Christmas in Time

by Peggy Webb

  “I promised to make music just for you.” His voice was soft and intimate and filled with promises of more than music.

  When he brought the bow across the strings, the haunting strains of Un Bel Di from Madame Butterfly wrapped around her heart. Mesmerized, she never took her eyes off his. Nothing else existed except the two of them and the music, music he used to woo her, seduce her, make love to her as only a violinist can.

  When the song ended, she couldn’t move, hardly dared breathe. William closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them he began to play again. Ah! Sweet Mystery of Life segued into My Melancholy Baby which soon became Let Me Call You Sweetheart.

  He played with passion, nothing held back, every note wrung from his heart straight to hers. Sweat poured off his face and dripped off the tip of his nose, and still he played.

  Still she watched.

  She bloomed under his private concert, her entire body ripening and opening like the petals of a rose bud during a spring rain. She became damp with desire and limp with longing.

  She lost count of the love songs he played, lost track of their names, lost all concept of time. In the second class stateroom in the middle of the ocean in the Titanic, Gilly and William were in a world apart.

  Finally he lifted the bow from the strings. The only sounds in the room were his heavy breathing and the last, lingering note of music.

  “Your music is so beautiful I could die listening to it,” she whispered.

  Without a word, he knelt beside her and traced the tears on her cheeks.

  “Crying?”

  “For happiness.”

  He tasted her tears with the tip of his tongue, then kissed each cheek. “I love you, Gilly. I’ve loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

  “And I love you.”

  “I should take you back.”

  “So soon?” She glanced toward the porthole where a single star winked back at her. “It’s not even morning yet.”

  “What would I do with you till morning, Gilly Debeau?”

  “Play a game?” Her smile was decidedly wicked. “Of cards?”

  Roaring with laughter, William lifted her off her feet and twirled around his room, bumping into furniture. The bed caught him behind his knees and they both tumbled onto the mattress in a heap.

  Turning her face to his, she almost drowned in the dark depths of his eyes.

  “Gilly?”

  How quickly a mood could turn. How wondrous.

  All she could do was nod. Yes.

  William put his hands on the buttons of her bodice, and she lay breathless, waiting for what would happen next.

  o0o

  It was almost morning when William sneaked her through the narrow back ways and up to her stateroom. He put his finger over his lips, then hers, and hurried back down the empty hallway.

  Slipping into her room, she quickly shucked her clothes and wrapped herself in William’s coat. When she fell asleep, Gilly was smiling.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Gilly passed the next two days in a love-filled haze, living for the times she could be near William, either as part of the audience listening to his band, or for their midnight trysts in his stateroom.

  On Sunday, April 14th, William was busier than usual, adding hymns at the church service to his usual routine as bandleader. He hadn’t had a chance all day to slip away with Gilly.

  She passed the day as best she could without him - church with Papa, an early afternoon swim, helping Molly with last minute decorations for the party, and defending her from a few prissy passengers who said Molly Brown was a heathen for throwing a Christmas dance on Sunday. Some even said she’d lost her mind.

  “Christmas in April. Whoever heard of such a thing?”

  This remark was made by the companion of the famous film actress, Dorothy Gibson, just as Gilly hurried off to her stateroom.

  “I think it’s a lovely idea.” Gilly wasn’t about to back down, she didn’t care who the woman knew. “What better time to capture the spirit of Christmas than on Sunday?”

  The woman’s hair was finger waved all over her head and turned blue by some expensive process Gilly swore she’d never embrace in her old age, no matter what the fashion. The blue haired woman sniffed and marched off.

  Finally, Gilly made it to her stateroom and started dressing for Molly Brown’s Christmas ball. She was so excited she didn’t even mind she’d have to spend the evening dancing with the insufferable John Carver. At last she had a chance to be alone with William.

  She slid out of her stateroom, hidden in the folds of her velvet cloak as she raced to meet him.

