A Family for the Titanic Survivor

by Lauri Robinson

  She arrived before him, clasped onto his hands, and he knew he truly was the luckiest man on earth. He wanted to tell the priest to hurry up, make her his, to have and to hold, for richer, for poorer, until the end of time.

  * * *

  Bridget responded, repeated her vows of loving Karl forevermore with heartfelt sincerity, and rejoiced with a squeal when she was proclaimed as Mrs. Karl Wingard for the first time.

  She rejoiced again when Karl lifted her veil and kissed her. His lips were soft, warm, and the pressure sweetly reverent.

  As he started to pull back, to end the kiss, she whispered, “Oh, no you don’t.”

  He chuckled and then gave her a kiss that made even the angels watching from above rejoice.

  “Was that better?” he asked.

  Breathless, she nodded and then laughed. Still gasping for air.

  There was cake, punch and coffee afterward, and she made a point of introducing Karl to all of Martha’s friends who’d helped with the wedding, and joined him in thanking each and every one of them.

  As they prepared to leave, she promised Martha they would visit again before returning to New York. Then, holding on to Karl’s hand, she hurried out the door with him, through a shower of rice, into the taxi waiting to take them to the hotel.

  “We don’t have to return to New York right away,” Karl said once they were in the back seat. “We could take a honeymoon around the world if you’d like.”

  She kissed him. “I want to go home. To our home.” She slid her hand inside his coat, ran her palm over the smooth silk of his vest. “But not today.”

  He laughed. “Your wish is my command.”

  The moment she’d seen him standing next to the priest, waiting to become her husband, tears of happiness had stung her eyes. The best dream she’d ever have had come true. She was Mrs. Karl Wingard!

  She snuggled up against him. “I didn’t know a person could be this happy.”

  “Me, neither.” He hugged her tighter. “Me, neither.”

  It didn’t take long to arrive at the hotel, thank goodness, because she hadn’t known how overpowering her physical desires could be, either. She loved him so much and wanted to share that love with him in every way.

  As he escorted her into the hotel, a bellhop collected her suitcase and accompanied them in the elevator and up to their room.

  As Karl tipped the young man, Bridget crossed the room, stopping near a table, where there was a bottle of champagne on ice and two glasses. “You ordered champagne,” she said as Karl closed the door.

  “The hotel must have.”

  She picked up the card that said Mr. and Mrs. Karl Wingard—the most wonderful name in the world. Turning it over, she read more. A simple congratulations and best wishes. “It’s from your mother.”

  He walked closer and she handed him the card, watching his face and biting her bottom lip.

  A smile formed as he set the card down. “I called her. Yesterday.”

  She was overjoyed at the steps he’d taken to repair his relationship with his mother. Looping her arms around his neck, she stretched on her toes and kissed him. “I love you.”

  “I love you.” He gave her several small kisses. “Everything about you.”

  His hands lingered on her sides as he stepped back, looked at her with such affection her insides began to throb.

  She rubbed his shoulders, loving the notion of being able to touch him whenever she wanted. However she wanted. Running her fingers up his neck, into his hair, she said, “Thank you for the dress.” She’d planned on wearing one he’d already bought her because it seemed silly to only wear a dress once, but Martha had made her understand that Karl wanted to buy things for her—it was one of the ways he knew to show love. That made sense, and she’d never deny any form of his love.

  “I’m glad there was one you liked,” he said.

  “I do like it.” She kissed his chin. “But there is one issue with it.”

  He frowned. “What?”

  She kissed the side of his neck. “I can’t take it off by myself. It buttons up the back.”

  His hands slid around her, to the center of her back, to the buttons there. “That could be an issue.” He kissed her ear. “If you weren’t married to me.”

  A thrill zipped through her as she felt the first button being released, and then the next and the next.

  That was just the beginning.

  Their kisses weren’t only kisses, they were a sharing of love. A love so great, so unbound by any restrictions that it grew with each caress. Each exposure of skin. Each exploration of touching, looking, kissing. He not only made her feel love, he made her feel cherished. The way his hands fit upon her skin, her curves, her sensitive spots that had her reeling, wanting more and more.

  “I’ve never held anything so precious,” he whispered, cupping her face as they lay on the bed.

  His mouth was hot, his kiss as stimulating as it was tender. “I want you so badly,” she whispered. “So very badly.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She’d heard the first time could hurt, but wasn’t afraid. Not in the least. Her heart said it would be magical. “You won’t.”

  “Tell me if it’s uncomfortable, and I’ll stop.”

  She wouldn’t let him stop. Not ever.

  Even though she was completely willing to give him everything immediately, all at once, he took his time. Like he had her love, he coaxed her body, piece by piece, until there was a scalding hot pressure building inside that had her gasping.

  She was ready for him, burning and hot, when he slid inside her. There was a short snap of pain that didn’t take anything away from the pleasure flowing over her like waves rolling onto a sandy shore, growing stronger with each thrust forward and each backward pull.

