Chapter Text
~~~
Pat’s eyes shot open and, for a moment, he laid in his bunk listening to the steady thrumming of the ship’s engines and struggling to grasp at the quickly fleeing remnants of his dream. Kate had been in it. He was sure of it. Kate and another woman. He hadn’t seen the other woman before. Or had he? He squeezed his eyes shut as he willed his mind to work better. There was a recognition, coming from somewhere deep in his mind, and something desperately needing to be done but he couldn’t quite put the pieces together.
Giving up, Pat climbed out of his bunk with an audible sigh. It was no use. The harder he tried for the details, the farther away they’d drift. He was sure it was nothing important. Just one more vivid dream in a row of vivid dreams. It must’ve been every night since they steamed away from the coast of Ireland. From the bits and pieces he could remember, they were never quite the same but each came with the feeling of something important being undone.
He pushed it all from his mind as he quickly got dressed and stepped out of his cabin. The corridor was eerily empty—most everyone must have already gone to breakfast. At the thought, his stomach gave a rumble. He hoped he wasn’t too late.
Nearly every table in the dining saloon was already filled with hungry people, happily wolfing down their meals. Pat paused in the doorway as he scanned the room for familiar faces, breathing in the aroma of freshly baked bread, eggs, and ham. Spotting Kate sitting beside Tommy, he quickly made his way over to them.
“And where have ye been?” Kate said as he slid into a seat across from her. “Ye’d be lucky to get a bite for showin’ up so late.”
“I overslept, didn’t I?” He reached for a slice of bread on her plate.
She smacked his hand away. “Stop that. Ye’ll have yer own.”
Sure enough, a steward soon arrived, setting a plate of food on the table in front of him. Pat immediately picked up his fork and dug into his eggs. He couldn’t recall the last time he had ever eaten something so wonderful.
“So, what are yer plans for today?” Tommy asked. The young man had already finished his breakfast and was now nursing a steaming cup of coffee.
Pat shrugged. “Don’t know yet,” he replied. “I suppose I might try learnin’ me way around the ship. It’d be nice to know where to find things and it’s not like there’s all that much else to be doin’.”
“Aye,” Kate agreed. “It’s not like we’re gettin’ the swimmin’ pools and libraries.”
Pat looked at her. “Ye want a library?”
“Maybe.” She pushed her plate away. “I think I’d be likin’ some options. I’m not sayin’ I want to be one of the first class—if I had all that money, I don’t think I’d even be spendin’ it—but it’d be nice to have some ways of passin’ all this time that aren’t sittin’ and havin’ a chat.”
“Ye could give the piano a try,” Tommy suggested.
Pat laughed. “Ye’d be clearin’ out the General Room if ye did that.”
Kate chucked her napkin at him. “I know it’s been a few years but I’m hardly that terrible. Why’d ye keep givin’ me that look? What’s wrong with ye?”
“Nothin’,” Pat replied as he returned the napkin to the table. He hesitated. “I was just thinkin’ how I’ve missed ye.”
“Missed me?” Kate made a face. “Ye only saw me just last night. How could ye miss me?”
“I think I missed ye in me dreams.” It sounded foolish, all the more so because he couldn’t recall a single concrete detail from those dreams. But, as he said it aloud, he knew it was true. Whatever might’ve been playing through his head last night, his sister had been there and yet he had missed her.
Kate frowned slightly, a puzzled look passing over her face, but before she could answer, Tommy leaned forward with a grin. “Did ye miss me, then?”
Pat gave his old friend a look. “Probably,” he replied. “I can’t recall much of me dreams at all.”
“I’d be hurt if ye didn’t.”
“Well, I missed ye when me family moved away when we were children and I’ll be missin’ ye when this trip is over with,” Pat said quietly.
Tommy chuckled. “I suppose that’ll have to do then.”
Pat took another bite of his eggs but they had gone cold. The lights overhead flickered faintly, just once, like a lantern flame guttering in a gentle breeze. He glanced around the room, a faint unease prickling the back of his neck. For a brief moment, the faces at the other tables looked too still, like painted figures caught mid-laughter, although the room still buzzed with conversation. Then there was the sound of a fork falling onto the tiled floor, a man laughed, and the spell had broken.
