A Family for the Titanic Survivor

by Lauri Robinson

  “Then you’re fired.”

  His spine stiffened. “You can’t fire me.”

  “Yes, I can. I hired you. I can fire you.”

  That was true and the idea of being cast aside so easily made her insides go cold. “Who will take care of Elsie?”

  “Catherine.”

  The air locked in her lungs. Not even tiny gasps would catch. How dare he? After all... Her anger snapped. “Is ceann de’s na h-óinseacha diabhail thú!” His grin made her even madder. She wrenched out of his hold and walked away while repeating the curse in English, “You are one of the Devil’s fools!”

  “Probably,” he said. “But I want you at the opera with me tonight.” He grasped her upper arms from behind, rubbed them gently. “I can’t do this without you, Bridget.”

  She gulped for air at how every part of her could feel the heat of his closeness.

  His breath tickled her neck as he said, “You are the reason I’m doing it.”

  She shook her head and sighed. He was one of the Devil’s fools. How else could he make the anger seep out of her as quickly as he instilled it in her. No, she was the fool for falling in love with a man she shouldn’t have. Not now. Not ever.

  He stepped around to face her. “If you hadn’t been on that ship, if I hadn’t met you, I would have gone on with life as normal. A life of not caring.”

  She looked away, had to. His gaze was too penetrating. “No, you wouldn’t have.”

  “Yes, I would have,” he said. “You make an impression on everyone you meet. You did me.” He touched the side of her face. “Maybe it was the luck of the Irish or one of your curses,” he said softly. “Either way, please attend the opera with me so others can see what you made me see.”

  “I didn’t make you see anything.”

  “Yes, you did. Young or old, rich or poor, the Titanic carried some of the most wonderful people in the world. The opera tonight is a fundraiser for survivors, and the people who will be joining us in our suite have pledged to support the cause. They can afford to give generously, and I’m certain that upon meeting you, they will support the trust fund I’m setting up, too. I’m not trying to exploit you or asking you to do anything immoral. You just need to be yourself. Let people see you are just like them.”

  “But I’m not like them, Karl,” she insisted. “I’m not like you. I was a third-class passenger for a reason. It was all I could afford.”

  “And that doesn’t make you any better or worse than anyone else. You made me realize that, and you can make them realize that, too. To know the people these fundraisers are helping are real people. Not just someone they’ve heard about. Real people who need help because they lost everything through no fault of their own.”

  It must be her who had lost her mind, because she understood and agreed with what he was saying, but the opera? She’d never been to an opera.

  “I know this idea is a risk, but risks are what make life worth living.”

  He had no idea it was her heart she was risking in all this, but it was to help others. People she knew who needed help. Lifting her chin, she nodded. “I’ll go to the opera with you on one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Bridget was even more convinced she’d lost her mind as she watched Catherine in the mirror while the other woman secured the beaded headdress in place. It had two rows of ivory pearls that looped around her head, across her forehead, and were secured to her crown with a thick comb that had two ivory-colored feathers on them. Dipping her chin, to see the feathers in the mirror, Bridget pinched her lips together.

  “You look beautiful,” Catherine said, looking in the mirror over Bridget’s head.

  Bridget ran her hands over the dark blue dress. A sheer, soft material, with darker blue embroidered flowers throughout the several layers of the skirt. The under layer of the dress was ivory, with scalloped lace edges on the square neckline, elbow-length sleeves and the hems. The layers of ivory and blue were stunning. Truly the most gorgeous dress she’d ever seen. The shoes were blue, too, with square heels and made of soft leather that fit perfectly.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous,” Bridget said.

  “Why?”

  “I’ve never worn anything so delicate, so lovely.” Her breath shook as she let it out. “Never dressed up to go anywhere, other than church, my entire life.”

  “No one will know that, not with the way you look,” Catherine said, fussing with the feathers.

  “I will,” Bridget said. Her stomach hiccupped. “What if I trip or—”

  “Trip?” Catherine said. “What are you talking about? I thought the shoes fit perfectly.”

  “They do. It’s me who doesn’t fit.” She turned away from the mirror and rose from the chair. “I don’t fit in any of this. These clothes. This house. I should be in Chicago. Working for my Da’s cousin until I can make enough money to open my own boardinghouse. That’s where I belong. That’s where I’d fit. The pub I lived in my entire life wasn’t much bigger than this bedroom. There was no fancy paper on the walls or frilly curtains on the windows.”

  “And that’s why your father wanted you to come to America,” Catherine said. “Just like my family. So we wouldn’t have to keep living like that. Wondering if there would be enough food to feed everyone through the winter. Or if the spring would be so wet the crops would rot in the fields like they had the spring before. I never knew your Da, but I’m sure he’d be proud to see you now. Mine would be. I wrote them a letter. Told them about the fancy house Sean and I are living in, and I told them it’s all because of you.”

  The air seeped out of Bridget as she looked at Catherine, with her curly red hair and bright green eyes. The other woman had thanked her over and over again for letting them come here, work for Karl.

