Hearts That Survive (32 page)

He began with what sounded like another lecture on responsibility. "You'll soon be eighteen and off to college. Do you have any idea what you want to do with your life?"

Lydia closed her eyes, wanting to object. They opened wide when Beau said, "Make movies."

"All right. You have my blessing and support for what this entails."

She heard Beau's intake of breath.

"We'll search this out together."

Beau was on the edge of the seat. Craven held up his hand. "This does not mean I'm buying you some company so you can play around. I can put you into this. And I can take you out."

Beau would believe that.

"Remember who you are. You have a name and reputation," Craven said. "You will not be allowed to dishonor that."

"I won't, sir."

That was a big order for a seventeen-year-old. And yet, glancing at him and seeing the jubilation on his face, Lydia remembered that anyone that young believed he could conquer the world.

Beau was overwhelmed. "Dad. This is unbelievable."

"Believe it. All of it."

Beau went over to Craven. His voice shaky, he said, "You sure know how to surprise a fellow."

"Runs in the family."

Lydia knew what Craven meant. But she smiled. Her son was embracing Craven, saying, "Thank you. Thank you."

Craven patted Beau's back. "You're welcome."

Even if Craven was giving him up, her son would have what he wanted.

Beau stepped back, his eyes tearful. "But I will work in the office this summer."

"I know you will," Craven replied.

Yes, that would be right and good. Craven couldn't exactly disown a boy who would someday own Beaumont Enterprises, and be Craven's boss, even if only on paper.

They were a family. Beau had what he had always wanted from Craven, his blessing and support. Beau need never know about that past life.

The secret was safe.

Beau began discovering the world and its possibilities. When he came home from film school, and then his apprenticeship with a Hollywood production company who acknowledged his innovative ideas, the three of them had wonderful conversations.

Now that Craven didn't have to accept Beau, they got along fine. Beau began making a name for himself. He planned a documentary about the
Titanic.

Now that Beau was an adult, Lydia and Craven had no reason to withhold information about the
Titanic
tragedy from him. "I wonder if the public has lost interest by now," Craven said. "There have been other tragedies, wars, and the stock market crash."

However, she and Craven gave him every opportunity and the means to form his own company. While gathering material for his documentary, he made a couple of movies that gained recognition, but he said acceptance in Hollywood did not come easy. The documentary, primarily about the making of the ship and the mechanical reasons it sank, was a surprising success.

Beau and his colleagues tested the public's continued interest by making another documentary, featuring survivors. He had ready-made material in her, Craven, Caroline, and Bess.

They said nothing to imply Lydia had married on the ship. Anyway, Beau was seeking material about the sinking and how they survived, not who might have walked down a staircase in a wedding dress.

Phoebe was not mentioned. The documentary featured mainly older people who had survived, including third-class passengers telling the horror of even women and children being trapped below. By the time some arrived topside, all the lifeboats, not even filled, were gone. He featured the terror, the horror, the injustice, the carelessness, the class distinctions as if he were not upper class, and Lydia was proud.

The documentary's great success shocked even Beau, the dreamer-producer. He'd tested the waters, and now he had greater plans. He wanted to make a major motion picture but knew that could take years. There were sets to build, actors to acquire, and other movies to keep his company financially secure without his parents' handout.

Somewhere along the line he found time to fall in love with an aspiring actress named Angelina who had trained in fashion design and worked in the costume department. Lydia had heard the remark that no girl was good enough for a mother's son. Whoever said it was right.

There wasn't anything particularly wrong with her. Everything seemed to be in the right places, and she was pretty. More than pretty, to be honest. But they couldn't very well talk about design because Lydia's home was furnished with the best and the latest and it had come from many places in the world.

The girl had traveled some with Beau's company, but she would have been on the set and not out touring the great palaces and learning about period furniture and such.

Beau shortened Angelina's name to Angel, which irritated Lydia to no end. "That sounds a little too heavenly for a common girl," she said to Craven.

But they had a lovely church wedding in California, followed by a reception, sponsored by the groom's parents, at the surprisingly acceptable place Angelina's parents had in Malibu. Craven had sent the private plane for the Bettencourts and the Oaks. David was a groomsman.

Craven had stood as best man for John.

He stood as best man for John's son.

She remembered he'd said for her, he was the better man.

Caroline said the unpardonable, "One of these days we'll be grandparents."

Lydia gasped. "I will never be anything that sounds like a . . ." she cleared her throat, "granny." They laughed. "Nor a baby sitter."

Caroline just smiled and said, "I've heard that before," as if this were a matter of a woman's prerogative to change her mind.

After the couple left for their honeymoon on the islands of Hawaii, David had his own announcement. His dad had taught him to catch fish. God would teach him to be a fisher of men.

In a private conversation Caroline told Lydia that David and Joy were together constantly when David came home from the university, and Joy had a break from her nursing studies. She believed they would marry.

"Are you pleased?" Lydia asked.

