A Family for the Titanic Survivor

by Lauri Robinson

  Karl maintained his composure as he nodded. “I will. Thank you, again.”

  He left the hotel and drove home with a heavy heart and mind. Bridget’s heart and mind must be even heavier. She’d lived through it. He’d only heard other people’s accounts of what had happened. Bits and pieces of what she’d encountered.

  An enormous, almost overwhelming debt of gratitude, but also respect for Bridget, filled him. That was uncannily rare for him. His mother had instilled an indifference toward women. She’d done that by the way she’d sold—there was no other word for it—him and Benjamin to their father for a large sum of money, and then, when that was gone, she’d returned, demanding more. Every year. On their birthdays. The irony of that never failed to goad him. He remembered one such incident clearly, and had come to hate birthdays after that year.

  His mother had once said that his father had invested in her just like he had other ventures, and that she’d supplied what he’d wanted—children—and that she should be paid yearly for that. Dividends on what she’d produced.

  Lights shone in the house windows as he pulled into the drive, and Willard was waiting to close the carriage house doors when he turned off his Packard.

  “Bri—Miss McGowen is waiting for you in the main living room,” Willard said as they walked to the house.

  Karl’s heartbeat quickened. “Why?”

  “She said she needed to speak with you before going to bed,” Willard replied.

  Karl buried the flash of anger that raised inside him, certain Bridget was going to say she was leaving. Just like his mother had left when he’d been Elsie’s age and Benjamin an infant.

  Bridget was once again seated on the burgundy sofa near the fireplace and offered a tentative smile as he entered the room. His heart thudded oddly at the sight of her. No woman did that to him, and he wasn’t impressed that she did.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked, forcing his feet to walk across the room. She was still wearing the borrowed dress from this morning, and he clenched his teeth. Was that meant to be a sign she was leaving?

  She shook her head, then nodded. “Elsie is fine. She had a wonderful day and is sleeping.” Folding her hands on her lap, she continued, “I owe you an apology and couldn’t go to bed without offering it. My Da always said to never let the sun go down on your anger.”

  An apology. He didn’t know how to respond to that, and sat down in the chair adjacent to the sofa to consider it. “You’re not still angry at me?”

  She looked down and then up at him, with sincerity filling those blue eyes. “No, and I shouldn’t have been angry with you this morning. I apologize for that and hope you can forgive me. I just—”

  “I accept.” He didn’t like apologies and chose to get this over with as quickly as possible. “I apologize, as well. I hadn’t meant to upset you.”

  Her face softened and he was once again struck by how lovely she was, even in a borrowed dress. Oddly, her sincerity had evoked his own. That was a rarity, but the truth. He hadn’t meant to upset her. “I was being selfish this morning. I was thinking of the only thing I can do for Elsie, and how I couldn’t do that without her being properly looked after.”

  Her dark brows tugged together above the bridge of her nose. “Do for Elsie?”

  “Yes, this inquiry.” Recalling all he’d heard today, he leaned forward, laid a hand atop of hers. The touch made his hand tingle, but he kept it there. “I can’t change what happened. I can’t bring her parents back. I can never give her the life she would have had with them.” He clamped his back teeth together as the pain of his brother’s death struck again. “What I can do is find out what happened and hopefully work on a way to prevent it from ever happening again. Hopefully, someday, that will ease her pain, to know her parents hadn’t died in vain.”

  * * *

  Bridget let what he’d said filter through her mind for a moment, much like she had her own anger this morning. Throughout the day, she’d realized just how quick she’d been to jump to conclusions. He was concerned about his niece. The stool he’d had delivered to the house was only a small piece of evidence of that. The way he’d gone to the docks looking for them last night was another one. Annette and Benjamin had spoken highly of him, so had Willard and Mary throughout the day, and she herself had to face her own hour of truth. How she’d been more to blame than him this morning.

  She glanced at his hand. The warmth of his palm was radiating up her arm, straight to her heart. He’d not only accepted her apology, but offered his own. Which truly wasn’t necessary, nor was there anything he could do about Benjamin’s and Annette’s deaths.

  Yet, he thought there was, because of his own pain. She could see it on his face and felt bad for him. So bad. “The Titanic hit an iceberg,” she said quietly. “It was an accident.”

  The pressure of his hand increased. “True, but the ship had been warned that there were icebergs in the area and to take caution.”

  “It had been?”

  “Yes.” He shifted in his chair, leaned closer. “There might be something that can be done to prevent that in the future, or some of the other issues that occurred. I need to be at this inquiry, to learn all I can, and in order to do so, I need your help. Need you to be here with Elsie. I don’t want her to have more changes. More loss. Not right now.”

  “I don’t want her to, either,” Bridget admitted. That’s what nearly tore her heart in two. Elsie did need her, but she had to fulfill the promises she made to Da. “It’s just that I made promises, too.”

  “To whom?”

  “My Da. He’d pinched pennies for years so that I could come to America.”

