Shipbuilder (35 page)

“Aye, Mr. Andrews.” Albright motioned for Jack to follow him, and Tom sent him on before continuing his inspection of the boilers. He looked up in time to see Jack join the crew, take a hammer, nod seriously at the instruction given him, and with an authoritative
whack!
, send the block falling onto the dock away from the ship. The men cheered and Tom flushed in delight at the look on Jack’s face. Such a simple thing, but the boy would remember it his entire life.

They were ready. Lord Pirrie began his final inspection of the ship, walking along the dock on both sides, before turning to an examination of the hydraulic launching equipment. He and Tom then walked back to the owner’s gallery, and Lord Pirrie gave the signal.

A rocket was fired and the flags were raised. In the stands, Casey held onto Sam’s hand with a fierce grip and stared in near horror as the ship, which in another time had claimed her husband’s life, slowly moved back and settled into the water. In just over a minute, the
Titanic
was floating, and the anchors and ropes easily brought her to a halt. The excited crowd roared its approval. Jack, next to Sam, jumped up and down, yelling with delight. Standing still amid the tumult, Casey had eyes only for her husband, as he stood in the owner’s gallery and accepted congratulations from those around him.

~~~

After the celebratory lunch, Tom hooked an arm around Casey's waist and guided her to his office. It was empty since Ham was already on board
Olympic
; he would be sailing as far as Southampton to help with the administrative work until the ship left for New York. Tom took a moment to gaze at Casey as she leaned against his desk. She wore a new green dress that demanded his constant attention. A tiny smile moved the corners of her mouth. She had removed her hat. Her hair was up, but shorter strands of red framed her face with curls. Her eyes were large and intensely green, matching the dress. He allowed himself a good long look, then gripped both her shoulders as he smiled down at her.

"That dress is all eyes and cleavage, do you know that?" he asked her teasingly. She laughed and slipped her arms around his neck. Any reply she might have made was forgotten in the kiss that followed. It was all they had time for. He had inspections to do and papers to sign on
Olympic
before she sailed, but they made that kiss worthwhile. They held each other a moment longer, memorizing the feel of the other's body before Casey returned to Dunallon, and Tom boarded his ship.

Chapter 38

July 1911—October 1911

The police investigator, the same man who took their report about the riot, came to see them one evening shortly after Tom returned. He commented that he was spending far too much time with the Andrews, and he hoped their lives "would settle down and not require his presence again, any time soon." Then he sat in the parlor with Tom, Casey and Sam, and proceeded to explain how he had captured Colin Riley.

Riley had indeed come close to committing the perfect crime, the investigator told them, waving an unlit cigar in his hands. His alibi was solid, there was no evidence anywhere, and if the victim had died as expected, there would have been almost no questions at all. But like most amateur criminals, Riley was obsessed with his crime. Soon after his return from Paris, he had made his way to the burnt farmhouse, walking around, inside and out.

“I followed him, you see,” the investigator said nonchalantly. “I knew he’d trip himself up, eventually.”

Whatever Riley expected to see at the farmhouse, he didn’t seem to be finding it. He grew more and more disturbed, bending to look under the fallen and burnt bookcase, scraping in the ashes on the floor, searching the ground outside. The inspector finally took pity on him and put in an appearance.

“Startled him a bit, I did,” he said, eyes crinkling in amusement. “In fact, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Who am I? he wanted to know. What did I want? Like he owned the place.”

The inspector shrugged. “So I told him who I was, and asked what’s he looking for? He was nervous, you see. It never occurred to him that Mr. Altair hadn’t died, so he didn’t have a plan for dealing with that. He couldn’t answer my questions, kept contradicting himself. We talked for about fifteen minutes and I told him someone pulled a fellow out of a fire here a few months back, and he completely cracked. Broke down crying and confessed.”

The inspector smiled at Sam, who had tears in his eyes. “He’s in custody and will be going to trial in a week or two. You’ll be up to testifying, sir?”

Sam nodded, looking relieved and regretful all at once. “I wish it wasn’t like this,” he said, his voice husky.

The inspector nodded. “I understand. When it’s a colleague who turns on you…” he left it unsaid and shrugged again, slipping the never-lit cigar back in his pocket. He stood and shook hands with all of them. “I’ll be in touch. You people try to stay out of my life from now on, what?”

They promised to try.

Tom saw the inspector out. Sam stood and limped to the window. His legs still had not healed completely and he often used a cane for support. He stared out at the darkness, not seeing anything, a state of affairs he sensed matched his soul. He felt Casey beside him and smiled grimly in acknowledgement, but didn’t look at her.

She knew what he was thinking. “It’s not your fault, Sam.”

He wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly chilled. “What right did I have to just appear on his doorstep? To expect him to do something about us? I only knew his equation; I knew nothing about the actual person.”

“You have to let him be responsible for his own actions.”

“He’s insane, Casey. He’s not responsible.”

“Maybe.” She seemed unusually annoyed. “No one is guaranteed a stress-free life. Maybe our problem was stranger than most, but you did not send him over the edge, Sam. Anything could have done it.”

“What am I condemning him to?”

“He tried to kill you, Sam!”

He sighed and did not respond. She tried again, resting her forehead against his arm. “If he’s let go, you will always be in danger. Maybe I will be, too. He might even decide my children are abominations against the natural order of the universe.”

He turned to stare at her and Tom spoke up from the doorway. “Why would you want him to be free? I don’t understand.”

They both turned. “Our concept of crime and mental illness is different in the future, Tom,” Sam explained. “My experience with Riley convinced me he’s not sane. He should be helped, not punished. I feel responsible for him.”

Tom laughed. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” He held up his hands. “Not about him needing help. That’s fine. But you are not responsible. Even if all you say is true, you’d be the worst person to try and help him.”

“That’s true,” Casey chimed in. “He freaks as soon as you’re around. He needs a chance to be away from your influence, and deal with his own issues.”

Sam gazed at Tom. “What is the state of treatment for the mentally ill, Tom? What’s done with them, these days?”

Tom looked disturbed. “I don’t know very much. Most people are taken care of by their families, who try to keep them safe and someplace where they can’t harm others. There are institutions for truly violent people. Riley may fall into that category.” Tom moved into the room, his eyes glinting in the lamp’s light. “There are doctors who try to help them.”

“Not successfully.” Sam was bleak. “If he lives long enough they’ll start jabbing him with electric shocks and turn him into a sponge.”

“He’s going to jail, Sam,” Tom said. “Not a mental institution.”

Sam looked startled. “But if he’s insane…”

Tom shrugged. “He committed a crime. Maybe it’s different in the future, but right now, that means jail. In fact, with this degree of premeditation, he might be put to death.”

Casey gasped and Sam turned back to the window. “I’ll find a place for him. I’ll ask the judge to send him there. Where he can be safe. I’ll pay for it, myself.”

Tom’s lips tightened, but he didn’t say anything. Casey just nodded.

