A Family for the Titanic Survivor

by Lauri Robinson

  “They are,” she said. “But it’s more than that, Karl.” Her voice was shaky. “You may see it that way, but others never will. I can’t put you in the position of being ostracized. Being ridiculed for marrying beneath you. I can’t put Elsie in that position, either.”

  He thought of his father, who would have thought exactly as she was suggesting. The man he’d loved, and would continue to, but would not follow in his footsteps any longer. “If that were to happen, it would be by people whom I wouldn’t want to be associated with, and most certainly wouldn’t want Elsie exposed to.”

  “But she will be,” she whispered.

  “And we’ll be there, together, to show her how wrong that principle is. Allow her to form her own opinions. Her own beliefs.”

  She closed her eyes. “My temper can get away from me at times. I’ve been known to say or do things that I shouldn’t.”

  That was just one of the things he loved about her, but he could tell she felt it was a real issue. “So what if you do? It won’t bring about the end of the world. Furthermore, it will make people think twice about their own behaviors.” It had for him.

  “You make it sound so simple, but it’s not,” she said.

  “I believe it is simple. As simple as loving you. As simple as you letting me be your leprechaun. If you grant me the wish of being my wife, I’ll give you the means to grant all the wishes to anyone you want.” He’d said he wouldn’t beg or plead, and because he was about to start doing just that, he drew in a deep breath. “Don’t say anything, Bridget. Just think about it.” He kissed her forehead, stood. Walked away.

  * * *

  Once again, Bridget forgot how to breathe as Karl walked through the gangway into the other passenger car. When he disappeared, she gasped so hard it made her cough. Several times.

  The coughing might have made her eyes water; there was no way of telling with the tears that were already flowing. With blurred vision, she found her purse on the floor and took out her handkerchief.

  The handkerchief Karl had bought her.

  The purse Karl had bought her.

  Everything she had right now, Karl had bought her.

  He was the one who was as beautiful on the inside as he was on the outside. He also did make it sound so simple, but it was not.

  Still wiping at the tears on her cheeks, she turned, looked out the window. Fields of spring-green grass, as green as the grass back home, rolled past the window. The fields went on and on, for as far as she could see.

  Oh, Da, I don’t know what to do. I truly don’t. I love him. I love him so much I don’t want to see him hurt. Not now, not ever.

  Huffing out a sigh, because she knew her father couldn’t answer, she leaned her head against the window. She’d known he’d stolen her heart, but hearing him say he loved her had made her chest burn, ache at the need of telling him that she loved him in return. Him. A man who she believed had never received the love he deserved. Not as a child. Not as she had. She’d been showered with love. A love that had taught her how to love in return. But she didn’t want that love to cause problems for Karl.

  May those that love us, love us. And those that don’t, may God turn their hearts. And if He doesn’t turn their hearts, may He turn their ankles so we’ll know them by their limping.

  A shiver tickled her spine. She sat up, looked around. She could have sworn she’d just heard Da’s voice, saying the very curse she’d heard him repeat many times.

  She must have thought it. Thought the curse... May those that love us, love us. Her gaze went to the door to the gangway that Karl had walked through.

  He deserved to be loved. Loved completely. Day in and day out.

  Her spine stiffened.

  She did, too.

  Squaring her shoulders, she stood and stepped into the aisle. Then forward. Through the gangway and into the other passenger car.

  She saw his back; he was sitting near the window, staring out as she had been only moments ago. Refusing to allow her steps to falter, even with the rumbling, rolling wheels making the car sway, she walked forward. Sat down next to him.

  He turned away from the window. She could feel his gaze on the side of her face, but continued looking straight ahead.

  “I want you to know that I’m mad at you,” she said.

  “Oh?”

  She nodded and forced herself to still not look at him. The moment she did that, it would be over. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we can’t very well have an argument on a train full of people.”

  “You want to argue with me.”

  “I want to argue a point.”

  “And you can’t here?”

  She blinked several times, so her eyes wouldn’t try to sneak a peek at him. “No.”

  “May I ask what the point is?”

  The hint of humor in his tone almost broke her resolve. She knew his eyes were twinkling. She loved when they did that. Sucking in a breath, she said, “I don’t want your money.”

  “What money are you talking about?”

  Keeping her chin up, she said, “The money you’d use to buy ten boardinghouses.”

  “All right, I won’t buy ten boardinghouses.”

  “Good.” She had to fight harder to keep staring straight ahead.

  “Is that your only point?”

  “No, I don’t want you to be a leprechaun, either.”

  He leaned closer, ran a hand through her hair hanging over one shoulder. “Good, because I’m a little tall for that.”

  She pinched her lips together. He was much too tall to be a leprechaun.

  He ran a finger along the edge of her face, under her chin, then used it to gently force her to look at him. “Is there more?”

  That’s all it took. One look into those sparkling, amazing brown eyes. Her heart began to swell, to meld back together. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” she whispered.

  “The only way I’ll get hurt is if you don’t agree to marry me,” he said. “If I can’t hold you, love you, for the rest of my life, I won’t be able to live with that pain.”

