The variety show is a tribute to Motown. The talent is good, and for a short while I am taken back to my childhood when Mama would play old Commodores, Diana Ross, Donna Summer, and Michael Jackson cassette tapes. She would teach Anna and I dances that she and Daddy knew. We knew more 70s music than most of the kids our age in my neighborhood. But I grew to love more than just Motown. Many a night I fell asleep listening to the Bee Gees, Bread, James Taylor, Barbara Streisand, England Dan and John Ford Coley, and Barry Manilow. I have always loved the classics.

As soon as Barry Manilow enters my thoughts, the lyrics to Weekend in New England fill my mind. I have always thought it a sad song, and when I was a teenager it would make me cry, but I still loved it. I still do love it. The song is about saying goodbye to someone you desperately love and longing to be with them again. It is about living for the moment you can see them and touch them again.

And I know the feeling well. For the past three years, I have lived all year every year to see Lee again, to talk to him and feel his embrace. The friendly hugs and his emails always carry me through to the next year. I admit that I am a sad case, because I know nothing will ever change. Lee will always work the cruise ship. It is his career. I am just a woman who was lucky enough to sit at his table and become his friend.

Lost in the memories of my moments with Lee, my mind drifts back to one memory in particular.

One year, Lee got to spend an hour on Catalina Island, and for half that hour, we sat on a bench and just talked. Because of the crew/passenger rules, I couldn't sit as close to him as I would have liked, but just being with him, soaking in the morning sunshine as the sound of the waves lapped the shore, was enough.

Two years ago.

"You are probably looking forward to your upcoming vacation," I said.

"I am."

"Got any big plans?"

"Not really, just spending some time with my parents." He paused, his expression thoughtful. "More than anything, I look forward to attending church."

"I can't begin to imagine how hard it must be for you, only being able to attend Sunday meetings two months out of the year. That would be so hard. But I am sure the members are glad to have you there when you are."

"I think so. My mother and I usually attend the temple once a week while I am home."

"That's great. I attend weekly, too."

"Really?"

I nodded. "My week doesn't feel complete without it." I smiled, watching the way the wind ruffled his hair. He was wearing a yellow polo and jeans and I loved seeing him in civilian attire. "Of course, I miss a week whenever I come on a cruise."

His smile widened. "I am glad that you come, and I am sure God understands." Then his expression sobered. "Maybe one day I will have the good fortune of attending the temple with you."

"I would like that."

That had been the biggest understatement I had ever spoken. To attend anything with Lee would be wonderful. It would be a dream come true.

When the show is over, Anna and Chad turn in for the night because we will be getting up early to take the shuttle boat over to Catalina Island. Instead of going to bed, I take a stroll out on the deck. Taking a seat in one of the vacant areas (everyone is either inside partying or at the pool) I stare up at the full moon for a while and wait, feeling the longing Barry Manilow sang about, allowing it to carry me away for these solitary moments, because in a little while, the longing will need to be locked away again, buried deep, undetectable. I am very good at it. I have had a lot of practice.

"Masai."

I stand as he approaches. "How did you know I would be here?" I teasingly ask.

He chuckles. "I just knew."

I grin, glancing, at my watch. It is almost eleven already. "I guess I lost track of the time."

His mouth curves. "I'm glad."

"I always worry about you needing your sleep."

"A half hour won't matter." He gestures to the chair and I sit back down. He moves another chair closer and sits. I definitely prefer sitting when I am with him, because even though I am wearing a shorter heeled pair of sandals, they still elevate my height slightly. Whenever I am around Lee, I am more conscious of my height, even though he tells me he likes that I am 'statuesque.'

"I am very happy to see you," he says.

"I'm happy to see you too."

He looks out over the water a moment, his gaze serene in the moonlight. He quietly watches the sea and I silently watch him. His eyes finally meet mine again and we begin to talk a little, filling in the parts of our day to day lives that our emails don't. Since our time is short, we don't waste a moment.

"In your last email, you said you quit your receptionist job and are doing photography full time. I am happy you can now do what you love."

"Me too. It took a while, but now that my portfolio is sufficient, the jobs are steady and I set my own schedule. It has been fun."

"Good. It is important to enjoy your job."

"You should know, Mr. Head Waiter," I say, grinning and he laughs. "You have a great career."

