“We’re not going to know if Littleton’s explosive contributed to the sinking, are we?” Kipp asked, becoming serious again.
“I’m afraid by the time the explosions are heard, the ship will be at too great an angle for us to remain.” I stared ahead, looking at the hallway which was elevated at a crazy incline, like a bizarre fun house in a carnival. “But, looking at things as they are evolving so rapidly, I can’t image anything he’d set off in an interior cabin would make any difference. He didn’t get the explosive device down to the hold, where it might have made considerable damage.” We were hurrying, struggling against the angle of the deck, making our way back to the smoking lounge. At times, people would rush past, terror in their eyes as they realized there was no way off for them. As we paused at the entrance to the smoking lounge, I heard the soft strains of music and realized at least one mystery had been solved. The band that remained famously on deck until they could play no more had chosen “Nearer My God To Thee” as their final song. I pushed past the door, Kipp close behind; Thomas Andrews stood alone in the lounge, staring up at the painting which hung over the fire place mantle–The Approach to Plymouth Harbor. He turned, confusion on his face, to see us standing there.
“Miss Keaton,” he said. “You must get to a lifeboat.” His face was drawn, anxious and discouraged. I noticed his dark hair was mussed, as if he’d pushed fingers through it in agitation; his tie was loose at this throat.
“It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?” I replied, smiling. “No, Mr. Andrews,” I responded. “Kipp insisted we come see you, and I’ve learned to not resist his will.”
Andrews looked distressed, confused, but generally calm. He knew his fate as he’d not chosen the way of Bruce Ismay. Like the captain, Andrews would go down with his ship.
“I never thought this would happen,” he began, almost as if it was a relief to talk with someone. “True, I didn’t want the changes in the bulkhead design to be made, but I never thought this would occur.”
“Of course not,” I responded. Kipp was nudging me to say more.
“Where’s your brother?” Andrews asked.
“He left already.”
“So, he made it to a lifeboat without you?” Andrews looked mildly horrified.
“No, he left another way,” I replied.
Andrews’ brow creased at my words, which was understandable. “I don’t get your meaning,” he said. The ship lurched, and Andrews automatically held out his hand as if to assist me. His innate gentility overrode the emotions driven by his imminent demise. For a fleeting moment, I followed his thoughts of his wife as well as his daughter, Elba, before pulling back lest I get mired in his grief.
“Kipp insists I tell you some things that we hope will bring you some comfort,” I said, struggling with my words. “We, Kipp and I, have traveled from the future to come back in time to examine what happened during the sinking of the Titanic.” Andrews’ face darkened as he stared at me, irritated at having to deal with a lunatic in his last moments. “I know you don’t believe me, but you will have proof of what I say in just a few minutes,” I added, spreading my hands, which were trembling, to indicate my need for him to listen. The engineers remained below, sacrificing themselves to ensure electricity and heat for as long as possible. Despite their efforts, the lounge had become uncomfortably cold. I felt a trickle of sweat roll down my back despite the falling temperature in the room.
His hand reached for the carved mantle; almost idly and in tune with his perfectionist nature, his finger tips found a place where the carving had not been sanded to complete smoothness. He frowned, staring at the imperceptible marring of the surface.
“Go on,” he said, figuring he had no way to make me stop talking at that point.
“Kipp and I are telepathically connected,” I said, “as are Peter and Elani. We can travel back in time to discover truths.”
“And what did you discover here?” he asked, the corners of his mouth turning down.
“That there was an improbable sequence of events that led to this disaster. I didn’t find any evil intent or villains, just flawed people who made some bad decisions. And there was also the fact you were working against very unusual natural events that contributed to this perfect storm.” I struggled to keep my balance as the ship shifted again. “People in the future have the foresight to examine this event knowing things that you couldn’t. Many years from now, the wreckage will be discovered on the ocean floor by a persistent man in a submersible, and the beauty of your ship will be shown, once again, to the world. It will reopen the endless fascination with this story.”
