By the Light of the Silvery Moon (23 page)

A
melia was pleasantly surprised when the first person she saw in the morning as she walked out her stateroom door was the cheery-faced stewardess, Geraldine. Amelia rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Geraldine’s shoulders, offering her a quick hug. The truth was, as she’d awoken, Amelia’s thoughts had been on her mother again. Maybe it was because of her aunt’s words,
“I want you to have the love that your mother never found….”

It saddened Amelia to realize that. Her mother had been in at least one relationship; she’d given herself completely to another and had his child, but how sad it was that she hadn’t found a marriage partner to spend her life with and to enjoy love and family together.

“Oh, dear lass,” Geraldine said with a quick release of her breath as if Amelia had just knocked the air from her lungs. “Good morning to ya. What a beautiful day it is on this grand ship, isn’t it? A day so full of promise.”

“Yes, Geraldine. I hope for a relaxing day and perhaps time to explore new friendships.”

“Oh, I hope that’s not all you explore. You should take time to traipse around this ship. I’ve never seen a thing like it.”

“Well, I’ve covered most of first and second class….”

“Yes, but that is just the beginning.” Geraldine waved her feather duster in Amelia’s direction. “It is a shame for you to be on this ship and not see the third-class accommodations and the boilers underneath. As those on the high decks are lounging, there are men down below who can’t pause for a moment’s rest.”

“Although I’d love to see it all, I couldn’t ask such a thing. You have your duties, Geraldine. I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“And I can’t let you refuse, my dear.” Geraldine’s gaze grew serious. “No, I surely cannot neglect to give you a tour of this place. As one of us workers, your mother would have wanted you to see it—see how the rest of us go about the ship.”

Amelia swallowed down sudden emotion that grew in her throat.

“I can almost hear your dear, sweet mother now.
‘Gerri’
—as she used to call me—’
remind my daughter that the wealthy do what they do because they have the rest of us caring for them.’
And it’s the perfect timing for you to be here, too. Like Captain Smith, I’m retiring after this voyage.” Amelia noticed a quiver in her words. “I’ve had a good life on the sea, but when my bones start creaking more than the sway of the ship, I know it’s time to stop.” She patted Amelia’s arm. “Besides, this is a grand way to end things. I get a fresh thrill every time I clean the beautiful staterooms.”

Amelia nodded, and her chin quivered slightly as she imagined her mother at Geraldine’s age, still working, still caring for those who most likely didn’t give her a second glance. Was her mama out there somewhere doing that very thing?

“I would like such a tour, and I do have time while my aunt rises and prepares for the day, but don’t you have your own duties to attend to?”

“What are they going to do? Fire me?” Geraldine winked. “Come, let us go meet the other stewards and stewardesses. I don’t believe any were around who knew your mother, but they’ll be glad to know that she was one of our own. That you are one of us, deep in your heart where it matters.”

“Yes, of course.” Amelia smiled at those words, and she followed the older woman with quickened steps, surprised she was so spritely at her age. Amelia liked that Geraldine saw her as one of them. That was how she wanted to be seen—as a simple woman who took all that was offered to her and freely shared it. That was very different than the type of woman she felt when she was with Damien. In her fine dress and in the polished setting, it became easy to forget that all men and women were created equal. Last night she hadn’t paid a bit of mind to the dining stewards who’d served their table. Had there been one server? Two? Were they young? Old? It shamed her that she didn’t know.

Amelia followed Geraldine through a doorway that read, S
TAFF
O
NLY
. Down a hall, she found a washroom. Inside, a group of women were busy folding towels.

They all paused, eyes wide, as Amelia entered, their laughter stopping. They seemed almost worried, as if they’d all been caught robbing a bank window.

“Ladies, I’d like to introduce you to someone. This is Amelia Gladstone. Her mother, Emma, was a good friend of mine. We worked together as stewardesses many moons ago, back when the great liners were no more than tin cans.” Geraldine chuckled.

