the rough edges,” said Skip. “Don’t scare off the lady.”
“Well, have a nice day, fellas,” Merissa said. She nudged Amy. “I want to go ashore before the heat is unbearable.”
With an open palm, Skip slapped Chad on the back. “Good plan. Why didn’t you think of that? I don’t want to melt in the scorching sun. But I hear there is an ice cream store that offers multitudes of flavors.” He glanced at the girls. “I’ll need it after he drags me through the museum.”
The group rose and went to their separate rooms to prepare for the outing.
“907 Whitehead Street,” Merissa mumbled, her eyes fastened to the tourist leaflet. She glanced up and stopped unexpectedly, Amy slamming into her back. “That’s it! Oh, Amy, wouldn’t Kyle have loved to visit the home of one of his favorite authors.”
“Who knows? Maybe he’s swooping down from heaven at this very minute, ready to walk with you down the halls of history – just like he’d planned.”
Merissa cast Amy a give-me-a-break- glare. “You just wished Kyle – or anyone for that manner – was here instead of you. You’d probably rather shop till you drop and eat a mountain of ice cream with Skip.”
“You know me too well,” said Amy.
“Kyle always claimed to learn the most from studying Hemmingway’s writings,” Merissa said. “If we knew the truth, he’s most likely sipping sodas and visiting with the man in some heavenly café.”
“Yeah – well, that doesn’t help me out today, in the real world,” said Amy.
“Poor you. Suck it up. We’ll have plenty of time later to hit the shops and the ice cream parlor.”
“I’m holding you to it,” said Amy.
The gorgeous home, now a tourist attraction, took Merissa’s breath away. Snuggled in the heart of Old Town it stood two stories high surrounded by thick hedges and varieties of palm trees. The covered porches reminded Merissa of the Victorian home she’d planned to share with Kyle. This manor boasted a lengthy sitting area on both levels, stretching across the full width of the house.
“Isn’t it incredible how the overall grandness of the outside is merely a background setting for all the construction details that scream, notice me?”
Merissa jumped at the male voice behind her and turned to see Chad. He barely acknowledged her, his attention riveted to the museum.
“His home is much like his writing. The simple way he spun a yarn that painted a picture and drew you deeper into his story. It was almost magical.
“Really? You two are pathetic,” said Skip.
Amy moved closer and grabbed Skip’s hand. “How about me and you bow out of this tour and hit the other sights this town has to offer?”
Skip’s smile was huge, and without a second glance, the two of them strolled off down the street.
“I’m sorry, Merissa. They appear smitten with the magic from the turtle doves.”
“Christmas includes a touch of magic. Even if it’s only July,” said Merissa.
“Did you come on this cruise seeking magic, or maybe a miracle?” asked Chad.
Merissa saw concern in his face, nothing ridiculing or judgemental. “Yes, I suppose I did.”
“And you?” Merissa asked him.
“I didn’t think so, but that play last night hit home. I’m gone with my job so much I barely get to church anymore. I miss it.”
“Sunday is all that keeps me sane some weeks,” said Merissa.
“Well, it’s Monday, and if you’re willing, I’d enjoy going on this tour with you. I think we’d have fun,” said Chad.
His voice cracked, like words chewing through eggshells, and it hit her that this stranger knew her situation. Somehow Amy had spilled the news about Kyle, probably through Skip, and it had reached his ears. She hated that Chad knew and considered saying no – that she’d go inside by herself and to leave her alone.
“I see that look. I’ve treaded in places I have no business going. I warned you of my defect. I’m sorry,” said Chad.
Again, she could see nothing in his expression that should send her into hiding – and she was so tired of feeling isolated.
The next two hours they spent listening intently to their tour guide and pouring over the many details that caught their attention. Lush gardens in full bloom tickled her senses, and the forty cats that called this their home took turns sidling up against her leg whenever she stopped. On the balcony, she gazed far beyond the town to the turquoise waters that lapped at the seashore. She could imagine Kyle completing his unfinished book here, loving this solitude that enveloped your soul.
“You’re crying?” Chad whispered.
Merissa wiped at the tears that escaped. “I suppose I am.” When she glanced his way, she smiled. “Part of that miracle healing you alluded to earlier.”
“If ever you want to unload. I’m told I have a good listening ear.”
The force of a tidal wave shot the words from her mouth. “Why should I bear my heart when Amy has
