The Breath Between Waves

by Charlotte Anne Hamilton

  She knew she sounded close to hysterics, yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t control it. She shook her head. “I’m not a lady. I’m…” The laughter gave way to sobs, and she raised her trembling hand to her lips in an attempt to stifle them. “My mother and father. I don’t know where they are. I can’t leave them here. I can’t, but I don’t know where they are, and I need to find them before the last boat goes. But I’ve searched everywhere. And the only options left are that they’re dead on one of the decks below or they’re off on a lifeboat, and I don’t know what’s worse. Them being dead or them abandoning me without a care.”

  One of the men, a large fellow with a round face and gentle eyes, approached her. Penelope recognised him as the man who had been with the duke when she and Ruby had been looking for Ruby’s father earlier. His Grace had called him Benjamin. He didn’t seem to recognise Penelope, however; not that she could blame him. She was in such disarray that she probably looked like a completely different person.

  He offered her his glass, which was full of a dark-brown liquid. She had no idea what it was, only that it must be alcoholic, so she took it from him, gulping it down in one go.

  It burned her throat, adding to the pain from all her screaming and crying, but it reminded her that she was alive. Everything seemed to come alive for a brief moment, sensation returning to her body as the fire spread down her gullet to her stomach.

  “There, there,” the man soothed as he took the glass from her and handed it off to another man. She looked around, briefly wondering what had become of the duke, but was distracted as the man said, “Now, I don’t think your parents would take off without you. Granted, I don’t know them, but no good parent would willingly leave whilst their daughter is still aboard. And if they would… Well, you’d be better off without them anyway, my girl.”

  He gave her a smile, one that Penelope wished to return, but her mind was still running wild. She hated the thought of her parents out in a lifeboat, not giving a damn about her. She knew this gentleman spoke the truth. If that was indeed the case, and they really had left her, she would never speak to them again.

  Of course, that was assuming she’d survive to do so.

  “If it is any consolation, however, this is no longer the deck for the richest of the rich—this is the deck for those who have…accepted their fate.” His eyes became sad and solemn. “It may be worthwhile trying the promenade out by the stern, where the masts for the antennae and such are hung up. Your parents may be under the illusion that you got off safely and are content with that.”

  The second man appeared with the glass, refilled with the same brown liquid. He handed it to Benjamin, who pressed it into Penelope’s grasp. He smiled. “For luck. And then you must go.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, her voice no louder than a whisper. She raised the glass to her lips, chugging down the liquid, relishing the burn this time around as it glided down her throat and settled in the pit of her stomach.

  The taste was more pleasant than the beer she had tried at the Third Class party, but she still preferred the wine she was allowed to drink at dinner to anything else.

  Handing the glass back, Penelope reiterated her gratitude before leaving the room and setting off for the promenade.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  This time, Penelope walked slowly across the deck towards the promenade instead of rushing and looking frantically around her.

  She did so mostly because her energy was failing and her legs were threatening to collapse underneath her, but also because she was terrified of what she would—or rather wouldn’t—find when she reached her destination.

  In order to distract herself, Penelope focused only on her surroundings. She realised that the ship had straightened out as the front had lowered farther into the water. Whilst the deck felt as steep as the trek up to Arthur’s Seat, Penelope no longer felt like she was on some bizarre attraction at a village fair.

  When she stepped onto the exterior promenade deck, the first thing she saw was the mast, covered in the rigging and cables that the man in the smoking room had talked about. The White Star flag—the white star of its name displayed on a vivid red pennant—usually flew proudly there, but it was always lowered at sunset and tied away until the next morning. Which was where it sat now, resting at the bottom of the mast, never to be raised again.

  She blinked up at it, feeling a strange fluttering in her stomach. The poor ship was going to go down without her flag flying.

  Her gaze moved slightly to the left, finding the cables that led to the Boat Deck. She had seen them around her town enough to know that they were the antennae for the Marconi telegraph room. She wondered if they were still working, desperately trying to let other ships know that Titanic was doomed.

  Penelope returned her gaze to the deck, staring numbly at the few people there. None of them seemed too concerned. Most were looking at the horizon, their grips tight on the railing as the ship’s back rose from the water and the front continued to be pulled down.

  Everyone had their backs to her, and Penelope had no energy left to be discreet or to make a lap of the small area. She took a deep breath and called out, “Mother? Father?”

  Every head turned to face her. Her hands wound themselves tightly in the fabric of her skirt. It felt as though it was freezing rather than drying. She glanced at every face before they turned away from her, realising that they didn’t know her.

  Before she had fully examined them all, she heard her name.

  She turned towards the source, and when she saw her mother and father, both of them dressed but without lifebelts, she choked back a sob and took off towards them.

  She threw herself into their arms. She was thankful that they caught her, for she felt as though she could no longer hold herself upright. Their hands clawed at her back, pulling her closer, holding her so tightly she felt pain lance through her body.