“Your mother, you say, was one of us?” a red-headed woman asked. The pinned cap on the top of her head did little to keep her mass of curls in place. She wiped damp, sweaty hair back from her face. “How special, then, for you to be a passenger! Third-class? Second?” The woman stepped closer.

“Second.” Geraldine puffed out her chest with pride. “But last night our dear Amelia was the guest of Mr. Damien Walpole in first class. He’s staying in one of the grand suites, but he ventured down to the second-class lounge to invite her to dine with him.”

The women’s mouths circled into Os, and Amelia glanced over at Geraldine in amazement. “Gerri, how did you know such things? Did you talk to my aunt?”

Laughter filled the room, echoing off the steel walls.

“Oh, Amelia, you have much to learn about your mother’s work. We have eyes and ears. We have friends from bow to stern.”

Amelia nodded, unsure how to respond. She looked deep into Geraldine’s eyes. What else did the woman know? Did she know about Quentin? Did she know that the man who called himself Henry Gladstone was the long-lost son of none other than C.J. Walpole in first class?

Amelia didn’t have time to ask. As the women continued their work, Geraldine led her to meet many of the other stewards and stewardesses who worked on the various decks.

For most of her life, Amelia had pictured her mother’s job a romantic one, but as she watched the stewardesses work, there was nothing romantic about making beds, cleaning bathrooms and cabins, sweeping, dusting, and bringing trays for breakfast or tea.

As they strolled the first-class area, Amelia kept her eyes peeled for C.J. or Damien, but she saw neither. Instead Geraldine provided commentary on many of the passengers they passed.

“Margaret Brown joined our liner after touring Cairo, Egypt. She vacationed with the Astors and with her daughter, Helen. She’s heading home because her grandson has taken ill. One of the stewards overheard her talking with a friend at tea. Apparently, in Cairo she visited a fortune-teller. After studying her palm, he said, ‘Water, water, water,’ and predicted a sinking ship surrounded by drowning people. They were laughing because, of all ships, they were booked on the
Titanic.
Poor thing, I hope she didn’t pay him too much for that prediction.” Geraldine shook her head.

Amelia nodded but didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t think much about fortune-tellers, but she wasn’t going to tell Geraldine that.

Geraldine pointed to an older man and woman. “Isidor Straus there is the co-owner of Macy’s department stores. He’s traveling with his wife, Ida. I hear the Strauses are very charitable and kindly. Many of the first-class stewardesses like waiting on them best.”

As they walked past the exercise room, Geraldine pointed to Mr. Astor exercising on one of the mechanical machines.

“Do you see that man?” Geraldine said. “John Jacob Astor. And his bride of a year.” His young wife sat next to him, watching him.

Amelia looked closer at the quiet, sullen young woman, wondering if it was just morning sickness that made her look upon the opulence so indifferently.

“The wealth of the world does not bring joy,” Amelia’s mother had told her once. “I’ve not seen more miserable passengers than those in first class.”

The more she walked through life—and through the decks of this ship—the more Amelia understood what her mother meant. Maybe people seemed sad because wealth separated them from others. There was always the question of whether others wanted to spend time with them—or with their things. There were expectations of how to live, what to say, what to wear, and how to act. And the more one owned, it seemed, the more the desire grew to achieve and acquire.

In her own life, Amelia knew she felt no greater joy than to make up some potato soup and take it to a family in need. Even on days when she was feeling tired or depressed by the gray Southampton clouds that blocked out the sun, getting out and thinking of another’s needs was the best way to bring a little sun into her life.

She felt awkward, too, to hear Geraldine commenting about the indiscretions of those in first class. Even though Geraldine was their servant, she talked about them as if she were far better than they. Amelia understood the men and women in first class better after last night. They were just people, like the rest of them, trying to find love and acceptance. Sitting among them, watching and listening to their conversations, had given her a different view.

How hard it must be to live one’s life with one million people looking on.
She remembered the weary look on John Jacob Astor’s face when he’d come to C.J. for an encouraging word. Yes, he was the richest man on the ship, but it was clear the treatment of others—their judgment on his indiscretions—had worn him down.

