“Look at that!” Lillie held up our cake and made a smooth half-turn so all the spectators could see the Jo. “What do you say? Do we have a winner here?”
The applause that rose around us was embarrassing but great fun. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had clapped for me for any reason. Tight little tear bubbles filled my eyes.
“Your prize—” Lillie turned to all the other contestants before adding—“is that each of you gets to try the first bite of the cake you decorated.”
An approving murmur arose, but then Lillie added, “However, we have one stipulation. The captains now must stand to the front, and the first mates are to step behind. That’s right. You first mates now become the hands that cut the first slice and feed it to your captains. And captains, may I remind you, it’s not a good idea to bite the hand that feeds you.”
The spectators seemed to be especially tickled by this turn-about and cheered on their favorite teams. With my hands behind my back, I felt Joanne literally breathing down my neck as she inserted her arms through my open arm loops and asked, “Which side is the knife on? I didn’t see it.”
“It’s on the left. It’s a butter knife, and it’s sitting close to the edge of the table with the blade facing the cake.”
She immediately made contact with the butter knife. As I continued to direct, Joanne inserted the knife just under the mushed-up rose. A wave of laughter came rushing over us. I stretched to see across to the second table where one of the first mates had foregone the knife and was feeding her beloved captain a fistful of cake.
“Don’t get any ideas,” I told Joanne, turning and speaking loudly over my shoulder.
“What are they doing? Having a food fight?”
“Just about. You have the first incision just right, Nurse Joanne. Move the knife over just a squinch, make another cut, and you’ll have it.”
“Actually, I won’t have it,” Joanne teased. “You’ll have it! But not all over your face, I promise. I’ll be nice.”
I thought of how many truces my sister and I had agreed upon using that simple phrase, “I’ll be nice.” The good thing was that whenever we said it, we meant it, and we managed to be kind to each other, even if the sweet spell only lasted for an hour.
Taking her time, Joanne offered her precisely cut slice of cake, which I bent forward to nibble. The cake was delicious, and I suddenly thought I wouldn’t mind having this cake and frosting all over my mouth and chin.
Someone in the crowd called out, “Go ahead! Dive in, team eight! You’re the last one.”
I didn’t need to dive in. My sister brought the cake up to my face, and with a playful smash, she plastered me.
The crowd was pleased, Joanne laughed, and I felt unexpectedly young and cheery
“You’re not mad?” Joanne looked me in the eye as the chef handed me a towel.
“No, the cake is scrumptious. Here, try some.”
Before Joanne saw it coming, I pinched a handful and delivered a sizable chunk to her face. She cracked up, and I remembered, for the first time in a long time, the mischievous glee of being “almost twins.”
“Thank you, ladies,” Lillie the cruise director called out in a singsong voice. “You’ve all been great sports. I think all of them are winners, don’t you?”
The spectators showed their agreement with Lillie by applauding.
“As our special gift for each of you, we’d like you to take your cake with you. Your chef will provide a pastry box for your creation—or what’s left of it, as in the case of team number five.”
“Pour vous.” Francois handed us a square, pink box. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Your cake is beautiful.”
“Merci.”
“What are we going to do with a whole cake?” I asked Joanne as we headed up the stairs to our room to collect our luggage.
“Almost a whole cake,” she corrected me. “This is just a really wild suggestion, but why don’t we eat it?”
“Now?”
“No, on the road. It will be a treat.”
“It’ll be a puddle of melted cocoa by noon,” I protested.
“We can’t give it to anyone,” Joanne said. “Not after some of us stuck our fingers in it.”
I grinned. “I couldn’t resist.”
Joanne stopped midway up the wide flight of stairs and impulsively wrapped her arms around me. With a big, smacky kiss on the side of my head, she said, “You know what? I can’t resist you. I love you, Mel. Did I ever tell you that? You are the coolest sister ever.”
Startled by her outburst, I jokingly said, “I think you were around those Sisterchicks a little too long. Their crazy antics are wearing off on you.”
“Crazy or not, I’ve decided there’s nothing wrong with loving somebody and telling them so,” Joanne said stubbornly. “I’ve lived too long without openly expressing what’s in my heart.”
She grinned at me.
I smiled back. “I love you, too, Joanne.”
My declaration was no less true than hers, but it certainly didn’t carry the zing her announcement had.
As we cleared our final paperwork with Sven and disembarked, I thought about the contrast in Joanne’s vibrant declaration and my sincere echo. She had changed. With her freshness and openness, she was the one who was irresistible.
As Joanne and I stepped down the gangway that led to the dock and tourist area we had seen from our suite that morning, I noticed a crew member dressed up with a wide sombrero and wearing a serape. He was waving to each of the travelers as they disembarked and inviting them to have their photos taken by the ship’s photographer.
I took several steps toward him in the wide cemented area, thinking Joanne and I should at least pose, even if we weren’t going to be around that evening to pick up the print.
A pregnant woman in zebra-print capris and impractical spike-heel sandals hurried past me, trying to catch up with her runaway toddler. She was yelling at him in a language I didn’t recognize. Her voice suddenly elevated into a shriek, and I turned just in time to see the willful child run to the edge of the concrete dock and topple into the water far below.
