Titanic

by Diane Hoh

  Katie wondered if Paddy resented the girl because his brother was spending so much time with her instead of keeping his brother company during the voyage. Not that Paddy lacked for companionship. Still, Katie decided it might be a good thing to stay by his side, seeing to it that he wasn’t interfering with Brian and Marta. It was the least she could do for Brian, who had been kind enough to help her get to Queenstown and the Titanic.

  Elizabeth, her ankle swollen, spent most of Friday in bed. Sometime that afternoon, Max, Lily, and Arthur came to extend an invitation. They wanted her to join them in the Parisian Café. Elizabeth let her mother decline on her behalf. She needed to think, and she couldn’t do that in the café surrounded by people.

  But she kept reaching a point in her “thinking” where there seemed to be no answers, only questions. There was nothing left to do then but doze off. Her long nap made a tangled mess of her hair, which then required washing, finger-curling, and a thorough brushing before dinner. She felt she had wasted most of the day. She had thought to plan, and had planned nothing.

  Max came back late in the day to invite her to dinner. He knocked at the door to her cabin rather than her parents’, and Elizabeth was forced to answer the door with her hair only half dried and curling wildly around her face.

  His response was a delighted laugh. “So you decided to let your hair down, after all? About time. I like it.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t help laughing, too. She knew perfectly well how she looked. “If my mother knew I’d answered the door like this, she’d need smelling salts. You’re here early. Anyway, I have to eat with my parents.” This was one thing she had thought about. She had anticipated Max’s invitation and had decided it would be wiser to attempt a peaceful, pleasant meal with her mother and father. Her mother would be delighted that Elizabeth seemed to be avoiding Max. She could always see Max later, after dinner.

  He looked disappointed. “You’re eating with them? Why?”

  She didn’t want to tell him the truth: that her mother didn’t want her associating with someone so “unsuitable.” He might not understand that his money and position weren’t worth much to Nola if he wasn’t going to follow the path his parents had laid out for him.

  “Because I need to talk to them, and dinner is the best time. They’re always in a good mood then.”

  Max looked skeptical. “I hope you’ve planned some really clever strategy. Because if you haven’t, there’ll be a scene, and your mother will blame you for it.”

  Elizabeth bristled. “How do you know? You’re not exactly an expert on my parents.”

  Leaning against the door frame, his hands in his pockets, he said, “Sure I am. Because they’re just like mine. And I’ve been where you are now. I know exactly what it’s like. If you bring up a serious subject like college at dinner, there will be a scene.”

  Elizabeth knew he was right. Because that annoyed her, she snapped, “Thank you for the advice, but I think I can handle a meal with my parents. I’ve been doing it for years.”

  He smiled. “Ah, yes, but the question is, have you done it well?” He then added, “Unlike me, I mean. Meals at the Whittaker homestead were often an exercise in indigestion.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I could meet you later,” she offered, feeling a delicious twinge of satisfaction at behaving so boldly. “On the boat deck. If you want.” She could use the sore ankle as an excuse to return to the cabin. Her parents would be out and about, entertaining themselves until late. They wouldn’t even know she wasn’t in her bed. But she’d have to make sure to return before they did. Her mother would check on her before retiring for the night.

  “I want. Nine o’clock?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Unless,” she added hastily, suddenly afraid she had been too forward, “Arthur and Lily have other plans.”

  Max laughed. “I sincerely hope they do.” He moved away from the door frame. “I guess you’ll have to put your hair up in a proper do again. Too bad. I really do like it like that. Lily wears hers like that and no one’s thrown her overboard.”

  Stung, Elizabeth replied, “I’m not Lily,” and closed the door.

  When she did arrange her hair, she stabbed the hairpins into place ferociously, as if it were Max—or perhaps Lily—she was pinning into place.

  She hoped, as she dressed, that by the time she and her parents arrived in the dining room, Max and his friends would have eaten and left. Just in case Max was right about dinner erupting into a “scene.”

