A Family for the Titanic Survivor

by Lauri Robinson

  He looked at her for a long moment. “So the bazaar was more important than taking care of Elsie.”

  “No, it wasn’t!” She wished he’d stand up, yell, rather than sit there so stoic. It would give her reason to stand up, because not doing so was killing her. She wanted to wave her finger before his face, and had to ball her hand into a fist to keep that from happening. “How dare you say that! The bazaar was to raise money for survivors! I thought you’d appreciate having your house represented at the event.”

  “How dare I? How dare you invite complete strangers into my home in my absence.” He stood, walked around his chair. “You may want to own a boardinghouse, but I don’t. And I won’t. Furthermore, servants don’t represent my house at any events. Church or otherwise.”

  Her anger was too strong for her to continue to sit still. Too strong to even look at him. She had to leave before she lost all control.

  She stood and marched to the door, but unable to forgo having the last word at least, she turned, pointed at him. “May the curse of Mary Malone and her nine, blind, illegitimate children chase you so far over the Hills of Damnation that the Lord himself can’t find you with a telescope!”

  Willard was in the front foyer, eyes wide, when she slammed the office door behind her. Head up, she marched straight to the stairway and up the steps. She had never met someone who could irritate her so quickly, so completely, as Karl Wingard. The man was a complete horse’s ass at times.

  She could have asked Willard to ask Karl about Catherine and Sean moving in here, but when Catherine had called from the hospital, saying they were leaving and didn’t know where they were going, Willard had been the one to suggest they come here. He’d also been the one who’d gone and picked them up.

  Not that she was attempting to shuck the blame on him. She wasn’t. They were her friends, and she was grateful to be able to help them. It’s just that Willard had assured her that Karl wouldn’t mind. That there was plenty of room. She’d thought the same thing. Hadn’t thought it would be an issue.

  Catherine and Sean had insisted they’d stay in the servant’s quarters in the basement, which they claimed were nicer than anywhere they’d ever lived.

  As far as the bazaar, she’d been sure he wouldn’t mind about that, knowing the money was going to survivors. Especially after Mary had said that Annette had served on the bazaar committee and that helping with the event in her honor felt wonderful.

  It had.

  Until she’d arrived home to Mr. Horse Poop.

  She had half a mind to march back downstairs and curse him a second time. Several were rolling about in her head.

  At the top of the stairs she turned, knowing she couldn’t go back down to his office, no matter how much she wanted to. He’d been right. She had been hired as Elsie’s nanny.

  It was just so hard. She’d never been a servant and didn’t know anything about being one. She knew how to take care of Elsie and how to clean, cook, wash clothes—all the things that servants did. What she didn’t know were the rules. She hadn’t even thought about them until Catherine and Sean had arrived.

  They knew far more about the rules of that than she did. They’d questioned going to the bazaar. Had said they’d stay home. She’d been the one to insist they attend. There had been nothing that needed to be done at home. They’d all eaten at the bazaar, and with Catherine and Sean’s help, the house had already been cleaned from top to bottom this week. Besides, there had been people from all walks of life at the bazaar, both helping with it and attending it.

  She opened the door to Elsie’s room and couldn’t help but smile at how Copper raised his head, checking out who was entering the room.

  “It’s just me,” she told the puppy quietly.

  Curled in a ball on the bed near Elsie’s feet, Copper laid his head back down.

  Bridget patted him, gave Elsie a soft kiss and left the room, wondering if Karl would be upset to know Copper was sleeping in Elsie’s room. He seemed to be upset about everything else she’d allowed, so why not that, too?

  She entered her room, but other than taking off her coat—irritated all over again that she hadn’t even had time to take it off before Karl had started badgering her—and hanging it in the closet, she was too flustered to do more than pace the floor. The bitterness inside her wasn’t all directed at Karl. There was plenty of it going out to her own good self. Or not so good self.

  There just was no history for her to draw upon, to have learned from or to compare to what she was experiencing right now. Not when it came to being a servant, or when it came to a man like Karl. Just when she thought she might be figuring him out, he changed.

  He was like an old tomcat. All nice and purring one minute and biting the very hand that feeds it the next.

  All in all, she just wasn’t cut out to be a servant. Da had known that. All his reasonings aside, he’d known that her temper, the very thing he’d warned her about, was too strong to be subservient to anyone.

  She huffed out a breath. Oh, Da, what am I going to do?

  No answer suddenly appeared to her, and she truly hadn’t expected one, but it would be nice. Catherine and Sean hadn’t had anywhere to go, and neither did she. Not until they could at least recoup the money they would have had upon arrival. There had been boardinghouses and hotels that had opened their doors to people the night the Carpathia had arrived, but they were full now, even overflowing. Society aid programs had assisted those traveling elsewhere to obtain train tickets and traveling vouchers, and others, like the church with the bazaar today, were raising more money to help, but there were so many who, like Catherine and Sean, had been injured, and now owed money for their hospital stays.

