Almost. How near, and yet how far away! Here the ship sat, unmoving, waylaid by an iceberg. What did it mean to her future? Somehow they must survive this.
She pulled off her dressing gown and started for her own cabin to exchange her night-dress for underwear and warm clothes.
The door opened and Richard burst in.
“Richard!” She threw herself into his arms, feeling the coldness of his coat where it touched her body.
He kissed her, glanced quickly at her body in the night-dress, then pulled her to the sofa and sat down next to her.
She clung to him, blurting out what she’d heard people say while she waited, finishing with the claims of the young couple from E Deck. “They said they had gone down to the boiler room to look and water was coming in.”
“I’m not surprised.” He spoke urgently, his breathing labored. “Beth, I’m afraid we may be in for a long, terrible night. The captain has issued a distress call, and I have seen the lifeboats being uncovered.”
“Lifeboats?” She grasped the lapels of his coat. “We must board lifeboats?”
“We don’t know that yet. After the captain ordered the signals sent, I spoke with the wireless operators, who assured me there are plenty of other ships in the area. They’ve been receiving messages from those ships about ice fields and icebergs all evening.”
“What could the other ships do?”
“One or more of them of them could possibly take our passengers on board and return us to England or carry us on to New York or Newfoundland, whatever seems best.”
“Are the rescue ships on the way?”
“I believe so. The Carpathia is only fifty-eight miles away and she’s coming.”
“But is there time? If sea water is coming in ...”
“The ship has watertight doors that will prevent the water from rising. The ship can’t sink, even if four of the compartments get flooded.”
“How many compartments are there?”
He paused. “I don’t know, but surely Mr. Andrews designed the ship with all contingencies in mind.”
His words did nothing to erase her fear. She even wondered if he knew more than he told her. Did he hide the truth, thinking she was one of those helpless women who might have hysterics? She shivered and he put his arms around her, holding her close.
He kissed her forehead and the top of her head, then tilted her chin up and kissed her fervently on the lips. “Oh, Beth,” he moaned when he broke the kiss. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too. I wish ...” She stopped.
“I know. I wish it too. I wish we were married this instant and I could take you to bed and warm you with my body.”
He kissed her again, and she felt his hands caress her back through the thin fabric of her night-dress. He unbuttoned his overcoat and enclosed her body inside the opening. She felt his warmth and the steady beating of his heart. Felt her own heart pounding in rhythm. Felt her breasts against his chest through his shirt and vest. A new sensation clutched her, a throbbing deep in her body. With a start, she realized that the one thing she desired most in the world at that moment was to be part of him, he part of her, locked in the embrace of love.
Taking her with him, he stood, arms pressing her ever more tightly against him. “My darling,” he whispered, over and over. Gentle hands stroked her hips and back. She wanted to scream with the ecstasy of his touch.
He was whispering in her ear, soft words that seemed to come from a dream. “As soon as we get to New York, we’ll be married. Will you marry me, Beth?”
“Yes. Oh, yes.”
He walked backward, holding her close, taking her toward his bedroom.
Someone knocked loudly on the door.
“Steward,” said an insistent male voice. The man knocked again, even louder. “Wake up. You must go on deck immediately.” The door opened, and the steward entered the sitting room. “You must put on your life vests and go to the boat deck.”
Beth emerged from her sensual haze of joy and pleasure into her new reality of terror. What had he said? Life vests. The boat deck.
The steward stared at her near-nakedness. “You must dress warmly, ma’am. It is very cold.”
Chapter 21
Beth reluctantly left the shelter and promise of Richard’s arms. Although realizing she wore only her thin night-dress, the thought of Richard seeing her in such a state of undress—to say nothing of the steward standing in the open doorway—failed to cause either alarm or shame. Nothing mattered now but doing as she was told, keeping safe. She must put on warm clothes and a life vest and get out of the cabin. More important, she must protect Kathleen. She ran into her bedroom.
She turned on the electric light, pulled the draperies aside and woke the child with a gentle shake.
“Kathleen, it’s time to get up.” She pulled the blanket and sheet from the girl and reached in to lift her to a sitting position. “You must get dressed now.”
Yawning, the sleepy child reluctantly thrust her legs forward and eased herself from the bed. Her eyes widened. “But why is the light on? Is it still night?”
Beth knew she must say something to keep the child calm. “No, dear, it’s not night. We’re going to go out on the deck for a little while.” As she spoke, she helped Kathleen out of her night-dress. “Put on your underwear, please.”
“Is it almost morning? Sometimes at home when I’ve waked up early it’s still a little bit night.”
“That happens in the winter, doesn’t it?” Beth spoke as cheerfully as she could and hurried to the steamer trunk in the corner. She handed Kathleen more underwear, this time the woolen set that had been stored in the trunk.
“But, Miss Beth, I have underwear.” She giggled. “Did you forget?”
“No, dear, but I want you to be warm because we’re going outdoors and it’s very cold this morning.”
“Then it is morning?”
Being after midnight, Beth knew it was morning, but barely, and not what the little girl expected.
“We shall be very early.” She opened all the drawers in the steamer trunk and grabbed every warm item of clothing.
