Chapter 14 - Love hurts

Lyn did not replace my mother, but it was good to have a girl to talk to again. I knew that I could tell Nick anything, but there were always some things that required another female to confide in. For example, I couldn't talk about my love life with Nick. Talking with Jack was pointless and bringing up the subject with my father would have been very awkward. Lyn became like a sister to me over the next few weeks. The Black Pearl didn't seem as gloomy and...well...black with my new friend so close at hand. I had begun to keep a diary in which I confided all of those secrets too deep to breathe a word of, even to Lyn. I kept the little book in a crack in the frame of my bed's base. These new confidants – Lyn and the diary – made things seem much simpler. Talking to them was a way to sort my mind out with little interruption. I spent the days with Lyn, mealtimes with Father (and occasionally, Jack), and devoted my evenings to Nicolas, the love of my life.

In the dark midnight hours, I removed my diary from its hiding place, taking it to my desk to scribble down my latest thoughts. I swore to never let another breathing soul lay eyes on the little book – a promise that I wasn't sure I would be able to keep, knowing the curious nature of the others on the ship. I sat at my desk on one particular evening, selected a favorite pen and dipped it in my ink.

Dear Diary, I wrote.

I am torn between two worlds. I have unspeakable sorrow coursing throughout my veins, mixing unpleasantly with the strongest passion that I have ever known to exist. I miss my mother like a fish that has been taken to the kitchens misses its skins and seawater. Its salty remains flood from my eyes each and every night with the deepest pain and anguish imaginable in heaven or below. I have no doubt that I will feel this wound for many years – as though someone reapplies a concoction of lemons and salt to it daily.

The worst part, however, is the happiness I feel right now. It seems to be an insult to my mother's memory not to mourn her properly. I feel so in love with Nicolas that I fear I may explode into a thousand little pieces, beginning in my heart of hearts. Is this a sin? Is it horrible for my pain to be interrupted by my thoughts of Nick's hands on my skin? I imagine his deep eyes. He enters my dreams at night, taking away the tears that put me to sleep to begin with. His love gets me through.

I just wish there was an easy way to solve my dilemma. Would my mother want me to mourn properly, or love properly? I know that she was a romantic, but am I perhaps exaggerating this characteristic in an attempt to get what I want? I am so confused!

If only there was another way to get it all and give it all. If only life were easy and sensible. If only I could talk to Nick about this burning that boils within my chest and brain. If only he

It was then that the one overcoming my thoughts interrupted me. The light tap on the door was not a request for entry, but merely a warning that entry was coming. I was suddenly faced with Nick, standing in my doorway. I stood, halfway between the desk and my hiding place, clutching the book in my white-knuckled grip.

"Meg," he inquired. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I..." I struggled to think of a lie, any lie. But why? I wondered. What was so horrible about what I had just written that it had to remain hidden? Nick knew that I loved him. He would keep any secret that I asked him to. Why shouldn't I share my feelings with him?

"I was writing in my diary," I concluded my stammering abruptly. There was no shame in so innocent an act. A devious smile crept onto his face.

"What were you writing about? Am I in there at all?"

"Nick," I scolded. "These are my most personal thoughts!"

"Exactly," he said. "Am I part of them?" He drew me close. How I love that feeling: his strong arms wrapped around me like a blanket, the touch of his lips on my skin, the smell of his hair. I soaked him in and melted in the same instant.

"Every page," I breathed, dropping the diary to the floor. Pages tore and those thoughts of mine flew open haphazardly for the entire world to see. I didn't care. My thoughts could not betray me if they resided in love. We embraced and our lips locked together so tightly that I felt almost as if we were a part of the same body, connected eternally by the bonds of love, stronger than any other connection in existence.