The midnight moon sneaks out from behind long gray clouds. It has a golden halo like my Lizzy’s hazel tiger eyes. Leaning against the railing of the Nieuw Amsterdam we hold each other close, ward off the strong balmy wind. The roar of the waves running away from the prow as it slices through the Pacific drowns our words. Late night dancers, drinkers have dwindled down to almost just us. It is peaceful.
‘Lizzy, look, over there, a falling star!’ It streaks across the sky so fast we do not see it fall to earth or into the sea. I twine my little finger around Lizzy’s and we make a wish, kiss and go below one deck to our stateroom. The bed has been turned down. Chocolate mints are on the pillow cases, fresh fruit in a crystal bowl on a small table next to a reclining lounger. The sheer curtains to our terrace are pulled back. The midnight moon is not visible. I take Lizzy’s night gown that has been spread beautifully on ½ of the bed, fold it and put it, along with my p.j. bottoms, into a drawer. There is nothing left to do except make passionate love. We do it twice and fall asleep.
Thru the still open terrace curtains, I see the sun glaring at my nakedness. There is no one beside me. The shower is small but adequate. I am in and out on deck within 20 minutes. Strollers, runners go in both directions. Some smile at strangers, none at me. The deck is ½ mile around and I run it backwards and forward. Deck B, below, is the same except there are wooden lounge chairs filled with sun-worshipers. Newspapers crackle in the wind, blow inside out. No Lizzy.
I slap my forehead and utter, ‘How dumb of me,’ and head towards the breakfast room, except I can’t remember where it is. Near the elevator is a chart with a big red X ‘You are here’. My bearings are organized and I reach one breakfast area. No Lizzy. I am frantic, absolutely frantic, return to our cabin and buzz for our steward, Jonnie Saltz. ‘Jonnie, have you seen my wife?’ He nods a ‘yes’ . ‘She was on deck A at 5:30 a.m. It was being swabbed and a sailor asked her to leave. I didn’t see where she went. Have you checked the solarium, the three dining areas, the library, game rooms?’ The dining areas are all crowded. The Breakfast Nook is empty.
I am whipped, exhausted, frightened and return to our A 12. There she is, standing near the veranda railing watching the flying fish fly. She sounds piqued and asks me where I have been so long. It takes a minute for me to get myself together and tell her I have been searching for her since 8 a.m. My nerves are so frazzled all I do is laugh hysterically until I slow down, grab her, hold her near as if she returned from the dead. Somewhat calmed, I put a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on our door knob and do what we did last night. Lizzy dresses again, orders breakfast in our room while I squeeze into the shower and am ready for my ham and cheese omelet with a steaming pot of java–and more of Lizzy.
At noon we wander into the main dining room and meet the other couples who will share our table for the next 3 weeks. Ralph, sitting next to Lizzy, asks where we were for the opening dinner. I tell him we felt like Italian and went to Dante’s for a really great meal. ‘Maybe we’ll do it again next week. I’ll make the reservations.’ Lunch is bountiful, desserts delicious. Lizzy and I share 2 eclairs and lemon sherbets.
We start to exit but are stopped by a piercing , ear-splitting siren. Reverberating everywhere is Captain Wilcox’s voice. ‘This is your Captain speaking. We have learned there is a fishing boat in trouble and we are changing course slightly to give aid. There is no danger so have a good day. It is possible, we have been told, that we may have to take on crew. Our staff is fully trained and you will not be inconvenienced. Appropriate announcements will be made as needed.’
The Captain was right. It was all over in two hours. Two sailors had been burned and were brought aboard the Nieuw Amsterdam as our ship has a full time doctor and medical equipment. The captain impresses me. I put my future in his hands by asking for an appointment with him. He smiles and agrees to my wishes. The evening before our ship lands, Lizzy and I get a hand-written invitation to have a farewell drink with Capt. and Mrs. Wilcox, casual dress. Our table mates are there when we enter the luxurious quarters. We talk, drink, nibble on hors deuvres and are about to call it a night. The captain rings a small brass bell to get our attention to circle around him. Lizzy and I are asked to stand in the middle. I am the only one who knows what this is about but I pretend I am truly at sea myself. Captain Wilcox looks right into Lizzy’s eyes and I have trouble speaking. ‘Lizzy, Darling. Will you marry me?’ I mumble. Her mouth is open but nothing comes out. I unfold the marriage license I had hidden under the lining of my suit case. She is stunned. Our new friends applaud.
The Captain opens a small black book, says a minium number of words and I slip my mother’s golden wedding band on Lizzy’s hand. Our last nite out was the best of the best trips we have taken.
Mr. & Mrs. Trainer start life together by setting a record. We do it four times.
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