Second Chances is available on Smashwords.

This one is very different from any of my other stories. It was supposed to be another light romance/love story. The plan for this one was to put two apparently incompatible characters together and see what would happen.

Virginia Travers is a widowed school teacher who grew up in a hippie home, and practices meditation and martial arts. Parker Wilkes is a Marine officer who is a bad-ass tough Marine, but he's terrified over the prospect of retirement from the Corps, which has been his entire life for decades. Neither of them really wants to be on the cruise, but they have each decided to make the best of it.

I expected the conflict and fireworks to be between Virginia and Parker. As happens more often than not, however, my characters had a different agenda. Turns out these two get along just fine. First they give in to the urge to have a shipboard fling. Then, after terrorists hijack the ship, they steal a life-boat and team up to save the day.



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Virginia stood on the roof of the lifeboat with her rifle pointed at the top deck of the cruise ship as it sat dead in the water. She heard shots, saw several passengers fall, and then the screaming started again. She aimed her weapon at the place where the passengers had fallen, and waited. In a few minutes, she saw the tip of a gun waving in the air. The man holding the gun turned slightly toward her, and she shot him. She didn't think she killed him, but at least he fell and dropped his gun. She hoped one of the passengers would have the presence of mind to hide it or throw it overboard.

She detected movement out of the corner of her eye, and shifted her attention to her left. One of the hijackers was standing near the railing aiming a rifle at her. She shot his head off. The next instant, she felt the slug hit her. Her hands clasped her chest. She tried to call out a name, but nothing came out of her mouth except a gurgling noise – and foamy blood.

She focused carefully on each random thought that popped into her head with all her concentration, because she was afraid if she allowed herself to lose consciousness, she would die.

Chapter 1

Had it only been three days since Virginia had ascended the gangplank of the cruise ship, feeling more or less as though she were going to an execution? She couldn't believe she'd let her friends talk her into going on a freaking cruise! For one thing, she hated almost everything about what little she knew of cruising, other than the part about being out on the water.

She didn't mind the idea of traveling alone. She had, in fact, looked into several tours through the AARP. That's what set her friends off. They insisted she should go on a cruise and hopefully meet some fun single people, rather than spending her vacation on a tour bus with a bunch of old farts. Somehow – she wasn't sure how – the gang from the teacher's lounge managed to convince her to book this cruise, if only to shut them up.

The staterooms were not ready yet when she boarded, so she took the opportunity to explore the ship. She started on the main deck and walked from the central atrium all the way forward where she she scouted out the movie theater, some conference rooms and the library, and then all the way aft, where she found a covered deck that would be perfect for sitting outside in the shade. Next she went up to the promenade deck. She stepped outside and walked a lap around the ship, and knew immediately she would spend a lot of time on that walkway over the next four days. She loved the idea of being able to take long walks and watch the water at the same time. She walked a couple more fast laps just for fun.

Deck 7 contained the dining room all the way aft and the theater all the way forward. In the middle was the casino, several bars and some shops. She passed by Decks 8 and 9, knowing they were reserved for staterooms. Deck 10 contained the spa and fitness center forward, and a pool aft. She stopped to confirm the fitness center would be open by 5:00 AM. The attendants looked at her as though she were nuts, but they told her the room would be open, although attendants did not arrive until 6:30. That was fine with her.

The central part of Deck 11 contained a couple of outdoor bars and a pool, with the buffet aft and a beautiful bar at the front of the ship where one could sit in air conditioned comfort and watch the world go by, literally.

The pool area and buffet were packed and hoards of people streamed off the elevators every few minutes. The lines for the buffet were long and barely moving. There appeared to be no place to sit if one did manage to get to the food. Virginia was not a fan of buffet-style dining under the best of circumstances, so she went to the forward staircase and backtracked down to Deck 7, which was quiet. The stores and casino would not open until they were several miles off shore. The piano bar was open and completely empty except for the bartender. For the first time in her life she walked into a bar alone. The bartender asked her what she wanted. She ordered a glass of iced tea and asked if she could get a snack. He gave her an appetizer menu and said he'd have to go to the kitchen for the tea. She said never mind, she'd have water with lemon. She mainly wanted something to eat. She scanned the menu and ordered a plate of crab cakes. She sipped her water.

“You cruising alone?”

“Yes.”

“Pardon me for saying so, but you don't look very excited about it.”

