by Suzanne Weyn
“How freaky,” he remarked, still studying her.
“It is,” she agreed.
They continued walking through the hall. There were emerald rings and necklaces salvaged from the wrecks of Spanish galleons. An Eye of Horus pendant with an emerald set in the center had survived from ancient Egypt. The information card said it was among the treasures Alexander the Great sent back to Athens after he conquered Egypt in 332 B.C.E. A headdress called the Crown of Andes was set with 453 emeralds. It was named for Atahualpa, one of the last emperors of the Incas, who was taken captive by Pizarro in 1532.
“There’s so much death and fighting attached to these emeralds,” Samantha observed.
“I know,” Jake agreed.
Under a banner that read FABULOUS FAKES were gems that were often mistaken for emeralds. There was a carving of Buddha made from a tall emerald, labeled the Emerald Buddha. “It’s really green jasper,” Jake told her, reading the information card beside it.
A clump of green crystal was labeled EMERALD CRYSTALS IN CALCITE MATRIX WITH PYRITE FORMATIONS. “Read this card,” Jake told her.
Leaning close, Samantha read. The crystals had been found clenched in the fingers of a male Neanderthal skeleton that had been washed ashore by the rushing water into which he had apparently fallen from a cliff above. His bones were entangled with those of another skeleton believed to be those of a Cro-Magnon female, the prehistoric figure most resembling people today. The archeologists who uncovered them suspected that these two had died struggling for the rock.
“Write a play about that,” Samantha suggested to Jake. “That’s about as tragic as it gets. They died fighting for a rock.”
“I know. Stupid, huh?”
They came to a display marked EVENING PERIDOT, BELIEVED TO BE ORIGINALLY FROM THE RED SEA ISLAND OF ST. JOHN’S. FOUND WASHED ASHORE ON THE ATLANTIC COAST. It was a single, lovely green drop earring.
They stood together, silent, staring down at it. It was strange: Samantha felt a lump forming in her throat and came near to crying.
Jake noticed. “Are you okay?” he asked.
Was there a catch in his voice as well?
Not wanting to speak for fear of crying, she nodded. After a moment, she felt able to talk. “Maybe it’s just that … it’s how I pictured the earring in your story.”
“Me, too,” he agreed quietly. “It’s not even a real emerald.”
“Who cares,” said Samantha. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is,” he agreed. “And they found it here in the Atlantic, even though it comes from the Caribbean.”
“Like in your story,” Samantha said.
“Like in my story. Weird.”
“In your play, he came back for her, right?” she checked.
“Uh-huh. But he was too late.”
They continued to gaze at the earring. She wanted to take hold of his hand, suddenly feeling strangely close to him, but fought the urge. She didn’t know him well enough for that.
“Hey,” he said, looking up after a while, “where did everybody go?”
Samantha checked the schedule of events. “The IMAX comet movie starts in two minutes,” she told him. “Want to try to make it?”
“Yeah.”
Following the museum map, they made their way to the IMAX theater, showed their tickets, and hurried into the already-darkened theater.
“Can you see any empty seats?” she whispered to him.
“No.”
After a moment though, she spied a single empty seat right on the end. She went for it at the same moment Jake tried to sit in it. They bounced off each other there in the dark, their heads clacking together painfully.
“Ow!” she cried.
“Shh!” came a chorus of voices.
“Are you all right?” he whispered. She could tell he was rubbing his head also.
“I’ll live,” she said.
“Want to share the seat?” he offered.
“Yeah.”
Carefully, they both perched on the corners of the seat, squeezed against each other. She found being so close to him exciting and oddly easy all at the same time.
On the enormous screen, the planet Earth rose before them from the vantage point of a passing comet. It hovered in the darkness in its entire blue and green splendor — a green, turning orb more shining and gorgeous than any emerald.
This time, she didn’t hesitate. She took hold of his hand.
He turned to her there in the dark. She waited, not daring to breathe. What would he do?
He squeezed her hand. “Is it just me?” he whispered. “Have I known you forever?”
“I’m so glad you feel it, too,” she whispered in reply, relieved to hear him say what she felt. “This thing between us … is it real?”
“It’s real,” he assured her. “Don’t ask me how I know, but it is. We wouldn’t both be feeling it if it wasn’t.”
Samantha knew that this was the beginning of the rest of her life. Her life would be with him from now on. They would never be apart again.
It didn’t matter how or why she knew it. She knew.
This was it.
They’d made it.
Together they gazed at the screen in front of them as if out into the universe: The Earth and the vast, fathomless universe — the mysterious green jewel spinning in the darkness — all there for them to share, as it had been from the start.
