by Tricia Goyer
“For what?”
“For sharing your father’s words. For helping me understand that my past shouldn’t be forgotten…. Instead I need to offer it to God to be transformed.”
His eyes scanned the horizon, but she could tell from his gaze that his thoughts were not on the sea.
“What are you thinking about?” she dared to ask.
He blew out a sigh. “I have seen children on the streets. I’ve also seen those kicked out of the orphanages when they came of age. You have a worthy mission.”
“Is that all you’ll tell me?”
He nodded. “Yes, lest I break your heart.”
They stood for a while, smelling the cold ocean air that stung her nose, feeling the slight vibration of the ship. Finally, Quentin cleared his throat. “Amelia, I have never cared so much for a woman. I have wanted to tell you that all day. But telling you such is a problem.”
“Why does it have to be a problem?”
“I sit here in borrowed clothes. I have nothing to offer.”
“You have yourself. You have your heart.”
“I am afraid neither is much. I’ve given my heart away to too many things, enjoyments, entertainers, people. The rest of my heart is small and as hard as a lump of coal.”
“You say that, but I do not believe it. You have a kind heart. Every time we meet, I see more evidence of that.”
He nodded, but Amelia could see he was distracted.
“There’s something else, too,” he confessed. “To provide for you—if that’s where this leads—I will have to depend on my father’s mercies. I’ve already taken—lost—my inheritance. I can’t ask him for more.”
“I don’t think you should ask, but maybe there’s a job for you. I imagine your father can find something.” She cast him a soft smile. “Life when you exit this ship will be different than you thought, and that’s okay. You’ve already accepted God’s grace, Quentin. The hardest part for you will be accepting your father’s favor, too. But that’s what grace is—accepting what we don’t deserve.
A shiver of cold had driven the other passengers below, and Quentin lowered his head and closed his eyes, still overwhelmed with the day’s events. When he’d first climbed aboard the ship, he’d planned on hiding among the baggage and sleeping to the noise of the engines thundering with the might of a hundred thousand horses. And now?
His chin quivered. His knees softened, and he grabbed the cold rail, leaning on it for support. He’d felt his father’s embrace; he’d been welcomed back into the family. He’d regained what he’d foolishly wasted. And if that wasn’t enough, the God of mercy and grace brought Amelia into his life. She’d sought him on the docks and offered him an unexpected gift. Her heart was an offering he had no right to receive.
Quentin still hadn’t made amends with Damien, but he hoped that would change. He’d seen his brother briefly after his reunion with his father. Only one emotion lurked in his brother’s eyes—disgust. Would his brother ever forgive him? Would he ever earn Damien’s trust?
The cold air blasted them again, rattling the glass enclosure. Quentin thought of the men in the crow’s nest, wondering how they handled the cold. He scanned the waters and saw nothing … and told himself not to worry. Capable men manned the ship. His worrying wouldn’t propel the liner to move any faster. He didn’t need to fret about the weather. He didn’t have to be concerned about his brother yet either. He only had to focus on the matter at hand—the beautiful woman who stood at his side.
He and Amelia stood only a foot apart, and his heart pounded like hammer blows. He studied her eyes and noted anticipation there. Pink tinged her cheeks, and her simple innocence nearly took him to his knees. She’d never been attracted to anyone as she was to him at that moment—he could read it all right there in her gaze.
His head dipped, and her face slightly lifted. But something inside caused him to pull back. Though the man he’d been before he’d boarded this liner would have taken her kiss and much more, the man he’d become once he fell into his father’s embrace paused. She offered him a gift. By taking her kiss, he would also be taking a piece of her heart.
He pulled back even farther and stroked her cheek with his finger. Her eyes fluttered down, as if embarrassed by her desire for a kiss, but when she looked back into his face, he saw something there that he hadn’t seen in years. A decade even. Respect. His chest swelled with emotion, and his chin quivered slightly. His eyes grew moist.
Embarrassed, he looked away.
He turned to the glass window, unsure of what to do or say. This woman treated him like a human. She not only looked past his flaws, but she seemed to look deeper, at the potential he hadn’t realized he possessed.
“Amelia, I have to ask you something, and I’m just going to say it before I change my mind.”
“Yes, I’m listening.”
“What do you see when you look at me? I want you to be honest.”
“Quentin, of course I will be honest.” She took a deep breath and focused her eyes on his hands. Finally, she looked up into his face. “When I first saw you, I felt a bit of worry. You were so disheveled, untamed. But you didn’t fight as they dragged you off board. It was as if you’d already accepted your fate. Then when you glanced up and looked at me … Well, your look passed through me more than at me. I’ve seen that look before in the faces of children I work with. I saw someone who felt very scared and alone.”
Her words ground in his heart, like salt in an open wound, causing it to sting.
His stomach clenched, and he didn’t like that feeling. Standing before this woman was like being stripped down. Baring his soul. He wore a fine suit—his father saw to that—but as he listened to her, he again felt as if he were in rags.