He blinked as he rubbed his eyes. “Strange mornin’,” he murmured.
Kate tilted her head. “What’s strange about it then?”
He hesitated then shook his head. “Probably nothin’,” he replied. “I think me dream last night still has a bit of a hold on me.”
“Ye just need a bit of fresh air,” Tommy said suddenly. “A little fresh air and sunshine will clear yer head, mark me words.”
“Aye?” Pat pushed his plate away. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” But he still felt uneasy.
~~~
“Tell me again.” Sarah sat in an upholstered mahogany chair, a cup of steaming tea resting on the table in front of her. She held a closed book on her lap but her eyes were only on her new husband. “I want to know everything.”
John, who was beside her, laughed. “I’m not sure what else to tell you,” he said. “I think I’ve said it all.”
“Then say it again.”
“It’s a blue house with a nice little front porch and a picnic table in the backyard.”
“And?”
“And there’s a small vegetable garden and some flowerbeds and an apple tree growing right outside of the kitchen window.”
She sighed happily. “That sounds so wonderful. I can’t wait to see it.” She had been imagining herself inside of that blue house ever since the day he had first proposed and was already making detailed plans for her first year there. First thing, she’d coax the gardens into an abundance of colorful blooms. Arriving in the springtime would make that easy. In the fall, she’d turn the apples into the most delicious apple pies. And every meal would be eaten at the backyard picnic table, outside in the fresh air and sunshine, weather-permitting of course. She’d be the perfect hostess. The best wife. John deserved nothing less.
He reached over and gently patted her hand. “I promise you, you’re making it out to be more than it is,” he said. “It’s only a house. Your house.”
“Our house, darling,” Sarah corrected him.
“Our house. Of course.”
She picked up her cup of tea and gently blew across the surface before taking a small sip. It had been sitting for several minutes but she thought it was still as hot as when it had been first poured.
“Do you remember Mr. Hoffman?” John asked suddenly. “He sat beside me at breakfast.”
The image of a tall man with a large mustache seemed to flash through her mind, one who was traveling with his children. “He’s the one with the two darling boys, right?”
“The very one,” he said with a nod. “His wife recently died.”
“Oh, that is terrible.”
“It is…or, rather, it should be. He doesn’t seem all that sad about it, if you ask me.” John frowned. “But, I suppose grief is hardly ever rational.”
“No, it’s not.” At the thought, she felt a sudden wave of grief, as though she was feeling Mr. Hoffman’s pain for him. No, it was deeper than that. Her hands shook as she returned the cup of tea to the table, the cup clattering against its saucer and tea splashing over the side. She took a deep breath to steady herself. She was being foolish.
“I think I would go mad if I were ever to lose you,” John said softly.
Sarah looked at her husband, taking in the way his hair fell across his forehead, the way his eyes, filled with equal measures love and concern, looked straight into hers. She loved him so much. “I think I would do the same,” she replied.
“Do you think you would marry again?”
“What?” She blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Why would you even ask such a thing?”
“I’m only curious,” he answered. There was a strange urgency in his voice. “It’s a harmless question, I promise. If I were to die, would you marry again?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I would never do such a thing. I couldn’t do it. Not to you.” It was unthinkable. Unimaginable. Impossible.
“I wish you would.”
“John—“
He reached for her hand and pressed it gently between his own. “Sarah, I’m only thinking of you all alone in the house, sad and lonely without anyone to take care of you. And suppose a nice young man comes along who loves you and worships you the way you deserve and wants to care for you…you wouldn’t marry him?”
“No, of course not.” Sarah swallowed hard. “You’re being awfully depressing today. I wish you wouldn’t.”
John brought her hand to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss to her palm. “I’m sorry, dear,” he said softly. “But if the worst were to ever happen, please don’t close your heart on my account. You deserve to be loved.”