“In all honesty, I'm not. My so-called friends talked me into this trip, and now I'm sorry I didn't put my foot down and tell them to butt out of my life.”

“A lot of people cruise alone. There appear to be two schools of thought on that. Some of them just want to go to fabulous places and be left alone. We have one regular solo-cruiser on this ship who's an older gentleman. He takes perhaps four or five cruises with us every year. He uses the fitness room early in the morning when no one is around, and walks on the promenade deck midday when most people are eating or on shore. The rest of the time he reads in the library or stays in his room. He eats breakfast in the Lido and occasionally stops in here for lunch. He orders room service for dinner and almost never comes out of his room in the evenings, unless there is a really good concert or a special show of some sort.

“On the other hand, there are the people who come on cruises to let down their hair. They leave their inhibitions at home and do things they never do any other time. Those tend to be younger people who get pretty wild. Although, some of the older people can get a little crazy under the right circumstances, typically circumstances involving adult beverages in large quantities.

“Maybe that's the nice thing about cruising. There's something for everyone. You can have as much or as little activity and excitement as you want. Have you cruised before?”

“No. I have done very little traveling. This is something of an experiment for me.”

The bartender said, “Keep one thing in mind, whatever you choose to do, you will never see these people again. Enjoy yourself, doing whatever pleases you, even if others think you should be doing something different.”

A waiter delivered the crab cakes. She finished them just as the announcement came over the public address system that the staterooms were ready. She walked all the way forward, avoiding the central stairs and elevators, and went down to Deck 5, where her stateroom was located about a third of the way from the front, on the outside. She had a small balcony. A bouquet of flowers sat in a vase on the counter. The card wished her bon voyage from her friends at work.

The room was bigger than she had expected, and very comfortable. The bathroom was tiny but immaculate. While she was exploring the room, someone knocked at the door. She opened it to find a porter with her suitcase. He laid a mat on the bed and set the suitcase on it. Her room steward entered behind the porter, introduced himself as Fernando, and asked if she needed anything. She said she didn't.

After the steward showed her how to use the thermostat and left, she unpacked her suitcase, and sat down on the couch, thumbing through an informational booklet about the ship and its itinerary. When the announcement came over the P. A. system ordering the passengers to report to their lifeboat stations, she took her life jacket and walked up to the Promenade deck and stepped outside. She was among the first to arrive. She stood by the wall and waited quietly, not knowing what to expect. A crew member asked for her room number and checked her off on his clip board.

The next half hour was an ordeal for her. She was mildly claustrophobic, and had a rather large personal space. That was not a good combination during a lifeboat drill on a commercial cruise ship!Soon the deck was filled with people, and just when she thought it was totally full, the crew started pushing people back, packing them in shoulder to shoulder with life jackets touching front and back. A lot of the passengers (many of whom appeared to be quite drunk) thought the whole thing was funny and they made a huge game of it. She focused her gaze on a fire extinguisher hanging from the ceiling and tried to block out the noise, the horrible smell of the aftershave on the man in front of her and the grating voice of the woman to her left who was bitching at her kids. Eventually, the drill was mercifully over, and the all clear whistle sounded from the bridge. Virginia's friends had told her that was when the cruise fun officially began.

Virginia returned to her room, took a shower and considered putting on her pajamas and curling up in a fetal position until the ship docked on Monday. She knew there was a mixer going at that very moment for single passengers. She originally had no intention of attending. She thought it would be nice to sit on her balcony and watch the shore recede as the ship sailed away.

But, her crab cake snack had worn off and her dinner seating wasn't until eight o'clock. She decided to go to the mixer for a free drink and something to eat. All of her friends told her not to pass up any of the free stuff, because there was precious little of it.

The mixer was taking place in one of the larger bars on Deck 6. She put on slacks and a cotton shirt, threw a shawl around her shoulders (because it was ridiculously cold inside the ship), and headed up the stairs.

There were two groups of singles and they occupied opposite ends of the room. The smaller group were “younger” people (for this line, anyway), apparently in their thirties and forties. They were almost all women, with three or four men who all appeared to be gay. The other group consisted of people who appeared to be considerably older than Virginia. Again, most of them were women, but there were a few men.

