Ghost Writer(73)

I suppressed a grin…or maybe a grimace.

“I recruited a backup bodyguard,” I said, turning my back on Gravell and filling Dora's cup with coffee at the machine.

He came up behind me, close enough for me to feel his radiant warmth. Head bent, his breath tickled the back of my neck, just as Margolo's whiskers had a little while ago.

“A ghostly backup?”

I nodded. “Lieutenant Margolo volunteered. Don't worry, I can handle them one at a time.”

“And if something happened to you?”

“He'd warn me first.”

“And if you couldn't get away?”

That was an excellent question. I looked to Margolo for an answer. He shrugged, then a wicked grin spread across his face. He walked through Gravell, who gave an involuntary shiver.

“Did you feel that?” I asked.

“What was it?”

I smiled, “My ghostly backup warning you.”

“Is he still here?”

Margolo gave me a salute and faded away.

“Not anymore. I guess it's your watch again.”

After preparing Dora's coffee, I made tea and invited Gravell to join me.

“I'd like to get some fresh air, but if you're tired, I can just go back to my cabin.”

“If we're going out, you better pick up a jacket or sweater. It's chilly tonight.”

Dora was immersed in the journal scans. She accepted her coffee, and my announcement that I was going on deck, with a grunt. I changed into a warmer sweater and grabbed my Nottawasaga windbreaker. At least, I hoped it was mine now.

Gravell was waiting in the gangway. He held the jacket for me.

I murmured thanks.

“Am I supposed to give this back?”

“I would consider it a gift,” he said, smiling.

“I'm glad. I've grown rather fond of it.”

“Because the captain gave it to you?”

“That too. It's comfortable and it repels the water better than my windbreaker.” I grinned. “And my son is going to be so impressed when he sees it.”

“Speaking of which.”

He handed me an envelope.

“I'm sorry you didn't get it sooner. The captain arranged to have the mail for the émil Gagnan picked up with the ship's bag. Your letter got misdirected. I've had it since this morning, but I didn't want you to be distracted during your test.”

“Uh huh?”

“And then I forgot about it. I've been carrying it around with me all day.”

I looked at him. He was blushing. He really did forget. He wasn't perfect after all.

I opened the letter and skimmed it. This must be the letter he told me to disregard. It involved a girl who was following him around and the girl's older brother, who was also a cadet. I decided to save the letter for later. I had a feeling it was going to be too entertaining to rush.

“Everything okay?”

“Oh yeah. I'll call Seamus tonight, after I read the letter, but he's already told me that it's old news.”

“He'll be home now, right?”

“He'll be with his father,” I corrected. Home was with me.

I led the way to the foredeck. Gravell followed, holding our mugs in one hand.

“Have I offended you, Madame Kirby?”

I stopped suddenly and he bumped into my back.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“You seem a little stiff. Is it because you and your ex-husband don't get along?”

“We get along fine.”

As soon as I reached the foredeck I turned and accepted my mug of tea.

“Missing your son?” he asked.

“Yes. This is the longest stretch we've been apart since he was born.”

“You're close.”

“Very.”

“Is that why you haven't remarried?”

I gave that some thought.

“I don't know. Maybe. Dating, when you're a single mother, isn't easy.”

“Is dating ever easy?”

I looked at him. I couldn't imagine him having trouble getting a date yet, he was serious.

“Maybe not,” I said, turning back to the sea, which was a lot less complicated. “When I'm at home, I'm usually too busy to date. So I tend to take advantage of the times I'm away on business trips to…”

I felt myself blushing and decided to leave the sentence unfinished.

“I understand, Madame Kirby.”

Then, after a minute or so he added, “No wonder you're so frustrated.”

I laughed. “Oh yeah.”

He turned to half sit on the rail then drew to attention.

Captain on the deck, I thought. I looked over my shoulder and my suspicion was confirmed.

“Good evening, Ms. Kirby, Chief Gravell.”

“Good evening, Captain,” we said in unison.

“Nice night,” I added.

“More tea, Madame Kirby?” Gravell asked, holding his hand out for my mug.

I had hardly started my tea, but I said yes and let him take it away. It was a gracious way to depart and it made clear he would return. Very well played, I thought. The captain seemed less impressed by the manoeuvre.

“How are you, Jenny?” he asked, once we were alone.