Titanic: Ghosts of Southampton Book One

She had not expected to find herself standing here aboard the largest cruise liner in the world, a Third Class passenger, staring back at the ever shrinking dock of her native Southampton, wondering where she was headed, how she would get there, and whom she would become upon the other side.

Yet, here she was at midday on a cold, windy April 10, staring out at a myriad of faces she, thankfully, did not recognize, wearing someone else’s dress, her hair down and billowing in the breeze, leaving everything behind, starting anew.

Well, perhaps not everything. The fresh wounds mingled with old scars, both figuratively and literally, and she couldn’t help but think about the baggage she carried with her, despite the one small carpetbag she had stowed below deck earlier before coming aboard to fake a smile and wave at strangers. It would take some time to let the lingering memories fade, let the wounds heal, let the scars dissipate. At least now, on this new journey, she was compelled to breathe a small sigh of relief, knowing there was little chance that anyone with knowledge of her former existence, with the exception of the woman standing next to her and her young family, would likely be within a thousand miles of her location in just a few days’ time. The acceptance of this information was enough to coax the forced smile to meet her eyes. Perhaps she would have some semblance of peace at last and the opportunity to start again.

That was her initial thought, anyway, until she felt the piercing sting of a penetrating gaze from over her right shoulder and glanced up to realize at least one of her problems had followed her after all.

Gasping in recognition, she turned quickly, directing her stare back at the crisp blue water below her. Though she had not intended to cause a stir, she caught the attention of her companion at her side. With an annoyed smirk, Kelly gave her only partial attention, continuing to wave with one hand as she held her baby against her shoulder. “Meg? What could possibly be the matter now?” she asked through clenched teeth, in her thick Irish accent, bouncing the impatient babe as she did so. “We’re launchin’. You can’t possibly still be worried that we’ve been followed.”

She was very much aware of the fact that Kelly was no longer obligated to tolerate her paranoia and that the shift in their relationship would allow her a looser tongue were she so inclined to begin to vocalize her disposition, not that their previous arrangement had ever been much of a hindrance to Kelly’s self-expression. Nevertheless, Meg’s current state of being unsettled was not at all unwarranted, and the weight of those green eyes still bore through the back of her skull; she could feel it. “He’s here!” she replied, gesturing only slightly for her friend to look up at the deck above them.

The annoyance was still very detectable in Kelly’s tone. She did not even bother to turn her head. “What do you mean he’s here?” she asked, the lilt of her brogue accent coming through even more with the perturbed nature of the statement.

Meg sighed. “Up there. On the First Class Deck. He’s on the boat!”

Kelly’s smile was completely gone now. Her youngest daughter fussed a bit, and she shifted her to the other shoulder. “How can he possibly be here?” she asked. “He had an appointment with your uncle just this afternoon. He wouldn’t cancel. He wasn’t scheduled to be aboard. Are you sure?”

“Look!” Meg insisted. As Kelly began to turn around, Meg’s small, well-groomed hand sprang out to catch her shoulder. “Be more discreet!” she implored. “I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself! He’s already looking at us!”

It was Kelly’s turn to sigh now. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” she mumbled. “Here, take the baby,” she insisted, shoving the child over to her friend, who opened her arms just in time. Kelly pretended to be looking for someone along the lower deck promenade where they stood. By now, her curious behavior had drawn the attention of her husband and older daughter who stood next to them, but neither were yet inclined to ask exactly what was going on. Instead, Daniel turned back to his four-year-old daughter, Ruth, whose fiery red hair, the same shade as her mother’s, wafted in the wind, as she made endless inquiries about the other boats moored at the White Star Dock, one of which, The New Yorker, had gone a bit rogue only a few moments ago.

Kelly, eventually, turned her attention to the deck above them as instructed, and after surveying the situation much longer than Meg was comfortable with, she finally turned back around. “You’re hallucinatin’, darlin’. I see plenty of handsome rich men, but I don’t think your betrothed is among them.”

“What?” Meg replied, eyes crinkled in disbelief. “Yes, he is. I saw him with my own eyes.” Without giving it much thought, she turned and looked directly back at the spot where he had been standing. Kelly was right. He wasn’t there, or if he was, he was obscured by the hundreds of other passengers attempting to gain a view of The New Yorker being towed back to dock. “He was right there, I swear!” Meg insisted, her shawl flipping about as she swirled back to face her friend.

“Keep your voice down,” Kelly warned, glancing around again. “Or else you really will have unwanted attention.”

Meg wanted to argue, though she knew Kelly was right. With a huff, she turned back to face the rippling blue surface beneath them. Despite Kelly’s insistence that she was only seeing a manifestation of one of her most prevalent fears, she was quite certain she had, in fact, seen her fiancé staring down at her from above. She would recognize those stunning green eyes anywhere. While the fact that he had been looking directly at her was cause to think he knew who she was and had recognized her, despite the oddness of their prior arrangement and her guise, she could only hope that he had not detected her deception.

Thankfully, they were aboard the largest passenger ship ever built where there was an understood arrangement that First Class passengers and Steerage were not to interact. The likelihood that she would encounter him again was highly implausible.