Queen of the Waves

by Janice Thompson

  Jacquie spent the better part of the next three weeks holed up in her room, ashamed to face her parents or Roland, who stopped by the house on more than one occasion to visit with Father. Cook graciously brought her meals to her room, but Jacquie only picked at them, her appetite far from its usual state. Many times over she made her apologies to Mother, who told her it would be best to forget the incident and put it in the past.

  Still, she could not. The ache of losing Peter remained, though not with the same severity. Now, whenever she thought of him, she just felt foolish. Of course, these feelings were all mixed up with the guilt that plagued her when Father sent him packing. She prayed he would find another job and secretly celebrated the news that the chief groundskeeper at Richmond Park had hired him on.

  Still, there was the issue of Roland. Avoiding him hadn’t been easy, and she could do so no longer. By the time the third Saturday in May arrived, she had no choice. Father and Roland were to appear at a public event today to share the news of their merger, and Jacquie was to go along. To save face, according to Father.

  To save her soul was more like it. For, while she did share some of Mama’s concerns that people would talk, she cared far more about doing the right thing. And doing the right thing meant offering apologies to Roland.

  With her heart drifting to her toes, she descended the stairs. Her gaze landed on him. He was as tall and stately as ever, as he stood in the foyer talking to Mother. A low chuckle sounded as Father slapped him on the back.

  As she landed on the bottom step, Roland glanced her way. His eyes clouded over a bit as he took her in. “Jacquie.” She half expected a terse look, but he extended a hand graciously. Then again, he had always been a perfect gentleman.

  “Roland.” She took his proffered hand and allowed him to lead her into the foyer.

  “Cook will serve lunch in a half hour,” Father said. “After that, we will be on our way.” He looked back and forth between Jacquie and Roland. “If you two don’t mind, I need to take care of a pressing business matter that demands my attention.”

  “And I promised to telephone Minerva. She’s probably wondering why I haven’t done so already.” Mother scurried from the room.

  Jacquie did her best to calm her nerves, but the trembling hands gave her away. Left alone in the room with Roland, she had no choice but to do the obvious. She took a few steps into the parlor and eased her way down onto a settee. He sat opposite her, making light chatter about the weather.

  She put a hand up to stop him. “Roland.”

  “Yes.” He grew silent, and an undeniable awkwardness settled over the room.

  “I—” Her eyes filled with tears. “I have something I must say to you.” She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to formulate the right words. Truly, this man deserved far more than an apology. She had betrayed him in the worst possible way. The fact that he was willing to sit in a room with her and treat her civilly said much of his character.

  “I must ask for your forgiveness,” she said at last.

  He reached for her hand, his eyes brimming with unshed emotion. “Jacquie—”

  “I do not deserve it. I know that. But until I receive it, I won’t be able to rest my head on the pillow at night and sleep in peace. I promise you, this has nothing to do with what people will say or even what my parents wish. This is my heartfelt plea to ask for forgiveness, though I know in my heart that I do not deserve it.” The sting of tears followed, and she swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand in a most unladylike fashion.

  Roland stood and paced the room, finally coming to a stop in front of her. “Jacquie.” Just one word, but he spoke it with such kindness that it gave her hope. “I cannot pretend that your leaving didn’t wound me, and all the more when I heard the particulars.” He paused and his gaze shifted to the ground. “I understand what it feels like to care for someone with that kind of passion.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes.” His gaze met hers. “I understand it because that’s how I feel about you. It’s how I’ve felt about you from the moment I first ventured through the door here at Abingdon Manor all those months ago. Don’t you see?”

  Jacquie leaned forward and put her head in her hands as shame washed over her afresh. “Oh, Roland.”

  “I also know what it’s like to be loved and not reciprocate those feelings. My parents nudged me into a relationship with a young woman back in New York that I did not care for. Pretense was all I could offer. I withheld my heart because it did not belong to her.”

  Jacquie sighed. Perhaps he really did understand, then.

  “I thought I could convince myself to love her, but I could not.” He dropped into the chair across from her once again. “So, I do understand your dilemma. Truly. I don’t hold it against you for not reciprocating my feelings.” A flicker of pain settled in his eyes. “I had hoped for more, of course. I believe we all hope for real love, even when it seems elusive at best.”

  She struggled to come up with something comforting, but no words came.

  He gazed at her with great empathy. “You have asked me to forgive you.”

  “Y–yes.”

  “How could I withhold forgiveness from you when the Lord has so graciously offered it to me, time and time again?”

  She felt the tears as they dampened her lashes but didn’t bother brushing them away. Instead, she spoke with all the sincerity she could muster. “Roland, you’re truly one of the best men I’ve ever known. I do hope you know that. You deserve someone who can give you her heart in its entirety. Right now mine is…” The only word that came to mind was splintered, but she dared not voice it.

  “Say no more, Jacquie. We will put this behind us and move forward as friends.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he gazed at her. “If you will have me as a friend, I mean. Right now, I could use one.”

  “Me too.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out his beautiful ring. “But I must offer this back to you.”