  “I understand, and if you will stay here with Elsie until Mrs. Conrad returns, I will personally see that you get to Chicago. To your family there. It shouldn’t be more than four or six weeks.”

  She closed her eyes, trying to tell herself she could do that, but at the same time, she knew herself. The longer she stayed, the harder it would be to leave. There was more to it, too. “I want to stay, I want to help you and her, but my Da made me promise that when I finally got here, I wouldn’t become a servant. That happened to others that we knew, and for many of them, their lives here were no better than back home.” Da had also said she didn’t have the temperament to be a servant.

  He nodded. “So that’s why I can’t hire you.”

  “Yes. That’s why I wouldn’t let Annette hire me, either.” She drew in a deep breath, glad she’d finally voiced her true concerns, even though it didn’t bring a conclusion to anything. Da had worked so hard for her to get here, she had to keep her promise. “Da believed, and I believe, a person should work hard for their money, but they shouldn’t be indentured.”

  “Indentured servitude is illegal in America,” he said. “Has been for years.”

  She shook her head. “But it’s still happening. There are road agents selling contracts every day in Ireland.”

  He sat back in his chair. “I never thought of that, Bridget, but I believe you. There are some things, no matter how many laws are passed, that we just can’t seem to escape, aren’t there?”

  “Yes.” She let out a long sigh, having no idea what to do. “Da said that when you commit your life to someone else, you lose your own.”

  “Does your father know you survived the accident?”

  For the first time since his death, she was glad he wasn’t here, that he wasn’t in Ireland wondering if she’d lived or died. “No. He died the week before I left.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She nodded in acknowledgment, and then said, “I’m sorry for your loss. Losing people we love is very hard.”

  He looked away and cleared his throat before asking, “What sort of work did your father do?”

  Understanding that everyone dealt with death differently, she answe
red, “He owned a pub. The Green Door. It’s a small pub, a stop for travelers between Dublin and Drogheda, and a place where fishermen would gather to share their tales.”

  “Did you work there? At the pub?”

  “Yes, my entire life.”

  A soft smile curved the corners of his lips upward. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-two.” She pushed out a sigh, partially because his smile made him look friendly, handsome and like someone she didn’t want to disappoint. Perhaps talking about her father would help him understand that talking about his brother might help him. “Da wanted me to leave, come to America years ago, but I refused. He needed me. Then he grew ill. Grew slower, tired. He had the cancer poison. There was nothing we could do about it. He needed me to stay, to be with him, help him, and I promised I would leave, when the time came.”

  “That had to have been difficult.”

  She nodded. “It was some days, seeing him so sickly, knowing he wanted a different life for me than working in a pub.”

  “He let you work in a pub, but didn’t want you to be a servant?”

  He made it sound like they were nearly the same thing. They weren’t even close. “Yes. He owned the pub. It’s what provided the means for me to leave. I needed to work there, help him, so he could save the money for me to leave.”

  Nodding, he said, “I see what you’re saying, and I hope you understand what I’m saying. I need your help, so does Elsie.” He rubbed his chin. “And, as I see it, you need a place to stay until the White Star Line compensates you for your losses, so you can continue on to Chicago. I should think we could come up with something that works for both of us.”

  What he said was true, but as she nodded, her thoughts stalled. “What do you mean compensates my losses?”

  “The shipping line had insurance, a policy in place to cover losses, to the line and the passengers.”

  She hadn’t known anything about an insurance policy. If she could get her money back, she could go to Chicago as soon as possible. Today, while lamenting over her anger this morning, she’d realized why she’d gotten so angry, so quickly. She was afraid. Afraid of staying with Elsie any longer than necessary. She already cared about Elsie so dearly that leaving her was going to be difficult. But she had to. The night of the accident, she remembered taking her money pouch out of her pocket and setting it on the table next to the sofa before she’d fallen asleep. “How long will that take?”

  “I’m not sure, but it shouldn’t take long. As soon as I know, I will let you know.” He cocked his head sideways, looking at her. “I feel the need to point out that the people who work for me have never been indentured servants. Willard, Mrs. Andrews and Mrs. Dahl are employees. Paid a fair wage for their time, their work, just like the employees of my company. It’s no different than working somewhere else.”

  Bridget nodded as she considered that. Da hadn’t wanted her to become a servant, but she did wonder if he’d think taking care of Elsie would be all right. He’d surely have realized that it was only because she did need a place to stay and a way to earn money until being compensated for her losses.

  Karl stood up and held out a hand. “It’s late. The hearings won’t resume until ten-thirty tomorrow morning. We can discuss this again before I leave.”

  She laid her hand in his, accepting his assistance to rise off the sofa.

  He released her hand and gently cupped her elbow to escort her out of the room. It reminded her of how his brother had done that with Annette. It was something she’d never experienced.

  “Your brother spoke highly of you,” she said. “So did Annette.”

  He gave a slight nod. “The items I had delivered to the house today, for you, are gifts. Tokens of appreciation. I truly believe that if not for you, I would not have my niece right now. Her life means more to me than anything else on this earth. By accepting, using the gifts, it will prove that you feel that way, too.”

