Once We Were (3 page)

Suddenly, the waves broke around him. He floated in midair then slammed roughly into a lifeboat. “There!” the crewman snapped. “The man is saved!  Now will you shut up and bloody pull before we're all at the bottom of the Atlantic!”

“
He's an officer,” the second crewman recognized Ioan's uniform. He hit Ioan's cheek to get him to come to.

“
A dead one by the looks of it. Is everyone happy now? We've rescued a dead man. Go on and throw him back over. Only breathing people on this boat.”

“
He's still alive!” the other crewman defended. “Just barely is good enough for me.”

Ioan couldn't move. He couldn't hear them shouting at each other. He did nothing but breathe. A woman took charge of him. She threw whatever blankets they could spare over him. Her fingers touched his cheek gently. “It's going to be alright, sir. Hold on just a little longer,” she whispered.

Ioan couldn't feel her. Her lips moved lazily in his vision. 

Her gentle eyes turned away. The rest of the occupants followed her gaze. Ioan saw little behind her shawl, but what he did see haunted him thereafter. The ship ripped in half. The lights erupted and suddenly they were all in darkness.

“She's gone lads!” a crewman shouted. “Row! Row like hell!”

Chapter 2

“And now you, miss.”

Cora blinked. She stared at the seaman's pale hand. It was so bright and dreamlike. She thought she died over night. She realized she was the last person in the boat. Her knees still trembled. “I don't think I can climb,” she said.

“Not to worry, miss. You'll take the swing then.” He stood her up and sat her in the sling. “Hang on tightly,” he told her. The swing jerked and Cora clenched the ropes.  “Easy, lads! She's a light one.” The waves swirled hungrily beneath her feet. She longed for the ladder instead. She closed her eyes tightly. “Hurry, hurry, hurry. Get me up,” she whispered to the crewmen reeling her in.

Sunlight chased away the perplexing night.  Many prayed for morning, but no one knew it quite the same. A second class passenger perched on deck with a  cold cup of tea. He escaped Titanic by offering his services as an oarsman. He'd felt lucky back then. He counted the remaining passengers rescued by the Carpathia. The lack of numbers disturbed him.  Even scarcer were the men. He stiffened, realizing he'd be welcomed by shame and ridicule when they reached New York.  He watched the last passengers stumble onto the deck. Survivors, but ghosts all the same.

He never saw a sight so tragic as a young woman pulled from the last boats. She'd seen all fire and brimstone. She was bad news to the women refusing to surrender hope.  She was Titanic, a rare beauty transformed into a hollow skeleton. They draped a blanket over her shoulders. She never thanked them. She never moved a muscle. He saw the ruin of the ship again in her eyes, from the moment it struck the ice berg to the moment it was swallowed in two. He saw it all and it broke his heart. He could never imagine what loss she must endure and figured she needed assistance until she was well.

“
Something hot to drink, miss?” he offered. Her haunting eyes turned on him. They were so glossed over and horrific that he was sure she'd cracked. A crewman approached them with pen and clipboard. “Could I get your names, please?”

“
Blaze Eastman,” the man replied.

“
And yours, miss?”

She stared blankly at him. “Madam, he will be requiring your name for the passenger list,” Blaze told her.

“Cora,” she whispered. “Harlow.”

“
Thank you.” He turned away.

“
Sir,” Cora called. She hesitated but proceeded carefully. “Are...are there any more boats, sir?”

“
We've not accounted for all of the twenty. There are reports that two were  overturned during the night but there were no passengers inside,” he told her.

“
And of the crew? Are there any officers on board?”

“
Only four officers accounted for. Their names are here.” He showed her the list. Cora's eyes scanned it over and over. Saier was not among them.

“
What about Beatrice Luckett? Anyone by that name on board?”

“
No, ma'am. No Beatrice Luckett on my list.”

“
Thank you,” she whispered.

“
I am very sorry, miss.” He gave his sympathies and continued taking names.

The only way to watch a ship sink into the Atlantic was to hope. Hope that Ioan would keep his promise and meet her when morning broke. She never allowed herself to explore the alternative. Ioan didn't belong with the lost. She couldn't handle the idea.  “I am here for you, Cora. I will take care of you,” Blaze comforted her.

