“Nor do I,” said her husband. “Things happen for a reason.”
“That’s what you said last night, Annie,” Maude said. “All this is happening for a reason. Maybe this is the reason.”
Mrs. Sampson extended her hands, palms up, presenting Annie the world. Her face was expectant.
Annie looked to Sean. “Are you truly for this?”
He let out a long sigh. “Oddly, I think I am. But it all hangs on you, Annie. The seed was planted with you.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Sampson said. “You are the seed.”
“Which makes you the sun?” she asked.
Mrs. Sampson chuckled. “I’ll let Harold be the sun. I’ll be the rain.” She raised her right hand. “We promise to give you just enough sun and rain to thrive. No more, no less.”
Annie was overwhelmed. She was in front of yet another door, being offered the chance to open it and step through, or back away. Had all the doors in her life been gifts from God, a series of chances to exercise the free will He championed?
“I’ve had so many doors,” she said to herself.
“Doors?” Mrs. Sampson asked.
Annie pulled her thoughts together. “Since I’ve come to America I’ve been offered one door after another: leaving service, finding a job at Macy’s, moving to Edna’s, getting the job at Butterick, and traveling to Paris. And now this.” Mrs. Sampson started to speak, but Annie stopped her with a hand. “It’s not just a matter of the doors being opened for me, but the fact that every door that opened seemed to shut once I was through it.”
“There’s no going back,” Sean said softly.
“I don’t think there is—which is why this decision is so important, and why I haven’t taken it lightly.” And why I’m waiting for Your direction, Lord.
Everyone at the table nodded.
“It’s your choice,” Sean said. “I go where you go.”
“Me, too,” Maude said.
Annie looked into the eyes of her friends. It was up to her. Yet the stakes were far higher than they were when she was deciding only for herself. Her dearest friends were offering themselves to her, depending on her to take this leap together.
She drew in a long breath, and held it a moment. Lord? Yes?
As she exhaled she found herself saying, “Yes. I say yes.”
Not a single card game was played.
There was no time. After agreeing to start their own design company, the five partners put their heads together to make a plan. To start something from nothing was daunting. Where would they begin?
Mrs. Sampson offered an idea to gather regular women together and get their opinions as to how they would like their clothes to look and function. The idea was a good one, for if they were going to design for the masses, they needed to ask the masses.
The third day into their voyage they sat around a table in the ship’s first-class lounge, and Maude took notes. “Who is our customer? Working women? The wives of merchants and middle-class families? Or your set?” She looked to the Sampsons.
Mrs. Sampson tapped her finger on the table. “We’re not sure. We want to set women free of frivolous fashion, yet we need to make it affordable.”
“But couture clothing is not affordable,” Annie said. “Far from it.”
Sean nodded. “To keep costs down it will have to be manufactured, not hand sewn.”
Annie’s mind swam. “Will stores like Macy’s take it on?”
Mrs. Sampson nodded. “That’s where Sean’s expertise will come in as our salesman. Plus, we can sell to other department stores like Gimbel’s, Henri Bendel, Bergdorf Goodman, Lord and Taylor—”
Suddenly the captain of the ship entered the room along with a large gathering of passengers, each noisily vying for his attention.
“What’s going on?” Maude asked.
“Let’s find out.” Mrs. Sampson pushed back her chair.
“Please, ladies and gentlemen,” the captain said from the middle of the lounge. “I assure you there is nothing to worry about.”
Annie asked a woman nearby, “What are we not to worry about?”
“Last night another ship on the White Star line hit an iceberg and—”
“Which ship?”
“The Titanic.“
Annie’s entire body gasped. “We were supposed to be on that ship!” She spread the news to the others in her party, and they all moved closer to the captain to get details.
“Is the ship being repaired?” Mr. Sampson asked.
“Her wireless installation enabled her to call for help. With this means of communication, the terrible isolation of her mid-ocean position was negated. Every ship within range hurried to her assistance, and all risk of graver loss of life was averted.”
“‘Graver loss of life’?” someone asked.
“I assure you, all is well,” he said.
“It doesn’t sound well,” Mrs. Sampson said.
The captain pressed his hands downward, trying to calm them. “A smaller ship than the Titanic might well have succumbed to the concussion caused by striking the iceberg. I believe this is proof that the increased size of our modern ships is a vital achievement.”
“Big or not, it still struck an iceberg.”
“But”—the captain said, raising a finger—“the Titanic is still afloat and has escaped without any loss of life.”
This last didn’t make sense. “You mentioned ‘graver loss of life,’” Annie pointed out. “That means there were fatalities.”
By now the crowd had grown to many dozen.
“Now, now. Do not jump to conclusions, ladies and gentlemen. I assure you the most violent collision means the crumpling of her bow and perhaps the filling of her forward compartments, at the worst. But with her gigantic size and the system of watertight doors in her bulkheads—that can be closed from the bridge—there is nothing to worry about. Modern methods of ship construction have been put to the most crucial test that can possibly be imagined, and they have triumphed. The Titanic‘s situation is fresh proof of the safety of the modern steam vessel, a free illustration of the dominance that man has established over the most treacherous forces of nature. Now go back to your enjoyment of this fine vessel. I assure you we shall keep you informed of further news.”
