Distant Waves (19 page)

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Authors: Suzanne Weyn

BOOK: Distant Waves
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Chapter 30

I
had took me for lunch in one of the first-class restaurants. We sat in lovely wicker chairs at a beautifully laid table with sparkling china. We must have looked like two happy fools, because we just sat there grinning at each other, too blissfully in love to even need to speak much.

I was engaged to Thad. I'd said the word
yes
and it felt like the smartest thing I'd ever said.

"Let's not tell anyone we're engaged until after Mimi's wedding," I suggested. "I don't want to take away from her excitement. She should be the center of attention."

"All right," he agreed. He smiled into my eyes and I smiled back.

Everything was so perfect!

The rest of the day was spent down in third class with the many seamstresses Lady Duff Gordon had hired to make the dresses she'd designed. What a different world it was down there, compared to the splendor of first class, and even second class. I'd hardly given it a look when we first came on board, but now I paid more attention, peering into the many open doors of the various cabins.

The cabins were tiny; some had two bunk beds so that a family of four could squeeze into the small space. There were almost no windows at all. People lived from their suitcases since there was only one narrow dresser in each room, and after four days at sea, many of the rooms had grown quite disheveled. People called to one another from across the halls and moved freely in and out of one another's rooms. It reminded me a bit of a floating village.

The work station for the dresses had been set up in the rear section of the third-class eating kitchen, which consisted of rows of wooden tables and benches. There was no shortage of sewing machines, since a great many of the third-class women were shipping the machines to New York, where they intended to make their living from them. Those not working on a machine were occupied with handwork such as cutting and pinning or hand stitching buttons and collars and hems.

My sisters were all there for their dress fittings. I ached to tell them about Thad and me, but held firm to my decision to keep it a secret until after Mimi's wedding. It was only fair that she should be the one everyone was thinking and talking about. It was her wedding day, after all.

"It seems more fun down here in third class," Emma said, standing on a table in her bare feet as a seamstress, a plump Italian woman with her hair caught up in a red bandanna, pinned the hem of her bridesmaid dress. She had resigned herself to the fact that her fine brown hair would 
not take a curl, and so had braided it prettily in a thick plait that started high on her head and ran down the back of her neck.

Amelie nodded in agreement from the chair where she sat, arm outstretched across a table while a seamstress sewed on one of the many covered buttons that ran up the side of her dress's narrow sleeve. She'd swept her hair -- equally as fine as Emma's -- into a graceful coil at the nape of her neck.

"How can you say that this is better?" Blythe cried. She looked so comical with her hair set in a blizzard of white rags just waiting to produce gorgeous curls that would be swept atop her head for the wedding. "I'm so glad we're not crammed in down here. It's too warm. There's no air."

Mimi stepped out from behind a makeshift dressing room that had been constructed from sheets tossed over a stack of chairs. She was wearing the white wedding gown Lady Duff Gordon had designed just for her.

We all stared at her, mouths agape in stunned admiration.

In fact, the entire room, which had only a moment before been abuzz with animated female chatter, was now silent.

The dress was utterly modern and completely breathtaking. It had none of the ballooning, flounced skirts of traditional dresses but was all fluidity and smooth lines. It was made from a snowy white satin that shimmered from 
its straight-cut neckline all the way down the form-skimming body to the end of its long skirt that swirled around Mimi like a glowing cloud on the floor. The long sleeves started just below Mimi's shoulders and were made from the most exquisite white lace.

The lush, creamy white sheen of the dress was in dramatic contrast with the luxurious black pile of shining hair atop her head. Ninette's private hairdresser had whipped it into an a breathtakingly elaborate style, complete with glistening crystal ornamental hairpins.

Mimi was nothing short of magnificent. She looked like a princess from a fairy tale.

"You could be on the cover of a fashion magazine," Blythe murmured reverently.

"You like it?" Mimi asked, and was answered by a wave of applause. She beamed with pleasure. I hoped I would always see her looking so happy.

The wonderful moment was abruptly interrupted by a man careening into the room. It was the thug with the derby hat, though now he clutched it in his hand as he ran to the far end of the kitchen.

Thad raced into the room after him.

The man scrambled up onto a table, attempting to climb through an open high window leading out to the poop deck. Thad raced across the room and lunged at his legs, pulling him back down. 

With a forceful swing, the man punched Thad in the face, knocking him down, and then raced out of the kitchen.

The women nearest to Thad surrounded him. One blotted his face carefully with a wet cloth to wipe away the blood. Another came with a towel filled with ice from the kitchen. I hurried to his side. "Thad, are you okay?"

He dabbed his sore nose tenderly and winced. "I can't tell if it's broken."