  A sense of wonder, so grand, so powerful, overtook her, taking her higher and higher until she was at an invisible peak that had her teetering on the brink of reality. Karl was with her. His skin hot, his body hard, his breathing coming as fast as hers.

  “Sugar and shoot!” she shouted as the pleasure exploded into something so intense it completely stole her breath, her ability to think.

  The ecstasy slowly faded into an aftermath that was pure bliss. She sank deeper into the mattress, marveling at how she was slowly floating back to earth.

  Karl kissed her several times before he rolled off her and laughed. “Sugar and shoot?”

  Too exhausted to do more than flop an arm onto his chest, she nodded. “It was either that or curse you.”

  “Curse me?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know one for something that amazing.”

  Chuckling, he kissed her temple. “I couldn’t agree more. There are no words.”

  Energy was returning to her body, making her feel even better, happier than ever. She flipped onto her side, snuggled up against him and kissed him. “I want to do that again.”

  He laughed. “So do I.”

  “We are pretty amazing,” she said. “Don’t you think?”

  Rolling onto his side, so they were face-to-face, he kissed her. “Yes, I think we are amazing.”

  She sighed. “You are so amazing. All the things you do. I’m in awe.”

  He shook his head. “I’m nothing compared to you.” Running a finger along the side of her face, he said, “Just think what we are going to be able to do together.”

  Flipping a leg over his, she whispered, “I am.”

  Epilogue

  Karl slipped on his suit coat while watching Bridget twist to look at herself in the mirror. The hem of her emerald green dress flipped and flopped at each of her turns, but it was her hand, placed on her stomach, that held his attention. With his heart overflowing, he walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, rubbing the firm roundness of her stomach, their baby grow
ing inside her. Seven months of marriage had made him want her more, not less. He was convinced that’s how it would continue to be, even after decades.

  “Does this dress make me look fat?”

  She wasn’t due for five more months and could not be called fat. Her stomach was barely noticeable. Hiding his grin, he asked, “If I say yes, are you going to get mad at me?”

  “No, you are just being honest.”

  He kissed her neck and sighed before saying, “Then the answer is no.”

  She spun around in his arms and straightened his tie while frowning. “Why did you say it like that?”

  Acting nonchalant, he kissed her forehead. “Because if I made you mad, we’d have to make up later.”

  The sparkles appeared in her eyes one at a time. “I do believe I’m angry at you.”

  He cupped her bottom, pulled her closer. “Why?”

  Her giggle floated on the air. “I’ll think of something by the time we get home.” She kissed him. “So we can make up.”

  He caught her lips and gave her a solid, sensual kiss that told her he’d hold her to that promise.

  She had taken New York by storm. Half the time people didn’t even know what had hit them until she was gone, off on another task of granting wishes. All for the good. Anyone who may have ever said a bad word about her whispered it so quietly that no one else heard because she had too many friends, too many people in high places who would defend her to the hilt.

  Including him. He was her greatest fan. And her greatest love. As she was his. They never let each other forget that.

  “We need to leave,” he said, releasing her and picking her coat off the bed. “It’s snowing again.”

  “A white Christmas,” she said as he held the coat for her to slide in her arms. “I’m so excited about that.”

  Like everything else she did, her all or nothing had overtaken the house. There were three Christmas trees that he knew of downstairs. Probably more in the rooms he didn’t regularly enter. Red velvet bows and green garland decorated the staircase and doorways, and big wreaths hung on all the doors, smaller ones in the windows. The house had never looked so festive. It had never been so full of love, either.

  They paused in the front room, long enough to say goodbye to Elsie and Catherine. Mrs. Conrad was still in the house, but had asked for retirement, stating she was too old for the day-to-day duties. She was still regularly at hand though, which was nice for everyone.

  Other than the two nannies, and Willard and Mary, Karl was never quite sure who worked for them and who was merely doing odd jobs until they found something more permanent. Bridget knew, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. She was amazing at keeping the household running smoothly, even as she took on other community tasks.

  “I am so excited they are awarding you for your work with the trust fund,” she said as they drove along the snow-covered roads. “You deserve it. Every person has received their initial payment.”

  He nodded, but once again kept his smile hidden. “You found the last two?”

  “Yes, they had returned to Poland, but I found them.”

  She had no idea that the award was not being given to him. The city had called him last month, wanting to proclaim him man of the year for the money he’d raised for Titanic victims. He’d refused. Said if anyone deserved the award, it was Bridget. The class action suit that Charles continued to work on was still in litigation and from the sounds of it, would be for years. Without Bridget’s help, people wouldn’t have received any financial compensation. And because of her work, the White Star Line had set up a pension for the families of boatmen and employees on the Titanic who had perished.

