Chapter 26 #2
“I believe I somehow caught the last boat,” Cassian replied as they parted.
Concern rippled across Ethel’s forehead.
“Did your friend . . .” She paused, faltering. “Oh, maybe that’s not for me to ask.”
“He made it,” Cassian confirmed. But then, immediately, he began to relive those moments in Carpathia’s Smoking Room, and worry welled up inside him like the swell of the sea, causing his throat to constrict.
“He made it, but he’s . . .” Cassian’s voice broke.
“Apologies.” He took a breath. “He’s in the saloon.
Being looked over by one of the physicians.
He seemed perfectly fine, but then . . . not.”
Quickly, Cassian covered his mouth to contain the sob that threatened to burst forth, but a mortifying couple of rogue tears still fell. Swiftly, Cassian wiped them away with his fingers and prayed that nobody else had seen them. Ethel touched his arm.
“He’ll be all right, Cassian,” she said, gently. “I’m of the impression that the physicians on board are very knowledgeable.”
“Yes, that’s precisely what I wanted to say,” John concurred. “Mr. Morrow will be fixed up in no time.”
Cassian pressed his lips together and nodded. He knew he’d probably cry again if he started to speak. He needed a little longer to recover.
Ethel and John seemed to know it, too. Neither of them spoke for a minute or two.
Cassian felt a little mortified over his outburst, but overall, he was really very grateful for their compassion, especially since Ethel, at least, seemed to have figured out that James Thomas Morrow was no mere friend of Cassian’s, but more.
After a little while longer, Ethel restarted the conversation.
“I was with Ingrid earlier,” she said. “She hasn’t found Jacob yet.”
Grief twisted in Cassian’s stomach as the image of Jacob being crushed by the funnel flitted into his mind, bringing with it the smell of soot and smoke and the salty sea.
He swallowed hard.
“He didn’t make it, Ethel,” Cassian said.
Ethel’s hand flew to her chest.
“Goodness,” she said through an exhale. “How awful.” She looked up at him with pleading eyes. “I hope he didn’t suffer long. Was it—”
“Quick?” Cassian asked, and Ethel nodded. “Yes. Instant.”
Ethel’s eyes fell to the floor. “It’s still so horrible. Poor Ingrid.”
Cassian’s stomach continued to roil. It was horrible. Jesus God, it was more than horrible. All of this was.
“Do you think it would help her to know that Jacob did not suffer?” he asked.
“Yes, I think so,” Ethel said. “I can only imagine how it must have been for her, hearing those screams and thinking that one of those people was her husband.”
“I’ll make sure she knows that he was not among them,” Cassian promised.
Ethel bowed her head solemnly. “Thank you. We’ve been so exceedingly fortunate while so many others . . .”
She trailed off, her voice breaking at the last word. Just then, someone—a member of Carpathia’s crew, maybe—came up to the three of them.
“Pardon me, but is one of you Mr. Cassian Penn Livingston?”
Cassian suddenly remembered that he’d seen the fellow in the saloon, only his brain still seemed not to be working well enough for him to have recognized the man immediately. Fear shot through his veins, so sharp and cold he thought he might faint.
“Cassian?” John said.
Cassian shook his head.
“Yes, sorry,” Cassian spluttered. “I’m Mr. Livingston.”
Good God, was something the matter with James?
Cassian nearly asked after his lover but forced himself to hold his tongue, still so worried about what people might think, especially those who had seen how familiar he and James had been on both lifeboats and then, later, in the Smoking Room here on Carpathia.
“Mr. Morrow asked for you,” the man replied. “One of our physicians finished checking him over. Mr. Morrow asked me to let you know that he’s in fine condition but has been offered a stateroom where he can rest. He said that you might still be interested in seeing him, though.”
Cassian counted to three inside his head before responding, careful not to look too eager, though he felt so Goddamned relieved that he thought he might burst.
“Yes, I would be,” he said in the most neutral tone he could muster.
Hooking his hands behind his back, he looked over at Ethel and John.
“It looks like I’ll be spending the next little while keeping Mr. Morrow company.
You’re both welcome to come see our friend, too, of course, if you’re interested. ”
Not that he wanted them to, but he had to offer. Hopefully Ethel would be perceptive enough to see that it wasn’t genuine.
Ethel smiled warmly. “No, I think that John and I will stay out here for now. Thank you, though.”
Thank God.