“I see you’re struggling with what I just said,” she continued. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I also want you to know that I’m not finished. I still see some of those same things in your gaze, but I also see more. I see a man who faces his mistakes, who turns and walks away from a past that held him in chains. I know it was hard to accept your father’s embrace today, but you did it. And in the coming weeks, I hope you grow closer to your father … and God, too. And maybe someone else you’ve gotten to know on this journey.”
She flashed him a brief, nervous smile. Then she shyly looked away and wrapped a curl from the base of her neck around her finger.
Hearing her heart, he finally felt brave enough to ask the question he’d been wanting to ask all day. “Amelia, do you think there can be anything more between us? I know you feel it. Feel the attraction. Could this be the start of something … of a new beginning for both of us, together?”
She bit her lip, and he could see sadness in her gaze. “I would be lying if I claimed I did not look forward to each moment that I spend with you, but I need to trust God with what is next. We both need to trust God. He will show us. As we both grow closer to Him, He’ll make a way.”
Quentin nodded, and he waited for Amelia to continue, but there was only silence. She didn’t say more. She didn’t point a finger and tell him that though he’d cleaned up on the outside he had a long way to go within. She didn’t need to. A woman like Amelia deserved a man who had much to offer—someone who could guide and lead with confidence. And that was why he hadn’t kissed her, because deep down he’d known.
And just when Quentin thought he should suggest they go inside, she glanced up at him with a grin.
“I have made some decisions I think you should know about. I’ve already written a letter to Mr. Chapman and told him I can’t see him and me as anything more than friends. You see, Quentin, the man who paid my passage follows every criteria on my list for what I wanted in a husband. So what I don’t understand is why another man has captured my heart.”
“Me?”
She blew out a breath and offered an innocent smile. “I’m afraid to say, but if it’s not you … well, then I’d be a fool to be talking so freely to another.”
> She lifted her head, and their eyes met. Hers were hopeful—hopeful that he’d become all she needed.
As he studied her, a smile tugged at one corner of her mouth, a smile as sweet as her heart.
Inside, relief built and rose from his stomach to his chest. She didn’t expect him to transform overnight. He liked that, and he would do all he could not to disappoint her. Besides, he was tired of running and hiding. Even though opening himself up came with pain, Quentin was ready to once again be known.
CHAPTER 23
Soft cadences from the ship’s orchestra drifted up to where they stood, reminding Amelia that they weren’t the only two people on this ship, no matter what her heart told her. She felt as if the journey she and Quentin had been on the last few days had taken them even farther than the voyage of this liner, and suddenly a weariness overwhelmed her.
“Would you like to go to a party?” Quentin asked. “I could lie and tell you that I’m in the mood for dancing, but the truth is, what I’d enjoy the most is holding you in my arms again.”
“Who says we need to be on the dance floor to do that?” Amelia took a step toward him, and Quentin placed a soft hand on her shoulder, then on her back, pulling her close.
Heat rushed through Amelia’s lungs, and she paid no mind to the cold wind brushing against her. Her heartbeat quickened, and she placed her chest against his chest. She found peace there and excitement, too. The two emotions were twisted around each other, and she didn’t know where one ended and the other began.
Stars and planets twinkled above them, and beneath their feet the mighty engines pulsed and throbbed. Propellers churned up a fast and thick wake.
“I heard some officers talking today. They said we were going to break the record for being the fastest ship to cross the Atlantic,” Amelia said, leaning her cheek against his chest.
“I know. Passengers were talking about that, too.”
While most people wanted to be part of breaking the record on this maiden voyage, she’d be perfectly content to remain on board for months, years. To arrive in New York would mean telling her cousin Elizabeth that she’d worked so hard to find Amelia a suitable mate for nothing. It also meant having to look into the face of dear Mr. Chapman and thank him for the passage, but also declare that their romance would not be progressing, that she’d already given her heart to another.
“As much as I’d like to spend the night dancing in your arms, I’d better get below.” She yawned. “It’s getting late.”
“Tomorrow then?” he asked.
“Of course. You’re not going to get rid of me now.” She playfully punched his arm. “I’ve looked for someone like you for so long. My aunt would always remind me, ‘The future is unrolled in God’s good time.’ I just never believed it until now.”
Amelia took a step back and hunched her shoulders against the cold. “But it is late, and I should say good night.”
“G’night.” He smiled.
She waited for him to escort her inside, but his feet remained fixed. Then, as if finally accepting their time together must come to a close for the evening, he placed a gloved hand on her elbow, and a thousand goose bumps rose on her skin. Quentin led her inside to the warmth of the reception area, and she’d never been so thankful for the warmth.
Amelia turned to give Quentin a brief glance, but then a hard rocking under her feet jarred her. “Did you feel that? What do you think it was? Maybe one of the engines went out?”
Shouts sounded from the outside—on the decks below. Surprise mixed with excitement.
“I’ll check it out.” Quentin stepped away from her.
“I want to go with you.”
“You’ve just got in from the cold.”
