My Son and His Wife Took Their Son on a $20K Cruise, Leaving Their Daughter Home — By Noon, I Was Standing at Their Table

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Chapter 13

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I saw the terrified little prisoner fading and a child starting to emerge. I leaned back in my seat, watching her scrape the last of the hot fudge from the bowl. I made a silent vow to the universe and to the god I had not prayed to in years. They had spent years making her feel worthless. I had two weeks to undo it.

Mia, I said. She looked up, chocolate smeared on her cheek. ‘Yes, Grandpa. I want you to remember this feeling. Being full, being safe, being warm, because this is how it is going to be from now on. No one is ever going to lock a fridge on you again. No one is ever going to tell you that you are too expensive to love.

Not while I am breathing. She looked at me for a long time, studying my face, searching for any sign of deception. Then she nodded slowly. Okay, Grandpa, she said. We hit a patch of turbulence then. The plane dipped suddenly and the seat belt sign chimed back on. Mia gasped and reached for my hand again. I held it tight.

I did not flinch. I was a rock. I would be her rock. The turbulence was just beginning. The real storm was waiting for us in Nassau, and I was ready to fly straight into it. The humidity in Nassau hit us like a wet towel the moment we stepped out of the airconditioned airport terminal. It was not the pleasant warmth of a tropical vacation.

It was a suffocating heavy heat that smelled of diesel fumes roasting asphalt and too many bodies pressed into too small a space. We took a taxi to the cruiseport. The driver was a man with gold teeth who wanted to talk about the weather and the best places to buy rum cakes. I ignored him.

I sat in the back seat with Mia watching the colorful blur of the island whip past the window. My mind was not on the scenery. It was calculating timelines. The Icon of the Seas had docked at 7 this morning. It was scheduled to leave at 5:00 in the afternoon. It was currently 11:30. We had less than 6 hours to find them, confront them, and get off that ship before it sailed for open waters again.

When we arrived at the Prince George Wararf, it was absolute bedum. Thousands of tourists were pouring off the ships like ants from a kicked hill. They wore matching t-shirts and floppy hats, their skin already turning pink under the relentless sun. The noise was deafening. Steel drum music clashed with the shouting of tour operators and the honking of buses.

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