The Perfect Disaster

by Abby Tyler

  Their drive up until that moment had been pretty typical for them. They talked about Roscoe and how they might train him next. A little bit about the school. They avoided the topic of his football team, after their discomfort about it on Tuesday.

  But as they sat in his truck in front of this amazing building that looked exactly like the historic ship, Ginny leaned forward and pressed her hands on the dashboard. “Is it the same size of the original ship?”

  “Oh no. It’s about fifty percent. Still pretty impressive.”

  Ginny couldn’t take her eyes off the boat. The massive chimneys, the portholes, the image that exactly matched her impressions from movies and photographs. If it hadn’t been plunked in the middle of the city, surrounded by buildings and trees, she would never have believed it wasn’t the actual ship.

  She couldn’t help but let out a little squeal as they got out of the truck.

  Carter laughed. “I’m glad you’re so excited. Were you a fan of the movie?” he asked.

  “Yes and no,” she said. “There were great costumes, and the story was important. But I found some of it a little hard to believe.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever stayed awake all the way through it.”

  “What! They’re on a sinking ship! How can you fall asleep?”

  “I don’t know. I just can.”

  Ginny shook her head at him, but they smiled at each other as they entered the museum.

  As Carter had promised, there was almost no line to purchase tickets. They were each handed a boarding pass that listed the name of an actual Titanic passenger. A woman in a black-and-white servant outfit told them that, at the end of the exhibit, they would find out whether their passenger arrived safely or perished in the waters.

  They walked close together as Ginny read about her passenger. She was just a little girl about the age of Ginny’s students. She could already feel her eyes welling up with tears. “I hope she makes it,” she said. “I don’t know if I can take it if she doesn’t.”

  “You have a teacher’s heart,” Carter said. “It’s always nice to see people who were absolutely meant to be in the school system.”

  No one had ever said that to her. Ginny hadn’t intended to be in schools. Most occupational therapists worked in clinics or on a home basis, like she did before. But he might be right. The classroom felt like where she was meant to be.

  They walked through the exhibits, touching the frigid iceberg and placing their hands inside water chilled to the temperature that people endured as they abandoned the ship. Carter made it a full thirty seconds before finally pulling his hand out, but Ginny didn’t fare nearly as well.

  “Good to know what your pain threshold is,” Carter teased when she jerked her hand out after only ten seconds.

  Ginny shook her freezing hand, and Carter took it, pressing it between his. Her breath caught.

  “How is yours already warm?” she asked, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice at his unexpected touch.

  “Maybe that’s my superpower,” he said.

  He kept one hand clasped around hers as they walked through other exhibits. A couple employees dressed as crew members described what they were seeing. A room set up as a steerage bunk. Another, larger stateroom. A full model of the entire ship. Despite the grandeur, all Ginny could think about was Carter’s hand on hers.

  But then they arrived at a wide-open area, and her breath caught.

  “This is it,” she said.

  Carter nodded. “Pretty magnificent, isn’t it?”

  They stood at the base of the grand staircase from the Titanic. It was a full-sized replica, angel statue, gold plating and all.

  Another woman in a crew outfit stood at the bottom. “Go on now, young man,” she said. “Go to the top and call to your lady.”

  “I hope this ends better than their story,” Carter said.

  Ginny let go of his hand. “It will.”

  He dashed up the stairs. The woman winked at Ginny and said, “It usually does. Lots of marriage proposals happen here.”

  “We’ve just met,” Ginny said. “It’s our first date.”

  “You wouldn’t know it,” she said.

  Really?

  Before Ginny could ask her why she thought this, the woman said, “Why, I believe there he is.” She gestured up the stairs and stepped away.

  In that moment, only the two of them stood at the staircase. Carter waited at the top, his brown hair brightened by a light overhead. He grinned down at her, his smile broad and happy. His eyes seemed lit up from within.

  Ginny’s heart absolutely caught in her throat.

  He held out his arms. “What light from yonder window breaks?” he called out. “It is the moon and Ginny is the sun!”

  “That’s Romeo and Juliet!” she called up. “Wrong storyline!”

  “We’re not English teachers,” he called back.

  They laughed their fool heads off like kids making the worst joke ever.

  “Come to me, Ginny-et!” He held out his hand.

  She ran up the steps, and Carter’s arm slid around her waist. This was the closest they’d ever been, his body flush against hers, his hand curved around her hips.

  She could barely breathe.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, gazing down the steps, trying to take it all in.

  He turned to look at her. “Yes, you are.”

  Ginny’s throat was so tight, she couldn’t say a word. They stared at each other for a long moment, and she marveled at the flecks of green in his brown eyes. Ginny thought he might kiss her, but then a family of tourists arrived, and their children noisily clanked up the steps, breaking the spell.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go find out what happened to your girl.”

  They headed into the memorial room. Lighted screens showed the names of all the passengers of the Titanic, their ages, and their fate.

  Ginny took Carter’s hand and squeezed it.

  “Here’s mine,” Carter said, pointing to a name and short bio. “He was in steerage. Those guys didn’t fare too well on this voyage.”