Caroline smiled. "That's what Bess asked me and I told her extremely so."

Bess had become a welcome part of their lives, and Lydia understood Caroline's reasoning even better as she explained.

"In addition to their being in love, Joy comes from a mom who knows how the upper class lives, and how to serve others with grace and humility. Willard is a conscientious, hard-working man. Joy has been influenced by those qualities," she said. "She's a bit sassy like her mom can be, but she's a sweet girl. A supportive type who will make a good pastor's wife."

Lydia marveled at Caroline's attitude. Maybe she should try to see the good qualities in Angelina.

Their children were making mature decisions, and there seemed nothing on the horizon to mar those ambitions of theirs. For the time being, all was smooth sailing.

T
he Second World War slowed Beau's dreams. He had White Star Line's list of
Titanic
survivors and had begun contacting more of them than he had when he'd made the documentaries. He'd sent out notices in the media for anyone with information or memorabilia to contact him or send items to the Beaumont office, where a room was set aside for such.

He wouldn't be available to receive the information, however. He joined the Navy and was assigned to the base at Pearl Harbor. Angelina and his production crew agreed that would be a wonderful setting for a movie with a love story theme.

Japan had a different idea. The shock of the bombing and fear drove Lydia to her knees. She and Caroline stayed in constant contact. David's experience was harrowing from the beginning. When the war broke out, the West Nova Scotia Regiment was mobilized as an active service force battalion. David was often in the midst of the fighting, serving as chaplain.

David returned home battle scarred, but not as one of the 352 Nova Scotians who lost their lives nor the more than one thousand who were wounded or missing. Beau's and Angelina's lives were spared. He served in Hawaii for the duration of the war and filmed the horror, but he also included love stories.

Lydia's arms ached to embrace her son, but after the war ended, he remained in Hawaii to film, promising to return soon. He asked if anything to do with the
Titanic
had materialized.

"A few survivors contacted the office," Lydia said, then added, thinking it would make him smile, "And a new case of champagne bottles arrived. Most wine bottles come empty, but the champagne is intact."

"I saw a report on that," he said. "The corks on champagne don't implode like those in the wine. I want them. When I make the movie, they'll come in handy. But," he went on, "the public may now be more interested in war stories than
Titanic
stories. Still, I might find something to regain their interest."

Lydia relayed the message to Craven, who said the same thing about waning interest. "But Beau thinks he might find something."

"He just might," Craven said, and it sounded like a warning. "He's relentless in his search."

A gnawing concern stirred. "Would you ever tell him?" She could imagine that if Beau found something to cause him to ask personal questions, Craven might say,
No. I'm not your dad. I make real trains. You come from a fellow who made toys.

Her hand was on her heart when Craven said, "I, tell him? Break his heart? Leave him fatherless? When he questions me, I will say
ask your mother."

Craven said
when.
But it was an
if.
More likely a
never.
After all this time. Anything that came up would have to be from a survivor like Phoebe, who had been a flower girl. Caroline had kept in touch with her over the years.

But she wouldn't be concerned. So much had changed through the years. She looked at Craven. Except him. How could a man his age have no wrinkles, only a few lines and hair that had turned, not gray, but silver? She realized she was smiling, and he was watching her. Then he winked.

But she had another idea. "I'd like to go to Beau's office tomorrow. His former office workers might not be available when he returns."

The next day Craven left his office in the afternoon and came into Beau's. She looked at her watch. "I didn't realize it was so late. Let me file some of this, and then we can go."

"May I help?"

"There's a crate over there. Open that while I finish here. And if it's champagne, just stack the bottles on the shelf in the storage closet. Should be a tool in there you can use."

He tore off the envelope attached to the crate and read the letter inside. "Interesting," he mused. "These were found by a fisherman off the Newfoundland coast before the war, along with other
Titanic
items. Seems some deep-sea divers dislodged them, or something broke loose from the ship."

He read more. "Southampton kept the items but didn't remove these after seeing what they were. Of course, they've known of Beau's movie projects for years, and thought he might use them."

He opened the crate while she complained. "I don't know why people claim to have been on the
Titanic
when they're not on the passenger list."

"They want to be in a movie."

She supposed so.

"More bottles." He took the wrapping off the bottles and lined them up on the desk. Some were empty, most were still intact.

He was trying to remove a cork, and finally succeeded, then took a piece of paper from the bottle.

"What's that?"

"I'm reading it."

She was only trying to make conversation. He was taking his time.

Finally he said, "It's a note from someone who sent the bottle."

"Someone else wanting a part in the movie?"

"That could happen. Looks more like . . . utter nonsense."

Seeing his hand tighten, she thought he was about to wad it up and toss it into the trash. Beau would need extras, representing over 2,500 passengers, plus the crew. "Craven, why don't you leave the note in the bottle? Beau can sort out what's utter nonsense or not."

"You're right." He rolled the note and returned it to the bottle. "It's his movie. Let Beau sort it out."