~~~

The shipyard’s conference room was stifling in the July heat. The managing directors were close to wilting as they compared notes on the progress of
Titanic
. As bad as it was for them, they were all aware how much harder it was for the men in the yard. George came in, shaking his head. “I just overheard a fellow promise to start praying to the pope if they would just get a breeze through the plating shop!” he reported with sardonic amusement as he took his seat. The laughter that met this story was only half sincere. With the Home Rule questions raised by Tom’s letter, the extreme factions were determined to cause trouble. Sloan’s group was quietly malicious. The heat was fraying tempers and making things worse. The managers kept the water boys hopping to supply water to the men, but even so, a current of fear ran underneath the work. Tom had just had to force the workers to remove anti-Catholic graffiti from the ship’s walls and funnels. The yard was on the tipping point.

Lord Pirrie was in London, but had sent a telegram to Mr. Kempster, who presented it to the directors. “Ismay is asking for a deadline when he can expect delivery of
Titanic
. Can you all give me an estimate?”

As they each reviewed their records and considered what was still needed, they began throwing out dates. Tom, already aware of the date that would be chosen, sat back and watched the byplay. These moments were problematic. He knew what the answer was, but not how that answer was reached. He was never sure what role he had played in reaching the decision, so was not sure if his actions now would change something, and in changing something, would it be for better or worse?

Thinking about it produced a headache. So he didn’t think, he just watched and waited. He did know his own schedule and tossed out the date of 15 March. After more discussion, they decided to tell Lord Pirrie the ship would be ready on 18 March 1912. Tom felt an eyebrow twitch. Sam had said the date was 20 March.

Later, when he told Sam and Casey what they had decided, Sam was unimpressed. “Is that the date Lord Pirrie is going to give to Ismay?” he asked. “Let’s wait and see before we get our underwear tied up in knots.”

Sure enough, the next day a telegram from Pirrie informed them that they would turn the
Titanic
over to White Star Line on 20 March, 1912. Lord Pirrie had given them two more days after consultation with Mr. Kempster revealed that a vendor would have trouble meeting the original deadline.