  He was right. And he and his friends were there, sitting only two tables away from Elizabeth and her parents. Thus, she had to suffer the added humiliation of knowing Max was watching as his prediction came true.

  Dinner had begun pleasantly enough. Elizabeth was determined to avoid a repeat of their last dinner together. Remembering Max’s comments, she initially kept her contribution to the mealtime conversation cheerful and harmless. The food was delicious, she said, and ate heartily. The china pattern was lovely, she commented, and smiled at her mother. The soft rose of her mother’s dress matched the carpet in the à la carte restaurant, she pointed out, and got a smile in return. Her father beamed approval.

  And just when Elizabeth was congratulating herself, thinking, I can do this, this is not so hard, her father ruined it all by saying, “I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses, Elizabeth, and are doing your part to make this a pleasant voyage by not tormenting us with your notion of going off to college instead of marrying Alan.” He sipped his wine before adding warmly, “I want you to know your mother and I appreciate it. Perhaps we’ll stroll down to a shop later and buy you a lovely souvenir of the trip. I understand they have some exquisite commemorative plates.”

  Elizabeth darted a sideways glance at Max, to see if he’d heard. He had, in spite of the loud hum of conversation in the dining room. She could tell by the expression on his face. And his eyes warned her…Don’t, Elizabeth, don’t do it.

  Too late. She had tried, hadn’t she? Tried to be pleasant. Tried to pretend that they were as amiable a family as any in this huge, luxurious, crowded dining room filled with amiable families on this most majestic of all ships. And now her father was talking about buying her a plate! Like a good little puppy being given a bone? “I am to be rewarded for behaving properly?” she asked in a strained voice.

  Her mother sighed and rolled her eyes toward the embossed ceiling.

  Slowly, deliberately, Elizabeth dabbed at her mouth with the white linen napkin. Then she put the napkin down beside her plate and stood up. “If you want to give me a reward,” she said distinctly, and knew that Max heard, “give me what I really want. Give me the right to make my own decisions. Forget about marrying me off to Alan Reed, and send me to college. If you will do those things for me, I will never say another unpleasant word again.”

  Her father did not call after her as she left the room.

  She didn’t realize that Max was right behind her until she had to stand aside in the corridor to let a waiter with a dining cart pass. As she turned, her back to the wall, she saw him standing there. “If you say I told you so…” she said heatedly. She began moving swiftly down the corridor again, limping only slightly on the injured ankle. She did not glance over her shoulder to see if he was following.

  “I’m not going to say it.” He caught up with her and grabbed her hand. “Slow down, will you? No one’s chasing you.”

  “You think I’m stupid for losing my temper. That I’ll never have what I want because I can’t control my anger. Why don’t you just say so? That’s what you’re thinking.?

  “You read minds now?” Tugging on her hand, he stopped her, turned her around to face him. People passing them smiled, perhaps thinking they were one of the honeymooning couples on board. They didn’t see the pain in Elizabeth’s eyes.

  “I wasn’t thinking you were stupid. And I wasn’t thinking you won’t get what you want. I was thinking exactly the opposite.” He put a hand under her chin, tilted it upward so that she was
forced to meet his eyes with hers. “When I heard what you said and watched you march out of the dining room, your back as straight as the mast on this ship, I knew you’d get what you want, no matter what it takes.”

  Elizabeth relaxed a little, leaning into the wall. “You did? That’s really what you were thinking?”

  Max nodded. “You bet.” He smiled and took a step forward, so there was almost no space between them. “But that’s not what I’m thinking now.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No, ma’am, it’s not. What I’m thinking now is, your parents are still back in that dining room, and there isn’t anyone around to stop me from kissing you.”

  Then Max’s lips were on hers, and she couldn’t have spoken even if she’d wanted to.

  She didn’t want to.

  Chapter 13

  Friday, April 12, 1912

  Katie and Paddy were strolling the deck under a black-velvet, star-studded sky when she decided to share her dream with him. She was mindful that he might laugh at her. But her thinking was, if he did, that would cure her forever of her foolish attraction to him and she’d be the better off for it. And if he didn’t laugh, she’d have someone to talk to about her high hopes for the new country.