  She held in her sigh, recognizing he wasn’t ready to talk about his brother. The items he’d sent to the house for her were something they’d need to discuss. More dresses, underclothes, coats, hats, shoes and socks than she’d owned her entire life, along with other things—a hairbrush, mirror, comb, even face powders and creams. She’d only had three dresses with her on the ship, not a dozen.

  Because she did need something to wear, she would accept a couple of the dresses, but saying that accepting them would prove how much Elsie meant to her, made him sound like he’d kissed the Blarney Stone. That made her smile rather than irritated her. He wasn’t the type of man who would kiss a stone. He was too stiff, too proper for that.

  She caught him glancing down at her, or maybe it was the other way around. Pinching her lips together to hide the smile, she shook her head.

  “I do believe I was right about one thing this morning,” he said.

  “Oh?”

  He nodded and winked. “That you are stubborn.”

  Her smile broke loose. “Now, that is the kettle calling the pot black if I ever heard one.”

  “Perhaps, but we are both looking out for Elsie. That we can agree on.”

  That was something she could agree on.

  They continued walking side by side to the staircase that ran along the wall of the wide hallway that went from the front door all the way to the back door. The kitchen and dining rooms were near the back while the front living room and his office were near the front. Another hallway past his office led to two small sitting rooms and a water closet and what Willard referred to as his and Mary’s “living quarters.” The upstairs had six very large bedrooms and two water closets. The home was enchanting, as was the backyard that Elsie had played in during the warmth of the day. It had a black iron fence that separated the yard from the houses on either side and a large porch where a high-back swing, large enough for two people, hung on heavy ropes.

  “You have a lovely home,” she said as they climbed the steps. Even more lovely than Annette had made it sound.

  “Thank you, but I don’t deserve any credit. It was built long before I was born,” he answered. “My ancestors came to America before the Revolutionary War. They fought in it, and the Civil War. My grandfather bought this house, raised his family here. He owned a merchant shipping company and divided it four ways, to my father and each of his brothers. They all four sold their ships. My father stayed here, became a banker and my uncles all went west. Montana, Colorado, and California. Cattle, gold and textiles. That’s what they invested in and have done very well. They and their families traveled here last year, when my father died.”

  Annette had told her about that, how Elsie didn’t have any grandparents. “I’m sorry that you recently lost your father, too.”

  “It’s been over a year now,” he replied as they arrived at the top of the stairs. With a nod, he said, “Sleep well, and we’ll talk after breakfast.”

  “Good night.” She went right down the hall while he went left, and she forced herself not to look over her shoulder when she arrived at Elsie’s bedroom. There was something about him that warmed her insides in a peculiar and unfamiliar way. She had to be cautious of that because she was known to care too much about others. That’s what Da said.

  She slept in the room adjacent to Elsie’s that night, in Mrs. Conrad’s bed, knowing she had to allow the child to become accustomed to sleeping alone again, to know she was home and safe.

  Bridget felt safe, too, and wondered if Da, if he knew all the details, would have said she could work for Karl, be Elsie’s nanny for a few weeks. Da was a reasonable man, and she herself had already admitted that she needed to be practical. It wasn’t as if she was totally breaking her promise. She would still go to Chicago as soon as possible. Until she had the means, working for Karl wouldn’t be so different than working for Da had been. Da had been so against her becoming a household worker because he’d said it would be like
a trap, that once a person started, they never got out.

  She’d just have to make sure that didn’t happen to her.

  * * *

  Karl wasn’t at the breakfast table the following morning. Willard explained he was in his office, taking telephone calls. Bridget sensed something was wrong, but didn’t ask questions, not in front of Elsie. Before breakfast was done, she heard a door slam.

  Then another.

  Later, as she sent Elsie into the downstairs water closet to wash after eating, she asked Willard where Karl had gone, knowing the second door had been the front door of the house.

  “He received terrible news this morning, Bridget. Just terrible,” he replied, his entire face showing his misery. “They were to return Benjamin’s and Annette’s remains here, to be buried, but Karl just got word that they will be buried in Nova Scotia.”

  There were times when he spoke like a servant and others when he dropped the miss, mistress and master titles and sounded like a family member. Laying a comforting hand on his arm, she asked, “Why?”

  He shook his head, blinked at the wetness in his eyes. “Because they were too far gone, the bodies...” He shook his head again, unable to say more.

  Her heart ached for him, for Karl and Elsie. She wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so sorry, Willard.”

  “Karl insisted he will have them brought home. That the little miss needs a place to go, to...”

  “I understand,” she said, hugging him tighter. “There has just been so much tragedy with all of this. So much tragedy.”

  “For you, too.” He released her and patted her upper arms. “You must have known others on the ship.”

  Whether she knew others or not didn’t make the loss of so many less sorrowful, yet she nodded. “I did. Not many other than my berth mate and her brother. They both survived, but were very ill on the Carpathia. I do hope, do pray, that they are receiving care now.”