  Without a word, he whisked her through back ways, hallways and stairways that were now as familiar to Gilly as her own front yard. Inside his stateroom, she wrapped herself around him, reveling in his kisses, his touch, his extravagant praise.

  “You’re glorious.” William held her at arm’s length, his hot gaze traveling the length of the green sequined gown, made in France and showing her figure to its full advantage.

  Bending to one knee, William took her left hand. “Gilly, I don’t have a ring for you. For now all I can give you is all my love. And a star.” He gestured toward the porthole where a single star shone with such brilliance it looked as if it belonged on the top of one of Molly Brown’s Christmas trees. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  “Yes.” He swept her up and carried her to the bed. “Oh, yes,” she whispered as he peeled away her clothes and came to her in a rush of passion.

  Their lovemaking was both tender and unbridled, a heady attempt to make time stand still and a promise of forever. And afterward, they lay in each other’s arms planning their future.

  “We’ll have four children,” he said, “two boys and two girls.”

  Gilly laughed. “We haven’t even planned the wedding yet. Or where we’ll live.”

  “We’ll live on whichever side of the ocean suits you, Gilly. I’ll build a house with a sheltered garden so we can be together any time, day or night, without scandalizing the neighbors.”

  “Overlooking the water so I can watch for you when your ship comes home.”

  “You can travel with me, Gilly. We’ll see the world together. Just you and me and my violin.”

  “At first. Before the children start school.”

  “By then, I’ll retire from the sea and become a stodgy old violin teacher.”

  She leaned on her elbows to look down at him. “You’ll never be stodgy.”

  He cupped her face. “I’m going to be worse than that if I don’t get you properly dressed and to the Christmas ball on time.”

  “Escort me there. I’ll introduce you to Papa.”

  “As the bandleader?”

  “No. As the man I love and plan to marry.”

  “Sweet Gilly.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then lifted her off the bed and set her on her feet. “After the ball, darling. I don’t want to ruin your Papa’s Christmas.”

  “It’s not Christmas.”

  “It will be if Molly Brown has her way.”

  As they dressed, side by side, Gilly thought how wonderful her life was, how remarkable her future was going to be. William was easygoing, an unflappable man full of quick laughter and great tenderness. He was an educated, talented man full of curiosity and a lust for life.

  She turned for him to fasten her necklace.

  “Now, kiss me quick, before I go.”

  He caught her close. “If I start I don’t know if I can stop.”

  “Just one little kiss,” she teased, “to get me through the evening with old What’s His Name who will step all over my shoes.”

  His mouth descended on hers in a kiss that left them both gazing with longing toward the bed. He grabbed her cloak, put it over her shoulders, then tucked her away in the hood.

  “Will that get you through the evening, darling?” His voice was filled with the desire that always bubbled near the surface when they were together.
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  “Yes, my love. Till we meet again.”

  William ducked into the hallway to make sure it was empty then whisked Gilly out of his stateroom and up the stairs. They parted before they got to the first class section, William going one way and Gilly heading in the opposite direction to meet her father.

  o0o

  She’d been right about John Carver stepping all over her shoes. As he bounced her around the dance floor and nearly knocked over one of the Christmas trees, Gilly glanced past his shoulder at William.

  He winked at her, then continued playing a Scott Joplin rag.

  There was no Silent Night at Molly Brown’s party. “Keep the music lively,” she’d told the leader of the string quintet, and William Wesley was only too happy to oblige.

  Gilly winked back, shivering in anticipation of being with William after the Christmas ball.

  Soon, she’d tell Papa. Soon.

  “Are you cold?” John asked.

  “No, but I could use another cup of punch.”

  Anything to get him away from her. He was worse than poison ivy, clinging all over her, his overbearing attentions making her so flustered her skin itched.

  It was past eleven thirty. Soon after midnight, the dance would be over and she could breathe again. She could lie on William’s bed and laugh about every little detail of Molly Brown’s Christmas dance.