  Maybe she should take the twenty-five dollars from the White Star Line, request a travel voucher and go to Chicago. Catherine and Sean could go with her, but that would be letting Karl down. She had agreed to stay until Mrs. Conrad returned.

  She’d have to quit. Tell him that she’d stay and take care of Elsie, but not be hired by him. Like she’d stated in the beginning.

  No, she couldn’t. Then she wouldn’t have any money to give Catherine and Sean.

  If only the same Karl who had left on Monday had returned tonight, instead of the ornery one that had made her so mad.

  She was still mad at him. The fact he’d thought that anything meant more to her than Elsie’s care was maddening. Insulting, that’s what it was.

  Pausing midstep at the sound of a knock, she pivoted and marched to the door. Before answering it, she drew in a deep breath and painted a smile on her face. Most likely it was Willard, coming to check on her after having seen the way she left Karl’s office.

  She pulled the door open, and the fake smile disappeared as she stared at Karl. He had one hand planted on the doorframe, was leaning slightly to that side and had a cockeyed, sheepish grin on his face.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  “Why? Have you not insulted me enough already this evening?”

  “Yes, I have.” He stepped into the room. “That’s why we need to talk.”

  She shook her head. Turned away from him as he walked into the room and closed the door.

  “What was it your father said? Don’t let the sun set on your anger.”

  She turned, gave him a head to toe scathing look sharp enough to make him bleed. “Da never met you.”

  He grinned again. “True.”

  So much for making him bleed with her eyes. She took ahold of the doorknob to open the door for him to leave. “And it’s don’t let the sun go down on your anger, not set.”

  “What’s the difference?” he asked.

  She had no idea, was just too mad to agree with anything he said right now. “The sun had already set when you made me mad.” She opened the door.

  He sat down on the bed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you mad.”
He stood and paced the floor at the foot of the bed like she’d been doing. “I’d expected to come home to...people. Instead no one was here.”

  She closed the door. “Elsie was.”

  “Yes, she was, sound asleep, and well taken care of.” He stopped pacing, looked at her. “I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”

  She had no idea how he did it, but he could make her so mad she wanted to spit one minute and then make her heart melt the next. “Why did you?”

  He looked away. “Blame it on my mother.”

  The anger that crossed his face was like what she’d seen downstairs, and Bridget was momentarily taken aback. “Did you see her?”

  “No. No.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said that. She has nothing to do with any of this.”

  He sounded disgusted, but also wounded, and she stepped closer to him. “The inquiry? Is that why you were so mad?”

  “Yes,” he said quickly. “I’ve never seen people try so hard to circumvent responsibility in my life.”

  “It was an accident.”

  “I know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying they hit that iceberg on purpose, that they meant to sink the ship and kill all those people, but it happened, and the White Star Line is responsible for all those deaths. For all the children left without parents, for wives left without husbands, for people having lost so much.”

  He looked pained and tired, and that, too, made her heart melt. “What do you expect them to do?” she asked.

  “I want them to listen to everyone, find out how they can prevent something like this from happening again.”

  “Isn’t that what they are doing?”

  “No! They’re only listening to a select group. Mainly officers, shipmates. The passengers they have called to witness, they sequestered in private rooms.”

  “Why?”

  “To make sure all the stories jibe. The only person they are casting blame on is the captain of the Californian for not responding.”

  “The other ship we saw that night?”

  He frowned. “Are you sure you saw one? Reports show the Californian was twenty miles away. Even on a clear night, it would have been impossible to see that far.”

  “I’m sure I saw one. I’m sure I rowed toward it, but I don’t know how far away it was. It just kept getting further and further.” She sat down on the bed. “No one else saw it?”

  “If they did, I haven’t heard their testimony.” He sat down beside her. “But the inquiry isn’t over.”

  “Maybe I didn’t see a ship.” She was sure she had, but she was also sure there were things she didn’t remember from that night. “Just because I said it happened, doesn’t mean it was true. Like when you think you see something, but when you look again it’s not there. Maybe it was like that.”

  He took ahold of her hand. “No, don’t second-guess yourself. I believe that you saw a ship. That you rowed toward one.” He touched her face with his other hand. “Just like I believe nothing is more important to you than Elsie’s care. I hope you can forgive me for that. For the other things I said.”

  She leaned her cheek against his hand. “I have to forgive you. I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I don’t.”

  “I won’t be able to sleep tonight if you don’t, either.”

