by ID Johnson
As they drew closer, she realized the men had their arms around their wives, as if they wouldn’t believe Charlie was alive until they saw him for themselves, and she pushed her own selfish thoughts away. She was certain they had more important matters on their minds than who she was and why she was here.
“How is he?” Jonathan asked as he stopped a few feet away. “Is the doctor in?”
Meg stood, her legs a bit shaky. “Yes. Dr. Hunt is in with him now. He’s awake. He’s… fairly lucid, though his memory is about how it has been the last several times he’s awoken.”
Jonathan’s shoulders fell, an indication that he understood what she was saying. “It will be all right, Meg,” he assured her, and she wanted to believe he was right. He had been right the last few times, after all, but she didn’t know how much longer she could play this game. Charlie’s emotions ebbed from thinking he hated her to knowing he loved her, and it was growing quite exhausting. She only nodded and bit her lip against saying more.
“You must be Meg.” Charlie’s father, John Ashton, stepped forward and offered his hand. “It’s lovely to meet you. Jonathan told us how you and Charlie became friends aboard the ship.”
Meg took his hand, and looked to Jonathan, who simply shrugged. “It’s very nice to meet you, sir.”
“You must be completely drained,” Mrs. Ashton said as she took the same hand Mr. Ashton had just released. “Poor, poor dear.”
The differences between Charlie’s parents and Meg’s own mother left her dumbfounded for a moment. While she had always suspected they must be kinder, more caring, seeing them for the first time, so very concerned not only for their son but for her as well—a complete stranger so far as they knew—it made Meg’s heart ache just a bit. She was torn between envy of Charlie’s good fortune at having loving parents and pity that he was, nevertheless, the one lying in a hospital bed.
“This is our daughter, Grace Buckner, and her husband, Peter,” Mrs. Ashton said, gesturing in the direction of the younger couple.
From the moment Grace’s eyes met hers, Meg knew Charlie’s older sister was suspect of her some way or another. Though she took her hand and said, “It’s nice to meet you,” Meg could see that she didn’t mean it, and she wondered if Grace somehow knew who she was.
Peter, on the other hand, seemed charmed, “Lovely to meet you, Meg,” he said. “I just adore your accent.”
“Why, thank you,” Meg managed, though she wasn’t sure how he could adore her accent when she’d only spoken a few words.
Meg assumed the introductions would stop there, but Mrs. Ashton introduced her to the help as well. An older woman named Kathleen, a younger woman named Carrie, and a middle-aged man named Horace, each of whom, Mrs. Ashton explained, had been in their service for years and had come to help in any way possible. “In fact,” she continued, “Jonathan thought it might be a good idea for Carrie to accompany you to the hotel down the block for the evening. Our understanding is that you’ve had to borrow someone else’s… gown. Carrie can help you find something more suitable to wear in the morning, if you’d like, Miss West.”
So he had given them her fake name. Meg took a deep breath and glanced at the several faces staring at her. Now, clearly, didn’t seem like the time to explain herself, though she thought sooner rather than later was probably best. Before she could respond, Dr. Hunt opened the door to Charlie’s room, and all of the attention shifted in that direction.
“Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Ashton, you’ve arrived,” the doctor said as he stepped out into the hallway. He shook Mr. Ashton’s hand. “I’m Dr. Stephen Hunt. Pleasure to meet you. Charlie is doing quite well. Miraculously, the doctor aboard Carpathia was able to treat his frostbite, and he won’t need to lose any digits.”
“That’s wonderful to hear,” Mrs. Ashton exclaimed.
Meg took a step back toward the chair she’d been sitting in, toward the wall, toward the door at the end of the hallway.
“He is having a bit of trouble remembering everything, but that is to be expected. I’ve given him some medicine for his head, but it shouldn’t cause him to be sleepy or agitated.”
He glanced at Meg with that remark, as if he was letting her know Charlie would need no more sedatives for now, and yet she still took another step back as soon as his eyes returned to Charlie’s parents.