“Another one in bound!” a crewman shouted. Deck hands rushed to the ladder and dropped the ropes. Cora scrambled to her feet but her knees were still shocked. Blaze took her arm over his shoulder to support her. “He needs immediate medical attention!” someone shouted from the water. “Have you a doctor aboard?”

“
Grab the hammocks! Quickly! How many are there?”

“
Two dead! One dying!”

Cora forced herself to the rails. “Miss, please stand back,” the crewman instructed. He didn't want to encourage other passengers to imitate her, but she wouldn't hear him. The hammock swung on deck. Her heart sped. She barely got his name out. “Ioan!” She frantically felt his face for warmth. “Ioan, you're so cold!” she declared. “You're like ice!”

“Nonsense,” he said. “You don't understand the meaning of it.”

Cora's teardrops rolled onto his face. “I don't know what to do,” she said. “Do I laugh or cry? I want to kill you.”

“Miss, please step back. This man needs a doctor,” the crewman told her.

“
He needs someone to look after him,” she persisted. “So he won't fall asleep.”

“
Get him below decks so he can warm up,” the crewman instructed his men. “The ship doctor will refer him to a hospital in New York.”

“
God, I'm going to America,” Ioan said reluctantly. “Really, blokes, that isn't necessary. Patch me up with a bandage and put me on a ship back to England. I'll be better off there.”

“
Stop complaining and be grateful they're taking the trouble,” Cora told him.

“
And they leave me to the gobby American girl,” Ioan remarked.

“
You're not doing such an awful job yourself,” Cora answered. His eyes blinked heavily. “Don't fall asleep. Keep talking to me. What do you plan to do in America?”

“
I'm not going back to America,” Ioan said.

“
Don't be such a baby.”

“
You do recall the last time I was in America,” Ioan reminded her.

“
I can't forget it,” she said.

“
I'd like to forget it,” he said. “In fact, I was doing an excellent job forgetting prior to this inconvenience.”

“
Then try harder to forget. Anything to keep from falling asleep,” Cora answered. Simpler to say than do. Forgetting hadn't been an option. Ioan was cursed to remember every detail regarding summer of 1901. It proved an awkward season, to say the least. Two adolescents shoved into a big fancy room, the best the girl's family could reserve. She was beckoned by her nanny through one door, and her reluctant visitor was shoved by his father through another. The girl took her seat delicately by the fireplace and waited, impatiently, but with the politeness demanded of her sex. The boy kept his silence. He looked everywhere around the room. He observed the maroon velvet drapes, the expensive Mediterranean carpets, the shapely chairs, the dark wooden tables carved with cherubs and harps, the teacups, and anything but at her. He stood aloof  and distracted himself from her gaze, fiddling with the handle of an ancient colonial sword put on display.  He was fascinated by the history and noted that Massachusetts was the heart of the American Revolution. He liked the thought of seeing Boston if ever he could spare the time.

The girl scowled at him. She would not tolerate invisibility. “Mhm?” she cleared her throat, which was astonishing manners for a lady. He turned to face her as if suddenly realizing she was in the same room. “Do you have the time?” she asked. He hesitated before pulling out a silver pocket watch from his coat. “3 o'clock.” He snapped it shut again.

“We've been here an hour?” she  groaned. “It's pass tea time.”

“
I can order you tea if you'd like. The attendants here are excellent. Or so I've heard,” he told her.

“
I suppose we must say something, Mr. Saier,” she sighed, ignoring his suggestion. “We won't leave this room until we do.”

“
What do people say when they are engaged?” he asked quietly.

“
Ha!” Even her laugh was unbearable. “Don't you read, Mr. Saier? In the novels, after the gentleman asks for the lady's hand and declares his undying love,  he carries her away on a horse and takes her to far away places for a romantic honeymoon like France or Africa.”

“
You want me....to take you to Africa....on a
horse?
” he replied in disbelief.

“
The horse is negotiable. I can not be seen on those hideous things. They have a murdering stench,” she complained.

“
I like horses,” he told her. “My father used to own some.”