He stared up at the ceiling, his eyes tracking the lovely molding as well as the overhead light fixture which was dangling at an odd angle. At that moment, I heard an enormous explosion, followed by screams of people, startled by the sound. Kipp looked up at me. “Was that Littleton’s bomb?”
“I would think there is a high probability, since it sounded too close to have been one of the boilers in the bottom of the ship. But the C Deck is flooded by now, and we can’t go check on the damage. Littleton is on the Boat Deck, trying to find a place in a lifeboat, which he will, since he survives this tragedy.” I shrugged my shoulders at Kipp’s frustration. We’d gone through a lot to prove nothing about the explosion except that maybe it happened, and, if so, it didn’t seem to hasten the sinking, as far as we could determine.
“You, Mr. Andrews, will be well regarded by historians,” I said. He frowned at me and started to speak but didn’t. I knew his thoughts, however, and he personally felt the weight of responsibility for what was happening. “Your daughter, Elba, will go on to live a long and amazing life.” At my words, his dark head lifted and a shadow of a smile touched his face. “She will become the first woman in Ireland to receive a license to pilot a flying machine,” I remarked, deliberately using an old term for an airplane. “Elba will have a life full of helping others and making a difference that impacts the future in good way.” Pulling up my skirt slightly, I sat on the floor, since standing was becoming too difficult. In an unladylike pose, I crossed my knees yoga style and used my hands to brace myself. “Your legacy, along with Elba, will be that other ship builders will learn from this moment and make sailing safer for future passengers.”
“Well, I haven’t decided yet if you’ve just gone crazy and are telling me things you think I want to hear,” he replied. At that point, he was having to grip the carved fireplace mantle since he was unwilling to drop to the floor as had I. Chairs, one by one, were threatening to topple, their legs held fast in the beautiful carpet that stretched across the floor. Some of the smaller, marble top tables did crash over, rolling to come to a final rest against the inner wall of the room. The metal joints of the ship began to loudly protest, threatening to break under the stress that they physically could not bear. The groaning of the dying Titanic became almost unbearable. “You said you have proof of what you say,” Andrews said, planting his feet more widely.
“Yes, I do.”
Andrews was frowning at me, certain I’d gone bonkers. I waited for Kipp who, after balancing himself, walked towards Andrews. His natural four wheel drive gave him more stability than us upright creatures. With a wan smile, the man reached out, his fingers finding the top of Kipp’s broad head. Gently, he scratched between Kipp’s upright ears. Kipp returned to me and, after circling a time or two in the manner of wolves, he plopped down on the floor. As the ship shifted once again, Andrews gripped the mantle tighter as I curled my fingers into the nap of the carpet to get more traction. Kipp placed his head in my lap and together we concentrated on home and the time we’d left behind. The room darkened, and I heard a great rushing sound, as if wind was blowing past us, driven by a mighty storm. Looking up, the last thing I saw was Andrew’s face, his features filled with amazement as Kipp and I vanished from sight.
Chapter 26
“Petra, get up. You’ve been asleep for four days.”
Fitzhugh
’s voice was followed by a boney finger poking sharply into my shoulder; it was insistent and annoying, as was the sound of his voice, which was more than a little grating. Moaning, I tried to pull the covers over my head so that I could disappear, but Fitzhugh yanked the sheets back with a surprisingly strong hand. Finally, when I realized he wouldn’t leave, I opened one eye. Fitzhugh and Juno were both staring at me. As I shifted in the bed, I heard a soft meow of protest and realized that Lily had bunked in and was curled up somewhere between me and Kipp, who radiated enough heat that I was damp from perspiration. However, it wasn’t just his big, furry body that caused me to sweat. The nightmares had been endless.
“I’ve been hibernating,” I finally replied, my tone gruff. “You’ve obviously forgotten what it’s like to take a difficult trip since you’ve gotten old,” I added, feeling mean, since I knew Fitzhugh never forgot anything.
“You’ve hibernated long enough,” he replied, my words falling off his shoulders as if they’d not been spoken. “And since I’m old and with that comes experience, I know what I’m talking about.”