  As she made her way back to the table where Papa was checking his pocket watch and Molly Brown was beaming, probably at the thought of how well her match making was going, the floor shifted. Gilly had to catch the edge of the table to keep from toppling. The cutlery on the table danced about and the chandelier swung in such a crazy arc, Gilly thought she must be having some kind of dizzy spell.

  Then she saw Molly Brown topple.

  Suddenly, all over the dance floor women were falling and screaming, men shouting. Across the room, glass crashed against the polished floor, the music came to a halt, and somewhere a man yelled, “Iceberg!”

  As her Christmas party turned to pandemonium, Molly hefted herself off the floor, planted her feet wide and yelled. “Everybody! Don’t panic!”

  Gilly seached for William, but the milling crowd blocked her view. Finally, the music started up again, reassuring her that her fiancé was all right.

  For a moment, she’d also lost sight of her father, but now he was back, taking her and Molly by their arms. “The ship has hit an iceberg. You need to put on all the warm clothes you have.”

  “Jack, the Titanic is supposed to be unskinkable.”

  “Nature has a way of making fools of boasting men.” He put Gilly’s hand in Molly’s. “Take care of her.”

  “Papa, where are you going?”

  “To see how I can help.” He leaned down and kissed Gilly’s cheek. “I love you, daughter. Tell your mother and your brother, I love them.”

  She wanted to scream at him, Papa, don’t say that. Everything’s going to be all right. But the frantic activity outside the ballroom told a different story. Besides, Papa had already vanished into the crowd.

  Molly steamed forward, dragging Gilly along in her wake. She cast one futile glance toward the bandstand, but the melee prevented any kind of contact with William, not even eye contact.

  Promising herself she’d grab her coat then come back to William, she trotted to keep up as Molly propelled her toward the forward side of the ship.

  “Put on every warm thing you’ve got.” Molly glared at her. “Have you got a fur coat?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll bring you one of mine.” With that, Molly sailed on down the hall and Gilly went into her stateroom. She stripped off her ball gown and slippers, and slid into her swim costume. It was wool and would provide a good first layer if – God forbid – the unthinkable happened and she found herself afloat in the icy waters off the coast of Newfoundland. Next she layered on five pairs of stockings and the warmest dress she had. Over that she put on William’s coat then covered it with her velvet cloak. She was still wearing her jewelry. As an afterthought, she grabbed her other jewels and crammed them into the pockets of William’s coat.

  A loud banging at her door announced the arrival of Molly Brown.

  “Here.” She thrust a full-length fur into Gilly’s hand, then grabbed a hold and trundled off. Molly was wearing so many clothes she looked like a grizzly bear.

  “Where are we heading?”

  “Lifeboats. “

  Gilly protested that she had to go back to the ballroom, but there was a horrible racket on the Titanic – ship bells clanging, people screaming, feet pounding against the floor as frenzied passengers ran in every direction. The ship, itself, groaned like a gigantic wounded walrus.

  Molly didn’t hear her. Or perhaps she did and simply chose to ignore her. Gilly told herself that by now William would have left the ballroom, anyhow, and she’d see him on the deck.

  “Women and children first,” somebody yelled, and Molly yelled back, “Idiots! Women are just as capable of helping as men.”

  Suddenly a wave of panicked humans tore Gilly from Molly’s grasp. The last she saw, Molly Brown was being hustled aboard lifeboat six, her expression furious and her mouth working a mile a minute.

  She was probably telling them off, telling them a woman was a man’s equal in every way.

  Gilly searched the deck for a glimpse of William, but it was impossible to pick a face from the wild-eyed crowd. She tried to push her way back in the direction she’d come, intent on going back to the ballroom, but a big hand clamped down on her shoulders, stopping her in her tracks.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To find William Wesley. He’s my fiancé.” Not only did she no longer care who knew, she wondered why she’d bowed to the social mores of the time and kept him a secret in the first place.