Cassian forced a small smile and bowed his head.
“Take care, then. I’ll meet up with you two later,” he said.
And then Cassian took leave of his friends and followed Carpathia’s crew member to wherever James was resting.
***
April 15, 1912
10:01 a.m.
Cassian was led to a stateroom by the crew member, who left as Cassian began to knock.
James came to the door wearing a new outfit—pants and a button-up shirt that he must have borrowed from one of Carpathia’s passengers, maybe whoever had been staying in the stateroom before offering it to him.
Neither fit perfectly, but they seemed like a close enough size overall.
James’s face looked exhausted and weary, but he still smiled a little the moment he and Cassian locked eyes.
“Do you want to come in?” James asked. “One of the passengers here offered me his cabin and his clothes. I have something for you to change into as well, if you wanted. I asked him first. He said that you can stay here. With me, I mean. For the rest of our voyage.”
“Oh, God, yes,” Cassian said through a relieved exhale.
“Yes to which?” James asked, a small, playful smile on his lips.
“Yes to everything. All of it.”
James’s smile broadened, and he shifted so that Cassian could walk around him into the stateroom. James then moved to shut the door.
“Are you feeling any better?” Cassian asked.
“Mm-hmm,” James said as he clicked the lock.
But then James turned to face him. And Cassian was confronted with the truth. Even though James was still smiling a little, his bottom lip was wobbling, betraying him.
Sympathy unfurled in Cassian’s chest, making his heart feel heavy even while it fluttered with love. Oh, it was so very sweet of James to be putting on a brave face like this, likely to spare Cassian from the obligation of comforting him.
But Cassian refused to let James face this alone.
Immediately, Cassian pulled James in for a fierce hug.
And he prayed that he could somehow provide his perfect steward with enough love and comfort to heal him.
James stilled for a moment, but then melted into Cassian’s embrace, burying his head in the crook of Cassian’s neck.
Cassian ran a hand through James’s hair.
“Did the physician help you at all?” Cassian asked.
“He did,” James confirmed in a soft voice, as though maybe he was fighting to hold himself together.
“He had me take some kind of restorative. I’m not sure what was in it.
But I feel a little steadier now. Foggier, too, unfortunately, but a little less .
. . present. Less painfully present. If that makes sense. ”
Cassian embraced him even tighter. He wanted James to know that he was free to fall apart if he needed. Because if James couldn’t hold himself together, then Cassian would.
“Oh, my James, I missed this,” Cassian murmured. “I’m so sorry for what we had to endure. I can only imagine how much you’re hurting, my sensitive writer.”
James pulled Cassian closer and let out a shuddered breath.
“Did you find Miss Barrington?” James asked. “Sorry—Ethel. Did you find Ethel? Or John? Or Jacob? Oh, God, please tell me you found Jacob.”
“I . . .” Cassian’s voice caught. Damn, how he hated this. He hated to hurt James. But he wouldn’t lie. “I found Ethel and John, yes. Both of them seem to be recovering well. But . . . Jacob . . .” Cassian swallowed thickly. “He didn’t make it.”
“But I was right next to him on the ship before we were thrown overboard,” James reasoned. “We were in the water together. We must have been. Are you certain that he’s not here on Carpathia?”
“I’m certain,” Cassian said. “I . . . saw him die, James.”
James sucked in a sharp breath.
“Oh, Cassian, how horrible,” he said. “His wife. His poor wife.”
Cassian hugged James tighter. James hugged him tighter, too. Over the next little while, neither of them spoke.
Finally, James said, “Thank you for being honest with me. I know how fragile I must seem right now. Especially after the shaking incident.”
“You are not fragile. You’ve never seemed fragile. Not even a little.”
James sniffled. Pushing his fingers through James’s hair, Cassian began to whisper more reassurances to his lovely steward.
He reminded James that they were both safe now and commended him for how strong he had been throughout the sinking and still very much was, no matter what that shaking had been before.
James peppered a path of kisses up Cassian’s neck and then captured Cassian’s mouth with his.
Cassian caressed the man’s cheeks with his thumbs, catching tears with each of his strokes as their lips moved together. Soon, James began to sob in earnest, and Cassian stopped kissing him. He took James’s hand and led him over to the bed.
“Come lie with me,” Cassian said, his voice the perfect mixture of commanding and sweet that he’d intended.
Thank God he was feeling more like himself now.