LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter 4

      The fourth day out saw the weather worsening by the hour. The day began with darkening clouds on the horizon, passengers speculating whether the storm was moving towards them or away from them. Those who thought it was moving towards them won. By afternoon, stewards had secured the deck chairs as well as the chairs in the open lounge outside the informal restaurant. Notices were posted that the evening meal would be limited to the hour between 6:00 and 7:00 p.m. and could passengers then please remain in their cabins for the remainder of the night? Passengers who ventured on deck and were swept overboard did so at their own risk.

      The sea was noticeably rougher when Keogh escorted Missus Leigh to the restaurant. At times, the pair actually had to grab hallway railings, and once they collided with each other in an oddly suggestive manner, but they laughed good-naturedly and moved on. For some reason, Cresta was very hungry and looked forward to supper. She hadn’t done much throughout the day except make notations in her black notebook, read, or chat with her companion. Tonight, she ordered the dressed turkey with mashed potatoes, peas, salad, buttered roll, and along with that, a glass of pinot grigio. Keogh hesitated and said he would have the roast beef and a jacket potato with salad. No roll but a glass of whiskey. As they were finishing their meals, the ship was definitely starting to flounder around on the waves. Noting other diners making quick exits, they did the same, but halfway to her cabin, Cresta glanced at Keogh and took a second look.

      “My dear Myles, you look absolutely green. Are you all right?”

      Myles Keogh didn’t answer. His stomach was convulsing like an untamed kangaroo hopping on a bed of hot coals. Must be the whiskey. He could not let Cresta see him ill, so he tried to concentrate on just getting her to her room. By the time Cresta inserted her key into her cabin door, Myles was leaning against the corridor wall.

      She took his arm. “Myles, come in. No, don’t try to argue with me. You look as seasick as anyone I’ve ever seen. Come in. Sit here.”

      Once the man was seated, she went into her washroom, grabbed the emergency basin under her sink, and had barely shoved it under Keogh’s nose before he was vomiting heavily. She knew he felt miserable, sick, embarrassed, and all of the above. Waiting for his heaving to lessen, she ran her hands lightly over his shoulders, making those little soothing noises women murmur to their upset children, nauseated boyfriends, and sick husbands. When he finally stopped for breath, Cresta again went into the washroom and moistened a towel so she could bathe his face. He did try to put up a struggle but was just too weak at that point, so he had to be satisfied making gruff noises of protestation while Cresta used the towel on his face and then to his horror, began removing his jacket. That was followed by each of his boots, which she had to yank off by turning herself around, pulling each of his legs up between hers and prying the boots off. At this point, Keogh was beginning to feel his bile rising again, so he stopped trying to dissuade the woman and kept his mouth shut. Thankfully, she left him his trousers and shirt, even if not all of his dignity. Another round of heaving passed, and she made him stumble over to the bed and lie down. She knew his head was spinning because of the disoriented look in his eyes. Leaving her patient for a minute, Cresta went to her toiletry bag and pulled out a small bottle. She shook a healthy dose into a water glass, added water from her pitcher, and mixed the concoction.

      “Myles? Here. Drink this and you’ll feel better. Don’t argue, just do it.”

      He struggled up on one elbow and managed to choke down two large swallows before collapsing once again on the bed. Cresta would have preferred the man be on his back, but he’d collapsed face down into the duvet. This time he seemed to be calmer, not so agitated, and showed no sign of vomiting again. Just to be safe, Cresta patted his shoulder, told him he was not to move, and she would be right back. Then she took the chamber pot into the lavatory, emptied it, and rinsed it out. Keogh seemed to have passed out, so she momentarily wondered if perhaps she’d given him too much phosphoric acid. She didn’t want to kill him. But his breathing was deep and steady, and knowing he’d be out for some time, she staggered over to her dressing room, the ship’s decks heaving nearly as much as her passengers, and managed to pull off her clothing and get into her nightgown. Then she belted her wrapper around herself, pulled up a chair, and spent the better part of the night rubbing the back of Myles Keogh.

      Towards morning, the sea calmed as the storm blew over so the pitching and yawing of the ship eased substantially. Keogh woke up lying on his stomach. He remembered being seasick but didn’t remember getting to his cabin. He could recall escorting Cresta to her cabin, but…he became aware of a hand on his back. It was not moving but it was there. Opening one eye, he saw Cresta sitting in a chair beside the spot where he lay. Her eyes were closed, and she had a light blanket pulled up to her waist. She’d obviously been stroking his back, trying to ease his sickness when she’d fallen asleep. Keogh thought about it, closed his eye, and went back to sleep.

      When pale light began to come through Cresta’s cabin porthole, she stirred. Her neck hurt, her shoulders hurt, and she realized she’d spent the night sitting up in a chair. Stretched out on her green duvet, watching her, was Myles Keogh…watching her through those long eyelashes, a faint hint of a smile on his lips.

      “Good morning.”

      She decided her patient had recovered. “Good morning. How do you feel? Is the storm over?”

      Keogh stretched and sat up. “I feel much, much better. I owe you an apology for being so much trouble. I did not want you to see me unwell.”

      “Nonsense. A lot of people get seasick. I had seasickness medication in my trunk, so I gave you some. I am very relieved I did not accidentally kill you.”

      Myles laughed. “As am I. What time is it?”

      “Around five I think.”

      “Then get some sleep, dear lady. I will return to my own cabin and see you for breakfast.”

      After Keogh had taken his jacket and boots and left her cabin, Cresta closed the door, sank down into a duvet still warm from his body, and was instantly asleep.