Page 11 of Welcome Home to Ivy Falls

‘Speaking of women, there’s a new girl working in the dining hall and she’s gorgeous. Her name is Vivienne, and her red hair is the same color of the sky at sunset.’

‘And how many times have you asked her out?’

He went quiet before saying, ‘Twice now. I even invited her to that rooftop bar at Les Mamelles Lighthouse to have a drink. Listen to music.’

‘Turned down both times?’ I ribbed him.

‘No, asshole. She said she just needed time to acclimate to the ship.’

Kip was a nice guy but not so slick with women. When we had weekends off, he’d shown me his favorite parts of the country. Saint Louis for its annual jazz festival. Toubab Dialaw, a bohemian village with one of the most beautiful beaches I’d ever seen. In every place he’d confidently approach a woman, but then his brain short-circuited and he stumbled over his own words. It didn’t help that most people spoke French and his fluency skills weren’t so great. In one instance, he told a woman at a restaurant she was très Jeudi. She rolled her eyes, walked away, and Kip shook his head in confusion.

‘Was it wrong to tell her she was very pretty?’

‘No,’ I cackled. ‘But you just told her she was very Thursday.’

He dropped his head in his hands. Grumbled that he should have paid more attention to his mom’s attempts to teach him her native language. After I’d witnessed several of his crash and burns, I started calling him a hopeless romantic. He, in turn, called me a poisoned pessimist when it came to dating – which wasn’t far off.

‘What about you? Any beautiful women where you’re at? What’s it called?’

‘Ivy Falls, and I have absolutely no time for that. I’m going to do my job. Relax a little. Count the days until I can get back to the ship.’

Even though Piper flickered through my head, there was no way I was telling him about our coffee mishap. Plus, I meant what I said. I didn’t have time for dating. I was only here to kill time until I could return to Senegal.

‘I’m going back to bed because they need me at the clinic by seven.’

‘All right. Miss you, bud. This place is boring without you.’

I pictured him standing in the framed doorway of his cabin, his tennis shoes squeaking against the yellow linoleum floors. How the early morning crew moved outside on the decks, their boots clomping with powerful thuds. The way the ship swayed along with the tides, the powerful scent of brine and salt floating in from the North Atlantic.

The time couldn’t go by fast enough here.

‘I’ll be back before you know it.’

‘Don’t fall in love with some gorgeous girl and keep me hanging. I need my wingman back.’

I let out another laugh. There was no chance of that happening.