“Mwen pa gen tan pou sa,” Marie spat out.She looked at Ming.“Just take her.”
The man with the nametag,Ming, Chinasaid, “You need to come with us.”
Olive could sense a strong aggression radiating from them.That didn’t make sense.Everyone with whom she’d ever interacted on this ship had so far treated her with patience and cordiality.Not aggression.Not anger.She slowly dropped her purse and one shoe, shifting the other one so that she held it with the heel out like a blade.“I am going to go on to the wedding now,” she informed.
Ming shook his head.“No.”He lunged at her.She pivoted, muscles coiled from the second she’d seen his weight shift forward.Shifting her stance, feet sliding wide, she swung out with the shoe.His eyes widened with surprise, and he howled, grabbing his cheek, blood seeping from his fingers.
Before Olive could swing again, Marie punched her in the jaw with a vicious uppercut.Olive’s arms went weak, and spots danced in front of her eyes.Just like when Bryan struck her, her jaw went out of socket.She fell back, landing against the Cybertruck.Ming lunged at her, grabbing her by the back of her hair.Limbs still limp, she had no defense against his fist as it pounded into her temple.The metallic tang of blood flooded her mouth from a split lip, coppery and hot, as the world spun into black.
Daphnée stood with her back to the tender driver, facing the staff under her guard.The hot sun beat down on the little boat, baking the occupants on this lower deck.On the top deck, Julien guarded another group.They followed the tender carrying the remaining staff, guarded by Henri and another member of the Chinese group.
No one spoke.No one made eye contact with her.She had them exactly how she wanted them—terrified and compliant.
About a mile from the cruise ship, they stopped at a dock built on a sandbar very close to a tiny island.The dock would hold everyone on the tender.It would be an easy swim to the little island.
Daphnée could see the forty island staff members delivered that morning by Claude on the beach of the little island.They yelled and waved their hands.When they saw Julien unloading the crew above Daphnée, the excitement at a possible rescue slowly vanished, and anger took its place.They yelled and cried.
Daphnée ignored them.
“You will find water and American relief meal packets on the island.You will all survive,” she explained, hearing her counterpart give the same information above.“We will send someone for you tomorrow morning.”
A British engineer stood.“You can’t mean to leave us here!”
She raised an eyebrow and trained her pistol on him.“You can get off and live or refuse and die.Are you volunteering like Chef Juno?”
His eyes widened, and his face paled.He sat back down.She nodded in approval.
“You will leave this boat and go onto the dock.From the dock, you can easily get to the island.We don’t want to hurt you.We just want to get you out of our way for the next twenty-four hours.”
A security guard wailed, “Why are you doing this?”
Daphnée looked him up and down and said, “Liberté ou la Mort!”She saw the last of the top deck finish filing off the tender and waved toward the dock.“Out, now.Move.”
Right at noon, a side door creaked open, and Phil Osbourne, his father, and Jerry stepped into the Skylight Chapel, taking their place beside the chaplain under the stained-glass window.Sunlight poured through the colorful glass, casting flecks of color across their navy suits, white shirts, and light blue patterned ties.His eyes scanned the rows of seats, but he did not immediately see Olive.
What?
He looked again, carefully checking each row.Still nothing.
Irritation scratched at the back of his mind.Did their midnight talk not straighten things out?Surely she wouldn’t do this to him—to them.
Of course she wouldn’t.
If not that, then what?
In six months, she had never made him wait.In fact, most of the time, she arrived early or waited on him to get there.He couldn’t fathom that, here on a cruise ship with nowhere else to be and nothing else to do, she was just simply late.That made no sense to him.
The soft strains of music filled the Chapel.Sharon, Melissa’s business partner, stepped down the aisle, her bright pink dress perfectly complementing a bouquet of pink and white lilies cradled in her arms.A few paces behind, Lola, Melissa’s sister, followed, the hem of her pink dress swaying with each step.When she reached the front and turned to face the crowd, the music paused, then changed.
The chaplain lifted his arms, and everyone stood and faced the back.
Melissa came through the door on the arm of her uncle.The sequins in her ivory dress reflected the bright sunlight streaming through the windows.She stood tall, eyes forward, holding a simple bouquet of white lilies cradled in her arm.A veil covered her face, and her black hair danced in curls down her back.
Jerry tried to peer past Melissa to the open chapel door, but did not see Olive.The irritation started to transition to actual worry.
As Melissa reached the front, Osbourne stepped forward.Her uncle responded to the chaplain, then turned to sit in the chair in the front row next to his son.Everyone sat and bowed their heads as the chaplain began his prayer.
The faint, waxy bloom of fresh lilies mingled with the polished wood’s subtle varnish.When an “amen” chorused through the room, Jerry raised his head and scanned the room again.
