Page 52 of Fire and Ice Cruise

“Bess Chatterley, playing memory maker,” she teases back. “Now move.”

I pull Ransom toward the railing, and we pose with our backs to the fjord, Ransom’s arm around my waist, both of us grinning like mad. Behind us, a whale breaches partially—its massive body lifting out of the water before crashing back down in an explosion of white spray.

“Got it!” Bess shouts, and I can already tell from her expression that it’s going to be an amazing shot.

Nettie appears beside us, breathless and victorious. “I touched one!”

“You what?” Bess looks horrified.

“It came right up to the boat, and I reached out and touched its back! It was like petting a wet boulder! A living, breathing wet boulder!”

Sigga’s voice crackles over the speaker. “Please do not touch the whales! I repeat, do not touch the marine life!”

“Too late!” Nettie crows. “Already did it! Bucket list updated! Next up, I’m going to lick one! That means it’s mine!”

“Please don’t,” Ransom says in his I might arrest you for it voice.

Okay, so I love that tone, and on occasion I beg him to invoke it. And well, to arrest me too.

I’d be horrified if I wasn’t already laughing so hard my ribs are starting to complain, and Ransom isn’t even trying to hide his grin. Even Marina cracks a real smile—the first one since we dragged her aboard—and for a single breath she looks younger. Lighter. Unburdened by whoever was on the other end of that phone call.

The boat circles the feeding pod for another twenty minutes, and I’m so absorbed in watching the whales that I almost miss what happens next.

I glance up just in time to see Marina at the railing about ten feet away with her phone in her hand. For a second I think she’s about to make a call—although the coverage out here would be murder. But she doesn’t. Instead, she glances around—checking to see if anyone’s watching—and then in one smooth motion, she drops it over the side.

I gasp as the phone disappears into the steely water without a sound, and Marina’s shoulders drop as if she just set down something impossibly heavy.

Oh my goodness.

I study her as she watches the water, and a chill runs through me that has nothing to do with the Icelandic wind.

People don’t destroy their phones unless they’re desperate—unless whatever’s on that phone is more dangerous than being unreachable.

Marina turns and catches me staring. For a heartbeat, we lock eyes, and I see something flicker across her face—fear, relief, maybe even resignation, I really can’t tell which. Then she smiles and makes her way over to where Nettie’s regaling a captive audience with her whale-touching adventure, and the moment passes.

But I can’t shake the image of that phone sinking into the dark water, taking Marina’s secrets with it.

The question is, what is she running from?

And the bigger question—is she still running from it, or has she finally managed to silence it?

CHAPTER 17

Day 6: At Sea / Scenic Cruising

It’s the very next day after our whale watching adventure, and I confess, I told Bess, Nettie, and Ransom all about Marina’s not-so-subtle approach to ghosting whoever she was speaking to on the phone. And now, just about everyone but Wes knows that she tossed her cell phone into the water.

But besides all that, I’ve been busy.

I’ve taught three art classes this morning—watercolor basics, acrylic landscapes, and something called intuitive painting that’s basically permission to make a mess with expensive supplies—and my back hurts as if I’ve been hauling lead-lined boxes instead of paintbrushes.

It’s two in the afternoon on our sea day as we cruise along Iceland’s dramatic coastline, and the Constellation Lounge smells like fresh coffee, the ocean breeze coming through the open deck doors, and about seventy people’s collective determination to win free spa packages.

Trivia brings out the competitor in everyone, apparently. Even elderly passengers who claim they’re just here for fun are gripping their pencils like weapons.

I’m wedged between Bess and Nettie at a table near the back, supposedly here to support whatever cause Tinsley’s promoting today. But we’re actually here because Celeste cornered me after my last class and mentioned that people from the Second Act Society would be playing these reindeer games, and suggested that I watch them when they think nobody is looking.

“Do we write what we think or what we know?” Nettie squints at the answer sheet as though it’s written in hieroglyphics.