  “He drowned,” she said, reading along, her voice catching. “I wonder what he wanted to be. What he hoped for.”

  Carter lifted his ticket to the man’s name. “Maybe he got a better chance at achieving it on his next go ’round.”

  “Hopefully so.”

  The space was dimly lit and hushed. They circled the room, looking for her girl. Ginny wanted to discover her, rather than be led directly to her name. She was eight years old.

  Carter leaned close. “I see her,” he said.

  Ginny followed the direction of his gaze.

  And then she saw the name.

  She gripped his fingers in a vise as she read, then relaxed. “She survived.”

  “Look what she became,” he said, pointing to the line just past her name.

  “A schoolteacher.”

  Ginny’s eyes smarted with tears. The girl had become an orphan, but still gone on to live a happy life. In comparison to that, losing all her family to the unforgiving sea, nothing Ginny had ever been through was difficult at all.

  Could Carter see that? Even if some woman had turned him down in front of an audience, he still had a great life to live. She wished she could say this, but he didn’t know she was aware of his past. She hadn’t watched the YouTube videos, although she’d certainly seen a whole host of links after Googling his name. She’d let him tell his version before she invaded his past.

  They examined some of the artifacts that had been rescued from the ship and read about their owners. By the time they stepped outside, their hearts full, twilight had descended.

  “You hungry?” Carter asked.

  “Definitely,” she said.

  “Then allow me to buy you dinner.”

  “I think I will.” Their silly grins were back, and neither one of them could stop smiling.

  Ginny had to admit that Carly was right. This was definitely a date.
/>
  As Carter drove away from the touristy area of Branson to a quieter district, he was glad to be out of Applebottom and prying eyes. He parked, and held Ginny’s hand as they walked along the side streets. He led her to a cute little diner with a sign in the window that insisted it was home-style Missouri fare. It was a safe bet, and bore no terrible memories for him.

  Branson was his home town, but only good things had happened to him there. Childhood. A stellar high school career. His recruitment to college ball.

  The rest was elsewhere.

  Ginny paused by the sign. “What would be traditional Missouri food?”

  “I’m from here and I don’t even know,” Carter said. “I grew up on burgers and pizza.”

  “Your mom not a cook either?” she asked.

  “Nope. Although she could order Pizza Hut like nobody’s business.”

  “Mine too.”

  Carter opened the door, and they inhaled the amazing smell of grilled meat, sauces, and an undertone of sugar. A plump woman in jeans and a flowered shirt gestured them over to an empty table in the front corner by the window. They sat down and looked out on the street. The occasional couple passed by, holding hands and seeming happy.

  It was date night, and he was on one himself, finally. He felt hopeful this one would end well, unlike so many before.

  The woman dropped off menus and glasses of water. “I’ll be right back,” she told them.

  “You think she’s the owner?” Ginny asked.

  “I bet so,” Carter said. “Little places like this usually have them around on the busy nights.”

  “Like on Town Square?”

  “Exactly. Have you met everyone?” he asked.

  “Delilah at the dog bakery, obviously. And two old ladies sat with me at one of the games. They own a pie shop?”

  “Gertrude and Maude. They’re a pair, that’s for sure.”

  “I was a little intimidated by them.”

  “They are the unofficial tastemakers of Applebottom. Gertrude’s family was part of the original German settlement. Maude’s arrived in the eighties. Which makes her an interloper.”

  “So I’m practically a tourist.”

  “Me too,” he said. “Two years is nothing.” He picked up Ginny’s hand and circled his thumb inside her palm. He pictured their future walks with Roscoe, able to hold hands now. It was a good step forward.

  The woman returned. “What would you two lovebirds like to drink?”

  Lovebirds. Interesting. Carter couldn’t recall anyone saying something like that on his other dates, not even with Steph, who was beautiful and glittery, but not particularly fond of public displays of affection.

  “I’ll just keep the water,” Carter said.

  “You got it,” the woman said with a grin. “How about you, honey?”

  “Iced tea?”

  “Sweet, I assume?” Her tone left no room to argue the point.

  “Yes, of course.”

  She turned away, and they picked up the menus.

  “What’s most traditional?” Ginny asked. “I haven’t been to a restaurant in Missouri since I drove through a McDonald’s on the drive down.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything quite as iconic as Chicago dogs or Chicago pizza,” Carter said. “Missouri’s pretty diverse. But looking at what they are offering here, I’d say your best bet for something Missouri-traditional would be the sauced grilled pork.”

  “That sounds good,” she said.

  “We’ll have to get some gooey butter cake for dessert,” he said. “Although I doubt it will be as good as my grandma’s.”

  “So at least you have the cooking gene up there somewhere,” she said.

  “Oh yeah. Grandma does all the Grandma things. Mom was just focused on her career.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She’s a surgeon. Both my parents are.”

  “How do they feel about you being a coach?”

  “Ashamed and embarrassed.” He didn’t even flinch as he said it.