She looked at him and managed to smile but her heart was pounding madly in her chest. How could she ever move on from him? How could she ever leave him behind, building a new life with someone else? There was a strange certainty behind John’s words that left her feeling unsettled. “John, how do you…” she began slowly. But before she could finish her thought, the doors to the library opened and a couple walked in, talking obnoxiously loud, and settled into nearby chairs.
“Yes, dear?”
“I love you.” It wasn’t what Sarah had wanted to say but it would have to do and she did mean it. She meant it with every cell in her body. She loved him desperately and madly and perfectly.
He returned her smile. “I love you too.” There was that certainty again. “So incredibly much.”
~~~
Cal brought his coffee cup to his lips and grimaced at the taste. The coffee was remarkably bitter. One would think that the White Star Line could manage a decent cup of coffee, particularly for what they charged for a ticket, but apparently that simple skill was beyond them. He returned the cup to the table, pushed it slightly aside. Rose sat across from him, talking animatedly and continuously about their upcoming wedding. And, beyond her, a chill breeze drifted in through the open windows of their private promenade, stirring the edges of the fine linen tablecloth.
“The bridesmaids’ dresses are going to be lavender, of course,” she said, pausing to take a sip of her tea. She smiled—her tea must’ve been better than the coffee. “With pink sashes, unless that…you don’t think that sounds too suffragette, do you?”
Cal blinked as he struggled to pull his thoughts away from his own terrible beverage. “What?”
“Suffragette. I’m not trying to start a movement or anything.” Another sip of the tea. “I’m just trying to get married.”
“I think it sounds fine.” He didn’t know what about a lavender dress and pink sash might make someone look like a suffragette—he usually skimmed over any mentions of that particular group of women in the newspaper. But he also knew that Rose wasn’t really looking for an answer–she never was–and she had already moved on to the subject of their wedding cake.
“As far as the cake goes,” she said. “I thought maybe four tiers, possibly five. And I’d like an almond flavoring but, as you can probably imagine, my mother’s been throwing a fit over it. She thinks I should stick with the traditional fruitcake, which is fine for her, but it is my wedding and—“
“Our wedding,” Cal corrected automatically.
She paused. “Our wedding, right. And I do value your opinions.” She let out a soft sigh as she set her cup down, the china delicately clinking against the saucer. “What type of cake would you like?”
The question felt like a trap and he had intended to say, ‘almond’ to make her happy but something else entirely slipped out. “Burnt sugar.” He didn’t know why he had said it but, even as he did, he could almost smell the sweet scent of caramelized sugar. The two words tugged at a faint memory half-buried in the back of his mind that couldn’t possibly exist—a warm memory, a kitchen filled with light, someone laughing softly nearby…
Rose lifted an eyebrow. “Burnt sugar?”
Feeling slightly embarrassed, Cal tried to explain. “I must’ve read about it somewhere, at some point.” He quickly busied himself by drinking the remainder of his bitter coffee. ‘Ye call that coffee?’ He shook the inexplicable voice…no, it was only a loose thought…from his head.
“Well, read about it or not, I am not having something burnt at our wedding. Think of what people would say!” She let out a laugh. “No, the flavor will be almond, but you can decide on the number of tiers…are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” he replied at once. “My mind just seems to be in multiple places at once, this morning. Maybe I didn’t sleep well.”
Rose shrugged. “I slept like a baby. How many tiers?”
“Three?”
“Only three?” The disappointment in her voice was palpable. “I suppose we could always trim the guest list down a bit…”
Cal sighed. “I meant five.”
Her face instantly brightened. “That’s a better choice. Five would look so impressive, don’t you think? And it should be enough for everyone…” She immediately launched into a discussion on wedding invitations and guest lists but he stopped listening.
It didn’t matter. Rose rarely sought his opinion on things she had already decided on and he knew the wedding was one of those things. Her wedding. Not his…not really. Hardly theirs. Sometimes, he wondered why they were marrying at all; they had so little in common. Sure, they looked good together and they did complement each other well—she brought the name while he brought the money. But did he love her? Every time he asked himself that question, he couldn’t seem to grasp the answer, try as he might. Not a yes, not a no. Just a general fuzziness that felt wrong. A muddledness.
