The Memory of Eva Ryker

by Donald Stanwood

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Clair Ryker calmly watched the distant gray cliffs. “A pity Lisa couldn’t come.”

  “She’s very sensitive to cold,” Jason said stiffly. “Probably better off in the library.”

  Eva peeked over the edge of her collar. Her mother still had her eyes trained on the sea.

  “I’m sorry not to invite you to our suite, but our maid is a frightful gossip and so are the stewards. You understand?”

  Silence. Jason shifted toward Clair but didn’t meet her eyes. “I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble, Mrs. Ryker. I never had anything like that in mind.”

  Clair’s laugh was short and amused. “Oh, my dear Jason, you’re a prize; you really are! At the train station, when you found out who I was, I saw the way you looked at me.”

  An awkward pause. A puzzled frown slowly replaced Eva’s smile.

  “You’re the wife of a famous man, Mrs. Ryker. Naturally I was surprised.”

  “Don’t be tiresome, my dear. I’ll tell you what you thought. ‘Clair Ryker?’ Why I can hear the penny papers whispering this very minute! Of course, Willie has paid millions wallpapering over my indiscretions, but still everyone seems to know the same tired stories. There’s Clair Ryker, child-stealer. Apparently my preference for the continent is depriving Eva of her American birthright. A ‘loose environment,’ it’s called. As opposed to a tight one.

  “Then we have Clair Ryker, nymphomaniac. The carnal chaser for my husband’s business deals.” Smiling, she raised an eyebrow. “You’ve heard that one, no doubt.”

  Sweat beaded on Jason Eddington’s forehead as he inspected the horizon. Far in the distance sat a crumbly signal tower planted on a headland, a remnant of the Napoleonic Wars. “I suppose so.”

  Clair put her hand on his. “Jason, I want you to look at me. Do I look like that sort of woman?”

  Eva watched his face over her mother’s shoulder. At first he blushed, then his lips flattened. “You sure as hell do, Mrs. Ryker.”

  For a second Eva thought her mother was going to hit him. Then she laughed, loudly and vulgarly. “Jason, you’re an honest man! There’re damn few of them left!” Her laughter died as quickly as it began. “I just wonder if you’re honest enough.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Clair’s eyelids eased shut. “You see, I’m right. A long row to hoe, Jason.”

  Her fingers ran gently down his arm as she stood. “Give my regards to Lisa.”

  “Hey!” he called, but she didn’t look back. Fists jammed in his pants pockets, he brushed, unseeing, past Eva.

  Amber sunlight splashed across the Rykers’ private promenade, slanting long railing shadows across the deck.

  Eva stared out at the ocean, eyes blinking at the sun. The Fastnet Tower stuck up feebly, dwarfed by the distance. Cape Clear Island jutted up to the north, a green quilt of tidy farm plots. She glimpsed the silhouette of Mizen Head and Dursey Island, and—so far away she thought she was imagining it—a phantom vision of the Skellig Peaks and the Kerry Mountains.

  John McFarland, the steward for the Eddingtons, had pointed out the landmarks as the last sight of shore until the Titanic reached the coast of Nova Scotia. Eva felt a sorrow she couldn’t explain as she watched the hazy green mountains slip from her grasp.

  A knock on the parlor door distracted her thoughts. “Who’s there, Georgia?” she called over her shoulder.

  “Just J.H.”

  Eva hurried into the sitting room at the sound of his voice. Dressed for dinner, he squatted down and pecked her cheek. “Hey, kid. Get ready. We’re keeping the chef waiting.”

  As Eva ran to her room, she heard Martin chatting with Georgia Ferrell. “Where’s Clair?”

  “Oh, off somewhere.” Her voice was elaborately casual. “She said she’d meet you and Eva in the dining room.”

  Eva buttoned her pink dress and listened with one ear.

  “Do you know what I spotted on B Deck?” J.H. was sour with disgust. “The cabin right next to the Eddingtons? Niggers! In first class. A couple of coons! Named Klein, if you can believe it.”

  On Friday the twelfth the Titanic skimmed like a flat rock on a mill pond, cutting through the placid Atlantic at twenty-one knots. The ship’s passage through fresh morning swells stirred Eva awake.