  “I won’t, either,” she admitted.

  He cupped her face with both hands, stared into her eyes, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  She shrugged. “I love you, Karl. Love you so very, very much.”

  His lips landed on hers, a hard, fast kiss. “Are you saying what I’m hoping you’re saying? That you’ll marry me?”

  She grabbed ahold of his forearms, curled her fingers into the material of his shirt as her heart soared. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  He kissed her again, then pulled her up against him, hugging her so tight, so wonderfully tight. “Now I’m mad at you,” he whispered next to her ear.

  She lifted her head, looked at the smile on his face. “You are? Why?”

  “Because we’re on a train full of people where I can’t kiss you, love you, the way I want to.”

  She giggled, and ran a finger over his lips. Her heart was so full of happiness it threatened to burst. Being married to this man was going to be glorious. Truly glorious. She didn’t even mind the idea of him being mad at her right now. Leaning closer, so their faces almost touched, she said, “My Da always told my mother the best part of arguing was the making up afterward.”

  His grin grew. “Your father was a very smart man.”

  “He was.” Although it didn’t seem possible, her happiness grew even more, remembering the curse she’d heard inside her head a few minutes ago. Da had planted that there, so she’d hear it at the exact moment she’d needed to. Recalling the entire curse, she leaned back. “There’s one more thing you need to know.”

  He kissed her forehead. “What?”

  “Don’t trust anyone with a limp.”

  Laughing, he agreed,
“I won’t. Is that it?”

  She nodded, then whispered, “Unless you want to kiss me again.”

  “I do.”

  He kissed her, and she kissed him back with all her heart and soul. All the love that had been growing inside her since the first time she saw him, rushing into the room to see Elsie. That’s when he’d stolen the first piece of her heart.

  Maybe he hadn’t stolen it after all. Maybe she’d given it to him, piece by piece, because he was the man she wanted to have her heart. Her whole heart. Now and forever.

  “I love you,” he whispered as their lips parted.

  “I love you,” she replied.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Bridget wanted to go on kissing him and kissing him and kissing him. She glanced around at the people filling the seats and huffed out a breath. Looking at him, she shook her head. “You picked a fine time to ask me to marry you. We truly are stuck on this train.”

  “You’re the one who said yes.”

  “Did you want me to say no?” she asked. He was grinning, and she knew the answer to that, but liked their back-and-forth banter.

  “No, but you could have waited until we arrived in Chicago.”

  She pressed her forehead against his bicep. “We would both have been miserable by then.”

  “We still will be!”

  Her happiness just kept stepping up, like it was climbing a ladder. She patted his cheek. “We are going to have so many arguments to make up from by the time we get off this train.”

  He groaned. “You’re not helping.” Pulling her to her feet at the same time as he stood, he said, “Let’s go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Back to our seat. Where our belongings are.”

  She’d forgotten about that. Holding on to his hand with both of hers, she followed him along the aisle, into the gangway, where he kissed her. A wonderful long kiss. Then he opened the second door and led her back to their seats.

  Sitting down, she leaned her head back. “Now what?”

  He took ahold of her hand, threaded his fingers through hers. “Are you hungry?”

  “No.” It hadn’t been that long since they’d eaten. “Are you?”

  “No. I just thought it would kill time.”

  She rested the side of her head on his shoulder. It was as simple as he’d said. They loved each other and would make it work, different worlds or not. “I need to see Martha when we get to Chicago. To let her know that I’m fine and getting married soon.”

  “Should we get married there?” he asked. “So she can be there? She is your family.”

  “But your family won’t be there.”

  He touched the side of her face. “As long as you are there, nothing else matters to me.”

  She felt the exact same way.

  “Or we could wait until we get back to New York,” he said. “Have a big wedding at church.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “I just want to marry you. If this was a ship, I’d find the captain.”

  She laughed. “Let’s get married in Chicago.”

  “Good. As soon as we arrive, we’ll go see your cousin and then to the courthouse to get the license.”

  “Good.” The satisfaction inside her was short-lived. “Now what do we do?”

  He groaned. Shrugged. “Are you hungry?”

  She laughed, so did he, and despite all the people surrounding them, he kissed her again.

  * * *

  Karl had never claimed to be a patient man, but holding Bridget as they tried to get some sleep sitting up and sneaking kisses every now and again, had him about ready to explode by the time the train rolled into Chicago.

  If he’d been a bit more clearheaded he also might have realized the wait until being alone with her wasn’t over. Even collecting their luggage and securing a taxi to take them to her cousin’s house took twice as long as he’d have liked.

  Martha McGowen was a middle-aged woman, with a full head of dark hair piled high, and a laugh that filled a room. She was delighted to see Bridget and grilled Karl soundly about his intentions of making and keeping Bridget happy.

  Evidently, his simple and honest answer of loving her beyond all else, forever, was correct because within no time, Martha was planning a wedding for the following day, insisting she would take care of everything.