“
Well I'm surprised you don't stink like them. I can't stand to be around the beasts,” she giggled. He couldn't stand that unnerving laughter. He took his silence again, turning his attention back to the painting of a colonial ship leaving port.

“
So you're English?” she asked, competing for his eyes. “You don't talk like anyone around here.”

“
Actually, I'm Welsh. Well, half. My father's English, but I prefer my mother's side.”

“
Oh. My father forgot to emphasis just how much. You're speech is drenched in the accent. You sound like an attendant.
'May I take your order, ma'am?'
” She laughed at her private joke. “If I hadn't known any better, I'd have thought you were a manservant.”

“
There are plenty of respectable persons, manservant and lord alike, who carry my accent, and they are all very good people,” he defended himself.

“
Not around here. We don't get very many respectable Brits in this part of town. Most of them are hired as servants because they speak so pretty. I personally never saw any magic in the speech. I think it a bit overpraised and...swanky...but in a laughable kind of way.”

“
You're entitled to your opinion.”

She chuckled. “Oh, how I like you. Father says a lady's opinion is shaped by her husband's. He told me never to disagree with you no matter the topic.”

“I like a lady with a good opinion,” he commented. “It keeps the conversation away from the crickets.”

She smiled politely, though he was sure she didn't catch the slight on her character. “So what do you enjoy doing? I'm sure a boy like yourself has plenty of time on his hands with all the servants at his every request.”

“You misunderstand us. We don't have many servants, and the ones we do have work part time as gardener or stable keeper.”

“
I thought your father was rich. I don't know why they make such a fuss over our engagement. I must say though, after meeting you, I'm starting to fancy it myself.” She batted her eyes at him.

He didn't answer.

“Go on. Tell me about your passions and your deepest pursuits.”

“
I want to be a sailor.”

“
A sailor!” she cried horrified.

“
I love the sea. I learned to swim before I could walk.”

She laughed until her face burned crimson. “That's absolute rubbish! My father's off his rocker if he thinks I'm marrying a sailor! There must be some mistake!” She gasped for air, fanning herself as she tried to control her laughter, but then bursts into a fit again. “A sailor!” She nearly died trying to catch her breath and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Oh, go on, tell me about something real now. What is your name? I suppose I must know it now.”

“Saier,” he replied.

“
No, not your surname. The other one.”

“
Ioan.”

“
I said no more jokes!”

“
That
is
my name.”

“
What sort of name is that?” she cackled.

“
My mother gave it to me. It's the last thing she said before she passed on. So I'm told.”

“
My mother is dead too. I don't remember her either. My nanny looks after me. She has a daughter of her own.  Despite her horrifying social status, she is a sweet mannered girl. I am proud to call her a dear friend and sister. I told her all about you. She suggested a tea party, which I thought a novel idea. She's anxious to meet you.”

Ioan cringed at the idea. Any more of Miss Luckett's kind, and he'd cheerfully shoot himself. “I'd cheerfully shoot myself,” he blurted out, but caught himself quickly. “I mean I'm sorry I have to decline. I promised my father I'd do some errands. Post matters and such.”

“Aw, you poor wretched boy. Well, another day, another time. Mrs. Harlow, I'm exhausted! I want to go home!” Miss Luckett called.

Ioan prayed for that moment. Out of all the characters he'd met in a lifetime, Miss Luckett was the most appalling. Absolutely nothing but dust and air flowing through that pretty auburn head. He found that she was right on one occasion. For their station, the Harlows were quite graceful, almost noble. It was baffling. Mrs. Harlow entered the room so delicately that he stopped to take in her figure. Her angelic gold hair wrapped in a neat bun, so soft and lustrous that even Helen of Troy snorted in jealousy. Her eyes were a curious, playful pigment he couldn't guess, and failed to guess as she left with her dependent. He'd marry her over Miss Luckett any day.

Suddenly, a strong hand tightened around his collar. He choked as it yanked him  through the door. His father dragged him along. Ioan stumbled to keep up. “Very good, Ioan. Miss Luckett is utterly smitten. I thought you never had it in you,” he said coolly.

“
Am I really going to be engaged to Miss Luckett?”