Titanic 2012 Part 14

"What are you going to do until dinner?" she asked.

"I've got some writing to do."

"That's one of the things I love about you. You're dedicated."

"Some would say obsessed. I guess it depends on your perspective. Anyway, I'll see you later."

Another quick peck and she was gone, the door clicking shut in my face. I turned and retraced my steps down the hall, hating myself. I'd lied to her.

I had no intention of writing anything until I'd spoken with Harlan. And while my guilt mounted, so did my need for the truth.

Five minutes later, I was back on B-deck standing in front of Harlan's suite. This time no steward guarded the door. And when I knocked, I half-expected him not to be there, a part of me dreading any sort of confrontation. I was surprised when the door opened and my friend greeted me with a warm smile and a drink in his hand, dressed in a floor-length dressing gown made of brocaded red silk. "Hey, kiddo, come on in."

Harlan's suite was one of the two Parlor Suites renowned for their rococo opulence. Aside from having a s.p.a.cious sitting room lying between the two large bedrooms, each also boasted a private promenade deck, where one could breakfast in sumptuous seclusion. Richly appointed beyond even the regular First Cla.s.s suites, they were not referred to as the "Millionaire Suites" for nothing.

Harlan shut the door, glided over to the bar and picked up a lead crystal decanter half-filled with what appeared to be Scotch. "Would you like something?" he asked, picking up a fresh tumbler.

"No thanks."

I watched him refill his gla.s.s from the decanter, then pull a bottle of pills from out of a pocket in the dressing gown. He shook one into his palm, shut the bottle and put it away. He saw me watching him out of the corner of his eyes.

"For my nerves," he said, knocking the pill back and taking a swallow of the whiskey.

"Since when have your nerves ever been a problem?"

"Since I became the owner of the world's biggest yacht. You wouldn't believe all the red tape I went through to get this baby back in the water. People think the ocean is a free place, well, it isn't...." He noticed I was still standing and pointed toward an overstuffed chair. "Why don't you have a seat, take a load off?" He then went over and plopped down onto a delicate-looking Louis Quinze sofa, the ice in his drink clinking noisily.

"I won't be here that long, I've got some work to do."

"Well, if I can't tempt you with creature comforts and a stiff drink, what can I do for you?"

"You can tell me about Mrs. Bates."

Harlan's smile disappeared. "Lousy, huh? Her steward found her in her suite. Someone noticed she wasn't at breakfast this morning-"

"No, I don't mean that. I mean, why did we have to leave Cobh so fast?"

Harlan shrugged. "No mystery there. We have a schedule to keep, and I wanted to get rid of that idiot mayor and his entourage."

I looked at him for a moment. "You must think I'm just as dumb. Come on, Harlan, somebody dies, you take care of it, you don't turn tail and run."

Harlan put down his drink on a hand-carved table made from flamed cherry and stood up. "Trev, I've got my reasons."

"I'm sure you do, but if you don't mind, I'd like to know what in the h.e.l.l they are."

He eyed me with a sober glance. "Christ, kiddo, you sound like one of those bleeding-heart crusader types, the ones you always hated back in school."

"Do I? Well, maybe I've changed. We all have. You used to confide in me."

I saw a flicker of anger and pain flicker across his face, replaced instantly with the old bravado. "All right, but you're going to feel foolish."

"Try me."

"When I was interviewing prospective pa.s.sengers, Mrs. Bates revealed her heart condition, said it had reached a critical stage, and would I please let her come aboard? What could I do? I knew she might die on the voyage, but the old woman was dying anyway. I wanted to let her have her dream. Is that so bad?"

"Then why the big announcement? Why p.i.s.s off your guests and get the rest of us to wonder what the big deal was?"

"I guess I overreacted. I'm human, too, Trev, even if I try my best not to be, sometimes." He laughed and took a swig of whiskey.

"Are you really going to bury her at sea? Is that legal?"

Harlan motioned for me to follow him. "I want to show you something."

Inside his bedroom, a study in Georgian elegance, he went to his dresser, pulled open a drawer and removed a strongbox with a combination dial in the center of its lid. With a few twists of the dial he had it open and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "This is Mrs. Bates's will," he said, flipping through the thick doc.u.ment. "I know it seems a bit weird, but like I said, she knew it was touch and go, and wanted to be prepared." He threw it to me, and when I caught it I saw a handwritten codicil on the last page.

"What you're seeing was added by her a few days before sailing. It says that if the worst happened, she wanted to be buried at sea."

Harlan was right, I felt foolish. Who was I to refuse a dying woman's last request. And whom did it really hurt? No one.

"I'm sorry, Harlan, I guess I'm too much of a bleeding-heart crusader."

Harlan grinned. "Stick with me and we'll fix that in no time."

I started for the door then stopped. "When is the funeral?"

"Sunrise, tomorrow, on the p.o.o.p Deck. I'll be announcing it at dinner for those who wish to attend."

