Dangerous Moonlight ch 9

September 5, 1990

Michele Bravo stood at the prow of the Britannia, watching the dolphins body-surf along the wake. The moon was riding high in the sky, and its pale light coated the water with a silver glow.

Truth to tell, she was feeling bored. She was not a party girl, or a conversationalist, come to that…and that was all that was available on this ship. If it had been the Caribbean, now, she could get off at every port and see the sights and talk to people of different cultures…but on this ship, heading across the Atlantic Ocean toward England, there was nothing but miles and miles of water.

She’d be meeting Robert Wade for a swim the next morning, but that ship had sailed, as far as she was concerned. After her initial burst of euphoria it had occurred to her that if he’d really wanted to talk and…do other things….he would have made a date with her for that night, not just said, “Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After she’d exchanged her swimsuit for shorts and a t-shirt earlier that day, she’d continued her rounds of all the activities offered by the cruise ship – the dancing (she was getting good at the Charleston, and after only two lessons!) the art gallery, she’d attended a couple of lectures, and she’d watched a lot of fun movies, true.

Meantime, Patrick, apparently getting the feeling he wasn’t going to get anywhere with her, had moved on to another woman, and indeed, she’d seen them together at one of the dances. And of course, relief at being free of him warred with the feeling that it sure hadn’t taken him very long to replace her….but it was like her sister had said, everyone wanted shipboard romance, what happened on the ship stayed on the ship, and once the ship hit port, everyone went their separate ways and anyone who thought log-lasting relationships would be formed was foolish.

Another three days, Michele thought disconsolately. If I’d taken a plane I’d be in London seeing a play in the West End right now!

“Wait a minute,” she thought. “There’s skeet shooting off the back of the boat every day…I’ve yet to give that a try….that could be kind of fun.”

Well, it had been a long day. She’d check to see if one of the restaurants was open and perhaps get an ice cream sundae before turning in.

When she walked into the Neptune’s Nook, her eyes lit on Robert Wade. He looked up at her guiltily…not because he didn’t want to see her, she perceived, but because he was in the process of devouring a huge hot-fudge sundae with brownies, and whipped cream.

“I’m supposed to be on a diet,” he told her confidentially. “But, hell…excuse my French…if they want me to stick to a diet they shouldn’t put me on a cruise where they’ve got restaurants open 24-hours a day.”

“If I have some of your sundae, that’ll be only half the calories for you,” Michele suggested.

“Sure. Grab a spoon.”

Michele did so.

“Eat from that side,” he ordered. “I don’t have any germs and I’m sure you don’t either, but just for propriety’s sake.”

Michele spooned some hot-fudge covered brownie into her mouth.

“I’m going to try skeet shooting tomorrow afternoon,” she told him. “That’s about the only thing on this ship I haven’t tried. Would you like to join me?”

“Sure.”

“So,” said Wade, “It must be fun, being a travel writer.”

“A family tradition,” said Michele. “My mother started the business, my sister carried on. Me…I’m thinking of jumping ship.”

“Oh? What are you going to do instead?”

“Air Force,” she said. “My father was in the Air Force, I’ve been thinking of carrying on the tradition.”

“That’ll work,” said Wade. “You get to travel everywhere for free in the Air Force, too.”

“Yep,” said Michele with a grin.

“What field?” he asked.

She pushed at her glasses. “I’d like to be a pilot, but that’s not going to happen. I was thinking of the Security Forces.”

"The Security Forces?"

"Yes...they used to be the Air Police, or AP for short. MPs, military police, those are army. SP, shore police, those are Navy and Marines. AP, air police, is of course, the Air Force. But of course they had to change the name, way back in 1967, I guess, to Security Forces. But to cut out the pedantry, I'm going to be an SP."

“Sounds good. So, you were an Air Force brat?”

“Yeah. Traveled everywhere when I was a kid. Germany, Japan, England. Not to mention several places in the States, too. I’ve had a bit of wanderlust ever since. I hate to stay in one place.”

“Sounds like you’re pretty independent, too.”

Michele nodded. “I usually am pretty happy in my own company. So, how are you liking the cruise?”

They talked far into the night. It turned out that Wade also was a WWII buff, and although his scope of knowledge was broader than hers, they could discuss the relative merits of the planes used by the various air forces quite intelligently, cumulating in a friendly argument on which plane had been more important to the British during the Battle of Britain, the Spitfire or the Hurricane.

Wade escorted her to her cabin and kissed her goodnight on the cheek.

September 6, 1990

The next morning, Michele and Robert Wade met and swam in companionable silence. After they finished their laps and got dressed, they walked to the back of the ship where the trap shooting was to take place.

“I’ve done a bit of shooting,” Wade told the attendant, “and I’ve watched a bit of it,” said Michele with a grin.

The attendant gave them shotguns, showed how to load them and how to stand when they were firing.

“I throw the clay disc into the air,” she said, “You follow it along with the battle of your shotgun, go out a little further to lead the disc, and then shoot.”

Michele missed her first three tries, each blast coming closer and closer, however, until with her fourth shot she finally hit the disc dead center and shattered it. She and Wade exchanged high-fives.

After that, she was hooked, and made a respectable showing, with a 70% success rate.

“Although they throw it very slow, eh?” she commented to Wade, as they headed for lunch. “A real skeet shoot meet probably has those things going pretty fast.”

“You seem to be a natural. I think you’ll be pretty good with some practice.”

She enjoyed the lunch. Wade was funny, he told stories, but he was also an attentive listener. As an 18-year old she didn’t have a fund of stories she thought he’d be interested in, but her sister Alice had told her quite a few funny stories in her adventures as a travel correspondent, and after all, as far as this trip was concerned, she was Alice.

After lunch, Wade told her he had to go spend some time with his agent, and that he’d see her the next day at the pool. “See you then,” she replied with a smile.

As she walked back toward the skeet shoot – she intended to get in some more practice – she decided that she really liked Robert Wade…as a person. She hoped that this seed that was just starting to grow would blossom into a long-term friendship.

Unfortunately, if it did, it would be as Alice Bravo, not Michele.

Michele had learned some Shakespeare in school…. “Oh, what a tangled web we weave….”

Well, the web had been woven, she’d just have to carry on with it!

She hoped she’d have a chance to carry on with it!