1609366867 (33 page)

“Son!”

The word did not carry its usual sting until James followed it with a question.

“Where is your mother?”

Nathan shook his head, his thoughts tumbling. “She went to look for you. I tried to get her into a lifeboat, but she wouldn’t go alone, and I can’t go. It’s women and children only.”

James’s eyes reflected his concern. “I will go to your cabin to find her.”

“No.” Nathan squared his shoulders. “I will go myself. Please stay here and take over for me, James.” He turned, half ashamed at the bitter outburst and half proud of himself for standing up for what was right. He would fetch Mother himself and situate her in a lifeboat. What would happen after that, he could not say.

As he took his first steps away from the crowd, James grabbed his arm.

“Nathan, listen. Please.”

“I don’t have time right now, James. Surely you can see that.” He glanced back but continued to walk, the older man now following on his heels.

“I know, but this is important. We might not have another opportunity, and there’s something I must get off my chest regarding your mother.”

Nathan stopped and put a hand up. “Please, James, don’t.” He didn’t want to hear any of his mother’s indiscretions in his last minutes of life. “Whatever happened is over and forgotten. All that matters is this moment, and in this moment I have to get Mother safely onboard a lifeboat.”

“I’m not talking about the past, son. What I have to tell you affects our future.” James’s eyes filled with tears as the ship jolted, the deck now dangerously tilted. “I must tell you this before you go.”

“What is it, James?” Truly, this fellow was wearing his patience. Nathan grabbed hold of the railing, his gaze landing on a familiar little girl several yards away. Manca. The girl who’d danced with her father on the deck. Nathan watched as an impatient seaman tried to force the tiny child across a ladder, a makeshift route to the hoisted lifeboat, which hung at a precarious angle. The little girl clung to her father’s leg, unwilling to budge. Not that he blamed
her. To climb aboard that ladder would be impossible for an adult, let alone a child.

“I have always loved you like a son, Nathan.” James reached out and pulled him into an uncomfortable embrace. “Though I could never acknowledge you as my own.”

Nathan’s gaze shifted back to the man, his heart in his throat as he wriggled away. “Acknowledge me? What are you talking about?”

James shook his head, his cheeks now wet. From the spray of water splashing over the deck, maybe, or were those tears? “Listen to me, Nathan. All that I have in this world is wrapped up in my company, and it’s worth a pretty penny. All of it, I have left to you. All of it.”

Nathan shook his head, his thoughts reeling. Surely the tilt of the ship had done something to James Carson’s reasoning. Off in the distance, the little girl’s cries split the night. Her father lifted her and handed her to the seaman, who flung her onto the ladder where she clung, screaming.

“Do you understand what I’m saying, son?” James reached for his hand. “Everything I have is yours.”

“But why?”

As the ship jolted once again, James doubled over and grabbed the railing. He rose, eyes brimming. “Because you are my boy, and I love you. I always have, even when I couldn’t acknowledge it.”

Confusion swept over Nathan. Before he could spend another moment thinking about what James had said, however, his gaze shifted back to Manca, who gripped the ladder and cried now louder than ever. The little girl’s father called out to her in a language unfamiliar, obviously trying to get her to work her way across the ladder to the lifeboat. The terrified youngster would not budge. She hovered, several stories high, over the water.

Nathan turned away from James and took tentative steps toward Manca, gripping the railing the whole way. He glanced back at James one last time, torn. If what James had said was true…

But it couldn’t be.

It couldn’t.

Manca’s cries pierced his heart, and Nathan glanced back to see the child’s father attempting to help her across the ladder. The youngster slipped and nearly fell as she tried to grab onto her father. She refused to let go, now putting both of their lives in danger.

“Help her, son,” James called out from a distance away. “I will find your mother.”

No doubt he would. Anger rose like a fire inside of Nathan’s belly as he made his way toward the little girl.
One thing at a time.
Deal with the issue in front of him, and then make sure Mother made it onto a lifeboat.

Off in the distance, Manca held her father in a death grip, her shrieks echoing across the starlit sky. Nathan slipped onto the ladder behind them and took hold of the little girl, leaving her father free to ease his way off the ladder and back onto
Titanic
’s deck.

“Manca?” Nathan tried to steady his voice as he held the child with one arm and the ladder with the other. He pointed to the lifeboat on the far end of the ladder. “Manca, you must get into the boat. Hurry.”

With tears streaming, she shook her head, and a string of words escaped in a language unfamiliar. From the deck of the
Titanic
, the child’s father pleaded with her.

The youngster looked at him, eyes wide. There she clung, unable—or unwilling—to move an inch.

The world tilted as
Titanic
’s bow lowered. Nathan lost his grip on the child, who slipped from his arms, but he caught her
in midair. She let out a piercing scream as he pulled her back onto the ladder. Fear now held the youngster frozen in place. Fear and icy coldness, which gripped him with such violence that he could not stop shaking.

As the ladder swayed, Nathan swept the child into his arms and eased his way toward the lifeboat. From inside the boat, two of the ladies rose and extended their arms, willing the youngster to make the jump. She refused. Nathan lifted her over the railing and dropped her inside, which caused the boat to rock.

The moment he let her go the lifeboat pitched wildly. The icy cold air caused Nathan’s fingers to go numb, and he lost his grip on the ladder. The world began to spin as he fell down, down, down into the blackness of the night.

