"It was your eyes, Abigail. They enslaved me. On our first date, they drew me in—those beautiful baby blues." He cleared his throat, his gaze turning a bit more serious. "However, it wasn't until our second date that my poor heart bore the brunt of their impact upon me. Your gaze branded my soul. I knew by the end of that evening I never wanted to spend another day of my life without the pleasure of looking into them every night. It was that day I decided we would wed. I was determined to do whatever necessary to make you agree to marry me."
Abigail's heart broke beneath the sincerity of his words. "Oh, Izzy!" A sob clutched her throat. The impact of their circumstances made her want to cry, but it seemed that even tears were denied her in the Arctic atmosphere. "It seems so cruel we've been robbed of our future together. I'm jealous of those that will survive this. It's maddening to think we planned our lives so meticulously, and now our careful preparations to enjoy the rest of our days won't come to fruition. I don't want this to be the end. Despite your high opinion of me, I am, admittedly, a selfish woman. I want more time with you."
Izzy gave his wife a tender smile. "As do I, my dearest, but we are not the controllers of our fate. One day at a time is how we measure our happiness, and even that we aren't promised."
Suddenly, the ship lurched, nearly catapulting them from their bed. A cruel, pain-filled shudder attacked Isidore as a piece of their luggage skimmed quickly across the rising water and slammed into his back. Abby opened her mouth to scream, but no sound escaped as Izzy's head snapped back from the impact. She quickly gained her composure, knowing their time was limited. She was terrified he'd been knocked unconscious, and what few, precious moments they had left, might have been stolen away by the collision.
"Izzy!" Abby's voice was panicked and hoarse, her cry a mere croak. "Izzy, please don't go! I need you."
Though the action was delayed, Isidore gradually opened his eyes. Relief flooded Abby as she gazed into the warm brown orbs that had anchored her through her entire adult life, and, though weak, she offered him a smile. Tucking her arm around his waist, it instantly locked into place due to the bitter cold.
"I'm not going anywhere without you, Abby. Hold onto me. Look into my eyes. Let the fear fade away."
Always the obedient wife, Abby did as her husband requested, securing herself in the love reflected in the warm, brown pools. It was the only heat between them. The piercing and penetrating cold had caused the blood to drain from his handsome face, leaving only a frosty remnant of his natural, healthy color. There were things to say, tender thoughts that needed to be voiced, and only this moment to express them.
"My sweet, sweet man. I'll say the same words to you now that I said the day we married. You are and have been, my life, Isidore Eisenberg. As I think upon our journey together, I have not one moment of regret. With my last breath, I want you to know that I am, still, desperately in love with you.
Her confession warmed his heart, and Izzy knew that they had, at best, moments to say their final words to each other. "I'm so sorry, my dearest love. This trip was supposed to be an adventure, not our end, but it's only one of the many destinations you and I have shared. It seems our next journey will, hopefully, be to heaven. I won't grieve, because at least there we'll be together."
Tears wouldn't come, but the effort stung the corners of Abby's eyes. A sudden movement made her flinch as a sloppy, frigid wave splashed atop her woolen coat. It triggered a layering effect starting with outerwear and then causing the skirt beneath it to quickly saturate with wetness. The heavy material slapped against her skin, so cold that it burned. The numbing seawater was littered with chunks of ice, the pieces now quickly closing in on them as it rose above the top of the mattress. Abby trembled, terror clobbering her with the same ferocious impact as their ship when it hit the iceberg.
The room pitched at a near ninety-degree angle, and the bed catapulted into the wall at their feet. Again, Abby tried to scream, but dread clutched her throat, squeezing away all sound. She was terrified she would be torn apart from her husband and launched into open space. Sensing her fear, Isidore grabbed her with whatever strength he had, seizing any precious moments they might have left. In a flash, the water was around their necks, then chins, rising quickly to just beneath their mouths.
"Abby. Look at me."
Panicked, Abby looked one last time into the eyes of the man who had always made her feel safe and loved. Her quickened breaths burned her throat and chest, fueled by fear. They had seconds, at best, to share one last breath. Isidore had managed to squeeze out a final tear, and with blue lips and chattering teeth, pressed his lips one final time to the woman who would forever own his heart.
"Don't be afraid, my love. We'll be together again. Look for me. This promise I take to the grave; I will always love you, and I will always find you."
Chapter 1
Present Day
BWI Airport, Baltimore
"Dear sweet baby Jesus! Do you think any of these people know to cough into their elbow instead of sharing their cooties with the rest of us?" Skylar Harrison mused aloud as she ground her teeth. She had little patience for stupidity. A self-professed germaphobe, her skin crawled every time someone sneezed in her direction.
"I know, right?" Skylar's friend and editor, Vincent Mannon, snapped back a retort as he sighed. He sat in the seat right beside her, sharing Sky’s silent hope that their next stop on this business trip wouldn't be to one of those express medical centers for some antibiotics.
Sky huffed and nodded her agreement. She hated traveling, but it was a necessary evil for a journalist, and her work had taken her all over the world. She’d accomplished much, delving into the heart of her stories and describing them in such detail that many publications clamored for her work. Time magazine had featured her latest piece. Vince was convinced a Pulitzer was in her future, having witnessed the effect Skylar's stories had on her readers. He encouraged her to continue writing in-depth articles, but Skylar was now working on her third book as Eden Skye. Her goal was for her novel to hit the trifecta of bestsellers lists, USA Today, the New York Times, and the Wall Street Journal.
Using her real name and reputation, she could quickly have done so. Instead, she'd adopted a pen name and was publishing her books independently. Once she accomplished what she'd set out to do, she planned to use her experiences in a series of articles. The world of self-publishing had upset the control traditional publishing houses once held. Amazon had opened a new world to those with vivid imaginations, and she planned to chronicle every detail of her experience and report what she found on her venture.
"I'll be right back." Vince left his backpack on the ground, giving Skylar a smirk as he approached the Cinnabon counter. A few minutes later, he returned, the proud owner of one of the giant, sticky pastries.
This wasn't anything new. Vince had a wicked sweet tooth and indulged it whenever they traveled. The airport kiosks were the perfect excuse for a treat, tempting and teasing even the most adamant dieter with savory sights and smells. Skylar followed Vince with her eyes, her judgmental expression having no effect on him as he returned to his seat with the sugary confection in hand.