He left, but the crowd did not.
“I wonder how Madame is handling this,” Maude asked.
“She would not appreciate any alteration to her entertainments,” Annie said.
“Or meals,” Maude added.
They laughed—though softly. For there was the chance their levity was misplaced. They returned to their table, but all thoughts of planning a new business were forgotten.
The moon shone brightly as Annie stood with Sean and Maude at the railing. They gazed out to sea. Somewhere to the west, the Titanic had hit an iceberg.
“We’re all so quiet,” Sean said.
“I can’t get it out of my head,” Annie said. “I can’t imagine such a terrifying event. There must have been utter chaos.”
“And fear,” Maude added. “I’m sure the passengers had no idea what was going on at first.”
“Madame doesn’t like not knowing what’s going on,” Annie said.
Her comment sparked another round of silence. Then Sean said, “I wonder if all the passengers have been taken to New York by now.”
“Madame will have such a story to tell once we get back.”
“But for a little boy in a train station, it could have been our story,” Maude said.
Sean leaned his back against the railing. “Speaking of, how are we going to tell Butterick we’re quitting? Do we do it all in one day?”
Annie looked down at the water below. “I feel dreadful quitting the job just months after I started.”
“Are we quitting immediately?” Maude asked. “Or are we going to wait until our plans are more firmly set in place?”
“I choose the latter,” Sean said.
Annie was a bit put off. “Don’t you bel
ieve it will happen? Don’t you trust the Sampsons?”
“Yes, to both questions,” Sean said. “But there are a lot of details to sort through.”
Annie agreed. “I do want to finalize the sketches we’re bringing back from Paris for Butterick. The company paid our way there. We need to make sure the work is completed well. We owe them that.”
“I agree,” Maude said. “One step at a time.”
As if on cue, they all stepped away from the railing. “Good night, then,” Maude said.
When Maude left them alone, Sean drew Annie into his arms, and she heard the beating of his heart. “I hope we’re doing the right thing,” she said against his chest.
She felt him nod. “We need to pray, to make sure we’re doing what God wants us to do.”
Annie pulled back to see his face in the moonlight. “I prayed during that dinner when we all agreed. I never imagined you would be a part of it, and then suddenly, you were. All that was left was for me to give the nod.”
“I never expected any of it,” Sean said. “And then the opportunity was suddenly set before me.”
Annie suffered a moment of doubt. “Were we all drawn into the excitement of the idea? Is it the right thing to do, or are the Sampsons merely skilled in the art of persuasion?”
“That’s what we need to figure out.” He put his finger beneath her chin. “God will guide us if we ask.”
“Ask for guidance and pray for the passengers on the Titanic.“
“Agreed. Now, let us try to get some sleep.”
Annie guessed the latter would be the harder task.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Annie, you must eat,” Mrs. Sampson said at breakfast.
“If you don’t like the eggs, request something else,” Mr. Sampson said. “Toast? Porridge?”
To appease them, Annie ordered some toast. She simply wasn’t hungry.
The toast was quickly brought, and Annie nibbled at a corner.
Mrs. Sampson put down her fork. “Really, Annie. What is the matter this morning?”
A list of possibilities streamed through her mind. She landed on one. “Logistics.”
“Of the business?”
She nodded. “It’s so complicated. Starting from nothing, resigning our positions … It’s such a gamble.”
“That it is,” Mr. Sampson said. “But to gain much you must risk much. The Bible tells us that whoever is given much shall be asked to do much.” He spread his hands, allowing the words to speak volumes.
“You’re right. Forgive my doubt and my jumbled thoughts. What with the close call of us being on the Titanic—”
“Such a blessing we weren’t,” Mrs. Sampson pointed out.
“Such a blessing,” Annie agreed.
“The captain said that everyone on the ship was rescued. All is well,” Maude said.
Annie was being silly—and ungrateful. “I’m sorry to put a damper on the day. I promise to be all joy and anticipation from now—”
She was interrupted by a shriek coming from the hall.
Mr. Sampson and Sean rose. But before they could check on it, a man burst into the dining room and shouted for all to hear, “The Titanic sank! Hundreds are dead! They are compiling a list of the victims!”
Those in the dining room stood, and spatterings of disbelieving, panicked conversation intertwined.
“The Titanic was unsinkable. It can’t sink.”
“Victims! Hundreds?”
“I know people on that ship!”
“The captain said there were no fatalities!”
“Could this happen to us?”
The comments were universal, the questions frightening.
“Madame,” Annie said.
“And our friends,” Mrs. Sampson said. “Astor, Molly, the Strauses. Guggenheim.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Straus?” Annie asked. “From Macy’s?”
She nodded. “We ran into them in Nice and they said they were going back on our ship.”
“Our ship,” Sean said. “That was supposed to be our ship.”