“I think I’ll survive.” She wrinkled her nose. “And maybe it’s just another excuse to spend more time with you.”
“Is it?”
She lowered her head and looked up at him from under her lashes.
“Okay …”
They rushed back outside. Stepping out into the cold after feeling the warmth was like walking inside an icebox and holding her hands over blocks of ice. As they rushed to the deck, Amelia noticed a large, white shape glide by. The sight of it caused Amelia to jump back. Her heart pounded, and goose bumps rose. It hovered over them like a ghost. She turned away.
“It’s an iceberg,” Quentin declared.
“It’s so close!” Fear gripped her heart.
They wandered down to the boat deck, and soon it filled with people in various stages of dress. “They must have felt that jarring, too. Do you think we hit it?”
“If we did, it was just a glancing blow,” Quentin’s words sounded more convincing than his gaze.
Amelia looked around. The perfectly calm sea and brilliant starry night reassured her. All seemed to be well. She blew out the breath she’d been holding.
Then, as they watched the iceberg slip into the distance, the engines slowed and then stopped. The dancing vibration that she’d known for the last four days was gone. She felt as if she were walking on air, floating almost. As if her legs were no longer connected to the floor.
Quentin hurried back inside, and Amelia followed. They approached the steward who stood by the staircase. The man was most likely waiting for the few passengers still lingering, listening to music, to head to their staterooms so he could turn out the lights and go to bed.
“Did you feel that?” Quentin asked the man.
“Feel what?”
“That jolt.”
He shook his head.
“The engines aren’t running. Do you know why we stopped?”
The steward shrugged. “I don’t know, sir.”
They walked through the vestibule to the deck and again stared down at the sea. Black, still.
Just when Amelia was sure it was a false alarm, Quentin turned and grabbed her shoulders. “Amelia, listen to me. Go to your room and wake your aunt.”
“Do you think there’s been damage? You said it was just a glancing blow. And they say the Titanic is unsinkable.”
His startled eyes met hers, and he grabbed both of her elbows. “I can’t be sure if this ship is indeed unsinkable, but I’ve learned on the streets to expect the worst. Just have her get dressed, and we’ll wait for news. She might be upset for being awakened, but that iceberg was large.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You trust me, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good. Just do what I say, and I’ll meet you back here.”
She hurried down the steps, but something felt different. With each step she felt off balance as if the ship was tilting slightly to one side.
As Amelia looked closer, she could not see any visible tilt to the stairway, and she was sure it was all in her mind. Maybe it was simply the rising fear that caused her heart to pound in her ears and caused her feet to stumble.
When she reached the second-class hallways, she noticed they were mostly deserted. A few stewards on night watch stood at their stations, still not acting as if they’d felt anything, heard anything. As she hurried on, heads started appearing as passengers peeked out, asking questions from half-closed doors. With a trembling hand, she pulled the key from her pocket and knocked as she put it in the door.
“Aunt. You must get up and get dressed. There has been an accident.”
She opened the door and hurried into the room, flipping on the light.
“Aunt Neda, you have to wake up. Something has happened. The liner has stopped, and I’m pretty sure we hit an iceberg.”
Her aunt sat up and rubbed sleepy eyes. She cocked her head as if listening and then snuggled back under her blankets.
“You won’t catch me leaving my bed on a cold night. Tell me what happened in the morning.”
“Aunt, listen to me. Quentin told me to come for you. I think we should dress warmly and head up to the deck to see if there is any announcement.”
Amelia’s teeth chattered, and her fingers fumbled as she r
emoved her coat and layered another simple dress over the one she was wearing. It was cold outside, and if she was going to wait there, she’d do what she could to stay warm.
“Honestly, Amelia, I’m not sure about all the fuss. Even if we did hit an iceberg, I’m sure the ship has barely a scratch.”
Quentin waited until he saw the door to Amelia’s stateroom close, and then he quickly moved to his second-class stateroom and entered. Even though his father had provided a room above and filled it with fine things, he kept the things that mattered most here.
His eyes immediately moved to the top drawer of the bureau, and he hurried to it, pulling it open. Inside there were only two items, his mother’s pearl necklace and a letter he’d started writing to Amelia. He’d planned on giving both to Amelia tomorrow night, after the party his father was giving to him. Amelia had given him the greatest treasure he could imagine—hope for a reconciliation with God and with his father. Both had been gifts to him. His chest felt light and full at the same time.
He slid both into his coat pocket and then patted it.
He did love her. He’d been afraid to admit it before. But now …
Could his confession wait until tomorrow?
He worried that it couldn’t.
Quentin moved back into the hall and heard Amelia talking as she helped her aunt dress. He thought about knocking at the door, but his mind carried him another direction, to third class. Was anyone down there rousing them? Helping them? Telling them they needed to head up to the boat decks? Even if there was nothing seriously wrong with the ship, it was better to be safe.
He turned and jogged down the hall, thinking through the best maze of passageways that would take him to third class. He couldn’t help everybody, but he had to do his part. God had done so much for him … it was the least he could do.