  Slowly rising to her knees, she blinked sleepily at the gunmetal sea, then padded out on deck and looked down sixty feet to the racing, foaming waterline. The railing beneath her hand trembled as the engines drove the Titanic faster than ever before. She grinned and darted back for her clothes. It looked like a beautiful day.

  The sea breeze blowing through the corridors swept away early morning drowsiness as Eva ran up the grand staircase to the Boat Deck’s gymnasium. Children were usually allowed only from one until three, but Eva, seeing the gym was vacant, aimed her mournful eyes at instructor T. W. McCawley, who finally gave in. She rode the electric horse and camel, paddled an exerciser cycle, and rowed stationary oars until blood pounded in her head.

  Barely halting to catch her breath, she ran below decks, stopping at the sight of Lisa Eddington in the tailor’s shop. Curiosity drew her inside.

  “Hi, Eva.” Lisa paid off the clerk and took a small gift-wrapped box. “You’re up early.”

  Eva pointed at the package as they headed for the door. “What’s that?”

  “A gift.”

  “For whom?”

  Her lips puckered in a look of censure. “It’s for Mr. Martin, Eva.”

  “But what is it?”

  Lisa glanced at the clerk behind the counter. “It’s a knife. A pocket knife.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “What’s he need a knife for?”

  “You never know when it might come in handy.” Lisa took her by the hand. “Come on. We’ll be late for breakfast.”

  Seventeen feet wide and thirty-three feet long, the swimming bath was burrowed down on G Deck, aft of the racket court. It was a tremendous coup for the White Star Line; besides the Titanic, only her sister ship, the Olympic, had such a facility.

  Clair Ryker, dressed in a long frilly pink bathing suit that made her look like someone about to be shot out of a cannon, stood at pool’s edge and raised her voice at the swimming attendant. “What do you mean, no men allowed?”

  The young girl’s mouth drooped in disapproval. “Mixed swimming is against company policy. Men’s hours are from two to six, women’s from ten to one.”

  Clair smiled painfully and pointed at the Eddingtons. “This girl is a dear friend of mine, and this is her husband. Surely you don’t expect to separate a married couple, do you?”

  Lisa spoke up. “Clair, maybe we should …”

  “Nonsense,” she said severely to the attendant. “Now, my dear, you can see there’s no one else in that pool. No one is going to know we’re here. If you simply cooperate with me, your services will be appropriately rewarded. Do you understand?”

  The girl’s determination crumbled. “All right. But only for a half hour!”

  With a shrill whoop Eva broke away from her mother’s side, held her nose, and plummeted into the pool. She shivered at first contact, then paddled around, becoming accustomed to the water.

  Ignoring the watchful eyes of the attendant, who stood at the far end of the room, Clair gingerly eased down the step ladder. She waded at the edge and caressed her sides. “I thought this thing was heated!”

  The Eddingtons dove in gracefully. He surfaced, shaking drops from his hair. Shoulders rippled in casual power as he swam to Clair.

  “You know how to swim, don’t you?”

  Eva dog-paddled next to them, laughing. “Are you kidding? You should see her. She sinks like a rock!”

  “No, she won’t. There’s no big trick to swimming.” He gently took her arm. “Come on, I’ll show you.” He blushed. “Free of charge.” Jason turned to his wife. “We’ll be glad to help; won’t we, honey?”

  “Sure, Mrs. Ryker.” Lisa’s eyes glinted. “Jason’s a great Good Sa
maritan.”

  “Okay, then.” His hand lifted her off the tiled edge. “Put your arms around my neck. That’s fine. Now hang on.”

  Deciding to watch, Eva sat up on the railing surrounding the pool.

  “Now don’t worry. Fear of water’s perfectly needless if you know what you’re doing.” He held her at arm’s length. “Lay on your back.”

  Lisa joined Eva at the railing. Her facial muscles trembled with the weight of her smile.

  “That’s it,” Jason muttered lowly. “My arms are right below you. Relax. Arch your spine. Chest up. Breasts high.” His ears burned. “You’re doing fine.”

  His fingertips glided along the small of her back. “Let your arms float alongside. Keep your chest up. Chest up! That’s fine. Now relax. Relax …”

  Slowly his arms moved away from her. Clair floated for a minute, then panicked. She went under. Jason dived for her. Moments later they broke the surface. Shaking, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her face pressed against his chest.