  Catherine glanced around the room. “This is more than Sean and I dreamed, more than our folks dreamed. The clothes and shoes that were bought for us...” She shook her head. “We figured we’d work in a factory or something, never a home this beautiful, for people this nice. And Elsie. Goodness, you’d told me about her on the ship, but she is a true darling. Just a little darling.”

  Bridget’s heart softened. “Yes, she is.”

  Grasping ahold of her shoulders, Catherine said, “Tonight is no different than those fancy restaurants you visited on the ship. They were full of fancy people and you did just fine.”

  “Because I didn’t have to pretend to be anyone,” Bridget said. “They all knew I was just a nanny.”

  “You aren’t pretending now, either.” Catherine spun around and picked up the dark blue embroidered cape that matched the dress off the bed. “You are a beautiful woman, inside and out. Who is helping so many others. Just think about that, Bridget. How many people you are helping, by just going to the opera. People like me and Sean, who wouldn’t have anything if not for you.”

  Bridget swallowed hard as the cape was draped over her shoulders. For a moment she was convinced she could do this. Go to the opera. With Karl.

  The moment left. “I’m afraid of him, Catherine.”

  “Him? Karl?”

  Bridget nodded. “He’s so handsome. So nice and kind and generous.” Rattled, she added, “He barely has an ornery bone in his body.”

  Catherine walked around her, faced her. Frowned. “So what are you afraid of?”

  “I’m afraid he’ll steal my heart,” Bridget whispered, not wanting to admit it, but needing to be honest.

  Catherine smiled and leaned closer as she whispered, “And that you’ll steal his.”

  * * *

  Karl had never attended an opera. Had never wanted to, but now he wanted to do all kinds of things he’d never done before. Things that included having a woman on his arm. At his side.

  Her.

  A stubborn, strong-minded, caring an
d beautiful woman.

  She’d been turning his head since the first moment he’d seen her holding Elsie in his front room, but tonight she was turning more than his head. Men and women, many of whom he knew, some he didn’t, nearly stopped in their tracks as he escorted her into the Metropolitan Opera House. He paused to say hello to a few and introduced Bridget as they made their way to the balcony suite. She’d barely spoken a word since they’d left the house. He’d agreed to her stipulation and had hired two more men from the Titanic who needed jobs and a place to live. John and James. Brothers, who were now staying in the servant’s quarters in his basement. Young men who Sean had vouched for, assuring he knew them from Ireland and that they were trustworthy.

  Karl believed him, because he knew anyone who stepped out of line would find themselves face-to-face with Sean, and Sean would triumph.

  He grinned. Bridget was well on her way to running a boardinghouse. He didn’t mind. It felt good to know there was someone younger and stronger than Willard in the house while he was gone.

  The other couples he’d invited to join them in the suite had all been at the funeral and the house yesterday, so introductions were more polite reminders for Bridget. Clara Croswell instantly invited Bridget to sit next to her while Adam suggested the men retreat to the back of the balcony to enjoy a beverage whilst waiting for the opera to begin.

  “Where did you find her?” Art Kennedy asked, leaning against the back wall.

  Karl let his gaze land on Bridget. She was nodding, leaning closer to the rail as Clara pointed over it. “She found me.”

  Art laughed. “Lucky you.”

  “Luck of the Irish,” Karl said, although he wasn’t Irish.

  “I was under the impression she was your niece’s nanny,” Adam Croswell said.

  Karl took a sip of his drink. “Elsie’s nanny became ill and remained in England. Annette and Bridget became friends on the ship and she’d offered to watch Elsie so Benjamin and Annette could attend the captain’s party the night the ship sank.” He took another sip off his drink, let the rich alcohol slowly glide down his throat before continuing, “She promised my niece to not let go of her until she put her in my arms. And she didn’t. Even as she took an oar, rowing the lifeboat all night in a sea full of icebergs and dead bodies, she held on to Elsie.”

  “You don’t say,” Adam whispered reverently.

  “Dear Lord,” Art said, just as respectfully. “What an ordeal for a woman to go through.”

  “You just gave me goose bumps, Karl,” Jack McPherson said. “That’s heroic.”

  “Hear, hear,” Elwin Scott said humbly.

  Karl nodded, slowly. “It was heroic,” he said. “And that is why we are here tonight. Every person on that ship went through hell that night. Those who lived are going to remember it for the rest of their lives.”

  “I’ve read the papers, heard stories,” Adam said, “but until this moment, I never imagined...” He shook his head. “Such a tragedy.”

  “It was.” Karl set his empty glass on the small table. “I have what I’d like to refer to as an investment in humanity that I would like to discuss with you gentlemen.”

  “You have our captive attention,” Nathan Owens said.

  “I’ve attended the hearings. There will be no admission of guilt, of blame. The majority of those who survived will not see a dime from the White Star Line. I’m setting up a trust fund, in my brother’s name, to not only provide initial payments immediately, but yearly dividends to those affected by this tragedy.”

  “That is an excellent idea, Karl. Heroic in its own right. How can I help with that?” Adam asked.

  Karl had crunched the numbers, and if all played out, the trust fund could provide each survivor the same amount of money as the check the White Star Line had given him on Elsie’s behalf. Which had been higher than the one for Bridget—another thing that had duly irritated him.