Special thanks to Diana Gonzalez, Colleen Salcius, and David M. Young for reading as I wrote and giving me their valuable comments; to Pam Laskin, Bill Gonzalez, Rae Gonzalez, and Nancy Krulik for their interest and encouragement; and to Karen Weise for letting me research emeralds in her great home library.
SW
Thad was supposed to spend the rest of the day working with Tesla but Tesla had one of his spells that forced him to lie silently in his darkened cabin. Thad immediately came and found me in Li’s room. “Jane, come out. We can spend the day together,” he called through the door.
I answered with a hot curling rod in my hand. I had been making a futile attempt to make curls in Emma’s fine hair. “I can come back later,” he said when he saw the rod and Emma seated on a stool, her hair down around her shoulders.
“No, Jane, you go out with him,” Emma offered with a resigned sigh. “My hair was just not meant to curl. I’m going to give up on this and go find Amelie out on deck.”
I gave her shoulder a quick pinch of thanks. She knew how much I wanted to spend the time with Thad.
I noticed he was wearing a blue wool pea jacket. “Is it cold?” I asked.
“There’s a cold wind. Wear a coat,” he advised.
He and I hurried together up to the first-class deck. The sky was a field of blue with fat clouds rolling lazily in it. Thad took hold of my hand. “Is this all right?” he checked.
Smiling, I nodded. It was more than all right. To be walking hand in hand with Thad on the deck of the Titanic was perfect happiness. A brisk breeze whipped past, pushing us forward. A woman’s feathered hat blew past us like a great winged bird sailing by. Thad leaped for it, snapping it out of the air.
A woman laughed and clapped in delight. “Well done, young man. Thank you ever so much.” It was jolly Mrs. Brown.
Thad handed her the huge hat.
She returned it to her head, jabbing a long, pearl-headed pin into it, attaching it to her mountain of hair. The boa of black feathers at her neck ruffled in the wind. “Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to wear all these feathers in a stiff wind,” she said with a chuckle. “Don’t be surprised if you see me airborne off the bow of the ship.”
This image made me laugh. “I hope not,” I said, smiling.
“Aw, don’t worry about me. Nothing ever happens to me. I was born under a lucky star,” she said good-naturedly.
“Do you think there is such a thing?” Thad asked her.
“I’m sure there is, young man,” she replied. “I can tell you’re lucky.”
“How can you tell tha
t?” Thad asked.
Mrs. Brown threw her head back and let out the most raucous guffaw I’d ever heard. “Could it be more obvious? Look at this lovely young woman at your side! Don’t you see the stars in her eyes when she looks at you? Could you be any luckier?”
I was beginning to blush, but then I noticed that Thad was red as Mrs. Brown’s hat. Smiling broadly, Mrs. Brown thumped him on the back. “Ain’t love grand?” she said as she began to walk off. “I hope you enjoy every second of it, kids.”
We couldn’t help but laugh.
“It is grand,” Thad said more seriously once our laughter had subsided.
“Love?” I asked.
He nodded and stepped closer to me. “I love you, Jane.”
Peering into his blue eyes, I tried to read his expression. Was he telling the truth? It took only a second to decide that he was.
I rested my hand on his sleeve. “I love you, too.”
He lowered his head and I tipped my chin up to meet his warm kiss. This kiss felt different than yesterday’s kiss. This kiss was like a promise, tender and heartfelt. It was slow and deep.
There was something flowing between us. Was it energy? Electricity? Spirit? Whatever it was made me feel so connected to Thad in a way I had never felt with another person, not even my sisters.
When we were done kissing, he kept his arms around me. My cheek rested against his chest, enjoying his warmth. “I feel like such an idiot when I remember that I almost let you get away from me,” he said softly. “Mrs. Brown is right. I’m so lucky to be on this ship with you.”
“I don’t know if it’s fate or luck,” I said. “I’m just so happy to be here with you. I never want this trip to end.”
Thad took a folded white piece of paper and a pencil from his pocket. Opening the paper flat, he began to write. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“You’ll see.” On the paper he wrote these words: Thad loves Jane.
Then he began creasing the paper. I quickly realized he was making another of his paper gliders.
With a quick pitch, he launched it over the side of the ship. A current of wind instantly snapped it up, whirling it in a circle before it leveled out straight.
Thad loves Jane. How wonderful it sounded.
“It’s out there now,” he said, putting his arm around my waist. “There’s no taking it back.”
This book was originally published in hardcover by Scholastic Press in 2008.
Copyright © 2007 by Suzanne Weyn. All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
This edition first printing, May 2009
Front cover photo © Stockbyte Photography/Veer
Cover art composite by Leyah Jensen
e-ISBN 978-0-545-28163-8
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