  Smiling gaily, her incisors showing, Lisa stood at the pool’s edge. “You know, your daughter’s right, Clair. You do sink like a rock.”

  She spun on her heel and stalked for the dressing room.

  Eva Ryker stood on the Boat Deck, hands jammed in her coat pockets against the southwest wind. From horizon to horizon the Atlantic sparkled placidly in the afternoon sun.

  An elderly man passed Clair and Eva, tipping His cap. “Afternoon, ma’am.”

  “Afternoon,” Clair muttered, her attention directed some fifty feet along the deck, where Jason Eddington was filming footage of his wife.

  “I heard some talk from my steward,” the man said. “Ships to the west, he says, wired reports of ice.”

  Eva glanced up. “Really?”

  He smiled, the orange sunlight cutting shadowy creases in his cheeks. “Nothin’ to worry about, miss. Routine this time of year.”

  With a polite bow the man walked on, stopping some thirty feet away. He leaned at the railing and stolidly watched the sea.

  Eva perked up at Jason’s approach. He patted the movie camera in his hands. “Some good scenes. Almost out of film. Hey!” he beamed. “How about a group shot? Just to finish up the roll.”

  Clair nodded, holding Eva to her. “Both of us?”

  “Sure. Bend down by her.” Cradling the Pathé on his shoulder, he focused, then turned the crank. “Okay, just act natural.”

  Eva stuck her tongue out at the camera. Clair smacked her on the shoulder, then nestled Eva’s collar closer to her ears.

  “Fine. Now get up and walk toward Lisa.”

  The three stood together.

  “Okay, ladies! Everyone smile and wave!”

  They grimaced, flapping their hands.

  “Jason, you should be in this!” Lisa ran along the deck and tapped the shoulder of the man at the railing. Eva couldn’t catch her words, what with the wind roaring in her ears.

  He trotted back with her and gingerly took the camera from Jason’s hands. “Nothing to it,” he said, showing the man the controls. “Everything’s set. Just crank. There’s a built-in governor, so it doesn’t matter how fast you go. Okay?”

  The man nodded. Jason jogged over and joined the group.

  “Ready?”

  “I can’t get you all in the picture!”

  Jason hoisted Eva on his shoulders. “How’s that?”

  “Fine.” The man turned the crank, exposing everyone’s smile and wave just before the roll ended.

  Thanking him, Jason took the camera and led the way back to B Deck. Eva hung back, watching the sun easing toward the horizon.

  “Eva,” Clair called, “come on! Time to get dressed for dinner!”

  “Oh, all right,” she moped, walking away from the last glimpse of sunlight the Titanic would ever see.

  After dinner the Rykers, the Eddingtons, and Martin rode the elevator up to A Deck to catch the evening concert in the Louis XVI lounge. The adults sipped coffee from thimble-sized cups as the orchestra offered a medley from The Merry Widow.

  Eva yawned and slouched in her chair. Her mother and Lisa sat stiffly at opposite ends of the little wrought-iron table. Jason watched one woman, then the other, as if appraising the combustibility of two volatile chemicals. Martin studied Jason’s straying eyes and smiled his sympathy at Lisa.

  The orchestra stopped amid polite applause. With a tap of his baton Wallace Hartley led his little group through Offenbach’s The Tales of Hoffman.

  Eyelids drooping, Eva’s head rocked back and forth with the music until it reached a climax. The conductor bowed to loud clapping. The crowd frayed around the edges as families made their way to their cabins.

  Clair sipped the last of her coffee and surveyed the elegant lounge with an air of proprietorship. “It’s beautiful. It really is. You know, Martin, we must do all our future crossings on this ship.”

  “I know how you feel, Mrs. Ryker.” Lisa smiled. “It’s certainly been lucky for you.”

  She glanced over her cup. “What do you mean, dear?”

  “Well, being all alone on this big ship.” She pointed across the table. “I don’t mean you, James, or you, Eva. But I figure it must get very lonely traveling without your husband and all.”

  Clair’s expression didn’t change. “We’re going home now.”

  “And I’m sure your husband misses you very much!” Lisa grinned at Eva. “Don’t you want to see your daddy again?”