"No broken, just hurt very much," the woman who had wiped his face assured him in accented English.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I found him in our room and chased him all over the ship until he ran down here. The room wasn't even tossed around, so I think I must have interrupted him before he had a chance to steal anything. Tesla usually naps at that time. He would have been there if he hadn't had a sudden urge to go back to the telegraph room for the thousandth time."

"Do you believe that man would have hurt him?"

"I think that's what he was there for, yeah," Thad said.

"Let us hope that villain dives off the ship and never returns," said one of the women. Her comment was met with a wave of agreement.

I agreed with the sentiment, but thought it unlikely. More probable was that he would continue to lurk about 
on the ship until we docked. Thad, Tesla, and his inventions would be in danger until then. I was suddenly glad Tesla would be seeing Colonel Astor that night. The sooner someone else knew about the invention and its possible application, the less chance there was of someone else stealing it. I didn't want to see him lose out again as he had lost credit for the radio to Marconi.

Thad got to his feet, still holding the ice to his face. "Let me change out of this dress and I'll walk you back to the infirmary," I offered. "Then we should tell the ship's security that your room was broken into again."

I noticed purple bruises starting to form under both his eyes. "You need a doctor," I said anxiously. "I think your nose is broken."

"No, it's not," he disagreed.

I wasn't convinced, and touched it gingerly. With a howl of pain he jumped away from me. "Why'd you do that?" he cried. A line of blood ran from his right nostril.

"It
is
broken," I insisted. "Come with me. We're going to the ship's infirmary."

When we got there, the ship's doctor confirmed my theory: "Oh, it's broken all right." The blue purple color of the rings under Thad's eyes had deepened in just the time it had taken to get there.

I left Thad in the infirmary and walked out on the deck alone. Leaning on the railing, I gazed out once more at the rolling waves. The quietly steady hum of the ship's motors 
mixed with the crash of the water below. I found it very calming.

A strange thought came to me. I wondered if being on the ocean, traveling from one country to the other, was what it might be like for spirits in the Beyond -- if indeed there was such a thing. One wasn't in England anymore but hadn't yet landed in America yet, either. One was just... floating. It was still possible to travel back and forth. Maybe some spirits didn't want to commit to either side and chose, instead, to float in between for a very long time. I could understand that happening. I would hate to leave all the people I loved.

Perhaps
I
would choose to be a ghost, given the chance. 

***

Chapter 31

M
r. Guggenheim's status as one of the wealthiest passengers on the
Titanic
helped Ninette to secure the ship's amazingly beautiful and luxurious Grand Ballroom for Mimi's wedding ceremony. The reception would be held there, as well. There was plenty of room for both in the enormous room.

All was set for the wedding. Mr. Stead had agreed to give Mimi away, and when she appeared on the curving Grand Staircase with its ornate ironwork decoration under the spectacular glass dome overhead, you could hear people gasp, amazed by their appearance. Mr. Stead was the picture of stately dignity in his tuxedo. Mimi stood beside him like royalty. Her dress seemed to glow and her veil was held in place by a wreath of white roses that encircled her head.

The photographer whom Ninette had located on board flashed a photograph and the ship's eight-man band began to play "The Wedding March."

"Wouldn't Mother just love to see this," Blythe whispered to me.

"We'll say it was a small, plain ceremony," I whispered back.

When Mimi joined Victor in front of Captain Smith, they made the most striking couple imaginable. The happiness that was so evident on both their faces made them all the more radiant. The civil ceremony was brief and to the point, but Captain Smith was a man of such dignity and authority that the plain words when spoken by him seemed to take on a deeper meaning.

The party began with the band striking up a song that the band leader, Wallace Hartley, said was called "Ragtime Mocking Bird," written by a popular songwriter named Irving Berlin. That set the tone wonderfully and put everyone in a festive mood.

My sisters and I stood on a receiving line with Mimi and Victor and greeted all the guests. I was happy when Thad came along, purple under eyes and all.

"Does it hurt a lot?" Blythe asked him.

"I'll live," Thad told her.

Tesla came along after Thad. He didn't shake hands as the others did -- afraid of germs, I guessed -- but bowed politely. "A lovely wedding, Jane. You will excuse me if I nip out with Colonel Astor later? We have business to conduct that cannot be postponed."

"Of course. Thad told me you had to go," I said. "Best of luck with everything."

The line passed with many people I didn't know 
greeting us politely. Mr. Guggenheim was reserved, though Ninette hugged me like we were sisters and I found that I didn't mind. Mrs. Brown nearly swept me off my feet with her enthusiastic embrace. "What a hoot to have a wedding on a ship!" she said.

Madeleine Astor came by looking slightly greenish. "Is this ship rocking?" she asked me. I told her I didn't feel it. "It's the pregnancy," she said.

"I didn't know you were having a baby. Congratulations," I said.

