[h1]Haven[/h1]

[img]https://i.imgur.com/nalNq9e.jpg[/img]

Though Mrs. Wyman’s skin was ‘bout a shade ‘er two darker’n Hook’s, Abby could still conjure the bruise what crept out from behind ‘er sunglasses.  She’s travellin’ light, with jest a shoulder bag an’ a small suitcase.  Girl thought it tah be a bit outta place til she seen a hand shaped bruise on the woman’s forearm.  Didn’t take a detective tah smoke out tha rest.

“Gotcher space heater set,” she said.  “They’s extra blankets on tha foot ‘o’ yer bed.  Since we’s runnin’ cold, I’ma keep a hot thermos with ya overnight.  Wouldja like coffee, tea, or hot cocoa?”

“Coffee, please.” She allowed herself to be lead into the depths of the ship. “Can I ask you something...Abby, is it?”

“Sure.”

“I see you’re limping,” the passenger said.  “Can you tell me why?”

Abby smiled over her shoulder.  “Doc operated on me a few days back...down there...y’unnerstand.  Still a might stiff an’ sore, but it’s scads better.”  She seen an openin’ an’ took it.  “We got a great doc, ma’am.  If yah’d like I can take yah tah see ‘er.”

Ms. Wyman dismissed the offer with a wave of her hand.  “Thank you, no.  All I really want to do is sleep.”

“I putcha in our most comfy room,” the deckhand offered.  “When it comes time fer launch, we needja take seat in tha lounge...right there.  Any them spots has straps tah buckle inta.  I’ll be ‘round then tah make sure yer all copasetic.  Hook...he’s our cook...most like has somethin’ tah eat if yer hungry...right up them steps an’ turn right.”  She opened the cabin door an’ stepped aside.  “Here yah go.  They’s time fer a cat nap afore we power up.”

The new passenger stepped inside her accommodations.  “This will be fine.”  She surveyed the bed with it’s night table bathed in the warm glow of the lamp.  Not quite the match for a moment she’d dreamed of so many times, but considering she’d finally worked up the courage to embark on this new journey, a little revision seemed a small enough sacrifice.  Her perusal stopped, as with a sudden turn she pointed toward the door.  Does that lock?”

“Yes’m.”  Abby nodded.  This was one ‘o’ them tough sitchiations...knowin’ what’s goin’ on but clue free as tah what’s fit fer sayin’.  “Yew can lock it.”

“Good,” Mrs. Wyman expressed her satisfaction.  “Then I’ll stop taking your time.  Thank you, Abby.”

As Abby turnt fer her own room an’ a change ‘o’ clothes, she heard the sharp click of the lock.