I realized he was not going to leave me alone and finally sat up. My hair, after several days of being subjected to the pillow, was in disarray, and I had the sore scalp associated with bed head. Ruefully, knowing I looked a mess, I tried to push the stray strands from my face and finger comb them into submission.
“And what are you doing in my room?” I asked, my tone cross. “This is my room, you know, in case you forgot.”
“Well, desperate times call for desperate measures,” he replied lightly.
“Hi, Petra,” Juno said, her tail wagging in greeting. “I missed you.”
I couldn’t be unkind to her so I managed a crooked smile. Kipp shifted slightly and planted his chin on my knee. His thoughts were guarded, and I felt alone since he’d left my mind. I knew he’d done it deliberately so that I could hibernate and rejuvenate, but I missed him all the same. It’s that way with our kind.
“What’s the date?” I asked.
“April 18,” Fitzhugh replied, lifting his eyebrows. “Pretty good timing,” he added. “You actually got back on the fourteenth.”
“When did Peter and Elani return?”
“Three days ago before you, so they were off but not by much.”
“How are they?”
Fitzhugh sighed and made himself comfortable by sitting on the edge of my bed. Juno decided to hop up, too. I was pleased to note her improving mobility.
“The doctor put me on glucosamine, and it’s helping,” she replied, giving the lupine equivalent of a nonchalant shrug. By nature, she was not a complainer.
“Peter and Elani are showing the remarkable, uh, elasticity of the young,” Fitzhugh commented, struggling with his choice of words. “They didn’t require hibernation, as you seem to,” he added, his brows drawing together in a gray flecked line. “Maybe you’re the one who’s too old for this sort of nonsense.”
“Whatever,” I replied, yawning. My room was still dark, since the shutters were closed; I felt disoriented and more than a little confused. “What time is it?”
“It is nine o’clock,” he replied. “Morning…and I’ll have a pot of Earl Grey waiting for you once you’ve showered and dressed.”
I looked around the room and realized my traveling clothes were tossed carelessly on the floor; I was clad in the chemise I’d been wearing when I left the Titanic. Inhaling, I could still smell and almost taste the salty tang from having been at sea. Oddly, I couldn’t seem to recall anything once I arrived home and hit the bed. My lack of brain acuity resembled one becoming intoxicated, having memory loss and developing a hangover. Kipp licked my face, his warm breath caressing my cheek.
“Okay, I’m up.”
As Fitzhugh hustled Juno and Lily out of the room, I staggered to the bathroom and flipped on the light, where the harshness of the bulbs did no favor to my appearance. My cheeks looked surprisingly hollow, my flesh pale and definitely not flushed with any sort of healthy color. Kipp followed me lazily, blinking his eyes at the bright light as he circled before plopping down on the bath mat.
“I still feel cold, Kipp,” I remarked looking at him.
“Get a hot shower and have some tea,” he advised, licking his paw as he conducted some minor ablutions of his own.
The hot water running through my hair did much to revive me, and by the time I toweled off and found a pair of sweat pants and one of my favorite soon–to–be worn out sweatshirts, I was feeling more like the old, familiar Petra. As I combed the tangles from my hair, I idly walked over to the pile of traveling clothes that would have to be returned to Technicorps, since they were company property. Picking up Peter’s coat, I held it to my face…the scent of his aftershave from that final night remained trapped in the wool fibers. Shaking my head, I tried to rid myself of the thought since it was accompanied by a wave of sadness. Pushing my hand into the inner deep pocket, I was delighted to find the copy of Colonel Gracie’s book which he signed. Opening the front cover, I bit my lip as I saw his bold scrawl proclaiming that I was his friend.
With the book in hand, I walked down the hallway, my eyes enjoying the familiarity of the wooden floor, worn in predictable places; I crossed the squeaky board that I knew like the back of my hand. Directly overhead was the light fixture I’d rescued from a junk store, magnificent except for the tiny flaw that had disqualified it from finding its way to an antique emporium and on to some foyer in a person’s fine home. Kipp’s toenails ticked softly against the hard surface of the floor.