Tom made a notation in his time travel journal:
The smallest details seem to fall into place without any prodding or manipulation from anyone. I don’t know whether to be confident or afraid.

~~~

Sam was determined to save Riley, and finally found an asylum in Switzerland that seemed accommodating. He then began the lengthy process to convince the powers that be to send Riley there, rather than to jail. He worked with Tom’s brother James, whose practice in law, Sam knew, would eventually lead to a Judgeship in Ireland’s highest court. James approved of Sam’s empathy, but warned Sam that he must not let his empathy for Riley overrule his common sense.

The judge was skeptical. He was inclined, based on the evidence, to use the death penalty, unless he could be convinced that Riley was insane and incapable of controlling his decisions. It was Riley who provided the final proof.

James told everyone about it over dinner at Ardara the Sunday before the trial, shaking his head in amazement. “Sam had hired a psychiatrist to talk to Riley and give the judge a report. So the fellow’s visiting Riley and ‘just chatting,’ he says, when Riley leans in toward him, all intent-like, and says,” James sat straighter, wagging his finger furiously in front of him at his audience, quoting his source who was quoting Riley, “’He’s from the future, you see! He knows things! He’s planning to take over the woooorld!’” James finished with an exaggerated flourish, extending the last word dramatically, as everyone around the table laughed or gasped in amazement.

Tom, Casey, and Sam all managed to smile, as if amused. After a piercing glance to Casey, Sam attempted some spin control. “I knew he thought that, he’s accused me of it, before.” He shook his head. “It’s why I thought he was insane, after all. He believed it enough and was frightened enough of it, to try and kill me. He needs help.”

James sipped his tea. “He’ll get it, now. Your doctor will recommend to the judge tomorrow that he be sent to that asylum you found. He said he’s only disappointed he can’t work with him, himself. He thinks it’s a fascinating case.”

They were all relieved at the satisfactory ending and the conversation moved on, but Sam noticed Mrs. Andrews, as she watched Tom with a thoughtful expression on her face.

~~~

Early in September, Casey was unpacking herbs in the greenhouse when Sam came in. He watched for a minute, then moved over to help. “You’ve been awfully quiet the last few days, girl. What’s up?”

She shrugged, not answering, but her expression could just about freeze the herbs. He tried again. “Did you and Tom have a fight?”

She gasped out a laugh. “Don’t be silly. I’m just worried, is all.”

“About what?”

Her look clearly said,
you’ve got to be kidding
, as she picked up another container of herbs.

He moved to the next table and spread out a batch to help. When Casey spoke, her voice was small. “I wish he wouldn’t go.”

Sam turned in astonishment to stare at her. “He has to go, Case.”

She looked perplexed and angry. “Why? Where is that written?” She shrugged again. “He’s led the last three guarantee groups on maiden voyages. Maybe it’s time to let someone else take the reins. I’m thinking of asking him.”

“Don’t ask him to do that, Casey.” Sam couldn’t even look at her, he was so disturbed.

She threw the herbs onto the counter. “You have no right…”

“
You
have no right! Damn it, Casey! You have no right to ask this of him. You’ve lived with him all this time, you’ve loved him, and you don’t understand this one thing?”

“I understand he has children. He has a life, here.” Casey was shaking. “I can’t do it, Sam. I can’t let him walk onto that ship. If he doesn’t come back… how can I live without him? How can I live knowing I could have stopped him?”

“Casey, he can’t do it. No matter what you want, no matter what he wants, he can’t stay away. And if you ask him to, gods, Casey, do you have any idea what that will do to him?
Think
, damn it! If you force that choice on him, you destroy him. Do you see that?”

She shook her head, stubbornly. “No! It won’t! He has a right to stay with his wife and children. No one will blame him for that.”

“
He’ll
blame himself. You know that, Casey. If he’s not there and something happens, you’ll lose him anyway. He will never forgive himself and on some level, he’ll never forgive you for forcing it on him. Is that the life you want?”

He could see her shaking from across the room, as she gripped the table, trying to stay upright, tears falling on the herbs. “How can I live without him?” she whispered. “How do I do this?”

“You just let him go, Casey. You, of all people, understand that we all make our own choices. Yet you want to take his choice away from him and turn him into a prisoner.” Sam sat, trying to remain the calm one, and continued, “He’s worked—we’ve all worked—these past years to make this event a non-event. We have a very good chance of succeeding. But he must be there. If something happens, his knowledge, his skill, will be desperately needed by the two thousand people on that ship. If the worst happens, there are now enough lifeboats. He’ll be on a lifeboat. You can make him promise you that. I think he’d do it anyway, but ask him that. But don’t make him choose between you and those people. Because no matter what his choice is, Casey, you’ll be the loser.”