chapter three      After about an hour of crying off and on, Emma finally fell asleep. She slept soundly for a couple of hours before a knock at the door stirred her. She padded over to the door, situating her furniture as she went.      "Charles…" she said when she opened the door, sniffling, "what are you doing here?"      "I came to let you know that dinner will be in the dinning room in an hour and a half."      "Thanks."      "Are you all right? You look upset."      "No, no, just tired and, you know, allergies." He nodded.      "I see. You snuck away before you could be introduced to Camille this afternoon." Emma cringed at the sound of her name.      "I needed some sleep."      "Yes, I think we all did. See you at dinner then." She nodded, and he turned to leave. Just before she was about to close the door he turned back around, "By the way, I think Camille is wearing a particularly sedated dress this evening, an uncommon feat for her. I sure hope some one will show up in something more daring, don't you?" he said, dropping one big giant hint in Emma's lap. She cleared her throat and wiped away her tears.      "That would be nice, wouldn't it?" He nodded, and with a smirk he turned and left. Emma closed the door of her room and smiled broadly. There's still hope, she thought to herself as she went into the bathroom to shower. .:. (Eight o'clock, The Dining Room) .:.      Emma was dressed to the nines as she made her way towards the dining hall, she was running a little late, beautifying takes longer than one would think. She had on a snug fitting little black beaded dress with spaghetti straps and black stilettos. Her shoulder length chocolate hair was swept up in a delicate French twist. She peered around the corner of the door into the dining hall. Sure enough Camille was wearing a simple blue slip dress, everyone else was a little fancier, but Emma thought that Camille firmly believed that her major accessory of the evening was Will; to whom she was clinging to like a life preserver. Emma leaned up against the wall, smoothing out her dress and taking a deep breath, before she moved out onto the landing and preceded to slowly walk down the stairs; subtly swaying her hips.      The room became very quiet as she walked into the open space where everyone had congregated for cocktails. Charles smiled at her, nodding his approval. She smiled back and sent a wink his way too. Will promptly dropped Camille's arm, much to her surprise, and came over to hug his friend.      "Wow!" he said, "I had no idea you owned a dress like that."      "It's new," she replied, a small smile playing at her lips.      "Well, it looks great."      "Thank you." He just stood there, dumbfounded, until Camille came over and took up her old position of dangling off him like an enormous Christmas ornament on an incredible small tree. She cleared her throat, motioning that Will introduce her.      "Oh, yes, Camille this is Emma Moore, my girl friend, I mean…" he caught himself, color flooding his cheeks, "I mean my best friend."      "Freudian slip, I'm sure," Emma offered up, extending her hand with a smile.      "Of course," Camille said back, "So, you're the fabulous Emma. I've heard everything about you."      "All lies, I'm sure."      "I hope so," Camille said with a smile. "So, you're an American, how interesting."      "Not really, I've only spent a total of about two years of my life there."      "Oh really? Then what nationality do you associate yourself with?"      "African." Camille looked shocked, as did the rest of Will's cronies.      "Really? My dear, you'll have to tell us more about that at dinner."      "I'd love to." Emma smiled politely. Camille directed Will towards one of the tables and everyone followed suite. "Where did he find her?" Emma asked under her breath to Charles.      "The polo club."      "Really? And I thought England had outlawed interspecies relationships." Charles cracked up. Emma smiled too, taking into account that Camille's head spun around with a cold stare.      "Stop, really, she's a lovely girl."      "What shame, and here I was thinking she'd be easy to get rid of."      "Afraid not, though rest assured that I'd pick you for Will over her any day."      "Thanks Charles." And with that they made their way to their respective tables for the first course. .:.      After the salad plates had been cleared, Camille cleared her throat and began conversation.      "So, Emily…"      "It's Emma," Emma corrected her.      "Of course, so sorry."      "That's all right."      "You said that you identify yourself as African, why is that?"      "Because I was born there and spent the bulk of my childhood there."      "How exciting!"      "Yes, it was."      "Where exactly were you born?"      "Nairobi."      "Where's that?"      "Kenya," Will offered. "It's the capital."      "Wasn't there just a bombing there?" Camilla's son asked.      "Last year, an American Embassy and military apartments were blown up," Emma said somberly.      "Oh, how terrible," Camille said. "It was probably one of those radical towel heads!" Camille scoffed, the rest joined in.      "That's an incredibly offensive term; though I'm not Muslim, I have many friends who are. That term is not only offensive to people of Middle-Eastern descent, but also people who are of the Muslim faith." Camille's face tensed.      "I didn't mean anything by it."      "I'm sure that you didn't," Emma returned her attention to her drink. A few minutes later, "The best guess for a culprit is a radical group out of Afghanistan, just for clarification," Emma said as a bowl of soup was set down in front of her. .:. (After Dinner - on the ship's deck) .:.      Emma was walking alone on the deck, looking up at the stars when Will came up behind her.      "You know when you're not fidgeting, you're very tall."      "It's the heels," Emma replied, spinning around.      "They are rather tall you know."      "That's why I picked 'em. I'm going to be taller than you if it kills me." He laughed.      "There's the Emma I know." She looked down at her feet.      "You mean the Emma you forget about?"      "Emma? No! I never forgot about you!"      "Oh really? So I guess you responded to all those emails and letters, huh?"      "Emma, it's complicated…"      "Did I get in the way? Is that it? What? Camille emerged on the scene and suddenly I'm obsolete?"      "That's not how it is and you know it!"      "Do I? Do I? It's hard to know things when you're in a friendship by yourself!"      "Don't do this, don't make me feel guilty for going through a hard time."      "I'm not Will. I know what you're going through! Or have you forgotten that I lost a mother too?"      "Well then you should know what it's like," he said, sitting down on one of the chaise lounges.      "I do Will, I really do. That's why I wanted to be there for you!"      "And you were! I'm not saying that you weren't, or that you were a bad friend."      "Well, you better not be! If anyone should be pointing a finger at the 'bad friend' it should be me pointing at you!"      "Emma…" he sighed, "I don't want to lose you." Emma bowed her head and let a single tear cascade down her cheek.      "Will…" she paused, looking off into the horizon, "you lost me a long time ago." .:.      Emma was walking back towards her room when she heard Camille's voice talking to one of the other females in the 'kids' party; Emma ducked behind a half-open door and listened to the conversation.      "She's trying to steal him from me, but it's not going to work," Camille said. "I've worked too damn hard trying to trap William in my plan to let some hussy from his past ruin everything."      "So what are you going to do?"      "Show him the time of his life. I'm going to make it so unbelievably wonderful, he's going to forget about Emma for good." They both giggled.      Emma leaned up against the wall and silently cried as they walked away. .:. back