  “Women and children first,” the man said, then motioned to two other ship’s crewmen, who grabbed her by the elbows and lifted her into lifeboat fourteen.

  As the boat was lowered toward the sea, Gilly saw the Titanic’s deck begin to tilt. She strained for a glimpse of Papa and William. Reaching under the fur coat, she grabbed a handful of her beloved’s coat and prayed, God, take care of them. They’re in Your hands now.”

  The sea was flat calm under a moonless night, but still Gilly noted that the lifeboat wasn’t filled to capacity.

  “Wait,” she yelled. “We can carry more people.”

  The quartermaster at the oars ignored her. As lifeboat fourteen glided through the freezing waters, Gilly heard voices somewhere ahead of her in the darkness.

  “Turn back, you fool! We can save others.” It was Molly Brown, as intrepid as she was wealthy.

  “The ship’s going down!” A man’s voice. Probably the man at the helm. “It will suck us under.”

  Behind her lifeboat, men and women flailed in the frigid waters, reaching toward them, screaming for help. What if her father and William were among them?

  Gilly plucked the sleeve of the man at the oars. “Please. Turn back. I can save some of them.”

  “You’re nothing but a woman.”

  “I’m a rescue swimmer.” She’d made that up, but Gilly didn’t care. She peeled off Molly’s fur coat and handed it to a woman and a little girl huddled together shivering. Next she put her velvet cloak around a sobbing teenaged girl who was probably her own age. Then she started peeling off stockings and passing them around.

  “Here,” the oarsman yelled. “Stop that.”

  “If you don’t go back, I’m swimming back.”

  Lifeboat fourteen turned around and headed back toward the Titanic. Shivering, Gilly stripped down to her swimming costume, then folded her wool dress and William’s coat onto her seat.

  The big ship’s lights were still glowing through the darkness. Suddenly across the waters drifted the sounds of violins. They were playing Melody of Love.

  William! He was alive and on the deck, sending her a message of undying love.

  Gi
lly put her hands over her heart and sent one right back to him. Till we meet again, my darling.

  Then she dived into the water. The cold sent shock waves through her, and for a minute she thought she wasn’t going to get her arms and legs to move. Beyond her, on the deck of the floundering ship, the band played on.

  Gilly had to move, she had to swim, she had to survive. William was still alive, and they had a future together.

  To her right, a frail elderly woman reached for her, her voice weak as she cried, “Help me. Please, help me.”

  Galvanized, Gilly grabbed the woman under the arms and hefted her toward the boat. Arms reached down to drag her to safety. Before Gilly turned back to her search, she saw the woman she’d given Molly Brown’s coat wrap the wet, shivering old lady in fur and pull her close.

  Gilly rescued three more people before the icy waters threatened to paralyze her. Outstretched arms and pleas for mercy nearly turned her back to the sea, but the violin music drove her toward the lifeboat.

  She grabbed the sides of the boat, and her nearly lifeless hands lost their grip. Please God. She lunged once more, and this time the girl in Gilly’s velvet cloak and the woman who had passed Molly’s fur to someone more needy caught Gilly’s arms and hauled her back in.

  The ones she’d saved reached out to touch her, their faces covered with frozen tears. Gilly managed a smile that made her face feel as if it would crack.

  Shielded by Molly’s fur coat, she stripped off the swim costume where the wet wool was rapidly freezing stiff, then slipped into her dry dress, a pair of dry wool stockings and William’s coat.

  “Come.” The elderly woman opened the fur coat and invited Gilly into its warm folds.

  “No. Keep it for yourself. I’ll be fine.”

  As long as she could hear that violin music streaming across the water, Gilly knew it was so.

  Suddenly the tune changed, the words as familiar and as dear to the people huddled on the lifeboat as hearth and family. “Tho like a wanderer, the sun goes down; Darkness be over me, my rest a stone. Yet in my dreams I’ll be, Nearer, My God, to Thee. Nearer, My God, to Thee.”