He wasn’t getting enough sleep, he was sure of it. That was all. All of the wedding planning and the traveling—it felt as though they had been on the ship forever—was wearing him down. All he needed was a few days of quiet and he’d be able to think clearly again.
Cal picked up his coffee cup, once again, and took a drink. The coffee was horribly bitter—he stared at the dark liquid, filling the cup. He could’ve sworn he had drunk it already. He sighed as he set it down. It wasn’t just not sleeping well, he was also clearly losing his mind.
“Are you listening?” Rose asked impatiently.
“I am,” Cal replied, redirecting his attention. “Go on. You were talking about the guest list, right?”
She nodded as she immediately jumped back into it.
~~~
“I had that bottle of wine hidden on the roof of me dormitory for a week before I was found out,” Kate said as she shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench, crossing one leg over the other as she tried to find a more comfortable spot. The General Room was certainly not built for comfort. She glanced toward the group gathered around the piano at the far end of the room, who had just launched into a loud and boisterous song in what was clearly an attempt at drowning out all nearby conversations. Frowning, she spoke louder. “We would all climb out the window after lights were out and sit on the roof, passin’ it back and forth and watchin’ for shootin’ stars in the night sky.”
“Where’d ye even get a bottle of wine in the first place?” Tommy asked. “I can’t be imagin’ they’re just left layin’ about.”
“Nah, of course they’re not.” Kate leaned in closer to him. “But I’ll tell ye…one of the nuns liked to take a tipple in secret but it wasn’t much of a secret…we all knew it. One day, I saw that she had left a bottle sittin’ out on her desk and she passed out beside it, sound asleep…”
“From the wine, I assume?”
“Aye, from the wine.” She smiled. “Anyway, I snatched it at once and hid it in me apron until I could find a better place for it. I was so afraid that someone would hear the wine sloshin’ about as I went through the rest of me classes. In the end, we managed to drink most of it before gettin’ found out.”
He laughed. “I bet they had ye writin’ lines for it.”
“Every night for a month,” she replied with a grin. “Must’ve been nothin’ short of a divine miracle that kept me from bein’ tossed out, altogether.”
The song ended and a strangely heavy silence fell over the room.
“Pat was always gettin’ into trouble too,” Tommy said. “If I’m rememberin’ right. That was such a long time ago but I can’t see him changin’ all that much.” He lightly nudged her arm.
“Trouble runs in the family, I think,” Kate replied. “Or at least it used to run. I can promise ye that me own children never did such things. Of course, I never could see meself sendin’ them off to boardin’ schools. Regular school’s suitin’ them just fine. Maybe that’s the difference.”
Tommy smiled and looked at her curiously. “Ye have children?”
“What?” The question startled her in its absurdity. “I don’t have children. Why would ye think I did?”
“Ye just said that yer children didn’t do such things.”
She blinked. For a second, she couldn’t even recall saying it. “Ye must’ve misheard or maybe I misspoke,” she said quickly. She ran her palms down her skirt, attempting to smooth fabric that didn’t need smoothing. “Me own children, someday, won’t be doin’ such things.” She could feel the heat building in her face and she ardently wished the conversation would just move on. “I don’t have any children. I would like some children someday, I mean. Not now, clearly. But eventually. And when I do have some, they’ll all be very well behaved. I’m sure of it.”
Tommy, who still wore that smile on his face, seemed amused more than anything else. “Aye, I’m sure ye’ll be keepin’ them on a tight leash.” He looked around the room before standing up and stretching. “I think I’ll be goin’ up on deck now to get a bit of fresh air. Would ye like to come?”
Kate hesitated, then shook her head. “I would but I probably should be findin’ Pat, I think. I haven’t seen him all day and someone might’ve tossed him off the ship by now.”
He chuckled. “Because of his troublemakin’, ye mean?”
“Aye, his troublemakin’,” she agreed.
“At least yer children aren’t takin’ after him, then.”
She sighed and fixed him with a look. “I don’t have any children.” She spoke the words firmly and clearly so he would understand.
“Maybe ye do and ye just don’t know it.”
“I think I’d know.”
He tilted his head. “Would ye?”