As Geraldine and Amelia continued their tour, two affable and well-groomed men strolled past them toward the smoking room. Both of the men stared at Amelia as they crossed paths, causing Geraldine to chuckle.

“Child, I’m sure they believe that you are a fine lady from this deck and I am your maid.”

“Probably so, but I do not like the way they stare.” She sidled closer to Geraldine. “It was like this the last time I walked these decks, too. Geraldine, do you know why?”

“I can guess.” The woman clicked her tongue. “They’re wondering if they know you and to which wealthy family you belong. They wish to know if you are unattached. If so, they might consider you someone to pursue. And finally”—Geraldine squeezed her arm—“because you’re beautiful. You’ve received many of the same stares in second class, dear, but here you’re more aware.”

Amelia felt herself blushing. “Yes, I do feel more self-conscious here….”

“Then perhaps it’s time to take you to third class and then to the decks below that. Some of my favorite friends work down there.”

Amelia followed Geraldine through a maze of passageways. “I hope your plans are to take me back to my room, too, because I’m afraid I’ll never be able to find my way on my own.”

“It is a complex maze, isn’t it, dear?” Geraldine pushed open yet another door that led down a long hall. “Most of us staff didn’t come on board until three days before the launch. Many, myself included, have gotten lost every day. The worst is trying to give directions to a passenger. I can never tell someone which door to take or which stairway to climb.”

Finally, as they walked a long, quiet passageway, she couldn’t help but ask, “Geraldine, I have a question for you. Have you remembered anything more about my mother? I’d love to hear news that seems unimportant even from long ago.”

“I’m sorry, Amelia. I am afraid I haven’t. We were good friends, but that was when my hair still had color and my face wasn’t all wrinkled up. I don’t even remember exactly when Emma stopped showing up. There are usually more workers than jobs available.”

“I bet there were many who wished they could be on the
Titanic
.”

“Yes, yes, indeed.” Geraldine nodded. “And I was one of the lucky ones.”

“So when you didn’t see my mother at work, you didn’t think much of it?”

“No, I just believed she didn’t get an assignment.”

“And after that?” “After that, I was certain she found a special man. Got married. Started a life. It was common. Most young stewardesses do.”

“What about you, Geraldine? Did you ever find love?”

“I did once.” Her voice grew wistful. She glanced up at the ceiling, yet Amelia could see a story in her gaze. “I found it, but it was lost.” She let out a sigh.

“Did he not feel the same?”

“He did, dear, but I did not trust the emotions. I didn’t think they could come on so strong. I thought it would be prudent that we wait, to get to know each other better. We wrote letters for a while, but many weeks would pass in between. I’d have to wait to mail the letters—or receive them—until we got to shore. Two years passed, and he got tired of waiting for me. Waiting for me to trust my heart.”

“I see.” Amelia swallowed hard, wishing she could let down her guard with Geraldine and tell her that she had the same feelings. She felt drawn to Quentin, but of all the men who were interested in her, he seemed by be the worst choice. Damien Walpole offered her the world. Mr. Chapman offered a good but simple life. But Quentin? He didn’t have anything to offer, nor had he shown much interest. If anything, he pushed her away. But it was him her thoughts trailed to.

She opened her mouth to talk about that, but the words didn’t come. Instead she turned her questions to Geraldine.

“So you say this will be your last voyage. Why’s that?”

“I’ve enjoyed my time on the sea, but I’ve saved enough for a small apartment. I even found one with a garden area in the courtyard. Because of the prolonged coal strike, jobs have been harder and harder to find. I told myself if I somehow made it on this liner, the
Titanic,
that it was God’s message to me that I’d done my good duty and now I could settle down. I told myself after that I’d only make one bed each day”—she chuckled—“my own.”

G
eraldine led Amelia to the third-class area, and though the staterooms were smaller and there was much less luxury, she was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the accommodations. Amelia also saw far more smiles there than she saw in first class. People sat in small groups, laughing and talking. Children chased each other, played, and sang songs from their homeland. Musicians gathered together, and although it was clear they didn’t understand each other’s language, they communicated through happy tunes.