Maude put a hand to her mouth. Mrs. Sampson sat down. Annie couldn’t move, frozen by the knowledge that their ship had gone down into the dark depths of the endless sea. “Would we have survived?” she asked aloud.
Mr. Sampson held Annie’s chair for her to be seated. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. The first news from the captain said everything was under control. This one says the opposite. One of them is wrong.”
“But which one?” Maude asked.
“Let me see what I can find out. Return to your breakfast.”
“Surely you jest, Harold,” his wife said.
With a shrug he left them. All thoughts of food were forgotten.
Sean held out his hands. “Let us pray, ladies. Pray.”
The food was taken away, but the dining room was full. People stood in small groups, comparing fears, astonishment, and disbelief instead of their usual stories of villas, museums, and European soirees. There was a desperate need for facts yet an oppressive dread. Each minute that passed without Mr. Sampson’s return added to the burden.
Finally he returned with a group of men who had left to gather news. Everyone stopped talking. All eyes fell on them.
Mr. Sampson stepped forward to speak for the group. His face was ashen, his forehead tight. Annie felt a wave of shivers course through her body.
“Yesterday’s information was horribly false. The latest news is that the Titanic sank to the bottom of the ocean, and of the 2,358 souls on board over 1,500 people are missing.”
There was a gasp, and many fell upon chairs for support. Some began to wail.
Another man stepped forward to add, “There were only enough lifeboats for 970 people, so even if …” He stepped back and muttered, “It’s a travesty. The passengers were doomed from the start.”
Mr. Sampson moved to their table, taking his wife in his arms.
“Our friends, Harold. Are they saved or not?” she asked.
“There are lists coming out, but none available over the wireless. We won’t know until we land in New York.”
“Poor Madame,” Maude said.
“If she’s alive,” Sean said.
“Sean!” Maude said. “Don’t say that.”
“How can I not say that?”
Mr. Sampson had other news. “I sent a telegram to my office, asking after your Madame LeFleur, Mrs. Brown, Astor, Guggenheim, and the Strauses.”
“Thank you, dear,” his wife said. “I’m not sure I want to know the truth, yet not knowing is its own torture.”
Annie heard the voices of the room rise and fade like the waves of the ocean around them. Their speculation was futile. There was no praying for the safety of those on board. Their fates were already decided.
As are yours.
She startled at the thought. “We were saved,” she said softly.
“What?” Sean asked.
She looked at each one. “We were saved. If we had not missed our train we would be on that ship. We might have been among the missing. The dead.”
Sean took her hand. “If you had not heard André’s cries. If you had not helped him …”
“Helped his mother,” Mrs. Sampson said.
“We owe our lives to you, Annie,” Maude said.
Annie shook her head vehemently. “Don’t place that on me.”
“It’s a compliment.”
“But it doesn’t belong to me. God did it. He gave us the opportunity to help the boy.”
“But we wouldn’t have had to accept it,” Mr. Sampson said. “You could have ignored him. We could have felt sorry for him but left him to someone else because we had a train to catch.”
“A ship to catch,” Maude said.
The what-ifs assailed them. Then Annie remembered something else. “Madame LeFleur told Sean and me to leave the boy’s problem to others.”
“What if we’d followed her direction?” Sean said.
“What if I hadn’t heard
him in the first place? After all, it was a busy, noisy train station.”
“What if we hadn’t understood what he said about his mother?”
“What if we hadn’t chosen to hunt for her?”
“What if we’d given up, and boarded that train?”
“What if Madame had gotten off the train with us?”
“What if little Annie hadn’t been born right then, delaying us just long enough?”
This last comment stopped the questions. The timing of the events at the train station solidified the sobering conclusion that they had unknowingly been offered a way to be saved. Plus, they reached the equally sobering conclusion that if they hadn’t said yes, they might all be dead in the cold, black water of the Atlantic.
The captain entered the dining room with a man wearing a clerical collar. “Reverend Benson would like to lead us in prayer before he visits the other areas of the ship to do the same.”
The reverend nodded. “Let us pray.”
What more could they do?
The friends moved onto the decks, strolling without seeing, simply needing to walk lest the news sink too deeply into their consciousness if they remained still. Perhaps the fresh air would awaken them from their awful nightmare.
A steward approached Mr. Sampson. “A telegram, sir.”
Mrs. Sampson put her hands on her heart. “Oh dear. An answer to your query?”
Her husband rubbed a hand roughly over his mouth then expelled a breath. He opened the envelope, read the news, and then reread it out loud in a voice that quavered with emotion. “Astor, Guggenheim, LeFleur, and Strauses gone. Brown saved.”
Annie grabbed the telegram away from him, needing to see the words. Unfortunately, they could not be denied.
Maude gripped Sean’s arm. “Madame is dead? It can’t be.”
Annie’s memories rushed back to the times she’d spoken with Mr. Straus during her time at Macy’s. “Mr. Straus was the kindest of men. He took an interest in me. He showed compassion when Danny was killed. He can’t be dead.” She looked at the list. “His wife, too?”
Mrs. Sampson cried against her husband’s chest. “A finer couple you could never know,” Mr. Sampson said.
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