  He didn’t laugh. “Well, you’ve a fine voice, that’s certain. The people in steerage loved your singin’. But is there much call for stage work in Wisconsin, then?”

  Katie stopped walking. The air was chilly, and she was wearing only a shawl around her shoulders. She had worn it partly because it reminded her of her ma, who had knit it for her, but also because the deep blue matched her eyes, or so people told her. Although Patrick Kelleher hadn’t seemed to notice. “Wisconsin? I wouldn’t know. Brian hasn’t said. But there’s stage work in New York, and that’s where I’ll be stayin’. I’m boardin’ with me uncle Malachy and his wife, Charlotte. Did you not know that, Paddy?”

  He had stopped walking when she did, and now turned to face her. “What are you sayin’? Me brother is leavin’ you alone in a big city? For how long?”

  Katie leaned against the rail, her back to the sea. Other couples and some families were strolling the deck as, she imagined, people must stroll the sidewalks of New York on a fine summer night, warmer than this one. “I won’t be alone. Didn’t I just tell you, I’ll be with Malachy and Lottie in Brooklyn. They’ve a fine apartment and I’m welcome there.”

  He was frowning, as if he were trying to make sense of what she was saying. “Is Brian stayin’ with you there in New York, then? He’s changed his mind about farmin’?”

  “No, acourse not. Farmin’ is all Bri ever wanted to do. Why would he change his mind?” Katie didn’t understand why Paddy seemed so confused. She had never once said she was on her way to Wisconsin, nor had Brian ever stated any intent to make his way in the city of New York. “Besides, Marta’s goin’ to be in Minnesota, and I think that’s not so far from Wisconsin.”

  Paddy snorted in disgust. “Marta! She isn’t even Irish! Brian’s gone off his head, that’s what he’s done. I’m goin’ to have a talk with him, soon as I get back to our quarters.” He moved forward to lean against the railing, facing the sea, the ocean breeze blowing his dark hair back, away from his face.

  Katie thought she had never seen anyone so fine-looking. If Paddy wished to be on the stage, as she did, she was certain he could. Women would pay just to look at him. But he wanted to be a writer. Pity. “I don’t see why you’re goin’ on so. Marta’s nice. She may not be Irish but she’s a lot like Brian. Solid. Dependable. And she wants to do farmwork, like him. I think your ma would take to her, even though she’s not of the faith. Me grandmother married out of the faith, and she wasn’t struck by lightning.” Katie laughed. “She found the only Protestant for miles around and married him. Acourse, the first thing she did was convert him. Quit frettin’. Brian can look out for himself.”

  “It’s not Brian I’m frettin’ over,” he grumbled, keeping his eyes on the sea. “Seems to me you’re the one should be frettin’.” He did glance over at her then. “I guess you’ll be joinin’ him soon enough, but do your ma and da know Brian’s leavin’ you alone in the city of New York, even if it’s just for a time?”

  She turned then to face forward, into the ocean breeze. Her elbow touched his, and a sharp electric tingle shot through her. She moved the elbow. “Of course they do. Me da knows Bri wants to farm until he has enough money to buy his own place. And I’m goin’ to be stayin’ with Malachy and his family. It’s all set-tied.”

  Paddy nodded. “Ah, he’ll send for you then, when he has his own place? Bri?”

  It struck Katie then what was going on. It wasn’t herself Paddy was troubling about. ’Twas his brother who was on his mind. Paddy didn’t want Brian living alone in a strange country, a strange town, without someone from home. Someone like her. He must have thought all along that the two of them would be together, and that had given him comfort. And with him so dead set against Marta, it wouldn’t do to remind him that it looked as if the Swedish girl might be keeping Brian company someday, way up there in Wisconsin. Paddy wouldn’t be comforted by the thought.