My startled cry was drowned by the mother’s terrified scream. She ran toward the narrow channel of water that separated the huge ship from the dock, wailing like I had never heard before. The heel on her shoe broke in her dash, and she stumbled. An older woman standing a few inches away caught the pregnant woman before she could fall. It was clear she intended to leap into the water to save her child.
Before anyone could fully comprehend what was happening, a second splash let us know a rescuer had gone into the water only seconds after the toddler fell in.
My heart pounded, and I turned to grab Joanne and to say I couldn’t believe all this was happening.
But all I saw was my sister’s abandoned luggage.
Joanne!” I screamed, and the toddler’s mother wailed at the top of her voice. The older woman restrained the distressed mother from leaping into the water. I ran to the edge and screamed again when I saw nothing but oily, dark water.
Just then Joanne’s head surfaced, followed immediately by her hands, lifting up the child.
“Joanne!” I shrieked. “Help! Someone help her!”
Beside me flashed the frame of a male passenger jumping into the water. A crewman rushed up beside me and tossed down a life preserver tied to a long rope.
The child choked and coughed and let out a tremendous screech so that Joanne couldn’t hear the man, who was now in the water, giving her instructions. She held firm to the little boy, who was panicked and trying to climb on her neck, forcing her head back under the water.
“No!” I screamed. “Get the baby! Get him off her!”
The mother was now beside me, collapsed into a wailing heap.
Joanne’s head resurfaced, and the man grabbed the life preserver with one arm and the child with the other. Then he yelled for Joanne to take hold of the life preserver.
>
“Grab it, Joanne! Hold on!”
A number of people had gathered by now, and many of the men stepped forward to toss a second life preserver to Joanne, whom they proceeded to pull up to the dock. She rose coughing, soaked, and battered against the side of the dock. Someone wrapped a Mexican blanket around her shoulders.
“Joanne!” I threw my arms around her. “Are you okay?”
She coughed and nodded. I could feel her shivering and held her close.
“The baby,” she sputtered. “Get the baby.”
“They have him,” I said. “He’s okay.”
We stood holding each other, watching as the gathering group of assistants gave up on pulling the man and the toddler to safety with the life preserver. Instead they lowered a long ladder over the side for the man to climb up with the screeching child secure under his arm.
The moment the mother reached for her child, I burst into tears. The boy instantly stopped crying and was wrapped in a blanket. His wet hair dripped over his unblinking eyes as he shivered and whimpered in his mother’s embrace.
“Is he okay?” Joanne touched the mother on her shoulder.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” the trembling woman repeated over and over with a thick accent. “Thank you.” She kissed Joanne on both cheeks and thanked her again.
All the color drained from Joanne’s face. She was leaning into me, relying on my strength, as if her knees might buckle at any moment.
“Let’s find some dry clothes for you.” I drew Joanna closer.
She nodded. The use of her voice seemed to have evaporated along with the use of her leg muscles.
“You okay?” I bolstered her up.
She didn’t reply. I thought she might faint.
“Take a deep breath,” I said. “We’ll stand here a moment. Is that better?”
She nodded. Someone handed us another blanket. I wrapped it around my wet shoulders and steadied Joanne as we took a few steps back to our luggage.
“Let me take that for you,” the ship’s photographer said. He handed his camera to the young crewman wearing the sombrero and reached for our luggage.
Joanne gazed over her shoulder as we headed up the gangway. The mother and her son were being assisted to the inside of the ship as well. The passenger who had jumped in after Joanne was standing still, dripping wet and holding on to the life preserver. No one seemed to know what to do or say. The shock remained in the air like electricity as the crowd silently dispersed.
I couldn’t believe what had just happened. The incident couldn’t have lasted more than three or four minutes, but my heart felt as if I had held my breath that entire time. I gasped for air so sharply it hurt.
“Where can we go?” Joanne’s teeth chattered.
I quickly explained to the photographer that we were on our way off the ship and had checked out of our room. He led us back into the lobby and placed our luggage on the floor. We stood close, Joanne still dripping, me wet from holding her up, and both of us wearing the brightly colored Mexican blankets around our shoulders.
“Ladies, what has happened?” Sven appeared and stood with his mouth open as the photographer pieced together his account.
“Come.” Sven motioned for another crewman to pick up our luggage. “We will take you to the spa for warm showers, and then I will obtain new keys for your room.”
Numbly trotting after him, Joanne and I were shown into the private shower and sauna area of the spa. Everyone was in a flutter to assist us, but this time it wasn’t because we were Platinum Crown members. We showered and changed while our clothes were taken away to be cleaned and returned to us on our trip home. As we emerged, still stunned but feeling fresher, the receptionist asked if we would like to have a massage, compliments of the captain.
I can’t explain why that didn’t seem like a good idea. Yes, we were both tense, and it would have helped us to relax—as long as I wasn’t allergic to the massage oil. But a luxurious body treatment felt out of place after being so close to a life-and-death situation. We asked if we could have the massages on our way home, and the receptionist said the captain’s offer was for that day only. We still declined.