  He shook his head. “Do me a favor. Put it away. Keep it safe. Maybe one day you will wear it—as a thing of beauty, I mean. Not as a token of anything other than that.” He gazed at her with such tenderness that she felt shame wash over her afresh. “It would bring a certain degree of comfort to know that I’d added a bit of extra sparkle to your eyes with that little gift.”

  “You are too kind.”

  “I’m not.” He shook his head. “I’m just a man who trusts that the Lord has his future in the palm of His hand.”

  “The Lord…” When she spoke the word, a lump filled Jacquie’s throat. She shook her head, tears now dribbling down her cheek. If God had her future in the palm of His hand, she had much to be concerned about, for surely the Almighty found her to be the most despicable of people right now. She shivered then whispered, “What an image that is.”

  “I can trust Him, Jacquie. You can too.” Roland paused and seemed to disappear into his thoughts for a moment. “Perhaps that’s why the news of losing you to another man didn’t carry the sort of sting one might expect. I have to believe that the Lord was not taken by surprise by any of this. And I daresay He’s big enough to contend with both my will and my heart, heavy as the latter may be.”

  “You are a good man, Roland Palmer.” Jacquie stood and offered him her hand.

  He rose and took it in his own then kissed the back of it with great tenderness. “I am not. But I serve a great God. He gives me the capacity to be a better man with each passing day.” Roland sought out her gaze. “If you will take a few steps toward friendship, I would be grateful.”

  “Of course. We are the best of friends, truly, for you have offered me something that only a friend could—forgiveness.” Her heart overflowed with gratitude as she thought about his generosity.

  The clock chimed the hour, and Jacquie realized Roland still held her hand in his own. She gave it a squeeze then offered him her arm. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starved.” He quirked a brow. “I w
as so nervous about this afternoon’s event that I couldn’t eat a thing for breakfast.”

  “I haven’t eaten much of late, either,” she countered, “but feel like I could manage a feast this afternoon.”

  “Well, you’re in luck. Your mother tells me that the cook misunderstood her instructions and thought the event was here. She has prepared enough food for everyone in the county.”

  Jacquie couldn’t help but laugh as she and Roland made their way toward the dining room together.

  The weeks passed at an alarming pace. Nathan did his best to put the past behind him but found himself overwhelmed with memories of the Titanic.

  Memories of Mother.

  Memories of…James Carson.

  Strange, how grief could be all mixed up with feelings of anger and betrayal. Stranger still that Father—the only father he had ever known—played such an integral role in Nathan’s healing, offering himself as both counselor and friend. And while he spoke the truth, revealing tales that Nathan had not cared to hear, one thing remained clear: Father was a man of grace and mercy.

  Never was this more apparent than on a Saturday evening in May when he called Nathan to his study. Father’s eyes brimmed with tears as he spoke. “I thought you should know that I’m planning a memorial service for your mother.”

  “How can you do that?” Nathan rose and walked to the window then gazed out at the garden. He turned back to his father. “How can you forgive her, after all she did to you?”

  His father rose and took several steps in his direction. “That’s a question I’ve had to ask myself many times over the years. There’s really only one answer, because there’s only one truth, and that’s an eternal one. Men will fail us. Given ample opportunity, they will wound, betray, and neglect us. Many will say they have no choice in the matter, that they acted not of their own volition. In the end, humans are just that—human. They tend toward selfishness.”

  Nathan bit back a caustic response.

  Father’s expression softened. “There is a truth, however, that stands the test of time. No ship can penetrate it, no iceberg rise up against it. Nothing anyone builds or claims ownership to, short of the Almighty. It is the truth of God’s love for us—love that crashes through even the coldest, most frigid heart.”

  He stood in front of Nathan and put his hand on his shoulder. “Son, we can’t repair what has happened in the past, but we can ask God to melt our hearts as surely as those icebergs in the North Atlantic will melt in the summertime. When the thaw comes, the risk for damage is lessened. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  Father offered a smile. “Don’t let your heart be hardened, my boy. Remember, in this world we will have trials and tribulation…”

  Tribulation. A word he knew quite well.

  “But we can take heart”—Father’s eyes filled with tears as he pointed heavenward—“because our Savior has overcome the world.”

  Nathan had much to overcome, to be sure. Much to forgive. But already he felt springtime coming. His heart, hardened by forces unseen, was melting. He could feel the gentle hands of the One who had spoken it to life, massaging, warming, urging him to breathe again. Live again.

  The man standing before him offered the finest example of that. Nathan would live every day of his life following in his father’s footsteps.

  Tessa peered through the open door leading to the study, her eyes filling with tears as father and son stood in a tight embrace.

  In the few weeks she had known Mr. Patterson, one undeniable conclusion had been drawn: not all fathers were like hers. Some, like this wonderful man, lived to serve and care for others. Lived to extend grace and forgiveness even when it made no sense.

  And now, as she looked on through the open doorway, Tessa found herself more vulnerable than she had been since that fateful day aboard Titanic when Jessie had encouraged her to take her bitterness and toss it into the Atlantic. Watching a father—a real father—express his love in such an open way nearly pulled her heart from her chest.