“While I expect he may have some trouble sleeping for the next few weeks, I think he will be back to his usual self in no time.”
“That’s such a relief to hear,” Mr. Ashton said, smiling at his wife.
Meg took another step toward the door.
“I would like to keep him here for at least tonight, possibly the next few days, just for observation. If you’d like for your family doctor to visit him here, as well, that can be arranged. For now, just try not to excite him too much. Don’t ask questions about what’s happened, though it’s fine to ask him how he’s feeling. I would like to limit it to no more than two guests at a time, however. We don’t want to overwhelm him.”
She took another step back. She was closer to the door now than she was to the family—the family huddled together concerned about their son, their brother, their pride and joy. The family she’d only just met who had been kind and considerate but to which she didn’t belong. The family that would likely toss her out as soon as they knew who she was, what she’d done. All the doubts and fears she’d thought she’d worked through while on Titanic, while in Charlie’s arms just before she boarded the lifeboat, all came rushing back to her, so Meg took another step back, her hand resting on the door.
Mr. and Mrs. Ashton stepped around the doctor into the hospital room and Peter directed his wife to the same chair Meg had been sitting in. There were other seats nearby. They’d fill them and begin to chat, ask Jonathan how he was feeling after his harrowing adventure. Eventually, he might look around and realize she was gone, but by then, she’d be wherever twenty dollars in cab fare could get you.
“Meg,” Jonathan said, stepping over toward her, “where are you going?”
His voice was quiet and calm. She’d known he wouldn’t let her slip away, that he’d notice before she could even get through the door. “I… I was trying to get out of the way.”
He knew it wasn’t the truth, yet he said nothing to contradict her. “I think it would be best if you did as Mrs. Ashton suggested and went with Carrie to the hotel. She’s been a lady-in-waiting for years. She’ll be able to attend to your needs and can help you find proper attire tomorrow. When you are dressed like yourself again, I’m sure you’ll feel much better.”
She felt no need to attempt an explanation regarding the fact that she was currently unsure whether she was Mary Margaret Westmoreland, wealthy heir to the Westmoreland Textile Factory, or Meg West, Third Class Passenger. It was late. They were exhausted. She nodded.
“Do you want me to tell them who you are?” It was a whisper in her ear so close she could smell the mint on his breath.
“No,” she said quickly. “I want you to tell Charlie who I am, though.”
He let out a short sigh, and she wondered if he was exasperated at her, at Charlie, or at having to rehash the entire situation once again. “I will,” he promised, and she believed him.
“I think Charlie and I should tell them ourselves, but not until he remembers… obviously.”
“That makes sense.”
“Do you think that will make them angry?”
“No. Nothing makes them angry.”
“What are you two whispering about over there?”
It was Grace, Charlie’s older sister, the one who looked at Meg as if she wasn’t sure if she should use one dagger or two. “Nothing,” Jonathan called with a smile. “I was only explaining to Meg that Carrie would be taking her over to the hotel now. She’s a bit apprehensive, as you can imagine, this being her first trip to New York City and having absolutely nothing of her own with her.”
Grace pursed her lips together. “That does sound dreadful. It’
s a shame you lost all of your gowns and jewels aboard the ship.”
For a moment, Meg thought of the dress she’d borrowed from Lucy Duff-Gordon, just a few nights ago, to wear to dinner. It had been exquisite, as had been the jewels she’d borrowed from Molly Brown. Both women had been aboard Carpathia, but she hadn’t had much of a chance to speak to Molly, and Lucy knew who she really was, so only a fleeting glance had passed between them. Meg brought herself back to the hospital. “There were many others who lost so much more than I,” she said, her voice low and calm.
Grace nodded, and Meg felt as if perhaps she had just passed some sort of a test.
“Carrie, if you would,” Jonathan said, gesturing in Meg’s direction as he gave her a slight push in the back, enough to start her feet moving. “Meg, I will be by tomorrow to check on you and bring you back to the hospital if Charlie is still here.”