“Look at this lovely sweater. Why don’t you put this on over your dress?”
As if deciding this was another silly grown-up thing, not to be questioned, Kathleen pulled on the underwear, long woolen stockings and cotton dress Beth handed her, then the sweater—two sweaters in fact—plus a heavy coat.
“I shall be terribly hot,” Kathleen whined.
Beth ignored the protest. “You need a hat, as well.” She found a woolen cap and pulled it over the child’s blonde curls. “Now, go into the sitting room where your father is waiting while I get dressed.”
Kathleen did as she was told, and Beth changed into the warmest clothes she could find. She had no trouble remembering the freezing temperatures outside earlier that night and felt grateful to have her own woolen underwear, long stockings, sweaters and coat. Once layered, she felt like an old woman she’d seen on a dirty London back street one day—wearing all the clothes she owned at once, because she had no permanent home in which to store them.
In a way, she now resembled that woman. She, too, had no permanent home, and what she now wore might be the only clothes she’d possess for some time to come. Safety uppermost in her mind, she didn’t regret the loss of her few material possessions, but she picked up the bracelet-watch and slipped it over her hand again.
In the sitting room, Kathleen wore a life vest and Richard was fastening his own life vest over his coat. When he saw Beth, he rushed to her and helped her don hers. He didn’t speak but kissed her.
Although welcoming the kiss, Beth wondered what Kathleen might make of it. The child had never seen them show such intimacy before.
But Kathleen merely stood still and continued to look puzzled, as if all this activity constituted a bizarre adult charade, the meaning of which she could only hope they would eventually explain to her.
“Let’s go out,” R
ichard said at last. “I believe we’re wanted on the boat deck.”
In the corridor they met dozens of frantic people, and Beth took hold of Kathleen’s hand so they would not be separated. She was trembling, and her stomach clenched with fear she must hide for Kathleen’s sake.
An elderly woman, traveling through the corridor alone, spoke to the little girl. “Don’t be afraid. It’s only a boat drill.”
Grateful the woman hadn’t said anything to frighten Kathleen, she nevertheless steered her quickly through the crowd, hoping to avoid words that might send the child into a panic.
A middle-aged couple passed them by, the woman saying, “I wish they wouldn’t hold these drills in the middle of the night. What a lot of nonsense: putting on our life vests and going to the boat deck as if we’re going to get into the lifeboats.”
“But we are,” her husband said.
“Not I,” she insisted. “As soon as it’s over, I’m going right back to bed.”
Richard, taking Beth’s other hand, urged them up the stairway to A deck and then the boat deck. Even more people had gathered there, a huge milling throng, mumbling to themselves or speaking to others nearby, trying to figure out what they were expected to do and why. Nearby, the ship’s orchestra played catchy tunes, as if it were all some grand joke.
Even so, above their heads, the davits lifted a lifeboat from its position and guided it toward the railing. Stewards, and others of the ship’s crew, stood nearby ready to help passengers board.
“I’m not getting into that flimsy thing,” a woman said. “We’re safer on this big ship.”
“You must get in,” a steward said to her. “We must fill the lifeboats.” He pleaded with her. “It’s perfectly safe. This is a new ship and these are new lifeboats. They’re very sound.”
Another woman spoke up. “But the water ... The water is so far down. What if the lifeboat doesn’t go straight? What if it should tip?”
A male passenger spoke up. “It’s not that far down to the water.”
“Sixty-five feet if it’s an inch,” another man shouted.
“No, no, I won’t get in,” the first woman insisted.
The steward near her pleaded some more. “Look, there’s a man in the boat already. Someone has to man the oars, now, don’t they? Nothing to be afraid of.”
Still hesitating, the woman looked around. “Well ...”
“I’ll go with you,” a man offered. “I’ll hold your hand, if you like.”
Holding tightly to the steward on one side and the kindly gentleman on the other, the woman put one foot in front of the other. They stepped over the side of the lifeboat and, as the steward stepped back on the deck, the two passengers took seats.
“See, that wasn’t so bad.”
A few others decided to do the same, and Richard moved Beth and Kathleen closer to the front of a small queue that formed.
“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll be right back. If they want you to get into a lifeboat, do it.”
“But, Richard—” Beth began.
“I’m only going ’round to the port side. Other lifeboats will be launched from there and perhaps it will be faster.”
He stooped to kiss Kathleen and then brushed a kiss on Beth’s cheek. “I’m sure this is just a precautionary measure.”
After he disappeared into the crowd, Beth looked down at Kathleen and tried to smile, but the corners of her mouth refused to turn up. Although the many people surrounding her kept most of the cold air at bay, she felt as if her face had frozen into a permanent mask of disbelief and dejection.
Kathleen didn’t look up. She, too, seemed caught in the harsh web of circumstances she could neither control nor understand.
Beth stooped down to try to comfort her and discovered the child’s face wet with tears. “Dearest, don’t cry. Your father will be back very soon, and then we shall all get into a very nice lifeboat. You shall have another adventure to tell Aunt Charlotte and Aunt Anne when we write them a letter from New York.”