Chapter Twenty-Five

April 15, 1912, 12:51 a.m.

The Atlantic

Shivering. Pain. Stabbing. Deafening cries.

In. Out. In. Out.

“No!” Nathan cried out as the icy-cold water pierced his skin, a thousand needles driving themselves in at once.

He gave himself over to the darkness that now enveloped him as everything faded into a haze. “Lord, not my will, but Yours be done.” The words of Jesus washed over him afresh as the pain held him frozen.

Just as quickly, James Carson’s words played over in his mind, taunting him:
“Do you understand what I’m saying, son? Everything I have is yours.”

“Oh, God!” The cry went up as the reality of the man’s words sank in. “Merciful God!”

“You are my boy, and I love you. I always have!”

A cry rang out. A woman’s voice, angelic and strong. Nathan forced his eyes open, straining as an unfamiliar face came into view. He tried to focus as he took in the image of the woman leaning over the edge of a half-empty lifeboat.

Moments later, strong arms reached down to grab hold of
him, and he felt himself lifted—miraculously lifted—from a watery grave to a chance at new life.

April 15, 1912, 1:30 a.m.

Lifeboat Eleven

Seated inside Lifeboat Eleven, Tessa fought to keep her thoughts straight. In spite of the bitter cold, she felt feverish. The trembling in her extremities grew worse as time passed, and she felt herself moving in and out of consciousness, her thoughts more twisted than ever. Shivers racked her to the bone, and she wondered if maybe she had died.

In her delirious state, Tessa saw herself a young girl—maybe six—running across the farm, chasing Peter’s elusive shadow. Older and more nimble, he raced along, his boyish laughter filling the air.

“Wait for me, Peter!” she cried out, kicking up her heels. “Don’t leave me.”

Through the blurry haze he turned and offered her a smile, but then his face—his beautiful face—grew fuzzy. He continued to run far, far away. Before long, the shadow disappeared, as did he. All that remained was his voice, that precious, soothing voice.

“Tessa? Tessa, are you all right?”

She paused to catch her breath and leaned over as a stitch in her side caused her to double over in pain. “Please! Don’t. Leave. Me. Please. Stay with me, Peter.”

“Tessa? Oh, Tessa, wake up!”

The dream grew fuzzier still, and her head felt hot. Just as quickly, she shivered, gripped by icy tentacles that stung her legs and arms.

“Peter, please!” With pigtails flying in the breeze, she ran across the meadow, beyond Countess’s stall and away from the house. Chasing his shadow.

Shadows.

Shadows.

Murky, gray shadows.

“She’s in shock.”

Tessa heard the voice but could not respond. With her head swimming and her thoughts so muddled, how could she?

Why is it so cold?

“If I should die before I wake…” Tessa whispered the words as she knelt down in front of her father. Pa took hold of her shoulders and pressed her knees into the rocky path. Gravelly bits tore holes into her flesh, causing intense pain.

“If I should die before I wake…”

“Repent, girl.” Pa’s drunken breath made her stomach sick. “Ask the Lord to forgive you for your wickedness.”

“Oh, God!” She tumbled to and fro, rocking back and forth, back and forth. Her stomach revolted and she could not hold its contents.

“If I should die before I wake…”

She emptied her stomach then leaned back in a haze, her thoughts in a whirl.

“The letter!” she cried out. “How will Jacquie’s grandmother know me without the letter? I will have no place to go!”

“Tessa!” Someone shook her with such force that she almost came out swinging. “Tessa! Please.”

Tessa tried to force her eyes open but only managed a second’s glance. In that moment, she took in vast miles of darkness. And then—Iris’s face. Slowly, the faces of the others came into view. Annie. Jessie. Edith Russell. In that moment, every image of Peter faded away.

April 15, 1912, 1:58 a.m.

Lifeboat Eleven

Iris held Tessa close but could not stop the tears from flowing. She had never known such fear. Or such cold. The trembling gripped her until she could scarcely move.

“Tessa!” Iris held her close and fought to warm them both.

Just an hour ago, she had mourned the loss of her sketchbook, that silly, meaningless thing. Now she feared for the life of her friend.

“Oh, God. Please, God!” she cried out to the heavens, begging for mercy.

From across the lifeboat an unfamiliar woman approached. Her movement, though cautious, caused the boat to rock. The woman came and knelt in front of Tessa. She reached out her hand to feel her forehead then glanced at Iris. “I’m a doctor, dear. Alice Leader.” She pulled off her scarf and wrapped it around Tessa’s neck. “We must keep her warm. She’s feverish. I daresay she’s also in shock. I feel sure it will pass once we’re rescued.”

“Rescued.” Iris spoke the word aloud, as if to convince herself.

Rescued. Yes, Lord.

Iris tightened her grip on Tessa and nodded. She would not be moved, no matter how long they had to sit in this boat waiting on someone—anyone—to help.

Alice returned to her seat, and Iris’s gaze shifted up to
Titanic
, that mighty queen floating so close that she could practically reach out and touch her. Still, what a strange and frightening angle the ship now held. Very odd.

“She’s taken on too much water.” Jessie’s voice sounded from beside Iris. “She will go down.”

“We must row out before she does.” The able seaman in charge of their boat spoke with calm assurance.

“We should stay here!” another woman called out. “My husband is on that ship.”

“We cannot,” another argued. “To do so now would be certain death to us all. We will be caught in the surge as the ship goes down.”