Her patience snapped suddenly. “Tommy Ryan,” she said, sitting up straighter, her voice tight with frustration, “I’m not goin’ to be discussin’ this anymore, so ye can drop it. I made a mistake. I don’t have any children—and maybe I’ll never be havin’ any.”
Tommy’s grin softened into something almost gentle. “Ye’ll have some,” he said quietly and surely. “And ye’ll be a wonderful mother. I know it.” Then he left the room, leaving her sitting there, feeling confused.
~~~
Pat descended the aft stairwell, his footsteps echoing off the walls. He counted each step in his head as he went. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty—someone jostled into him and he lost count. He paused and looked back the way he had come, at the stairs that led to the well deck and the General Room and the Smoking Room and that was it. Then he looked down at where they led to the corridors full of cabins and, eventually, the dining saloon. He had already seen it all and he was bored out of his mind. How long had they been at sea? It must’ve only been a few days but it felt like an eternity. An eternity and still an eternity to go.
With a resigned sigh, he left the stairs behind, picking one corridor at random and then another and another. He wished he could get properly lost in the ship, if only to be able to find his way out again but he always ended up back at the main staircase or near his cabin or the dining saloon or a half dozen other recognizable places.
Pat stopped at a closed door. “This door for use of crew only,” he read the sign aloud. “Crew only and Patrick Murphy, ye mean.” With a quick glance around, he grasped the handle and slipped inside. The door opened onto a plain, narrow staircase.
He went up the stairs quickly, half expecting someone to catch him with every step, either a steward or, more frighteningly, his sister. Kate had been adamant that he stay in their designated area. No crossing boundaries. No searching for unlocked doors. No doing anything that might get them in trouble and jeopardize their new start once they reach their destination. But he was bored and he was hoping to stumble onto something interesting. At the top of the stairs, he found himself in yet another corridor filled with even more doors.
Pat suspected he was in a second class area as everything seemed a bit too nice to still be third but not yet awe-inspiring enough to be first. He started off down the corridor, wondering how far he’d be able to get before getting caught, when a steward seemed to materialize out of nowhere.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“No, thanks.” Pat tried to push past him with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“Sir?” The steward was relentless. “Do you hold a second class ticket?”
“…aye?” Pat knew he hesitated for a moment too long before answering.
The steward crossed his arms. “You can’t be here.”
A wave of irritation suddenly struck him. “I hardly see why it matters. There’s no one else around, is there?” Always being told where to go. Always being told what to do. Why couldn’t he just live his own life the way he wanted?
“Sir, if you hold a third class ticket, you must remain in the—“
“I was only havin’ a look around.” Was it only a look? Or had there been another reason? The answer lurked just out of reach in the back of his mind.
The steward narrowed his eyes. “Is that so?”
“It is. I just wanted to find…” Pat stopped abruptly, his mind having gone blank. “I can’t recall what I was lookin’ for but I’m sure there was something.”
The steward sighed heavily. “Well, why don’t you look for the stairs back to your area?”
“Fine,” Pat snapped. “Just be pointin’ the way there. I doubt I could find it on me own.”
“Gladly,” the steward replied. “If you’ll follow me.”
Pat let his thoughts drift as he followed the man to a set of stairs—a different set of stairs from the ones before. It always felt as though the third class areas were packed with people—the rooms, the corridors, the decks. But, aside from the steward, he hadn’t seen a single person during his little foray into the second class. Maybe they were all on deck, soaking up the fresh air and sunshine. Or maybe they were in their library. All of them. He didn’t know enough to know if it was strange or typical. All he knew was that he felt unsettled and out of place and he breathed a small sigh of relief when he finally found himself standing in a third class corridor, one that was filled with people walking past or standing in small clumps talking.
“And just where have ye been?” Kate asked as she approached him, her hands already on her hips.
Pat looked around for an exit but there were too many people. “I was only doin’ a bit of sightseein’,” he replied.
“Sightseein’?” She frowned. “And just what sights were ye seein’?”
There was no way around it. “I think it might’ve been second class.”
“Patrick Murphy.”