  He was looking at her so intently, her lips started to quiver, remembering the moment his had brushed over them. She twisted, looked away, knowing kissing him could not happen again. It was sure to make her heart skip rope. “I’m sorry about inviting Catherine and Sean to stay here. I’ll—”

  “We’ll let them stay,” he said, removing his hand from her face. His other hand was still holding hers and he squeezed it. “I was going to have to ask you where they were. This way, I know.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve been working with a lawyer, Charles Braddock. He’s representing a large group of those traveling third class to see they receive compensation and has agreed to include Catherine and Sean, and you, on his list. A large class action suit will hold more weight than individual ones.”

  “What does that mean, a class action suit?”

  “It means that one hearing will provide restitution to a large group of clients, instead of one at a time, which is ideal for those who may not be able to afford a lawyer who is capable of actually bringing a lawsuit before the courts.”

  “Sue them? This group is suing the White Star Line?”

  He nodded. “It’s the only way they are going to receive anything.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “I don’t know, but I will call Charles tomorrow, invite him over so the three of you can ask him any questions you might have.”

  “How much will that cost, for him to include us?”

  “His law firm is offering this service for free.”

  “Why?”

  He smiled and softly said, “Because it’s the right thing to do, just like it was the right thing for you to help with the church bazaar.”

  She laid her hand atop the one holding hers. Couldn’t help it. She was glad he was home. “Annette served on the ladies committee at the church. Mary, Willard and I helped today in honor of her.”

  “She would have liked that. I like that you did that, I was just too grumpy to see that earlier. I was anxious to see all of you, and when you weren’t here...” He shrugged. “I don’t know what it is about you, but you really bring the worst in me out at times.”

  “And the best,” she said. “Elsie and Copper have become best of friends.”

  “I noticed that. I believe he growled at me the first time I walked in the room.”

  She giggled. “He does that to me, too. I think he just doesn’t like to be disturbed.”

  “Or maybe he’s afraid he shouldn’t be sleeping on the bed.”

  Teasingly, she slapped his arm. “I knew you would mention that. I knew it.” Giggling, she added, “You’ll be glad to know that he does eat in the kitchen. There won’t be any begging at the table. I promise.”

  “Do you ever eat in the kitchen?”

  Her stomach did a little flip-flop. “Why?”

  “Because I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since noon, and I don’t want to eat alone.”

  She stood, and pulled on his hand until he stood. “I’ll confess something to you.”

  He raised his brows. “Oh? What?”

  Walking beside him to the door, she said, “We’ve all eaten in the kitchen while you’ve been gone.” She opened the door. “It’s not where you eat, it’s who you eat with that’s important.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  Smiling up at him, she determined that tonight she wasn’t going to worry about what he did to her heart and just enjoy the fact he was home. “Do you like the sound of eggs and ham?”

  “Very much.”

  Happy, she asked, “What about rum cake? It’s my mother’s recipe and very delicious. Elsie won it at the cakewalk today.”

  “She won the cake you baked?”

  “I told her she could pick whatever one she wanted, and that was the one she picked.”

  “Because you baked it.”

  “She helped.” No longer mad at him, she knew she could tell him a few other things. “Catherine and Sean are staying in the servant quarters in the basement, and they both have been doing chores around here, but I’ll pay them out of my nanny salary.”

  He laid a hand on her back as they started down the staircase. “If they are working around here, I will pay them. As you stated, Mrs. Dahl is helping her daughter, so there are things around here that need to be done. Do you know if Sean is any sort of a carpenter?”

  “I don’t know, why?”

  “Because I’ve been thinking about having a playhouse built in the backyard for Elsie, like Reggie’s gi
rls have. Perhaps Sean could do that.”

  The urge to kiss him was so strong her toes curled inside her shoes. “There it is again,” she said. “The best of you.”

  * * *

  Karl couldn’t say there was anything good about him right now. He felt rotten for the way he’d treated her. That comment about his mother had come out because that is who he blamed. Bridget not being home had reminded him of being young, of wanting to have his mother there when he came home, like other children. When she wasn’t there, he’d remembered a time when he’d been with his father downtown and seen his mother. He’d pointed her out, and his father had said that she was always out gallivanting around.

  Bridget wasn’t his mother, and she hadn’t been gallivanting around. While he’d been wallowing in self-pity at her not being here, she’d been out raising money for those who needed it. Then she’d cooked him eggs and ham and sat beside him in the kitchen, where he ate two pieces of the best cake he’d ever tasted, and they talked. Talked until after one o’clock in the morning. They conversed about little, insignificant things and larger, important subjects like what was being done for the survivors and how more was still needed.

  * * *

  Their discussion was still with him when he entered his office the following morning. Sitting in the kitchen last night had reminded him of years ago, when he and Benjamin would sneak down there and talk. He hadn’t had that in a long time. A friend to confide in. Not since Benjamin had gotten married. His brother had then had Annette. Benjamin had been so happy. Karl didn’t trust that what he was feeling for Bridget was anything close to what Benjamin had felt for Annette, but he did have to believe that all women weren’t like his mother. Some women did care. Some women were loyal.