A waiter approached her with a plate of hot hors d'oeuvres, and she gladly took samples of each of the three things on his tray. She ate those and started toward the bar when another waiter approached her with a tray filled with glasses of wine, saving her the trip. Another waiter offered her some cheese puffs, which she accepted. She grabbed a handful of nuts from one of the tables and munched on those while checking out the crowd. Once she had eaten the nuts, she felt as though she had enough food in her stomach to risk drinking the wine.

She stood off to one side of the room, watching the crowd. The men were checking out the women (except for the ones who were checking out each other). Most of the women were checking out the men, although a large group of Red Hat ladies appeared to be mainly interested in slugging back as many free glasses of wine as they could drink before happy hour was over. Virginia didn't see anyone who appeared to be traveling totally alone. A wave of panic started in the pit of her stomach, but she doused it with a swig of wine.

A deep voice said from right behind her shoulder, “The way I see it, the secret to surviving the next four days will be to stay drunk as much as possible.”

She turned and looked up into the eyes of the most handsome man she had met in years. His brown eyes sparkled and his lopsided grin made her smile. She blurted, “If you don't mind my saying so, aren't you a little old for an active duty Marine?”

He raised his eyebrows and asked, “How do you know I'm active duty?”

“Because nobody but a Marine or a knucklehead would wear a haircut like that.” She winked, “And you don't look like a knucklehead.”

He laughed, “I guess I'll take that for a compliment. How do you know what an active duty Marine looks like?”

“My son was a Marine.”

“What is he now?”

“A dead Marine.”

He swallowed and closed his eyes for a second. “Was he killed in combat?”

“Yes. Afghanistan in 2002.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“Me, too. Let's change the subject. What do you say, we just start over? I'll respond to your original comment. You're probably right that the next few days may go by a little easier in a kind of alcoholic haze.” She said, “My friends at work talked me into this trip. I'm considering finding some new friends. What's your excuse for being here?”

“My son originally booked this cruise with his wife in a last ditch effort to save their marriage. She left him anyway. He talked me into coming with him in her place. I, too, am already regretting it.”

“You've never cruised before?”

“The last boat I was on that was anywhere near this size was the U.S.S. John F. Kennedy off the coast of Vietnam in the spring of 1975.”

She raised her eyebrows. “If my memory serves, that was a particularly bad time to be on the JFK. Exactly when were you on that ship?”

“I went to Vietnam after I graduated from the Naval Academy in June 1974. I requested a transfer to another assignment in June 1975.”

“You were assigned to the Marine air support division on the JFK during April 1975?”

He did a huge double take. “You know about that?”

She smiled. “I teach high school history. I discovered that the version of the Vietnam war that is related in the history textbooks, was inconsistent with my recollection of events. I started doing research and got carried away with reading books about the war. I like to think of it as a kind of area of expertise for me. I have to tell you that some people refer to it as my obsession.

“You were in the unit that evacuated the Saigon embassy?”

“Yes. After that, I put in for a transfer and spent the rest of my career as a sniper in the special forces.”

She chuckled, “And that was an improvement over the gig on the JFK?”

He made a face, “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“You were inducted in 1974 and you're still in the Corps. That must make you one of the longest serving Marines ever.”

“I guess so. The Corps has been trying to get me to retire for the last decade. Recently, my CO told me that I have to retire when I am 65 whether I want to or not.”

She smiled. “I don't know what to say. Maybe 'Boo-ya'.”

He laughed.

She asked, “Is your son here?”

“Yeah. He's the guy over by the bar with all those women around him. I figure I'll see him again when we get off the ship. He'd have done better to come alone.”

She sipped her wine and said, “I've been watching some of the ladies check you out. If you're eligible and you play your cards right, you may not be lonely.”

“You think?”

“Pretty sure.”

“What are your plans?”

“I don't know. I may hide in my room until Monday. Then again, I may do something completely out of character and try to have some fun. I haven't done that in more than thirty years, I don't know if I even remember how to do it.”

“How is it that you are here by yourself?”

She sighed, “The short answer is my husband died two years ago after a lifetime of chronic depression and workaholism. I had not worked since our kids were little, but after he died I went back to teaching for something to do. The busybodies at school talked me into taking this cruise because they think I should want to meet men.”

“Do you?”

She laughed softly, “Not really, but I'm afraid to tell my friends that because they'll all go nuts. My team at school are all married women except for one divorcee who is desperately looking for a man. They think I'm grieving myself to death at home alone. They don't understand that I'm not. I actually have a number of men friends who I hang out with, and I have a very satisfying life.”

“Have you cruised before?”

