The year is 1970 and the Royal Caribbean has launched a luxury cruise around the world for the summer. Laurel Dayspring has been hired as a translator for Clayton Goforth, a wealthy young man who's rarely left home in his 26 years of life. However...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Wir sind hier," Laurel said, smiling at her employer. He nodded and smiled back blankly, then looked away, back out the window of their limousine. He was a quiet one, she'd noticed. He hadn't spoken a word since she'd gotten in the car at the airport. Honestly, she didn't mind; some clients were so chatty that they talked her ear off and rattled off paragraphs at a rapid pace, expecting her to translate at breakneck speed. So far, this assignment seemed much more interesting: a three month cruise around the world on the Royal Caribbean cruiseline, a rare opportunity and one she could never have afforded by her own means. Her salary would cover the cost of her fare and give her a small bundle of cash on the side as well. She expected that this was some sort of business trip for the young man she was accompanying; he seemed like the young investor type, born into lots of money and responsibility. He was German, he'd said, but he spoke a variety of languages beyond that--just not English, unfortunately. It was a little strange to her that he'd never learned it since many European countries taught English in their schools, but she was happy to help as needed and she spoke most of the languages that he did, particularly German. She was looking forward to discussing German culture and food with him further, if he would ever speak a word to her.
They pulled up to the dock where the massive cruise ship was docked, the driver getting out and opening the door for them while a cruise ship attendant began unloading their bags to be taken on board. Laurel's bags were unmistakable; bright pink with glittery handles, her suitcases could be spotted a mile away. Her employer--Clayton Goforth--had much more conservative luggage, brown faux leather with brass handles. It matched his outfit, which was surprisingly formal, a black daysuit and tie. He generally had a dark, serious demeanor, she'd noticed. Dark shaggy hair, darker eyes, and a heavy silence about him. Maybe the brooding type? But the warm smile he kept flashing her said otherwise.
They walked up the runway to the ship, weaving through crowds of people. They had to present their IDs and tickets at the door, then they were given roomkeys and allowed inside. Laurel trailed behind Clayton, tipping her head back to take in the breathtaking ship. A huge crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and red plush carpet softened her footsteps as she walked into the lobby space, turning in a small circle in complete wonder. "Es ist so schön," she gasped.
"Hm?" Clayton said. She repeated herself, and he smiled and nodded again. He held up his room key and nodded towards the stairwell to the side of the room, leading the way up the stairs towards the living quarters. Their rooms were next to each other, Laurel noted; she realized then that when buying her tickets he'd gotten her a five-star room just like his own. It would be a very different experience from being down on the dolphin decks where there was just a porthole window at sealevel. These upper rooms had small adjoining sitting rooms and a private balcony in each room. Again, she wondered how she'd been lucky enough to land this job.
They walked down the hallway of the rooms, this time lined with red and gold carpeting in carefully interwoven patterns. They reached his room -- 215 -- and he opened the door and waved for her to come inside.
"Oh -- um," she hesitated. Then she stepped in, clasping her hands politely. "Darf ich dir helfen?"
He shut the door, took a deep breath, then extended his hands in an almost placating gesture. "Please don't be upset," he began.
She paused, blinking. Why was he speaking English? With an American accent, no less?
"Let me explain," he said quickly. "I know you must be confused--"
"Excuse me," she said sharply. "Confused does not begin to describe it. Pardon my French -- which apparently you don't even speak -- but what the hell is going on here? Who are you?"
"I'm who I said I am," he said hurriedly, then winced. "Well, aside from the German part. That was a lie. I'm half German, but I was raised in the U.S."
"So," she said slowly, "you don't need a translator . . . at all." She still had her back to the door and began to edge toward it surreptitiously.
"Please," he said, flapping his hands as if that would calm her down or make the situation any less bizarre. "Let me explain."
She reached out behind her and twisted the doorknob, pulling the door ajar a few inches. "You have thirty seconds, then I'm leaving. You can keep your tickets and your salary."
"Wait," he said. "I promise, all of this will make sense." He took another deep breath and ran one hand through his hair. "This trip--my parents made me take it, to have some culture and see the world. But I have--" He paused, chewing the inside of his cheek. "--I get extremely nervous when I'm traveling. I can't do it alone. But they wanted me to go on my own aside from a member of staff if I needed it. So I hired a translator."
"Still not making sense," Laurel said, shaking her head. "Why didn't you bring a friend or something?"
Clayton seemed to deflate before her eyes. He shifted his gaze to the side, then back to her. "It's, ah, very difficult for me to keep friends," he said quietly.
She raised an eyebrow. "If this is how most of your friendships start, I can see why. Why not just say you wanted a traveling companion? Why lie to me?"
"Because my parents wanted me to go alone, remember?" He wrung his hands a few times. "Please, give me a chance. I know all of this is a little odd and you have every right to walk off this ship if you'd like to, but I'd really appreciate you staying on and helping me. You seem like a nice person and all I want is a little company. It helps settle my nerves to have a friend, that's all."
Laurel pressed her lips together. Then, against her better judgement, she let go of the doorknob. "Fine. On one condition."
"What's that?" he asked, frowning slightly.
"You let me teach you a few languages while we're on this trip," she said lightly. "We have to have something to do for the next three months."
He brightened up slightly, standing up straighter. "I'm willing to do that," he said.
"Good. Then I guess it's bon voyage for both of us."
He looked at her blankly.
She stared back at him. "Alright, we'll start with French."