"I do," he agrees, pressing his hands together. I watch the veins move beneath his skin. "Can't beat the benefits and the perks."

"I'm sure."

I wonder if it is just my imagination or if he is a little somber tonight. I decide he is probably just tired.

When he grows quiet again, I stand. "We should probably go. We both have to get up early and I don't want to keep you from getting the sleep you need."

He stands as well, surprising me by reaching for my hand. "Tomorrow is your birthday. I have something for you."

"Really? You don't need to give me anything."

He squeezes my hand, then he releases it and presses his hand against my face, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. "Meet me here tomorrow night. Please. I will come as soon as I can."

I have never seen his eyes so imploring. I would do anything for him, anything he asked. "I will be here. I promise."

Brushing a thumb over my cheek, he nods and walks away.

~ ~ ~

After a night of very little sleep, I wander in and out of various Catalina shops with Anna and Chad. When Anna comments on me dragging this morning and asks if I am okay, I assure her that I am fine, just a little tired.

"I'm glad it's not a migraine," Anna says and I can hear the concern in her voice. She remembers all too well the debilitating migraines I used to get, especially when I was sleep-deprived the night before. I used to run on three, sometimes four hours of sleep a night because of insomnia. Now, thanks to large doses of melatonin and valerian, I usually get a good night's sleep. Usually. I haven't had a bad one in a long time, but I keep updated prescription pain medication handy just in case.

Wanting to ease her mind, I purposely perk myself up. It is my birthday and perkiness is expected. It was indeed a long night, the sleepless moments filled with thoughts of Lee, reliving his touch over and over, and asking myself what it all means.

Shaking my head, I focus my thoughts on the present and enjoy my time with my sister and brother-in-law. I purchase a few clothes that I really love and Anna and Chad buy me a gorgeous leather purse for my birthday.

We walk down to the beach and Anna and Chad decide to take off their shoes and wade in the water along the shore. I get out my camera and take a few pictures of them. Anna will most likely frame them when we get back home. She always does. She has never been into scrapbooking. She is into framing, and her family room walls are covered with vacation photos–from vacations they have taken with their three kids to the ones she and Chad have taken alone. There are also, of course, cruise photos of the three of us. I've mentioned frequently that she needs to take up scrapbooking because when the 'Big One' finally hits Salt Lake City, those frames are history. She never appreciates the reminder.

When Chad begins to chase Anna with a big old piece of seaweed, she screams, threatening him at the top of her lungs with all manner of bodily harm, and I am soon laughing so hard, I can't hold the camera still.

"Those two are something else," a masculine voice says.

Chuckling, I turn to him. He is a fellow passenger from the ship. "They are about as crazy as they come," I agree.

"I'm Jake," he says, putting out his hand and I shake it.

"Masai."

"Good to meet you, Masai. That's an interesting name."

"Yeah, well, I have interesting parents, as testified by my crazy sister over there."

He laughs. "Must be a fun family."

"You have no idea."

He laughs again. "Well, I'm heading back. It's good to meet you. Maybe I'll see you later."

"Good to meet you, too," I say, unwilling to respond to the latter part of the comment and risk offering encouragement. "See ya." I allow my eyes to follow him as he walks away. He is blond, tall and well built. Anna would say he's a hottie because he is her type. Chad is also tall, blond and well built, like Jake.

But Jake is not Lee.

On the way back to the dock to wait for the shuttle, I stop in my favorite little candy shop and purchase some chocolate. I have made a habit of sharing it with Lee sometime during the cruise. He appreciates that I think of him.

When we get back to the ship, I grab a quick lunch at the buffet, smiling at Lee as he helps out behind the line. Most of his dark hair is covered by a paper hat, but I would recognize those eyes and that smile anywhere.

Grinning in return, he says, "Happy Birthday!"

"Thank you."

"Did you have a good morning?"

"I did."

"Did you get chocolate?" His voice is teasing.

"Of course."

After standing there smiling at him a little too long, I tell him, "See you at dinner," and move along to keep from holding up the line, when more than anything, I just want to stay in that spot and not move until he does.

"See you at dinner," he says back and I walk away, briefly catching the smile his co-worker gives him. Taking a seat at the table with Anna and Chad, I eat my small meal and return to my cabin for a much-needed nap.