  The mayor had suggested that Karl could accept the award on her behalf, because she was, well, a woman, and there was no such thing as woman of the year. Karl had disagreed, and after he’d made a few phone calls to others of like mind, the mayor had called him again. Said there would be a woman of the year award this year, and in future years.

  Karl glanced her way. She would never fail to amaze him. And others. Sean, James and John now ran a business that she’d encouraged them to start, building playhouses, doghouses, sheds and offering repair work. There were others, too, people she’d found one place or another, and helped to take the first steps to success. She had the ability to give others a sense of pride and determination that made the difference for them. It was amazing, and the pride he felt for her was indescribable.

  “Look.” Bridget pointed out the window, at a couple entering the hotel. “Your mother and Sylas are here. She didn’t mention that last night at dinner.” She sighed. “Silly me. Of course, she’d be here. You’re her son. She loves you.”

  “She loves you, too,” he said, parking the Packard. His mother did love both of them. Their past was now where it needed to be, in the past. He did wonder at times if his father had been afraid that loving a woman would have made him less of a man. A notion Karl knew was completely false. Loving Bridget had made him more of a man. A far better man than he’d have been without her.

  He held her arm tightly, making sure she didn’t slip on the snow as they walked into the downtown hotel. The same one that had hosted the inquiry eight months ago.

  “Oh, it looks so lovely,” Bridget said, referring to the holiday decorations.

  “Yes, it does,” he replied, referring to her face. She had a natural glow about her that lit up every room she entered.

  She grinned and bumped his shoulder with hers. “I’m still mad at you.”

  “Good.”

  They found their seats at a table full of people he’d known for years, but now considered friends rather than acquaintances. His mother and stepfather were also at the table, and he kissed her cheek before he and Bridget sat.

  “I’m so excited,” Bridget said, giggling. “To be married to the man of the year.”

  Knowing glances made a round of the table, but she didn’t notice. Several people knew the truth, but he wanted it to be a surprise to her, and others had allowed that to happen.

  Conversation rolled freely around the tables as they enjoyed a meal before the mayor took a stand behind the podium at the front of the room. He was a long-winded man, and a lot of his speech was centered on how New Yorkers came together to help the victims of the Titanic. He handed out awards to the opera, several society groups, churches and business owners for their acts of support and fundraising efforts that had provided places to stay, clothes and food during those first few weeks after the accident.

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen,” the mayor said, “it’s time for our final and most prestigious award.”

  Bridget giggled and clapped, looking at him with stars in her eyes.

  He grinned and lifted a brow.

  “There is a change this year. There will not be the man of the year award,” the mayor said.

  “What?” Bridget snapped.

  Karl grabbed her arm before she stood.

  “For outstanding,” the mayor continued, “above and beyond, actions of generosity...”

  “This is an outrage!” she hissed. “Go dtachtar le d’anáil thú!”

  “Calm down,” Karl whispered.

  “Calm down? Now I am mad at you! If anyone deserves to choke on his own breath, it’s him!” she said, explaining the curse she’d cast upon the mayor. “You deserve that award! He won’t be voted in again, I’ll—”

  “Mrs. Karl Wingard, New York’s woman of the year!” the mayor said, pointing at their table.

  The crowd cheered.

  Her cheeks turned red as she smiled at the crowd, offering a small wave as she looked at him in question. “You did this.”

  “No, you did this. You deserve this award.”

  “Bridget, can you come up here please?” the mayor asked as the clapping slowed.

  She grabbed his arm. “I’m
not going up there without you. We are in this together. Have been from the start, and will be until the end.”

  Karl agreed and kissed her cheek before standing, helping her rise. The crowd rose, gave a standing ovation as he escorted her to the podium, where she was presented with an inscribed plaque. The crowd continued to applaud louder and louder. He’d never been more proud and knew this was the first of many awards his adorable, loving wife would receive during her lifetime.

  It was hours later when they arrived home and finally climbed into bed.

  “I still can’t believe you did that,” she said, snuggling up to his side.

  “I didn’t. The mayor decided who should receive the award.”

  “With help from you.”

  He kissed her. “I know it’s not becoming the first female leprechaun, but becoming the first woman of the year has to be close.”

  She sat up. “I knew you had something to do with it.”

  He cradled her face, pulled her close for a kiss. “That award is yours. Completely. For all the work you’ve done. For all the people you’ve helped from the moment you saved Betsy from falling in the water. I’m just your husband. Who loves you very, very much, and who you were mad at, but now want to make up with.”

  She flung a leg over his waist, straddling him. “You’re right. I do want to make up.”

  He grabbed her hips, lowered her onto him and sucked in a breath at the ecstasy. “Sugar and shoot!”

  * * *

  If you enjoyed this story, be sure

  to read Lauri Robinson’s

  Sisters of the Roaring Twenties miniseries

  The Flapper’s Fake Fiancé

  The Flapper’s Baby Scandal

  The Flapper’s Scandalous Elopement

  And be sure to read her