“It’s fine,” he quickly assured her. “I wasn’t in any trouble. He only nudged me back to me own area. I promise.”
“Oh.” Kate’s face seemed to soften and her hands left her hips. Then, after a moment, “What was it like, then?”
Pat shrugged. “Wasn’t all that great, if I’m bein’ honest. It was just an empty hallway with a whole lot of doors. Didn’t even see another livin’ soul except the steward. Everyone else must’ve been off somewhere more interestin’.”
“They’re likely in their library, I’m sure.”
He nodded. It made sense. “I think I might be tryin’ for first class after lunch.”
“Ye’ll be tryin’ no such thing,” Kate said at once. The softness had vanished and the hands returned, once more, to her hips. “Yer goin’ to keep tryin’ yer luck and then ye’ll be thrown off the ship and I’ll end up all on me own and I couldn’t believe ye could be so cruel.”
“I’m not gettin’ tossed off,” Pat insisted. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. Where would they even toss me tto?”
“They’d find a place.”
“I suppose they could toss me off in New York but that’s where we’re goin’ anyway, right?”
Kate sighed. “Just try to behave yerself.”
Pat smiled. “Ye know I always do me best.”
“I know ye do,” she replied, returning his smile. “And that’s what I love about ye.”
~~~
Sarah stretched her legs out on a deck chair and smiled at the feel of the warm sun on her face and the smell of the sea air. A large gray seabird wheeled gracefully overhead, turning in long slow arcs against the cloud-dotted sky. It was a wonderful day. A peaceful day. A day she almost wished would never end. She glanced to her side where John lounged on a chair of his own. Catching his eye, she smiled. “This is lovely,” she said.
“It is,” he agreed at once. “Today’s about as lovely as it can get.”
Their view of the deep blue sea was momentarily obscured by a woman walking by, shepherding a half dozen small children in matching green coats. A couple clung tightly to her skirt, threatening to trip her, one was in tears over a lost toy, another tugged insistently on her arm. The final two were trying to hold a fight without their mother noticing. The poor woman, who clearly missed nothing, looked as though she might collapse where she stood.
John snorted the moment the group was out of earshot. “Isn’t that a sight for you?”
“Is what a sight?”
“That group,” he explained. “They must be the most exhausting-looking group I have ever seen.”
“I think they look darling,” she said, thinking of the children and their little matching coats.
“Darling or not, that poor woman looked as though she was ready to burst into tears…or simply keel over.”
“Hardly. The children are darling and I can’t wait until we have some of our own”
“Not six, hopefully.” John sighed. “Think what you like of the mother, but that’s far too many children. We’d be horribly outnumbered.”
Sarah let out a laugh. “Well, I suppose I do agree with you there,” she said. “I was thinking maybe three. Four, at the most.”
“Or one.”
“One?” She twisted in her seat to see his face better, hoping to see the familiar teasing glint in his eyes that appeared whenever he was giving her a hard time, but his expression was strangely serious. “You only want one child?”
John shrugged. “I think if you raise one child well enough, then you hardly need a second.”
“And I think that every child deserves a sibling or two.”
“Spoken as someone who clearly grew up without them,” he said with a short laugh. Siblings are a menace. How could you inflict that on a child?”
“They can also be a close friend.”
“If you’re lucky, I suppose. But I don’t believe we can take the chance.” He shook his head. “No, I believe I’d be perfectly happy with only a son.”
Sarah stared at him, dumbfounded.
“Can’t you just see him?” John continued. “All grown up as a handsome young man. Kind. Hardworking. Responsible to a fault. Someone who always puts his family first. And in my spitting image, of course.”
He was teasing her. He must’ve been teasing her. It was the only thing that made sense. Sarah did her best to push down her irritation over the conversation and managed a sweet smile. “I see that you have it all planned out,” she said. “I suppose you’ve already picked out a name, as well?”
“John, of course,” he answered with no hesitation. “We could call him Johnny but I can’t see him liking that. He’d probably say it’s too childish and you’d agree. Children who are forced to grow up quickly usually never get a chance to be ‘childish.’”