“Toby,” Kathleen wailed. “I forgot Toby.”
Beth held her breath for an instant. She understood the importance of the doll but, just at this particular point in time, she wished Kathleen didn’t misplace it so often or, better, that she had not brought the doll on board the ship to begin with. She racked her brain for a solution.
“Where did you leave Toby?”
“In bed. She was with me in bed and then you waked me and we had to hurry and get dressed.”
Of course. Beth realized she should have remembered the doll. Taking care of Kathleen meant taking care of her doll as well. The trip had already shown her Kathleen apparently depended on Toby to ease the loneliness of leaving the only home and family she’d known and come to love. She was too young to appreciate the advantages offered to her father and, ultimately, herself, of a new life in a new country.
She put her arms around the trembling child. “Don’t worry. You’ll see Toby again. We’re just going to wait here for a little while, and then they’ll tell us we can go back to our cabins and you’ll go back to bed.”
“But Pa-pa said we’re to get in the little boat.”
“Yes, dear, but perhaps it will only be for a short time and then we’ll get back on the ship.”
“No, we won’t,” she wailed. “I want Toby now. She has to come with me.” Her voice choked with tears; she shook with fear and frustration.
Beth straightened, and Kathleen’s arms went immediately around her legs. She cried into the woolen coat Beth wore.
A decision had to be made: would she stay waiting for Richard to return while Kathleen cried her heart out, or would she fetch the doll? She glanced around but saw no sign of Richard. Other passengers nearby voiced less optimistic predictions about the fate of the ship and themselves, making Kathleen even more frightened. Perhaps it would be better to remove her, at least temporarily, from the scene.
Besides, their cabin was on B Deck, only two decks below where they now stood. Surely she could run down there, retrieve the doll, and be back before Richard even knew she’d gone. No, that would never do. She couldn’t leave Kathleen, even for an instant. The girl would have to go with her.
She pulled Kathleen’s hands away from her legs and took one hand in her own. “Come,” she said in a firm tone, “we’ll get Toby and come back before your father knows we’ve gone. Hurry.”
Kathleen looked up with glassy eyes but stopped crying.
“Let’s go,” Beth said.
Pushing through the crowd, they emerged near the staircase, and, in spite of the number of people ascending, found not too much difficulty going down. They saw even fewer passengers on B Deck where they entered their room and Kathleen pounced on Toby, who lay on the pillow.
The electric lights in all three of their rooms still blazed, and Beth had a sudden urge to turn them off, as she usually did when leaving a room. This time she did not. She wanted no darkness around her. Her heart still pounded from fear and the awesome responsibility of taking care of a little girl. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself for the child’s sake.
“You can stop crying, darling. Now you have Toby safe and sound.”
“Thank you, Mama.” Kathleen clutched her doll and again clung to Beth’s legs. “I love you.”
Beth stood still, her mouth open. Mama. Kathleen had called her “Mama.” The word shocked and thrilled her. The realization that Richard’s daughter considered her like a mother brought tears to her own eyes.
“I love you, too, darling, but now we must go back. Your father may be looking for us already.”
Kathleen didn’t move, except to raise her head and look up at Beth. “The kittens.”
“What?”
“The kittens. Jenny had kittens and they are too tiny to walk. We must get them and take them in the little boat.”
Beth pulled Kathleen away from her legs and squatted in front of her. “Kathleen, we don’t know where the kittens are, and there’s no time
to look for them. Your father ...”
“I know where they are. I’ll get them.”
Before Beth could rise from her awkward position, Kathleen had run out of the door and down the corridor. Beth had no choice but to follow.
“Stop.” She lifted her long coat so she could run faster. “Kathleen, please stop. You must not go anywhere else on the ship.”
Still unheeding, the child plunged down the stairway again. “We have to save the kittens.”
Unhampered by a long coat, since hers came only to her knees, the child bounded down another flight and then another.
Beth raced after her. Why go so far? The third-class general room took up the stern portion of C Deck, only one below. Why did the child keep going down? Her memory of the previous two days haunted her. She had been talking to Harry that afternoon, the afternoon he flew the kite, and Kathleen told her Jenny had had her kittens. The children must have gone to a lower deck to see them and Beth hadn’t realized she was gone. She should have known that. Her conscience pricked. Her fear turned to terror.
She rounded the corner of yet another stairway, this time with a sign bearing the inscription “E Deck.” At last she saw Kathleen. The little girl had stopped on the last step above the deck. But there was no entrance to E Deck. An iron gate blocked the way and several third-class passengers stood behind it, wearing heavy clothing and life vests, clutching suitcases, bags and other belongings in their arms.
Those in back yelled for someone to open the gate, but those in front could do nothing but rattle it and shout, “It’s locked. We can’t get out.”
Chapter 22
“Kathleen,” Beth called, “where are you going?”
The little girl came back up several steps to where Beth waited. “I wanted to see the kittens. I thought I could go this way.”
“But the gate is locked.”
A man behind the gate shouted at them. “Can you unlock the gate?”
“No,” Beth called back. “I’m ... I mean, I haven’t a key. I’m just a passenger.”
Cold April Page 15