"All right, I'll see you then."

I headed back to my suite. Suddenly, I felt very tired, wanting nothing more than a few hours of blissful oblivion. Upon entering the suite, I noticed Henry had laid out my evening clothes on the bed.

My "boiled s.h.i.+rt" had been cleaned and starched, and the tails had been brushed and pressed. For a fleeting moment, I wondered what Henry did when he wasn't there. Did he sit in the s.h.i.+p's library reading Victorian novels? Did he play whist with the stewards? I shook my head, too tired to think anymore.

Leaving the clothes undisturbed, I opted to lie down on the bed in the adjoining room. The mattress was harder than mine, but my fatigue overcame my discomfort and I fell asleep soon after, my dreams once again filled with vague and disturbing images.

12.

"Sir, you need to wake up!"

I heard Henry's voice as if through a layer of cotton in my ears.

Then he must have shaken me, for I bolted awake, sitting up in bed semi-alert. "What's wrong, what's wrong?"

Henry stood a few feet from the bed, looking somewhat sheepish. "So sorry to bother you, sir, but its time for the funeral."

I shook the remaining sleep from my fogged brain. "What? Funeral? That's tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir, it's six o'clock-a.m." His eyebrow arched in mild disapproval.

Leaping from the bed, I ran over to the window and yanked aside the heavy curtain. The sun hit me square in the face. It should have been behind the boat, not in front. Somehow, I'd slept through dinner and right on through the night. And then I remembered Maddy. "Oh, no...."

"Is everything all right, sir?"

I dropped the curtain, cutting off the sunlight and crossed the stateroom, shaking my head. "No, everything's lousy. I was supposed to meet someone for dinner. She probably thinks I'm a jerk."

Henry began tidying the bed, making precise hospital corners out of the twisted mess I'd made from the sheets. "Oh, I wouldn't say so, sir. She quite understood when I told her you were still asleep."

"Wait a minute. She was here? When?"

"About seven-thirty last night, right before dinner."

"Henry, why didn't you wake me? I only wanted to take a short nap."

"I was about to, sir. It was the lady who stopped me. Had I known-"

I cut him off with a wave of my hand. "No, it's okay. You had no way of knowing."

"If I may be so bold, sir, she is quite the catch."

"Thanks, although I seem to be fumbling at the moment."

Henry smoothed over the brocaded coverlet and then went to lay out my clothes for the day. "I don't believe so, sir. She seems quite taken with you."

I followed him into the dressing area, my curiosity aroused. "She is?"

"Oh, yes, sir. She told me to tell you...now, what was it?" He frowned, his lips pursing while he tried to recall Maddy's words. I had to restrain myself, wanting to shake them out of him. "Oh, yes," he said, smiling. "She said, 'Tell Galahad if he knows what's good for him, he'll meet me on the Boat Deck at six-fifteen.'" Henry glanced at his watch and nodded. "By my reckoning, sir, you have about ten minutes."

At that moment, all argument ceased. Working as a team, Henry and I had me dressed and ready to meet the day in slightly under five minutes. I grabbed my iPod touch and headed out of the suite toward the stairs. Two minutes later, I was up on the Boat deck.

The deck held a modest crowd, with groups of sober-eyed pa.s.sengers marching past me on their way toward the p.o.o.p deck and Mrs. Bates's impromptu funeral.

I found Maddy standing at the railing just aft of the second funnel on the port side, staring into the sun's blazing red ball. She was dressed in long pants and a quilted parka. For a moment, I debated returning to my suite for a heavier jacket, but seeing her there, the breath billowing from her mouth in wispy clouds, and her bemused, almost melancholy expression, I decided against it. She turned, spotted me and smiled. "You stood me up, Galahad."

I gave her an exaggerated bow, sc.r.a.ping low with an imaginary plumed hat. "Your humble servant begs your forgiveness, your highness."

She came to me then, her breath hot against my face. "You're forgiven," she said, and kissed me. Her mouth flowed against mine, warm and urgent, long nimble fingers raking through my hair. I responded, pulling her tight against me. She sighed, and I felt the pounding of her heart. A boundless moment later she pulled away, breathing heavily, and lay her head on my shoulder.

"I'm going to have to stand you up more often, if this is what I get," I said. She responded by holding me tighter, making me regret my flippancy. "I'm sorry about dinner, Maddy. I was really looking forward to it, and to seeing you. I guess I was a lot more tired than I thought."

She lifted her head and studied me, a twinkle of amus.e.m.e.nt in her eyes. "They say the sea air does that, you know. Too much of a good thing."

She took my hand and we started walking toward the stern, neither one of us in a hurry to get where we were going.

"Maybe so," I said, "but I think it's also this voyage, too."

"What do you mean?"

"The people I've been interviewing. Their stories are so d.a.m.ned heartbreaking. And then Mrs. Bates dying so suddenly.... I suppose I'd hoped the journey would be more...uplifting."