  “I would appreciate any involvement you might like to have,” Karl said. “Financially and otherwise, but I had not yet thought of the trust fund when I invited you to join me this evening and I do not want it to take away from what you pledged here, for tonight’s event.”

  “Of course not,” Jack said. “I’ll write you a check tonight, and another one every year going forward.”

  The others agreed, pledging initial and yearly payments both privately and from their businesses as well as friends and family.

  “We’ve been looking for something solid to do, to help with all of this,” Nathan said. “You just gave us a genuine way. With you overseeing it, it’s sure to be a success, Karl. Your father would be proud.”

  His insides quivered slightly. Other than to his mother, his father hadn’t freely parted with money. He hadn’t realized that, but did now. He let the thought go, because the person he was truly proud of was Bridget. Her courage and stamina deserved recognition, and he was happy to provide that.

  “Father, hell,” Adam said. “I’m proud. Proud to know you. This is a hell of a thing you are doing.”

  “Hear, hear,” Elwin said, livelier this time.

  The overhead lights began to go out one by one, and Karl said, “Thank you, all, but what I’m doing is nothing compared to what Bridget did.”

  “We agree,” Art said. “You are a very lucky man.”

  That he couldn’t fully agree with right now, because she’d be leaving soon, going to Chicago. “I believe it’s time to take our seats.”

  The women rearranged seats so their husbands could sit next to them, and as Karl sat down next to Bridget, his heart thudded at the smile she offered him. At this moment, he was a lucky man. He was sitting next to the most beautiful woman in the state. In the world, and truth was, he wasn’t looking forward to her leaving. No matter when that might be.

  Leaning toward her, he asked, “Enjoying yourself?”

  “Yes. Are you?”

  The sparkle in her eyes confirmed what he already knew. “Yes, very much.” He was enjoying the evening, because of her, and saw no harm in that.

  The opera was interesting, but it was Bridget that he appreciated, watching as she pressed a hand to her lips at high points in the performances, sighed at poignant ones and clapped enthusiastically as each ended.

  “That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” she told him as they climbed into his Packard afterward.

  He started the engine. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  She laughed so brightly he glanced at her, frowning. “What?” he asked.

  “My Da would have said those performers had good lungs,” she said.

  He nodded, fully agreeing with that. His back teeth were still clenched at how some of the high notes had reverberated in his spine so hard he’d had to force himself not to shake off a shiver.

  She leaned a bit closer, eyes shimmering in the streetlight shining into the car. “He would have also said you were twice cursed by Adam’s slipup.”

  Confused, he asked, “Adam? What did he do?”

  Laughing harder, she said, “Not Mr. Croswell. Adam, as in Adam and Eve. When he ate the apple?” Still laughing, she slapped his shoulder. “I thought you were going to leap right out of your chair you were shivering so hard.” She was laughing so hard she could barely talk. “I felt so bad for you.”

  Her lighthearted giggles made him laugh. “You sound like you felt really bad.”

  She covered her mouth with one hand as if trying to stop laughing, but couldn’t. “I did. I really did.” Once again, she touched his shoulder. “If you’d have walked out, I would have gone with you.”

  He’d honestly thought he’d hidden his reactions to some parts of the performances, but could have sworn she was captivated. “You didn’t care for it?”

  She gasped for air as her giggles eased. “No. I mean yes, I enjoyed it, but you looked so miserable that I would have left
with you, just to ease your pain.”

  He knew she was being completely honest, because that was who she was, a genuine person, through and through. “I enjoyed that you enjoyed it,” he said, being just as honest. Shifting the car into gear, he added, “I hope you’ll enjoy dinner just as much.”

  Smiling, she leaned back against the seat. “I hope you’ll enjoy it much more.”

  He did enjoy the meal, but again, enjoyed her company more. When he looked at her, watched her eating, he couldn’t help but think about all that had happened since meeting her. How his life had taken a route he’d never traversed before, as if she’d been a new beginning for him. He also wondered if his life would turn around again, go back to how it had been once she left. Went to Chicago.

  The idea of that, of her leaving, of his life turning back around, became even more unsettling.

  He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. “Why do you want to own a boarding house?”

  She twirled a finger around the rim of her cup. “When my mother passed away, I was a few years older than Elsie is, and my Da’s cousin Martha was leaving for America. She wanted to take me with her because there were no other female relatives to help Da care for me. I didn’t want to go, so he told her no, maybe in a couple of years. Martha returned three years later, and was concerned about me living at the pub, but I still didn’t want to go. Da said that I had to go, and I insisted that he needed me to stay with him, help him. He finally agreed with me, but said that Martha had become an accomplished woman here in America, by owning a boardinghouse and made me promise that I would do that, too. I said I would, as soon as he no longer needed me. Every couple of years, when Martha returned home, Da had still needed me. Then he passed away, so I left, came to America. Like I’d promised.”

  “So it was your father’s dream for you, owning a boardinghouse,” he said.

  She shrugged. “It was our dream together. It’s what he wanted and I agreed.”

  “Did you ever consider not coming? Of doing something else?”