Distant Waves (12 page)

T
hat night Blythe and I stayed up deep into the next morning, talking with Mimi, who curled up with a quilt in one of Agatha's overstuffed armchairs. The twins had woken up earlier and weren't nearly as surprised as the rest of us to see her. Then they returned to bed with Agatha and Mother, who made Mimi promise not to run off again without saying good-bye.

"Tell us everything about Victor," Blythe requested eagerly now that the adults were asleep.

Mimi sat forward in the chair. "Jane has already seen him. Do you remember, Jane?"

I did, and I told her so.

"Who could forget him?" Mimi went on. "He is so handsome with large dark eyes. He's slim with broad shoulders. For some reason Mr. Guggenheim assumes he's Egyptian."

"But he's not?" I asked.

"No! He thinks it's funny that Mr. Guggenheim just jumped to that conclusion by looking at him, so he doesn't 
tell him otherwise. But Victor was born in England and his ancestry is Italian."

"Will you continue traveling with the Guggenheims?" I asked, trying to keep tones of disapproval from my voice and not completely succeeding.

There was tension in the air as Mimi looked me in the eyes. "I know you don't approve of Ninette," she said after a long pause.

"Have I ever said so?" I replied.

"You don't need to
say
anything," she snapped.

"That's your business. I only asked if you'd be traveling with them." Really, I didn't want to fight.

"Mr. Guggenheim is here in England. We left Ninette behind in Paris with her maid so she could see family and friends. She'll board the
Titanic
when it docks in Cherbourg to pick up passengers. It looks better."

I scoffed. "Who do they think they're fooling? Everyone knows what's going on between them."

"There's a fortune in money involved, so Mr. Guggenheim doesn't like to leave any proof that his wife's lawyers could get a hold of," Mimi explained evenly, as though it was a mere legal consideration.

"When did you become so worldly?" I asked. She had changed -- she seemed older, more sophisticated -- and I didn't like it.

"I've been traveling the world for over half a year, Jane, and I've been with Ninette, who was a cabaret singer in 
Paris before she met Mr. Guggenheim. So yes, I am
worldlier
than when I left. I don't think that's so bad."

"Well, I do!" I said, raising my voice. "You've been dazzled by Ninette and her crowd. You think the way they live is all right just because they're rich. I don't think they're happy or good. You never used to care so much about money. What is it you think money will do for you?"

"Ha!" Blythe laughed. "What
won't
it do?"

"I'm not talking to you!" I snapped. "Money protects a person from the world," Mimi replied forcefully.

"Why do you need protection from the world?" I demanded.

"Why can't you get this through your head, Jane? Because I'm black!"

"No, you're not," Blythe insisted.

"I am!" Mimi shot back. "I have been to Europe and even to Northern Africa. It's not like America. Although I did observe instances of racism in France and other places, people of color are not second-class citizens
everywhere
in the world."

"Then why are you worried about telling Victor about your background?" I asked.

Mimi sighed deeply. "Because he wants to live in America, and so --"

"I don't want to talk about all this," Blythe said 
insistently, clasping her hands over her ears. "They fought the Civil War before we were born. Slavery is ended, and everyone should treat everyone fairly."

"You're as naive as Mother, Blythe," Mimi commented.

"I don't care. All I want to know is how Mimi intends to get me on the
Titanic
with her," Blythe said.

"What are you talking about?" Mimi asked, startled.

Blythe threw off her blanket and crossed to Mimi, perching on the arm of her chair and grabbing hold of her hand. "You have to; you must get me on that ship. It's my dearest wish in the whole world."

"Since when?" I challenged.

"Don't you remember? I told you how I longed to be on that ship, Jane. Mimi, you said Ninette has a maid; I'll be the maid's assistant -- as long as I don't have to wear a uniform. I wouldn't like that. Better yet, I'll be
your
assistant! I'll be the companion of the companion. I'll sleep on the floor. It doesn't matter as long as I can be on the
Titanic.
Did you know they call it 'The Ship of Dreams'? I read that in a magazine."

Mimi gazed down at her thoughtfully. "I suppose you're old enough to be a mother's helper," she considered.

"Yes!" Blythe cried. "I love helping mothers!"

"When have you ever helped a mother with anything?" I countered.

"I help our mother."

"Ha! Barely! You have to be prodded and reminded just to pick your petticoats off the bedroom floor."

"Well, this would be different," Blythe replied. "I could do it."

"In France I spoke to a woman who was very nice. We met at the ticket office of the White Star Line there when I was picking up our tickets. She had been sent tickets for the liner
La France
but when she learned that her two little girls would not be allowed to take meals with her and her husband, they changed the
La France
tickets for ones on the
Titanic,
Her first-class tickets on the
La France
cost the same as second-class tickets on the
Titanic."

"That's nice, but what does it have to do with me?" Blythe asked, a touch impatiently.

Mimi smiled. "I'm getting to that. Juliette -- that is her name -- asked if I knew of a nanny who might want to take care of her two little girls for the duration of the trip because she is pregnant with a third child. I said I didn't, but I took her name and address just in case I heard of anyone."

"I'll do it!" Blythe exulted.

"You're only thirteen," I reminded her.

"Nearly fourteen, and Mimi will be there. Can you phone her, Mimi?"

"I have no phone number, but I could send a telegram."

Emma appeared in the room, rubbing her eyes, her long hair in her face. "What's going on?"

Blythe leaped from the chair onto Emma, hugging her happily. "I'm going on the
Titanic
with Mimi!" she revealed. In the moonlight her face glowed, luminous with happy excitement.

Emma scowled. "We should all go home together on the boat we came over on."