  If it made him feel better to believe that Brian would be sharing any homestead he created in the north country with an Irish lass from home, what would it hurt to let him think it? What did it matter? Once the Titanic docked, they would all go their separate ways. Although Paddy, too, would be in New York, she didn’t expect to be seeing him there, such a big city it was. He’d have a hundred friends within a week of his arrival. Any remembrance of Katie Hanrahan from Ballyford would be erased like chalk on a blackboard at the end of a school day.

  Still, Katie was reluctant to lie. Instead, all she said was, “Hard to say what’s goin’ to happen in the New World. But you mustn’t trouble yourself over Brian, Paddy. He can take care of himself.”

  He made no response to that. He seemed lost in thought. They stood in silence for a while, listening to the steady swish of the ship as it sliced its way through the dark water and to the faint sounds of music coming from inside. From behind them on the deck came occasional footsteps, voices, and laughter, but their own silence continued. Katie didn’t mind. It seemed not an anxious or nervous silence, but a companionable one. The lights cast a pale yellow sheen across the water below them, as if someone had dumped a bucket of melted butter into the sea. She was cold, but not painfully so. If she complained, or shivered, Paddy would take her inside, and she didn’t want to go, didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to move.

  But the moment came, as it grew later and colder, when she couldn’t help it, and shivered involuntarily.

  Paddy saw the movement, slight though it was, and insisted on taking her to her quarters. “’Tis late, anyway, and I don’t want to find Brian asleep when I get back. Can’t very well talk to him if he’s out cold, can I, then?”

  “You’re not goin’ to pester him about Marta, are you? He won’t take kindly to that.” Katie didn’t want the brothers fighting now, when soon enough they would be separating, probably forever. ’Twould be a sore thing for their last words to be angry ones.

  “Don’t be tellin’ me what to say to me own brother, Katie.” His tone was curt, almost brusque, as if he was angry. Katie couldn’t believe he was that angry about Marta.

  Patrick Kelleher was acting strange, very strange indeed.

  Maybe the sea air did affect the brain.

  He didn’t come into the stern area with her. Instead, he told her a quick, curt, “Sleep well, then,” and left to seek out his brother.

  She had been hoping he’d kiss her again, had known that he wouldn’t, what with him acting so strange and all. Still, she’d kept hoping right up until the very last minute. Foolish girl.

  The pleasure of her time spent with Paddy evaporated, leaving disappointment in its place.

  So when Eileen, already in bed, asked as Katie arrived, “Were you out walkin’ with your young man, then?” Katie snapped, “I haven’t a young man, nor do
I want one! They’re nothin’ but trouble, and that’s the truth of it.”

  “Not my Sean,” Eileen said dreamily, and drifted off to sleep.

  It was an hour or more before Katie followed suit. When she did, she awoke shortly thereafter soaked in perspiration and shaking. In her dream, the Titanic had collided with an equally enormous ship in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Both had sunk clear to the bottom of the sea. In Katie’s nightmare, only she was aware of the tragedy. The other passengers went right on playing cards, dancing, smoking, and singing, as if they were still sailing along on the surface as they should have been. Brian was dancing with Marta, Paddy with Eileen. All four were laughing, and took no notice of Katie standing on the sidelines screaming at them that the ship was sinking.

  It took her another hour to return to sleep. She awakened the following morning with a painful headache.

  In his cabin, Max Whittaker mused over the puzzle that was Elizabeth Farr. He lay on his bed, still fully clothed, the porthole over his head partially opened to the chilly night air, his arms behind his head as he studied the ceiling. He had apologized after the kiss, said he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant it, that he hoped he hadn’t offended her, but the only honest portion of that was the part about hoping he hadn’t offended her. He was pretty sure he hadn’t. She had kissed him back, that much he was sure of.

  He had said the other things because that was what you were supposed to do when you kissed a girl you didn’t know all that well. There were rules, rules that he’d had drummed into his head since he was old enough to understand the language. He knew those rules by heart, every one of them. Most of them had to do with “appearances,” how what you did or said or wore in public was received by other people. His mother constantly said, “But how would it look!”

  The friends he’d made in Paris had expressed contempt for those rules, asking him why it was he didn’t make his own rules.