She nodded at him over her shoulder. “Thank you, Jonathan.” Carrie looked kind enough and was smiling at her, so Meg decided to go with her, even though part of her still wanted to try for the exit unaccompanied again. “It was lovely meeting you,” she said to Grace and Peter as she approached.
Grace nodded and said, “Likewise,” without much of a smile, but Peter climbed to his feet and took her hand again. For a moment, Meg thought he might kiss it, but he didn’t, and he mentioned he felt charmed to make her acquaintance. Meg wondered how starved for attention he might act when she didn’t have a bird’s nest for hair.
Meg had never been to a hospital before, so she tried not to stare as nurses and doctors made their way past. The lower levels seemed particularly busy, and when they neared a pool of blood on the floor, some poor soul in an orderly uniform attempting to clean it up, she felt her stomach tighten a bit. “Sorry you had to see that, miss,” Carrie said as she steered Meg toward the exit. “You’ve already been through so much.”
She said nothing, only followed behind, and once she was standing outside on the large steps leading to the hospital, the fresh April air hitting her in the face, Meg felt relief. Even though it was still city air, it smelled a thousand times better than the stench of the hospital, the stagnant Third Class air, or even the fog she was used to at home.
Despite the fact that it was late, there were still lots of people milling about, and Meg realized she could quickly become lost in the crowd if she wanted to. She didn’t dart off, though. She followed Carrie through the throng. Pieces of overheard conversation let her know that some of these people had come to this hospital thinking their loved ones might somehow be inside. Meg hoped they were but knew they likely were not. A surviving passenger list had been posted and printed, and unless there were others such as herself who were trying not to be discovered, the chances were if loved ones had not caught up with each other at the pier, they would never meet on this plane again.
“The hotel is just this way,” Carrie said as she paused for Meg to keep up. She was maybe three or four years older than Meg, with kind brown eyes and a splay of freckles across her nose. Her hair was also dark, and though it was pinned up tightly, Meg assumed it would be curly if it was ever let down. Her nose was a bit crooked, but her smile was kind, and Meg felt at ease, as if they were old friends, almost at once. “It’s quite a town, isn’t it?” she asked gesturing with her head. “I remember when I first arrived. I had no idea what to think of all the… busyness.”
“Yes, it is something else,” Meg agreed. She couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to go downtown where the real action was. “I always knew I’d come here someday, I just didn’t think it’d be so soon.”
“Where are you from?” Carrie asked, and then added, “If you don’t mind me asking?”
Meg hesitated. Surely a servant in the Ashton home would know about his engagement. “I’m from… Southampton,” she finally admitted, deciding the less lies she told now, the better off it would be when she had to tell the truth. A quick change of the subject couldn’t hurt. “What about you?”
“I’m from Wisconsin.” Carrie said it like she was admitting she had arrived straight from the underworld. “I came here to escape farm life.”
Meg snickered, understanding what she meant by “escape.” She could see a hotel just in front of them and wondered if that was where they were headed. “And do you like it?”
“Oh, yes,” she exclaimed immediately, without hesitation. “The Ashton’s are wonderful to work for. I love being in the city where there’s always something to do, some place to go. And Mr. and Mrs. Ashton give me plenty of free time.”
While Meg was happy to hear it, she felt a little sad for the servants back home who scarcely ever got time to themselves. “They seem quite generous,” she agreed.
“This is it.” Carrie gestured at a grand-looking establishment with large front steps and a doorman. “Mr. Lane said we shouldn’t have any trouble getting a room so long as we speak to Harold and explain that you are a friend of the Ashtons.”
Meg took her word for it and followed Carrie up the front steps, wondering if it was her outfit that had Jonathan concerned they might be turned away or something else. While she knew she really would feel much like her old self as soon as she was dressed in the type of clothes she was used to, she wasn’t necessarily sure that was a good thing. Her old self had made some bad decisions, while her new self seemed to have more sense. As she entered the foyer of one of the nicest hotels she’d ever seen, she was hopeful she’d find a way to merge Mary Margaret Westmoreland with Meg West, taking only the bits she wanted and leaving the rest behind.