  Mr. Patterson looked her way, and a smile lit his face. He opened wide his arms and gestured for Tessa to join them in their embrace. She drew close, the smell of peppermint filling the space between them as he spoke words of love over her. Her thoughts traveled back to Jessie’s heartfelt words that fateful day aboard Titanic: “Rest in the comfort that your heavenly Father adores you. He does, you know.”

  Here, in Mr. Patterson’s loving, fatherly embrace, she truly believed it was so.

  Epilogue

  May 30, 1912

  Abingdon Manor, Richmond, England

  Dear Tessa:

  I should have written this letter weeks ago, but every time I tried to do so, the words would not come. I struggle to get them out even now. How can I ever begin to make right what I’ve done? I cannot go back and undo the past. Oh, how I wish I could! But neither can I move forward until I am relieved of this awful guilt.

  When we first met, I couldn’t see past myself. My vision is less clouded now, and I cannot deny the obvious: my selfish actions put you in peril and nearly cost you your life. Every time I think about what you went through on Titanic, I feel sick inside. I should have been the one in that lifeboat, not you. I should have been the one facing death.

  A thousand times I have thanked God for sparing your life, and Iris’s too. A thousand times I have begged Him to forgive me for the role I played. Only recently have I begun to think He might be willing to do so. Though I don’t deserve it, I ask—no, I beg—you to forgive me, as well. Perhaps that way I can move forward into whatever life has to offer without the weight of guilt pressing me down.

  On a happier note, I received a letter from Grandmother, telling me of your visit. It warms my heart to know that you have taken the time to get to know her. She had nothing but kind things to say about you and about your young man. From what she shared, Nathan is both handsome and kind. Grandmother has always been the sort to play matchmaker, and she feels sure you two are a perfect match. If this is the case—and I pray it is—then I will have the consolation of knowing that you met him aboard the ship. I suppose it’s true what Roland says—that God can bring good out of bad. Then again, Roland always manages to see the good in everything and everyone…even me.

  I haven’t been to America since I was a little girl, but I would love to visit you, should you decide to stay on in New York. Grandmother says that you seem content. That brings such peace to my heart. She also said that you are a beautiful, refined young lady, with “impeccable manners and exquisite taste in hats.” I couldn’t help but chuckle when I read the line about hats, though I suspect Iris has played a role in that. You once told me that feathers belonged on peacocks, not on hats. Do you still feel that way? I rather envision you wearing a feather-plumed hat and loving it.

  Truly, I envision you as a young woman of great strength and character and will be proud to call you friend, should you allow me that privilege. I look forward to hearing from you, and I offer you all my best wishes for happiness.

  Sincerely,

  Jacquie Abingdon

  June 10, 1912

  New York

  Dear Jacquie,

  How wonderful to hear from you. Many times I have thought about you and wondered how you were doing, so your letter brought the answers I needed and made me feel close to you once again. I am delighted to hear that you are back home with your family and pray they can wrap you in their arms of love.

  Speaking of family, I have heard from Peter. He seems happy in his new position at Richmond Park, but I sensed the sadness in his words when he spoke of you. His regrets are many. No doubt he has already shared them with you. I pray you can let go of whatever pain he has caused and find joy in the days to come.

  You asked about Nathan, and I am pleased to share our news. He has asked me to be his wife, and I have happily agreed. The ceremony will take place in his father’s home in early August. Oh, how I wish you could come. Iris wi
ll stand up for me, and I feel sure she would love to share that honor with you. Of course, she has insisted upon designing my dress. I pretended to balk at first but truly wouldn’t have it any other way.

  I think you would be very proud of her, Jacquie. New York has opened up a whole new world of opportunities, and she is enjoying every moment. She has made a new friend in William, a young steward who works aboard the Carpathia. William is very interested in helping those less fortunate and has encouraged Iris and me to join him. You can’t imagine how many events we have all attended and how many families we have helped. Together, we are all learning to let go of the past and to get on with the business of living.

  As I read your letter, particularly the part about the weight of guilt, I thought about my life in England. I remembered that rocky path where I spent so many hours weighted down with guilt I was never meant to carry. I know the burden you are carrying right now, in part because I have borne it so many times myself. I also know that letting go of that burden is possible if you ask the Lord to help you.

  Please allow me to ease your mind. You asked for my forgiveness and I wholeheartedly extend it, though we both know that I carry my own responsibility in the matter. No one forced me to board Titanic. I went of my own choosing. As a result of that decision, I witnessed unspeakable horrors. And yet, for whatever reason, my life was spared.

  Many times I have asked the Lord why He chose to let me live when so many around me perished. I may never know. Nathan says that we must live our lives in a manner worthy of the grace God has bestowed. As you can tell, Nathan is quite the philosopher. No doubt he and Roland would get along nicely!

  Am I sorry I came to America? Not at all! Am I sorry that I chose to board Titanic to make the journey? The only answer I can give is this: I’m not sure I chose Titanic. In so many ways, I believe she chose me. And should she ask me to climb aboard one last time to sail from one shore to the next, I would not hesitate to do so. For on her decks, I laid down one life…and found another. In some small way, I have you to thank for that.