  Ginny’s eyes flickered with compassion. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I went through an entire period of my life where I apparently disappointed everyone. I’m over it. I like it here. There’s no pressure.”

  The woman taking orders came back over, and they placed theirs. The rest of the conversation was easy and light. Roscoe. Treat bags. Some changes in the discipline code at the high school. Ginny pronounced the pork steak and bacon-fried cornbread absolute perfection.

  When the butter cake arrived, Carter lifted it to show Ginny all the gooey layers.

  “I think this is going to send me into a food coma,” she said.

  “I’m glad you liked everything so far. Butter cake, though, is a true test of whether you are meant to live in Missouri.” He set the plate between them.

  She picked up a fork. They were sharing, after he’d assured her that she might want to try it before committing to an entire piece.

  “Well, let’s see what my fate is.” Ginny carved off a corner of the glaze-laden cake.

  Carter watched with bemused interest as she stuck a piece in her mouth. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction. Butter cake was the most outrageous sweet thing on any Missouri menu. He rarely let himself indulge in it.

  Ginny’s eyebrows shot up. Her eyes drifted closed. She made a little mmmm sound.

  Then she scooted the plate closer to her side. “Forget about sharing,” she said. “This is mine.”

  Carter laughed. He took his fork and pretended to try to stabbing at it while Ginny blocked all his moves. The waitress saw them and hustled over with a grin. “Looks like you might need two of these after all,” she said.

  “I think so,” Carter said.

  “I’ll fetch it right now.”

  The meal finished with lots of laughter, and groans, and both of them perhaps regretting they had each eaten an entire piece.

  As they walked back to his truck, Carter took Ginny’s hand again, this time lifting it to press a kiss against her knuckles. Her eyes caught his, the light dancing in them. This was working. It felt right.

  “This has been the most perfect evening,” he said.

  “Agreed.”

  He opened her door to his truck, and waited while she slid in the seat. He hesitated for a moment, almost leaning in to kiss her. They’d missed their opportunity on the stairs when a family had taken over the space.

  But this wasn’t quite it either. Too much noise, people walking around. Not yet.

  He pulled back and walked around his side.

  On the drive home, they talked of more Missouri foods as well as ones that Ginny had known from Chicago and Seattle. Every conversation seemed laden with the idea that they had a future, and that one day they would share these other experiences.

  Carter felt more and more optimistic that this was working.

  But it was just date one. So many of the others had crashed and burned, women acting one way at first, then seeming to want so much so fast. They always had expectations, and he wasn’t sure he would ever deliver.

  He killed his truck in front of her house. He felt so torn. He wanted to move forward with Ginny. He’d pushed for it even. But even as they sat there, he could picture Steph looking down at him while he got down on one knee. All around him, football players shoved each other and pointed. A cameraman had closed in.

  And she’d looked so…disgusted.

  He shouldn’t have done it. He’d just been so disappointed about not getting drafted. His future had rearranged, the blackness falling in front of his eyes. Steph was there, and she was so perfect and good. He’d wanted to do this part of his plan, even if he had no team to go to and wasn’t sure what was next. In his head, some coach would pull him in during the offseason. The draft wasn’t necessarily the end.

  But Steph didn’t believe. She hadn’t loved him. She’d loved the idea of marrying a pro player.

  And he wasn’t one. Not then.

  And not now.


  They took their time heading up the sidewalk, and Carter forced himself to shake those images away. Why were they coming right now?

  Except they always did. Date one, date two, date three. Steph’s brutal rejection always inserted itself in the middle. He had to get rid of those pictures in his head.

  They made it to her door.

  Carter was sure his own mood was spoiled, and he wouldn’t be able to focus back on Ginny. Time to punt. Make another run at a romantic moment when he could wrestle his past out of his present.

  But then Ginny turned to him, her long hair swinging, her big brown eyes lifting to his.

  And everything else fell away. He saw only her and images from the evening. Ginny laughing as she jerked her hand out of the cold water. Tearing up over the little girl on her ticket. Standing at the bottom of the Titanic steps, looking up at him much like she was at this moment.

  And this time, it felt right.

  He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers.

  It was a tentative kiss, almost like a question. His mouth was feather light, the kiss you might expect when you’re young and just starting out in love. He was almost surprised by it, its optimism and promise, when he’d felt so jaded just seconds before.

  After a moment, Carter pulled back and looked into her eyes. They shone with happiness. “I had a really good time tonight,” he said.

  “Me too.”

  “I’ll see you on Tuesday? See what we can do with that dog of ours?”

  Her eyes glistened a little more with the word ours.

  And, as if on cue, Roscoe bumped hard against the door.

  “He heard us,” they both said simultaneously, and burst out laughing.

  “I should see to him,” Ginny said. “He’s bound to be rambunctious.”

  “All right then. Goodnight.”

  She paused, looking at him, then stood up on tiptoe to brush another gentle kiss on his lips, this one all her doing.

  “Goodnight,” she whispered.

  She squeezed through the door to prevent Roscoe from escaping.

  He whistled lightly as he headed back to his truck, his lips still tingly, his chest puffed out.