Her hand squeezed mine, though she remained silent.

We reached the end of the Boat Deck a short time later and saw a sizeable crowd had already formed. We found an empty spot at the railing. The entire p.o.o.p Deck was crowded with pa.s.sengers, some even standing on the docking bridge looking down on the proceedings.

Still others leaned over the railings on A- and B-decks, while the last few stragglers crowded in behind us.

The only area not jammed with pa.s.sengers lay just forward of the docking bridge near the starboard railing. Harlan and Captain Pierce stood there in whispered conference, while next to them, on a makes.h.i.+ft catafalque consisting of a wide board resting across two benches, lay Mrs. Bates's body wrapped in what appeared to be sailcloth. One end of the board sat on the iron railing; all it would take to send her on her way was for someone to upend the board. Off to the side, with their instruments held at the ready, stood the s.h.i.+p's band, looking cold and uneasy.

Harlan and the captain continued their conference, while everyone waited, the silence broken only by the sound of the wind soughing across the deck. A moment later, the Captain nodded, opened a worn leather-bound book clutched in his hands, and began to speak in a clear, resonant voice. "The Lord maketh me to lie down in green pastures. I shall not want...."

The crowd repeated after him, there voices blending into a hushed monotone. Two elderly women, standing a few feet from me, began to cry, and a stoic-looking man in his fifties averted his eyes from mine, his lips trembling. Maddy squeezed my hand harder.

Scant minutes later, the captain finished his bible reading with one of the Psalms, I can't recall which one. I never was the most religious of people, preferring my own private communion with whatever force or being created the universe. But here, on the deck of this great s.h.i.+p, together with everyone on board looking on, I felt the most profound sense of sadness.

When the captain closed his book, Harlan delivered a eulogy: "Like most of you," he said, his quiet voice carrying across the deck on the wind. "I only knew Eugenia Bates for a brief span. When I first met her during her initial interview, she struck me as a woman who'd lived her life as if every moment were a diamond s.h.i.+ning in the sun...."

Harlan continued to speak for another ten minutes, and I was surprised to learn Mrs. Bates had been a child psychologist, and a mother of four. To my friend's credit, he kept his tendency toward bombast to a minimum, choosing his words with care, compa.s.sion and skill. When he was through, he signaled to the band, who raised their instruments and began to play.

When I heard the tune, two emotions fought a tug-of-war inside of me: one prompted me to smile at the obviousness of the choice, while the other urged me to cry, for it was the perfect selection.

Nearer My G.o.d to Thee.

The band played it with uncommon poignancy, and Maddy began to sob. I held her against me, my arms encircling her from behind. All sorts of images flooded my mind: images from Cameron's film, scenes of sadness from my own life, and the lives of those I'd known. And it all came cras.h.i.+ng down on me.

As if she sensed the storm raging within me, Maddy turned and held me to her, whispering soft words of comfort in my ear.

When the song ended some moments later, two crewmen grasped either side of the board on which Mrs. Bates lay in her sailcloth shroud and tilted it up over the railing. For a split second her body remained on the board suspended between our world and the next, and then, all at once, she slid off with a rustle of canvas against wood...and was gone.

Harlan shook Captain Pierce's hand, and then the two of them turned and walked toward the Well Deck stairs, the crowd parting before them. Moments later they descended the stairs and disappeared through a door leading into C-deck. The crowd dispersed immediately, breaking up into small solemn groups, following in their wake. Those on the Boat Deck turned and flowed past us, funneling into the stairway marked, "Second Cla.s.s Entrance." Ten minutes later, Maddy and I were alone, and during all that time not a word was spoken by anyone.

We stayed for a while longer, watching the wake churned up by the t.i.tanic's triple screws, the sun warming our faces while it climbed higher into the sky. Maddy finally broke the silence, speaking in a quiet, determined voice. "I want you to take me to your suite, Trevor."

I stood frozen in place, my hands gripping the railing with whiteknuckle intensity. I could hardly believe the woman who ran from me only two nights before, now wished to give herself to me. I didn't have to be a psychologist to understand her desire grew out of her close brush with death. By confronting it so directly in what happened to Mrs. Bates, Maddy now wanted affirmation.

I kept my eyes on the ocean, a part of me fearing to look at her and discover her desire to be nothing more than my fantasy. "You don't have to do this, you know," I said, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

"I know, but I want to." I turned and saw a tiny smile on her face. "And if you weren't such a gentleman," she said, "I'd think you didn't want me."

"Don't you ever think that."

I gave her my arm and the two of us strolled back down the length of the Boat Deck.

My hand actually trembled when I tried to place my key in the lock, and I hid my embarra.s.sment when Maddy placed hers over mine and guided it in. The old saw about feeling like a schoolboy on his first date definitely applied in this case, but I wasn't about to let it stop me.