Chapter Three
Meg’s new gown was simple, but it felt much more elegant than anything she’d worn for weeks, except the night she’d gone to dinner with Charlie, of course. It was a royal blue color, which she knew went well with her eyes. Carrie had gotten her a charming new brush and comb set and had lovingly helped her work out all of the knots in her hair without supposing how they might have gotten there. Meg remembered there had been a crown of icicles around her head not long ago. Thoughts of the hours she’d spent in the lifeboat, soaking wet and then freezing, praying for Charlie in her mind and then aloud, made her shudder, and she pushed them away, back into a corner, into the same compartment where she kept remembrances of the awful things her uncle had done to her.
“You look absolutely stunning, Miss West,” Carrie said, smiling at Meg’s reflection in the mirror.
“Thank you, Carrie, but please do call me Meg,” she insisted, not for the first time that day. “If you keep calling me Miss West, I’m afraid I might not answer.”
The servant giggled, as if she assumed Meg was implying she just wasn’t used to being called by her surname, not that it wasn’t even her name at all. “I’ll try to remember.”
There was a knock at the door, and the girl moved in that direction. “That might be your room service,” she said over her shoulder. She went out of the bedchamber, and once the door was opened, Meg recognized the voice and knew it wasn’t breakfast. Standing, she made her way out into the living area to see Jonathan there.
He looked tired, as if he had spent another night sitting next to a hospital bed. But his clothing was fresh, a new un-wrinkled suit, a new hat, new shoes. He smiled at her, and Meg went to meet him at the door. “You look radiant, Meg,” he said as he embraced her.
“Thank you,” she said. “Please do come in. Did you spend another night at the hospital?”
“I did,” he admitted as he took a seat next to her on the plush, velvet sofa. “Charlie is doing well though. He is being dismissed this morning. The family physician, Dr. Shaw, came by first thing this morning and said he could be released into his care.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Meg said, though she wasn’t sure she even believed her own words. There were more questions she needed answered before she would trust all was well with the younger Mr. Ashton.
“He asked about you first thing this morning, Meg,” Jonathan said, glancing around to see that Carrie had go
ne back into the bedroom. “His very first words were, ‘Where’s Meg?’”
She swallowed hard. This was not the first time he remembered her only to forget her a few hours later. “And what did he remember?”
“Everything,” Jonathan assured her. “I asked him several questions about who you are and how he came to know you. He remembers every detail now, Meg.”
She wanted to believe him, but she’d need to see it for herself today. And tomorrow. And the next day. “Do you think it will last?”
“I do. I think it has just been that sedative, Meg, that has made him forget. He couldn’t remember Mrs. Brown the other day when I asked him about her either. It’s as if everything in his recent memory has been wiped out by the drugs. But then, as soon as they leave his system, he’s his old self again.”
She had to disagree with that. “No, Jonathan. He’s not his old self. Even when he remembers me, he’s still hearing the screams—still hearing the voices in his head.”
Jonathan let out a sigh and took off his hat, running his hand through his hair and replacing it. Meg hadn’t seen him without it often at all, and she’d assumed at first it must be due to a receding hairline, but it wasn’t. She absently wondered if he slept in it. “Meg,” Jonathan continued, “I can understand why you are concerned, but can’t you remember the voices, too, when you think on it? We’ve all been through a jarring experience. It’s natural to think some of the sensations from that night will stay with us for a while.”
“Of course, I remember them, Jonathan,” Meg replied, leaning toward him. “I remember everything that happened. The screams from the people in the water, though we were far away, were haunting, and I distinctly remember listening to see if I could hear Charlie, to see if maybe I would know where he was, so I could instruct the boatmen to go back. So… yes, I remember them. But that’s not the same as what Charlie is experiencing, and we both know that.”
