And the Sea Will Tell by Vincent Bugliosi, Bruce Henderson

ridiculous, and the tension broke.
    “No,” Muff said. “My place is with Mac. He wants to go. He has to go. So do I. Right?”
    Marie felt cold chills.
    “Look, Muff, no one has to do anything. Mac, of all people, should understand that.” Muff just smiled at her. “Come stay with us while he’s gone. He can find a crew, take his big trip and explore his dumb island, and come home and tell us all about it. I promise, we’ll look at every one of his damn slides.”
    Setting her lips grimly, Muff shook her head slowly. “Just one more cruise. That’s what he…we promised each other.”
    Marie tried to object, but Muff stopped her with a quick peck on the cheek and a casual hug.
    “Got to run,” she said. “Thanks for keeping this stuff for us. Love you.”
    Later that night, Marie burst into tears while she was telling her husband about the incident.
    Jamie always tried to see the rational side of things. It was his nature. “She’s just upset. You know how she hates long cruises. Muff is a homebody.”
    “No, it was more than that.” Marie gestured toward the bags and boxes, which were still lying around the kitchen, untouched. “She was terrified.”
    “That’s awfully strong—”
    “Jamie, I know Muff. She was saying goodbye.”
    “Well, of course—”
    “No, Jamie,” Marie said haltingly. “Muff was telling me goodbye for…forever.”
     
    N OT EVERYONE took Muff’s foreboding so seriously.
    Her best friend, Billy Bunch, rendezvoused with Muff one evening in front of the San Diego May Company for a last window-shopping excursion before the sail.
    Billy and Muff had known each other since 1952, when they met at the Y pool, where each swam laps after work. It turned out that both worked at General Dynamics, one of Southern California’s giant aerospace employers. In fact, they were assigned to the very same project: the T-29 jet trainer line. Muff worked in the blueprint department; Billy was an electrician. They hit it off right away, even though Billy, twenty-eight, was married, and Muff, twenty, was still single. Muff was the responsible, serious one, while Billy tended to be more carefree and happy-go-lucky.
    After wearing themselves out dashing in and out of stores along the well-lit boulevard and gasping at the prices, they treated themselves to cookies and coffee.
    It was then Muff confided her fears to Billy.
    “Been to your fortune-teller?” Billy chided gently.
    She knew Muff went occasionally to a spiritualist and took seriously the old Gypsy lady’s predictions. Billy didn’t put stock in such prophecies, but she tried not to be too judgmental. She and Muff had the kind of frank and open friendship where each could say anything without fearing a putdown.
    “I went to her last week because I’ve had these strange feelings, and I wanted to see what she had to say. Before I’d even told her how I really felt, she got this worried look and told me something terrible will happen to us if we go.”
    “Oh, go on and have a good time. She’s been wrong before, hasn’t she?”
    “Yeah. But I just don’t want to leave. I really don’t.”
    Billy knew there was more to Muff’s desire not to make the trip. Several times, she’d expressed concern about leaving her mother for so long.
    Twice-widowed Rose King, in her early eighties, lived in San Diego, as did Muff’s older sister, Peggy Faulkner, also a widow. The oldest sister, Dorothy Young, was married and lived in nearby La Mesa. Her mother wasn’t really sickly, just elderly, but Muff feared something might happen to her before she and Mac returned.
    Billy knew Muff had never forgiven herself for being at sea with Mac on their world cruise when her stepfather died of cancer and her mother needed her so desperately. (Muff’s father, a mechanic, died when the family lived in Pueblo, Colorado. Still a schoolgirl at the time, Muff, with her two sisters and mother, moved to San Diego. Her stepfather, George King, hadn’t entered