  Not that she cared. She relished the touch. It was yet another reminder that, despite how everything was going, she wasn’t dead yet. And she still had enough strength and fight in her to get out of this.

  She felt lips against the top of her head, pressing never-ending kisses to her hair, before she pulled back. Her face was drenched with tears, but the emotion was mirrored in her mother’s and father’s faces, their tears glistening in the light from the deck.

  Her mother cupped her face. She wore leather gloves, and even though Penelope was certain they were icy to the touch, she couldn’t feel them against her skin. She reached up, pressing her mother’s hand more firmly against her cheek so she could feel it.

  “My darling Penelope.” Her mother sniffled as she wiped the tears that had fallen to her chin on the fur collar of her coat. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be on a boat!”

  “You’re supposed to be clever, my girl,” her father chimed in, pressing his hand against her face, over her own and her mother’s. “Why aren’t you on a boat?”

  Penelope sniffed back her tears. “Why aren’t you?” she demanded. She wanted to pull away from their touch, but no matter how angry she was at them, she knew she couldn’t. She had longed for this moment since she’d realised the ship was going down.

  “They were only letting women and children on the boats,” her father replied easily, giving her a gentle smile.

  “And I refuse to leave your father’s side.”

  Penelope immediately thought of the elderly couple on the Boat Deck.

  She had thought it sweet, the devotion they had shown to each other and their marriage vows. But now, as she was faced with losing her own parents, she felt only anger at their ridiculousness. “The ship is going down! The front is nearly completely submerged. This is life and death—you understand that, don’t you? Chances are, if you go into that water, you are not coming out.”

  No matter how much she loved them or wanted their final
moments to be soft, sweet, and gentle, Penelope couldn’t stand their touch any longer. She pulled her head back, and all their hands landed limp at their sides.

  A sad look washed over her mother’s face, and she looked at her husband before returning her eyes to Penelope. She opened her mouth to speak, but Penelope didn’t want to hear it.

  “And what of me? Did you even try to look for me after you told me to do what the stewards said? Even though you had no intention of doing such a thing yourself? I saw Mr. Cameron, and he said that, when the stewards were waking everyone up and telling them to get to the Boat Deck, you refused to move.” Penelope shook her head. It was easier this way. Easier to pick a fight than to realise that she was losing her mother and father. “Did you not even care enough to look for me? Do you really resent me so much that you were happy to die just assuming that I’d got into a lifeboat because I’m supposed to be clever?” Her chest was heaving by the time she’d finished speaking. Her hands were tightening into fists and then loosening, a constant movement that grounded her, even though her fingers were far too stiff to curl all the way into her palms.

  Her parents stared at her for a long moment, their gazes darting between her and each other.

  Her mother was the first to speak. Her voice was small as she asked, “Resent you?” She frowned, a thing so deep and full of concern that, if Penelope’s blood had still been running in her veins as liquid rather than ice, it would have made her flush in embarrassment.

  She was beginning to regret her words, but there was no way to take them back.

  “Why on earth do you think we resent you?” her father questioned, reaching for her shoulder. He gripped it tightly, placing his hand so that he touched her rather than the lifebelt. “Penelope, we love you. When we realised the severity of the situation, we rushed to your room. It was empty, with no sign of you or Miss Cole. We know you’re clever, and we just assumed that you had got into a lifeboat as soon as you were able. If we had expected you to stay to search for us, we never would have stopped searching for you.”

  Now it was Penelope’s turn to be confused. Her gaze darted between her mother and father. In each of them, she could see herself.

  She had her mother’s eyes, brown irises with flecks of green, but she had her father’s hair; dark chestnut brown, thick but fine. She was also there in the way her mother smiled and had dimples in her cheeks, and the way her father held himself tall and sure, despite the chaos and devastation around them.

  “Why wouldn’t you think I would search for you?”

  Once more, her parents shared a look before her mother turned back to Penelope and said, with a voice laden with regret, “We know you didn’t want to move. You fought us right up until the final week. You were determined to stay with your grandmother in Scotland.” Her mother’s shoulders slumped. “We worried if…perhaps you would blame us for this. And so you might just have left…”

  Penelope had no words.

  She hadn’t known that her actions, her protests about moving, had weighed so heavily on their minds. Weighed so heavily that they had truly believed she would have blamed them for this. She wasn’t even certain there was anyone to blame, except perhaps God.

  Unable to think of something to say to help alleviate their worries, Penelope threw herself into their arms, wrapping both of them in her embrace. She buried her face between their shoulders, relieved when their arms circled around her back again.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, because it was really the only thing she could think of. And when she started saying it, she couldn’t seem to stop. Even when she felt her mother and father stroking her hair, trying to calm to her down, she couldn’t stop.

  I’m sorry.

  For her mother and father, for doubting their love and making them doubt her own. And for not even realising how foolish she had been until it was too late.