“No. My husband never took off work long enough to go on a proper vacation. My previous travel has included taking the kids to Disney World once by myself in the early 1990's and periodic long weekends at a rented condo in Gatlinburg, again with just the kids. Visits to my dad. That kind of stuff. My husband could – or would – never get away.”

“Have you seen the ocean before?”

“Yes. My father was a pilot in the Air Force. When he came back from Vietnam, he was stationed at Eglin Air Force Base in Florida for a few years. He and my mom divorced, but I went to visit him there a few times, and we went to the beach. Best of all, he used to rent a small plane and we'd fly all around Florida.”

“Did he teach you to fly?”

“No. My dad was very much of a sexist. He was not into the idea of women doing what he considered to be men's jobs. He made both of my brothers join the service, because he believed that all men should serve their country. When I graduated from high school, I enlisted in the Air Force. My dad threw a fit and got my enlistment nullified. He was not a fan of women in the military.”

“How's he feel about women in combat?”

“Fortunately, he died before that came about.”

“You want another glass of wine?”

“No, thanks. I am not really a wine drinker.”

He looked around the room, and asked, “What is up with those ladies over there in the hats? They look like aging sorority girls.”

“They are Red Hat ladies. I don't know much about how the groups are organized, but the idea originated from a poem that was popular back in the 1980's, When I am Old I Shall Wear Purple. I don't know it by heart, but it's about a woman's determination to throw off convention when she's old and doesn't give a damn about what people think any more. I always thought the idea of the poem is for the woman to become someone sort of like the cartoon character Maxine. The Red Hat ladies I see around my town actually do remind me more of sorority girls than Maxine. All that giggling and chatter. Gives me a headache! I guess the truth is, I hang out mostly with men and groups of women kind of scare me, because women in packs can be dangerous to lone females.”

He swapped out his wine glass for a fresh one from a passing tray and said, “It appears the odds are definitely in favor of the men doing okay on this trip.”

“The odds are always in favor of the men in any Boomer group. I think I have read that overall the population is actually something like 52% female. I swear the Boomer generation is more like 75% female. It seems to me in every mixed group I've ever been in, there have been nearly twice as many women as men.”

“That's interesting. I live in an almost all male world. Seeing so many women in one place is a little disturbing.”

“I take it you're not married.”

“Divorced. When my wife watched the evacuation of Saigon on TV, we had an 18 month old and she was pregnant. She served me with divorce papers the next time I came home on leave. She told me she was tired of being the number two spouse in what amounted to a plural marriage, because my first and primary marriage was to the Marine Corps.” He took a sip of wine. “I was pissed off, primarily because I knew she was right.”

“You never remarried?”

“I hardly ever even dated. The Corps was has been my life for 39 years. I never wanted to subject another woman to the poor treatment I gave my wife. She deserved better. I have a number of good women friends. Two in particular who are both widows of guys I served with. We don't date, but when I need an escort for a function like the Marine Ball or something, I can usually count on one or the other of them to be available. Other than that I have devoted myself to my job.”

“As a sniper, I'm guessing you've see some action.”

“Yep. I have been about everywhere there has been shooting – whether the government classified it as combat or not – between 1974 and 2002. My last combat mission was in Afghanistan in 2002. I scared the hell out of myself. We were in the mountains looking for Bin Laden. We were supposed to be in Afghanistan, but they don't have signs at the border. I think we were actually in Pakistan. Anyway, I was watching the entrance of a cave through my gun site. My whole life up until then, I could stare through a gun site for hours and hardly blink. That day, my eyes kept watering and obstructing my vision. When we returned to the base, I went to the C. O. and told him I needed to retire from combat. He put through my orders instantly. There is nothing more dangerous than an unfit soldier on a battlefield.”

“What have you been doing since then?”

“I am a trainer for snipers at Parris Island.”

She grinned and whispered, “Boo-ya.” He made a face at her.

The organizer of the party stood up and signaled for attention. She welcomed everyone to the cruise, and said that they had planned a variety of organized events for singles throughout the course of the cruise to which everyone was welcome. She encouraged everyone to participate as much or as little as they wished. If anyone wanted to organize something of their own, they should let her know and she'd put out the word. With that, the party ended. The younger people left, but most of the older ones hung around.

He looked at his watch, “Do you have early or late seating for dinner?”