"That's a great idea," I agreed. "We can get Mimi a ticket."

"I don't want to be on that old tub," Blythe said. "We should
all
go on the
Titanic."

We debated this for another half hour, but clearly no one was going to change her mind. Emma returned to her guest room on the second floor. One by one, Mimi, Blythe, and I drifted off to sleep.

Some hours later, I was roused from sleep by the repeated banging of a shutter outside the window. A howling wind had risen while we'd been sleeping. Once awake, I needed to use the bathroom, which was on the second floor, and so I got off the couch.

When I came out of the bathroom, I noticed that the door to the room Mother, Amelie, and Emma were sharing was open. Mother and Emma slumbered, but Amelie was not in her bed. Looking down the dark hall, I saw no sign of her.

Hurrying down the stairs, I checked the kitchen but she wasn't there. It was only when I came back to the living room that I noticed the front door was slightly ajar.

Had Amelie gone out? But where? Why?

I grabbed my coat from the stand and threw it over my nightgown. Moving fast, I slipped, barefoot, into my high-button boots by the front door, not even bothering to fasten them.

Out in the dark, empty street, the ocean wind blew my hair in front of my eyes and made my coat flap open until I clutched at it. Looking in every direction, I saw no sign of her.

Not knowing what else to do, I headed down toward the beach and crossed the road to the boardwalk. The ocean gusts were fierce there, whipping my hair and clothing. Thankfully the full moon illuminated the beach, enabling me to spot Amelie's lithesome silhouette down at the shoreline.

Was she crazy? What was she doing there all alone in the dark? It was certainly far from warm.

With my head down, I set out across the beach, treading with determination despite the sand pouring into my boots. In the middle of the beach, the sand made it too hard to walk, so I stopped to pull off my footwear.

At the moment I pulled off the second boot, I looked over to Amelie. In the next second, I flung the boots and raced across the beach at full speed.

The lunatic was walking into the ocean! By the time I reached her, she was thigh deep in the crashing, white, foaming surf.

"Amelie!" I screamed. "Amelie!"

She never turned. Was she ignoring me? Was the howling wind carrying my voice away? "Amelie!"

She continued forward and was quickly to her waist.

Tossing off my coat, I headed into the white foam. The freezing water sent a painful shock from my toes to my head. It sucked the breath from my lungs.

I forced myself to move forward through the crashing surf, dancing about to avoid being knocked over. "Amelie!" I called.

She kept going.

I couldn't swim, but neither could she. There was no choice but to go after her. Pushing my way through the wind and the water, I hurried toward her. "Amelie, you're going to get us killed!" I shouted, desperate to get her attention.

It was impossible to make headway with the wind and water pushing me back.

Finally... finally, I got close enough to yank her arm. With physical strength I'd never experienced before, I pulled her back to shore, though she resisted me every step of the way, her back to me, pulling to go out to sea.

When we were knee high, I pushed her forward so hard, 
she fell down. I stumbled onto her, falling into the frigid water.

"Amelie! What are you doing?!" I screamed.

A freezing wave hit us both in the face.

When I shook off the water, I really saw Amelie up close for the first time that night. Her eyes were wide and she gazed at me without recognition.

The sound of a voice crying out made me turn to the shore. Blythe was there, also in her nightgown, jumping and waving her arms. Mimi was racing down the beach, blankets bundled in her arms.

In the next minute, Blythe was crashing through the surf toward us. "Help me get her up!" I commanded. Together we were able to get her out of the water. Mimi met us with a wool blanket opened wide to enfold first Amelie, then me.

My teeth chattered uncontrollably and yet Amelie was strangely serene. "She's sleepwalking again," Blythe realized as Mimi spread the blanket over my shoulders.

"Why does she do it?" Mimi asked. She shook Amelie. "Wake up!" she shouted. "Wake up!"

"Don't do that," I said.

Amelie blinked hard and then began to cry.

"Are you awake, Amelie?" I asked.

She nodded as the tears streamed from her eyes.

"Why are you crying?" I asked, though I knew she wouldn't answer me.

Amelie's tears escalated into huge, rolling sobs. She was nearly hysterical.

Mimi took hold of her shoulders firmly. "Come on; let's get home. It's freezing out here."

We made our way across the beach without saying anything more. As soon as we opened Agatha's front door, though, we heard horrifying screams from upstairs. "That's Emma!" Blythe cried as she, Mimi, and I raced to the second floor.

The door was still open and we found Mother trying to subdue Emma, who thrashed wildly on the bed, shrieking with terror. "Emma, wake up!" Mother shouted. "You're dreaming! Wake up!"

She threw Mother off with the elevated strength of the truly terrified and desperate. Her eyes were like saucers. Her arms swept back and forth rapidly. "Help me, Mother!" she screamed. "Help! I'm drowning!"

"You're not drowning, Emma!" Mother yelled. "I'm here. You're dreaming!"

Agatha bolted into the room, mudpack and sleep bonnet on. "Who's drowning? What's happening?"

"Emma's having a nightmare," I told her.

"A waking nightmare," Blythe added.

"Oh, the night terrors," Agatha said.

Amelie came into the room, dripping water everywhere. I wasn't sure if she was awake or asleep.

Only then did Mother and Agatha look at us closely. "You're wet!" Mother cried, aghast. "Where have you been?"

Before we could answer, Amelie got onto the bed and put her arms around the frantic Emma. Like a blind person, Emma felt her wet hair and wet face and slowly seemed soothed.

"We have to get her out of that wet nightgown," Agatha said, but Mother held up a hand to stop her. Emma laid her head on Amelie's shoulder. Together they lay down on the bed and quickly drifted back to sleep.