Unspeakable (12 page)

It surprised me how fresh and raw his grief still was. “That's his story, Jim. Not yours.”

“It's my story,” he said. “And I live it every day.”

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I shouldn't have asked.” God knows, there were many questions I'd never want to answer. Not to him. Not to anyone. I had walls of my own. “No one has the right to make you talk about something you don't want to.”

“You wouldn't understand.” He took the apple blossom
from my fingers and tucked it behind my ear. “You're perfect. What dark secrets could Ellie Ryan possibly have?”

I cringed inside as he said it. Ryan wasn't even my real name. And he knew nothing of my secret shame. Jim was right. Why talk about it?

Stooping, I picked up my shoes. “You promised we'd do things you can't do on a ship. And I've got one more—race me!” I bolted barefoot across the cool grass, not caring who saw or how unladylike it truly was. My father had always scolded me for running in the fields.

It was the last thing Jim expected, and I hoped it might give me enough of a lead to reach the far side first. But Jim was all muscle. All leg. Within seconds, he was beside me, matching my stride, taunting me with that smile as we sprinted across the sprawling lawn.

Both of us running full tilt, running from the past.

“
WHAT A PERFECT DAY
,” I sighed as we took the
funiculaire
back down and my spirits fell with it. “I don't want it to end. I don't want to go back to that horrid ship life.”

Jim seemed hurt.

“I don't mean you.” I took his hand, emboldened by our day together. “Jim, you're what gets me through the days—”

He looked away from me, a frown settling on his brow.

“It's just—” I continued, trying to put words on the feeling. “Don't you think there's something more?”

He stood in silence.

“No.” He gently pulled his hand away and turned from me, staring out at the distant
Empress
. “Not for me.”

I never understood his moodiness. But this time was worse. So absolute. So sudden. Other than the talk of his father, things seemed to be going so well.

“I can't—” He shook his head. “I'm sorry, Ellie. I can't do this.” The tighter he clenched his jaw, the more his lip seemed to tremble.

He wasn't making sense. My mind couldn't grasp what he meant, but my heart somehow knew. It clenched painfully in its knowing and, for a moment, I couldn't breathe.

“I shouldn't be here,” he finally said, “with you.”

A numbness spread from my core, protecting me from the sting of his message. But I forced myself to move, stepping in front of him again so that he had to face me. And I forced him to tell me. “What are you saying, Jim?”

The car slid down into the shadow of the town and stopped at the bottom, but that sinking feeling continued.

“It's not right. Us.” He hung his head, avoiding my eyes. “I just … I can't anymore.”

The doors opened and he sidestepped past me, off the car, past the gate, and just kept walking. Stunned, I followed him for a few steps and then stopped on the curb.

Jim was a hard man to read, closed, almost secretive. But today at the top of the hill, I felt a real connection. I saw the real Jim—a man I could love. The way his strong hands gripped me tight as I leaned over the edge and lingered on my waist long after I'd stopped. The way he caressed me with his breath, held me with his eyes. I hadn't imagined all that. He wanted me, too. I knew it. I just did.

Then
why
?

I watched his broad back move through the dwindling
crowd. The
X
of his suspenders, black against his white shirt, grew smaller and smaller with the distance between us. Head down, hands in his pockets, he seemed sad, all right. Regretful. I don't know, almost … guilty?

I'd felt more alive today than I had in months and I knew he did, too. Jim did want me—might even love me. But what did it matter? He said it wasn't right.
We
weren't right. And that was that.

There is someone else
. A voice whispered inside me and wouldn't be quieted.
Another woman
.

My stomach tightened into a sailor's knot, twisting until I doubted it would ever come undone. Jim Farrow had his secrets. Deep ones. But we never talked about them. Maybe they had to do with his father. But for all I knew, his secrets could have been about his girlfriend waiting for him in Liverpool.

Or his wife
.

I didn't realize I was crying until the old woman from the stall touched my arm. I looked down to see her holding out a broken flower. One she'd never sell. One no one would want. Shaking her head, she said something in French and patted my arm before hobbling back to her seat.

And when I looked back, Jim was gone.

TWO DAYS BEFORE

May 27, 1914

Quebec Harbour

Chapter Fourteen

THE GIRLS HAD HOUNDED ME
for details when I got back yesterday. I sloughed it off, made them think it was nothing. He was nothing. Said I was too tired to talk about it. But Meg saw through my facade. She knew how I looked when my heart had been broken. She'd seen it before at Strandview Manor. But even if I had wanted to talk, the next day we simply hadn't the time. The Wednesday before a sailing was always busy. Gaade and Matron Jones kept us running. It helped to keep my mind off things somewhat. Gaade was in total control of everyone and everything, checking the refrigerators, meeting with bakers and cooks, telling the butchers how to prepare the seven thousand pounds of fresh beef and pork and what to do with the twelve hundred chickens ready for roasting. It boggled the mind, really, and Gaade managed it all—every one of us in the stewarding department, every baker and bartender, cook and culinary expert, fell under his command and rose to his high standards.

He gathered the stewarding department in the second-class dining room, where we stood at attention as he gave us his usual spiel on what he expected of us. But this time he added that after a life of service at sea, this was to be his last sailing as chief steward. The
Empress
's owners, Canadian Pacific Railway, had offered him a job as port steward in Liverpool, and so he wanted his last voyage to be top-notch. We owed that to him, at least. He'd dedicated himself to the
Empress
, and though he had nothing to do with what happened in the engine room or captain's wheelhouse, Gaade was the one who managed smooth sailing for all the passengers by overseeing every detail from morning to night. Gaade wasn't Captain Kendall, but to my thinking, his role was just as important.

Gaade had approached me in the galley that morning while I was having a quick cup of tea in the corner. Given the hundreds under his command, I was surprised he'd remember my name, and his words shocked me even more. “Ellen, I know you didn't start here under the best terms, but I just wanted to tell you that I'm proud of how far you've come.”

“Thank you, sir.” It meant a lot to me to hear him say that.

“Your aunt would be proud of you.”

I doubted it. Whatever earned Aunt Geraldine's praise was something I clearly did not possess. Given what I'd put her through this past year, her lack of esteem for me was no surprise. We'd never been close, but she seemed to be more distant each time I returned to Strandview Manor between
sailings, spending more time locked in her study, clacking away on her typewriter. Come to think of it, I don't even remember her getting up to say goodbye to me this last time. I guess I just didn't matter.

“How is she faring?” Gaade asked. His concern made me wonder if they were closer friends than I thought. Close enough to get me hired in the first place.

“Oh, well, you know Aunt Geraldine.” I lifted my teacup to take a sip.

Gaade shook his head as he continued, “It's a wretched illness, liver cancer.”

Cancer?
I froze, cup midair, and looked at him in shock.

“She's an incredible person, your aunt,” he hastily added. “Strongest woman I know. If anyone can beat this, it's Geraldine Hardy.”

A steward called for him and Gaade left me standing alone in the corner.

Aunt Geraldine has cancer?

The first thing that hit me was anger.

Why didn't she tell me?

But why would she? She was my father's aunt. As her grandniece, I no doubt seemed a child to her. And I had been childish. Sulking about my problems, throwing temper tantrums when she made decisions for me—like signing me on with the
Empress
. Or months before, signing me into the Magdalene Asylum and, worse yet, leaving me there for so long.

Gaade didn't know it, but he had given me two truths in the galley that morning, both of which I needed to know.
One: I was a lot stronger than I thought. Looking back, I had come a long way in these past five months. And two: As strong as my aunt was, she needed me. Looking forward, I realized that if I served anyone, it should be her.

Chapter Fifteen