“Late. It appears that most of these folks are settling in for another cocktail hour or two. I rarely drink alcohol and I need to pace myself. I think I'll go for a walk.”

He said, “My son and I are at the late seating as well. I think they have seated singles at one or two tables. Perhaps I'll see you then.”

She smiled vaguely in his direction and mumbled, “That would be nice.” Then she set her nearly full wine glass on a table and left the room.

She did about ten laps around the promenade deck, after which she went back to her room for another quick shower before dinner. The schedule called for casual attire the first night. She wore an ivory cocktail dress with matching flat shoes and a turquoise shawl. She thought that might be too dressy, but one of her friends who had cruised often warned her that people like to dress up on cruises. That was one more strike against cruising in her book. She was not fond of dressing up.

The Marine had been right. Her assigned seat was a large table near the middle of the room, and she recognized many of the people who were seated there as folks who had been at the party earlier. Virginia was one of the last people to arrive before they closed the doors to the dining room. There was only one spot left at the table. It was next to the Marine.

The waiter held the chair for her. The Marine and his son both stood up. The other two men at the table checked her out without standing up. She was relieved to notice that both of those men crossed her off their list before her butt landed in her chair. She thanked the waiter and smiled at the Marine and his son, whispering, “That was not really necessary.”

The son laughed, “My dad is kind of a throwback to a bygone era. Unfortunately for my brother and me, he raised us to be like that, too. Sometimes women get pissed off when we hold doors and stand up when a lady comes in the room. I don't know why that's offensive.”

She winked at him, “I think it's rather nice, if a little embarrassing.”

The Marine cocked his head to the side, “Why embarrassing?”

“Well, it kind of draws attention. I'm not too crazy about being the center of attention.”

One of the Red Hat ladies who was sitting across the table and desperately trying to capture the attention of the Marine said, “That's absurd! What woman doesn't like to be the center of attention, especially male attention!” She looked at the Marine as though she were contemplating crawling into his lap.

Laughing, Virginia answered, “Me.”

She studied the menu and let the conversation whirl around her. People were making plans for going dancing or to the casino after dinner, and discussing other activities. She ordered a cocktail and leaned back in her chair. The table mates were introducing themselves, one by one. Some of them gave only their names, where they were from and the number of times they had cruised. Others rambled on at length, giving their entire autobiography, some of them in considerably more detail than was necessary. She thought it was hilarious that several of the women made it a point to indicate that they were single, and they looked directly at the Marine to make sure he got the point. She decided this weekend might be amusing, if nothing else.

They were going clockwise around the table. She was amazed at how many cruises some of the people had taken. None of the people at the table piqued her interest in the least. She perked up when it came time for the Marine's son to introduce himself.

“I'm Evan Wilkes. I'm an ophthalmologist from Paducah, Kentucky. This is my first cruise. I'm traveling with my dad. I love to dance and plan to spend as much time as possible on the floor with anyone who's willing to tolerate being pushed around by someone so woefully out of practice.”

The Marine said, “I'm Colonel Parker Wilkes, USMC. Originally from Maysville, Kentucky, presently stationed at Parris Island, South Carolina. This is my first cruise on a vessel other than an aircraft carrier. I think my job this weekend is to keep my son, here” he pointed his thumb at Evan, “out of trouble. I hope I'm up to it.”

Colonel Parker Wilkes turned to her and raised his eyebrows. She said, “I'm Virginia Travers, from Kent, Ohio. This is my first cruise.”

They ordered their food and the conversation flowed as rapidly as the wine. Virginia said very little at dinner. She answered questions that were directed to her, but, otherwise, did not participate in the conversation. The women at the table flirted outrageously with Parker Wilkes. Virginia felt a little sorry for the other men at the table, who might as well have been invisible. She'd have chatted them up a bit but for the fact that they both seemed to be interested mainly in the women who appeared to be rich. Virginia was, in fact, a very comfortable widow, but she apparently didn't look the part because the men didn't pay any attention to her.

Except the Marine.

He seemed to pay attention to her and to no one else. She thought that might be because she was the only female at the table who was not flirting madly with him. She was not playing hard to get. She was just not interested in a shipboard romance.

Then again....

She looked at his profile as he talked to the Red Hat ladies across the table; the chiseled jaw, steel gray hair, erect posture. The only thing about him that did not scream “I am one tough bad-assed sonofabitch” was his doe-like, soft brown eyes.

She sipped her martini and prayed for the meal to end.