  She allowed him to stay for lunch before sending him off to find a hotel, with stern instructions to not return until tomorrow at two o’clock.

  What had he expected? That she’d let him stay the night with Bridget, at the boardinghouse? A boardinghouse for women only.

  He had the taxi drop him off downtown, at the same hotel he used to stay in while visiting the bank here, and booked the nicest room. Then he called Willard and Julia, telling them both that he and Bridget were getting married, and explaining that he wasn’t sure when they’d return. That would be up to Bridget. If she wanted a honeymoon trip around the world, then that’s what he’d give her. He’d never been so happy, so overjoyed in his life.

  Or so impatient.

  He left the hotel and visited a jewelry store, bought a wedding ring as well as another ring for Bridget. A sapphire because it matched her eyes. He bought the necklace and earrings that matched the ring before he left that store in search of another.

  At that next store, he asked to speak to the owner, gave the woman Martha’s address and asked her to take every wedding dress in the store to that address and let the bride pick out the one she wanted. At another nearby store, he bought himself a new tuxedo. He almost went with the blue vest, but changed his mind and went with a leprechaun-green one instead.

  After that, he was at a loss as to what to do next. It was barely midafternoon. He was only a few blocks away from the bank and started walking in that direction, but stopped. That was something his father would do. Work.

  He wasn’t his father. He was his own man. Would soon be married to the most amazing woman on earth. A woman who would be a wonderful, fun, loving mother to his children.

  Spinning around, he walked back to the hotel, took the elevator up to his room. There, he stared at the phone for several minutes before he sat down, picked it up and waited for an operator to give the exchange to.

  When the other end answered, he drew in a breath at the sound of her voice. “Hello, Mother.”

  “Karl? Is—is something wrong?”

  “No, I just wanted to tell you that I’m getting married.”

  “You are?”

  If there was a place to make sure Bridget was never injured, this is where he needed to start. “Yes. To Bridget.”

  “Miss McGowen? Oh, Karl! You just brought tears to my eyes. She is such a lovely woman, and so very dedicated to you. I could tell that right off. When? Where? May I attend?”

  A wave of guilt struck him. She sounded so excited. So happy. “In Chicago. That’s where we are. We’re getting married tomorrow.”

  “You eloped! How romantic! I like her. Really like her, and I’m so happy for you. Tell me more, please?”

  An image flashed in his mind, of the day he’d wrapped his arms around her knees, begged her not to leave. She’d had her arms around him when his father had pulled him off her, and there had been tears on her face when his father had spanked him, told him he’d better never do that again. That had been the reason he’d hated her, because his father had spanked him. That hadn’t been her fault. He’d never looked at it that way before. He sat down in the chair. “I’m sorry, Mother, for never—”

  “This isn’t about me, Karl,” she interrupted. “This is about you and Bridget. Why Chicago? Does she have family there?”

  “Yes. Her cousin. Bridget had promised...” He told her far more than he’d intended when he made the call, and continued to talk until the operator broke in and said the line had been tied up
too long. He then bade his mother goodbye and hung up the phone.

  He felt lighter, freer, than he’d ever felt. Laughing, he leaned back. “Bridget McGowen strikes again.” He laughed harder. Lord, but he loved her.

  Not only because she was so lovable, but because she made him a better person. Someone he could like. Someone he wanted to be.

  The following day, Karl arrived at Martha’s boardinghouse fifteen minutes early. He’d fought hard to stay away for the twenty-six hours that he had.

  Martha welcomed him with a hug and thanked him for sending over the dresses, winking when she said Bridget picked out the loveliest one. She was gone then, off to take care of last-minute details.

  The living room of the three-story home had vases of flowers sitting on the tables and rows of chairs lined up in front of the big, bay window. He did a double take when he saw Theodore Klein walk out of the kitchen.

  “Congratulations,” Theodore said, holding out a hand. “You could have told me about this on the train.” Slapping his back, Theodore, as he was known to do, continued, “When Martha called, asked if I’d be interested in being your best man, I said of course. I didn’t realize you knew Martha. She’s been a member of our bank for years and has taken advantage of some very good investments that I’ve told her about in the past.”

  Karl, no longer stunned, nodded. “Thank you for agreeing to stand up for me. I appreciate it.”

  “Number one employee of Wingards, right here,” Theodore said.

  Karl wouldn’t go that far, but Theodore was a good guy, and he did appreciate him being here. He dug in his pocket and handed him the ring box. “Here. Don’t lose it between now and the wedding. Or I’ll have to fire you.”

  Theodore laughed.

  “Karl, this is Father Bittner,” Martha said, leading a robed man into the room. “You three can get in position, right there in front of the window. And don’t you dare faint when you see your bride for the first time.”

  “I won’t,” he assured her.

  Famous last words.

  The room had filled up with men and women taking their seats in the chairs, but they’d become invisible to Karl. When the music had started, his eyes had gone to the back of the room, to the woman dressed in white and wearing a long veil. He could see her face, her eyes, her smile, through the thin material, and the blood rushed through his veins so hard and fast there was a swooshing sound in his ears.