“This has been a memorable trip for you two, hasn’t it?” the receptionist said.
Joanne and I looked at each other. Neither of us had any words to respond.
Sven offered us new keys to our suite and asked if we would like to return to the room to rest.
“I think we should get on the road,” Joanne said in a tranquil voice. “We need to pick up our rental car and start for San Felipe.”
“Joanne, are you sure you’re ready to travel?” I asked.
“I’m okay.”
Her calm was unnerving. My mind kept reviewing the near catastrophe. All it would have taken was one significant swell of the ocean while Joanne was in the water, and the mammoth force of steel would have pushed my sister into the unyielding dock and crushed her to pieces. Or the toddler could have forced her underwater and drowned her. What if she had jumped in and been unable to find the toddler under the water? What if …?
“Mel?” Joanne touched my shoulder lightly. “Is it okay with you if we get our rental car now?”
“It’s fine with me. Are you sure you’re ready to move on?”
She nodded and reached for the handle of her wheeled suitcase. I followed Joanne off the ship, well aware of the looks the informed crew members gave her. My sister was a hero. A saint. And I was treading in her footprints.
We boarded a small shuttle that would take us the mile or so into the main tourist area of town where we would pick up our rental car. The radio blasted a lively song in Spanish, and the driver chattered in Spanish on his cell phone. The language change made it feel as if we had left all that was familiar behind.
Part of me wanted to wail at the top of my lungs, “Stop the shuttle! Take me back! I can’t do this!” The panicky sensation was the same I’d felt before I had boarded the ship. Only this time the feeling was smaller and deeper, like something dropped into the nuclei of my otherwise balanced brain atoms.
As the yellow light turned to red, the shuttle drove through a main intersection. Three more cars followed the shuttle, as if the red light were merely a suggestion. Cars coming from the opposite direction didn’t hesitate to move forward, horns blaring, drivers swerving to invent new traffic patterns.
“This is not a good sign.” I said.
“I don’t mind driving.” Joanne glanced at me.
“Shouldn’t you rest a little?”
“For the tenth time, Mel, I’m fine.”
It was as if we were teenagers again, arguing over who would be the one to drive the family car to an event we both were attending. In the past I usually won these squabbles because Joanne would acquiesce to save time. I didn’t know how my new “superwoman” sister would respond, but I continued my role as the determined underling.
“I know you’re fine, but I can drive, Jo.” My tone was bossy enough to will away my terror of the unknown.
Joanne gave me an exasperated look. “We’ll take turns. Come on.” She rose from her seat and carried her wheeled suit-case down the shuttle’s steps. I followed her on the uneven sidewalk crowded with cruise ship tourists. Both sides of the street were lined with small shops that boasted the “best prices” with signs hand-printed in English but listing the “best prices” in pesos.
A leather handbag in the window of one of the newer-looking shops caught my eye. I knew we didn’t have time to shop now, but I told myself to remember this shop so we could stop when we returned from San Felipe.
“Hola,” a young man greeted us at the doorway of the shop next door. His small, narrow space was loaded from floor to ceiling with Mexican blankets, guitars, leather coats, embroidered blouses, and leather sandals that hung on a rope.
We both smiled politely and continued down the street without stopping to haggle with him over a souvenir or two. Three blocks down we came to the car rental place
. It appeared more up-to-date than many of the shops we passed, and that gave me hope the car we had rented would be modern.
“Hello,” I greeted the young man behind the counter. He was wearing a cotton short-sleeved shirt with the car company logo above the pocket. “We have a reservation.” I pulled out the papers Sven had prepared for us and handed them to the young man.
He looked at the papers and spoke Spanish over his shoulder to someone in the back office. An older man stepped out and greeted us with a wide smile that showed off his gold-capped tooth. “You want a car?”
“Yes,” I said. “We have a reservation.”
“You were not here when this time came.” He pointed to the printed pickup time on the papers. “We don’t have this car anymore.”
“Certainly you have other cars,” Joanne said.
“Yes, but not for this same price. We have better cars. I can get you a good price on a better car.”
“No thank you,” I said firmly. “We’d like the same price we were quoted when we made the reservation.”
“We have no more cars for that price.”
It didn’t take a lot of insight to see the setup. Did we stand here and try to fight with this guy or take what we could get and pay the higher price with the hope that we would be given a reliable vehicle?
Joanne stepped closer to the front desk. “What cars do you have for the price we were quoted?”
“No cars. Not for that price.” The man with the golden grin looked at the younger man.
With a straight face, the younger man said, “My brother has a burro he can rent to you for a low price.”
This was obviously not the time to take names and try to report these two to the Ensenada Better Business Bureau, if such an organization existed. They saw us coming—two women with luggage in hand and no other options available in town. We were being taken, and we had to take what we were given. The mental image of Joanne and me plodding through the desert on the back of a burro for 150 miles did not bring a smile to my countenance. It only made me mad.
“Okay,” I said firmly. “What do you have?”