"Thanks, but it's making me sick to my stomach. They say the feeling will pass."

Li looked pretty in a narrow, embroidered, traditional Chinese silk dress. "I am so happy for you all," she said.

I hugged her warmly. "We wouldn't be here to see it if it wasn't for your kindness to us," I remarked.

Once the line had finished, I got to enjoy the party -- which meant searching out Thad and getting him onto the dance floor. I no longer wanted to deny that he was my boyfriend. After all, he would soon be my fiancé -- my betrothed, my intended! I wanted to embrace it -- and him.

Thad and I danced to songs like "The Society Bear," "All Night Long," and "Beans, Beans, Beans!" At one point, the band gently teased Colonel Astor by playing a funny song called "The Tramp That Slept in Astor's Bed" that had been popular back in 1894. It was about an earlier Astor who had lived in a house so huge that a homeless man had 
gotten in and lived there for several days without anyone realizing. Colonel Astor gave one of his rare smiles and waved at the band, indicating that he had not taken offense.

Breathless from dancing a ragtime number, I got off the dance floor and scanned the guests to see where everyone was. Tesla and Colonel Astor were still there with their heads close, locked in serious conversation. Blythe was sitting with Mr. and Mrs. LaRoche, along with Mimi and Victor. Mr. Stead was talking to Captain Smith, the Strauses, and Mrs. Brown. But where were Emma and Amelie?

I quickly located them on the Grand Staircase. Amelie was shaking and Emma was trying desperately to calm her. "Uh-oh," I said to Thad. He was right behind me as I hurried toward them.

"She's having a vision," Emma said, holding on to Amelie's quivering shoulders. "I'm trying to block it out. I don't want to ruin Mimi's wedding."

"No, you don't want to do that," I agreed, knowing how impatient Mimi had become with this sort of business and how embarrassed she would be in front of all these people.

Emma's eyes suddenly glazed over and I could tell she'd lost the struggle to resist Amelie's voice. "Get in the lifeboats!" she shouted. "Get in now!"

The band played on but everyone stopped dancing and talking. All eyes were on us.

Captain Smith stood and looked at us questioningly.

I glanced at Mimi and saw how horrified she was.

"We have to get them out of here," I said to Thad.

"I'll carry Amelie," he suggested, stooping to lift her slumped body.

"Sorry, everyone," I announced. "My sisters are afraid of ocean travel and they're overtired from the day. Please go back to what you were doing."

"Yes! Yes!" Captain Smith agreed reassuringly. "All is well. No cause for concern."

Li joined me as I hurried Emma out, still shouting and struggling to be heard. By the time we got them to Li's cabin, she had calmed down. Amelie was snoring as Thad set her down on one of our bedrolls on the floor, so I assumed she was no longer sending messages to Emma.

"I stay with them," Li offered as Emma curled up on the bed and fell instantly asleep. "I also tired."

I thanked her and we left. "I'd better get back. Tesla wants me with him for the demonstration," Thad said.

"Can I be there, too?" I requested.

"I'll ask," he replied.

Thad and I returned to the wedding to discover that Tesla and Colonel Astor were already gone. We left and went to the Astors' stateroom, but no one answered our knock. On a hunch, Thad decided we should look for them in the telegraph room, and that was where we found them.

Tesla saw us and smiled when we entered. He took out a pad and began to read from it. "Nine o'clock this morning, the
Caronia
warns of ice. At eleven forty, another ice warning from the
Noordam.
The
Baltic
reports ice at eleven forty-two. The
Amerika
checks in with an ice warning at one forty-five this afternoon. At seven thirty the
Californian
telegraphs to warn of ice. At nine forty the
Mesaba
sent an ice warning. And most recently, the
Californian
telegraphed again to warn that they were encountering heavy ice."

"I told the
Californian
to
shut up
for heaven's sake," the telegraph officer said. "All these ice warnings are jamming up my lines."

"Which of these is the closest ship?" Tesla asked him.

"The
Californian
is only a few miles away from us."

"So if they were experiencing ice less than a half hour ago, we have to be encountering ice, as well," Colonel Astor concluded. "Can you contact them and see what their conditions are right now?" he asked the telegraph operator.

The operator looked annoyed, but didn't dare refuse the ship's number-one passenger. He tried to reach the
Californian
but soon shook his head. "I can't get any response," he reported. "Come to think of it, their telegraph operator usually signs off at about eleven thirty and it's eleven thirty-three now."

"Thirty-three, an auspicious number," Tesla remarked. Thad had once told me Tesla had a superstition about things divisible by three: He thought they were good luck.

"I think our moment has come," he continued. "Shall we go on deck to see if we have any potential problems with ice?"

"Did you say
ice?"
We all turned to see who had spoken.

Mr. Stead stood in the doorway, his face ashen.

***

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