  I’m sorry.

  For her grandmother back in Scotland, who would be told that not only had she lost her daughter, but her son-in-law and granddaughter as well. All at once. And what the grief would do to her.

  I’m sorry.

  Even for Caroline. She wasn’t sure she would ever forgive the way she had treated her and for stealing away her sense of wonder, but Penelope still believed that, when the news reached her, back at home with her husband, she would still feel saddened. Deep down, Penelope knew that Caroline had loved her in her own way.

  I’m sorry.

  And for Millicent, Deborah, and Emma. Whom she hadn’t spoken to in an appallingly long time because of Caroline, but whom she still adored. Who would have to hear the news and know that there would be no more joyful walks and mindless gossip shared between them.

  I’m sorry.

  And lastly, for Ruby. For leaving her behind without a second glance.

  For making her believe that she would join her in that boat. For betraying that squeeze of her hand that had said she’d be holding it again in five seconds. For making her drift off in cold, icy waters and watch as the ship went down, knowing that Penelope was still aboard. And that she could do nothing to help her.

  I’m sorry for it all.

  Her mother drew back and cupped her cheeks. Her heart-shaped face was drenched with tears. And her skin looked paler than usual, mottled red painting her nose and cheeks. “Dear, you have nothing to apologise for.” Her thumbs brushed away Penelope’s own tears. “Your father and I love you so much.”

  “But now you have to do something for us, Penelope,” her father said as he gave her a smile. “One last promise to your parents before we depart.”

  Penelope choked back a sob as she nodded. “Of course. Anything.”

  “Live.” It was a simple word. So simple that it took Penelope a minute before she fully understood what they were asking of her.

  The second it sank in, her eyes widened. She started to shake her head, but her mother held it tight in her hands.

  “My girl, we made peace because we believed you were safe. You are so young. You deserve to experience everything life has to offer—fall in love, become a mother, get married.” Her mother’s lips quirked when she noticed the way Penelope’s lips turned down. “Or go to those colleges you spoke of. Get an education, be tied to no one. I just want you to live and be happy. For so long I’ve watched you hide inside yourself, afraid that people would turn away when they got to know you. And I am sorry that it took me until now to speak of it.” There was a twinkle in her mother’s eyes that added an extra layer to her words. She wasn’t just talking about her personality being a little bit different from everyone else’s.

  Penelope’s heart hammered out a rhythm against her chest. At some point, her mother had noticed that she and Caroline had been something more than friends; that perhaps she and Ruby had been as well. And she hadn’t once tried to talk her out of it or make her change who she was—she had just quietly let Penelope live her life.

  And even though Penelope slightly resented the fact that all this time she had been hiding herself from her mother who had known all along, she was mostly just glad that, despite everything, her mother still loved her and accepted her.

  She didn’t know whether her father knew or would respond the same way, so she said nothing in reply to her mother, hoping that the thankfulness was as apparent in her eyes as the love and acceptance was in her mother’s.

  “My proudest achievement has been watching you turn into a clever, beautiful, strong-minded young woman, Penelope,” her father began, after allowing the moment between mother and daughter. He didn’t seem to realise the gravity those words held for Penelope as he continued without pause, “so I beg you not to throw that away. I beg of you: live.”

  It was painful. How difficult it was to get her mouth to work. Her throat was dry, and as raw as her emotions seemed to be.

  Tears fell in an endless stream down her face as she blubbered i
n front of her mother and father, trying to put everything she was feeling into words.

  “We know.” Her mother moved forwards and pressed a fierce kiss to her forehead. Then she released Penelope and allowed her father to give her the same treatment.

  They both stepped backwards, no longer touching. Then they looped their arms together and her father gave Penelope a watery smile. “Go, darling. Before time runs out.”

  “I love you both,” was all she was able to get out before she turned and walked away, leaving her parents behind.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  As Penelope stepped onto the Boat Deck, she was overwhelmed by the ship’s position.

  She had been so preoccupied with her mother and father that she hadn’t really focused on the way the ship had started to tilt again, this time to the left side rather than the right.

  But what blew her away more than anything was how submerged the front of the ship was.

  The Bridge Deck had been one of her favourite places to go.

  She had loved standing by that railing, watching the sea pass by and feeling the wind in her hair. Only yesterday, only a matter of hours ago, she had stood on that deck, now slowly disappearing into the water, and had leaned over the edge, trying to see if any whales were following the ship to help her mother prove a point to her father.

  She had asked her father about the mechanism behind the anchors and the cranes. She had sat on the benches after a short walk around the perimeter, and she had enjoyed the deckchairs with Ruby on more than one occasion.

  So many good memories had been made on this ship.

  And now they were all tainted.

  “Penelope!” a breathless voice called out before she could begin to move again.

  Her promise to her parents still bounced around in her head, and she had no intention of letting them down. But God above, it was hard to find the will and strength to move when faced with the devastation before her.