She wanted to laugh but couldn’t seem to make it happen and, although her smile still lingered on her face, she felt uncomfortable. “You’re talking like it’s already happened.”
“Am I?”
“John, you’re scaring me.”
His face softened suddenly. “Oh, Sarah, I’m sorry,” he said, taking her hand. “I was only teasing you.”
“Oh.” She was silent for a moment. “So you didn’t mean it?”
“Of course not.”
“And you do want more than one child?”
John smiled. “I want you to be happy,” he said. “That is all I want.”
Sarah squeezed his hand before letting go. “Well, in that case I’d like a daughter to go with your son,” she said, leaning back on the chair.
He laughed. “Then you shall have a daughter,” he agreed. “And what will you call her? Sarah, Jr?”
“God, no.” She tried to think of another name, a better name, the perfect name, but nothing came to mind. “I don’t know her name yet,” she admitted. “But I’m sure I’ll know when I see her.” She looked up at the sky once more, searching for her gray seabird but it was nowhere to be seen. “John, have you seen where that bird went?”
“What bird?”
“There was a bird overhead.”
John looked at her. “We’re in the middle of the North Atlantic,” he said kindly. “I don’t think any bird would come out so far.”
“Oh.” She looked up at the sky again, taking in the clouds dotting the blue expanse. It made sense. “I suppose I must’ve imagined it.”
He reached over and gently patted her arm. “Perhaps it was someone’s fancy hat, caught in the breeze.”
Sarah laughed. “That was probably it.”
~~~
Cal strolled along the promenade, half-listening as Thomas Andrews enthusiastically discussed the finer points of ship construction. Rose’s gloved hand rested lightly on his arm, her posture graceful, poised as ever. Her mother followed a few steps behind, fussing with the brim of her hat as the breeze tugged at its feathers. Admittedly, the strength of the Titanic’s bulkheads and the marvels of her watertight compartments were impressive, but his mind was instead on the necklace locked in his safe. Fifty-six carats of flawless blue diamond, once owned by Louis XVI. Le Coeur de la Mer or Heart of the Sea. His father had purchased it prior to their trip for him to give to Rose as an engagement gift. But he wasn’t sure if she would like it. Despite her desires for a large wedding, she had never been vain in what she wore. The diamond was magnificent and something to be admired, sure, but it was also cold, extravagant, and gaudy in a way that made him uneasy.
They reached the end of the deck where the polished railing curved outward toward the ship’s stern. Andrews offered a courteous nod and excused himself—something about a meeting with Captain Smith—leaving them alone. Cal rested his hands on the rail and looked down. Below them, the third class passengers crowded the well deck and the poop deck beyond—men with caps pulled over their heads, women holding babies, children chasing each other between the benches. The air carried the wavering sound of pipes, played by a man standing near the far railing.
“Could you imagine?” Rose asked quietly beside him.
Cal turned his head to look at her. “Imagine what?”
“Being one of them.”
He looked down again, taking in the children laughing, the man playing the pipes, a young woman laughing at something her companion must have just said. “They seem happy enough.”
“They do, don’t they?” She laughed. “I suppose ignorance is bliss. They just don’t know what they don’t have.”
“I think they’re aware of what money is,” he replied dryly. “Give them a little bit of credit, at least.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Rose said. “I only meant that they don’t know any other way to live. If they knew, they might not be so happy.”
“Are you happy?” The question just slipped out before he could stop it.
“Of course.”
Cal waited, half expecting her to return the question, but she only turned away to speak to her mother about the wedding again. He exhaled quietly and looked back over the third-class deck.
The young woman who had laughed earlier, suddenly turned her head and their eyes met. She smiled softly.
It was nothing and yet everything in that brief moment. The deck seemed to tilt under his feet and he gripped the railing tightly. He didn’t know her. He couldn’t possibly know her. But something about her felt achingly familiar. The warmth in her dark hair, the deep blue of her eyes, the curve of her smile. All of it stirred something deep and inexplicable inside of him and he had to fight the urge to leap over the railing to join her.
He gave a small shake of his head, trying to dispel the strange feeling. And when he looked again, she was gone.