  She didn’t answer. Something in Lisa’s voice discouraged her.

  “Anyway, I’m sure this trip’s been a godsend for you.” Lisa patted Clair’s hand. “What better place to circulate?”

  “How’s that?”

  “You know. We’re like goldfish swimming in a bowl. Swishing our tails and giving each other the eye. Unfortunately, if you don’t want to join the fun, there’s no place to hide.”

  “You’re being slightly cryptic tonight.” Clair blinked at Martin. “Shall we go?”

  As she reached for her purse on the table, Lisa grabbed her hand. “Don’t, Clair! The party’s just starting. Isn’t that right, darling?”

  Jason’s eyes fixed on the bottom of his teacup. “Every person in this room must be watching you, Lisa.”

  She ignored him, aiming her smile at Clair. “Tell me, do you find my husband attractive?”

  “That’s hardly for me to say.”

  “Of course it is! I just asked you.”

  Getting no response, she turned to Eva. “You tell me! Isn’t Jason Eddington the most handsome man you’ve ever seen?”

  He didn’t move a muscle. “Shut up, Lisa.”

  Eva seriously regarded Jason. Her smile was shy.

  “You see! A charmer of both young and old.”

  Clair put Eva’s coat around her shoulders. “Take her to her cabin,” she told Martin.

  “Oh no!” Lisa placed a restraining hand on his arm. “It’s early yet. And Eva’s getting to be a very adult young lady. She can stay and watch the grown-ups play.”

  Her eyes trained on Clair. “But we were talking about you. You and my darling. Do you know how I roped this prize bull?”

  “I’m not really interested.”

  A high laugh. “Oh, Clair! Consider your reputation for candor and … stamina. You’ve a legend to live up to.”

  Tendons stiffened in Clair’s neck. “My dear, absolutely nothing has happened between Jason and me.”

  He grabbed Lisa by the upper arm. “Don’t make a complete fool …”

  “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” She shook him off. “A docile cow who turns a blind eye while you’re out spawning with this million-dollar slut!”

  Round as saucers, Eva’s eyes darted uncomprehendingly from face to face.

  Clair rose to her feet. “Martin, take Eva down below now.”

  Spirited toward the door, Eva still heard the mad bad talk behind her back.

  “Very touching, Lisa.” Jason’s voice rose. “This plucky sni
t of jealousy. About as touching as the nautch dance you’ve been performing for Martin!”

  J.H. stopped in his tracks, letting go of Eva’s hand. “Now see here, Jason …”

  Lisa’s slap cracked across her husband’s cheek. “You know, Clair, I think you were telling me the truth! Otherwise you would know …”

  Eva stood shivering as Martin went back to join the fray. Huge towering men—stewards and stern mustachioed patriarchs—rose to restore order.

  The voice cried high and shrill over the surrounding wall of bodies. “… otherwise you would know that this great blond god is all advertising and no product!”

  Eva trembled at the meaty sound of a fist striking flesh. Teacups and silver spoons flew, crashing to the floor. A wild, incomprehensible scuffle of bodies. Arms reaching to raise Lisa from the table. White linen smeared red. Hands scrambling at Jason, who shook them off and stumbled away, with Clair in pursuit.

  Between the encircling men she glimpsed Lisa’s head tottering upright. Slowly, her hand blotting blood from her mouth, she staggered from the lounge with Martin’s help.

  A hot trickle of tears streamed down Eva’s face as she sprinted away in blind flight.

  25

  The tape reels turned with calm clockwork certainty, unraveling the panting torrent of words. “… Georgia, it was awful … I ran and ran … they were yelling … screaming …”

  My hand punched the recorder’s stop button. No one in the office made a sound as I walked to the window. Ryker’s limousine shimmered chilly under the noonday sun.

  Eva’s voice was almost timid as she broke the silence. “It’s … hard to describe. Like little jigsaw pieces worn away by time that don’t quite mesh. Snatches of it are clear, yet so far away. As if I’m looking through the wrong end of a telescope. And yet other things … I can practically reach out and touch.” She rubbed her arms. “Like that awful fight …”

  I nodded. “A particularly awful fight because it was prearranged. The final act of a well-choreographed routine worked out by Jason and Lisa.”