The kitchen smelled of bergamot and faintly of Fitzhugh’s dinner from the previous night, which must have involved abundant amounts of garlic. Light streamed in from the row of windows overlooking the back yard, and everything was just as I’d remembered it. The trip to the Titanic had not been a dream; I felt my head begin to clear. Fitzhugh waited for me at the dinette table, his favorite tea service carefully laid out.
Without speaking, I handed him the book as I took my seat. He opened it and smiled. “To my friend, Petra Keaton….Colonel Archibald Gracie,” he read. “What a treasure!”
I was relieved he didn’t reprimand me for the purloined book, since my possession of it broke the rules. Automatically, my hand moved to my throat before I remembered I’d taken off Harrow’s pearls before showering. The precious strand lay on my dresser, waiting for me.
“So, you’re not going to fuss at me for bringing it back?”
“Well, I was tempted,” he began, before laughing. “No, I’m not going to fuss, and it will be our little secret.” Once, we had no secrets between us, and now we seemed to be accumulating them quite regularly. He poured my tea and, without asking, added the local honey I enjoyed so much. “Peter and Elani have been showering praise on your and Kipp’s leadership. Although you might not share, they told, vividly, of the harrowing conditions and how difficult it was to continue to observe and not intervene. From their perspectives, you two are super heroes.”
Sipping my tea, I smiled wryly at him. “All I need is a pair of spandex tights and a cape,” I replied. Glancing around the room, I remarked, “I think you are the true super hero, Fitzhugh. The kitchen seems neater than when I’m here taking care of things.”
“What’s a super hero?” Kipp asked, tilting his massive head to the side. He was resting on the floor where he’d found a warming patch of sunlight.
“Either humans or non humans with unusual powers, like extra strength, the ability to fly, or that sort of nonsense,” I said, my voice flat. The hibernation following such a stressful time shift had dulled me, and I didn’t bother to dig deeper for a clever response.
“I like the sound of that,” Kipp responded, his tail thumping the floor. “Sign me up for extra powers, and I’d love to fly.”
“Kipp, I’m sure there are no boundaries to your capabilities,” Fitzhugh remarked lightly, laughing, as he held up his tea cup in mock salute. “Oh, and by the way, Philo is dropping by in an hour to take
you two out to Duke Forest for a ramble in the woods.”
“And I suppose I have no say so,” I began, feeling the corners of my mouth turn down.
“Nope. And he said he’d bring breakfast, which is why I didn’t fix your favorite strawberry Pop Tarts.”
“Oh, good!” Kipp exclaimed. “That probably means Hardees biscuits.”
With my tea cup in hand, I walked out on my back porch to gauge the temperature, since it appeared I’d be going for an outdoors excursion whether I wanted to or not. From my position as an amateur meteorologist, I speculated that a pleasant spring was upon us. The trees were filling their canopies, although the leaves were still a pale, almost translucent green, with an unspoken promise to deepen in hue as the weeks wore on. My azaleas were in bloom; the coral one Kipp and I had planted was obviously happy and thriving. My eyes wandered until I found the white azalea that marked the place where we’d buried my dear Tula’s blanket in remembrance of her life. I was way too sentimental, and that fact hit me squarely between the eyes despite my protests. From the dinette set with the burned top, to the creamer I’d found with the broken handle —and the white azalea —I was surrounded with reminders of my connections to the past. Not just mine, but the histories of countless humans who were long gone from existence. Turning, I saw Kipp sitting on the other side of the door, watching me. He’d vacated his comfortable spot in my head to let me meander without his presence, but now he returned with a vengeance, filling every corner of my skull with Kipp. I smiled at him and lifted my hand in a little wave.
I was finishing braiding my hair when I heard Philo’s voice. Odd, I’d not paid attention to his arrival, which usually I felt due to my long standing connection with him. Grabbing a light jacket, I walked to the living room where Kipp was greeting Philo.
“So, what’s keeping you?” Philo barked. It was grounding and comforting to be reacquainted with his brusqueness.
Titanic, 1912 (The Symbiont Time Travel Adventures Series, Book 5): Young Adult Time Travel Adventure Page 30