22. Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Two
Keep Marching by Suffs
April 14, 1912
We step out of the cabin and into the hallway. Charlie is nowhere to be seen, but I assume he had to rush to attend to one of his other cabin assignments. I feel so much better after talking to Sarah.
I walk into the First-Class Lounge and scan the room for Violet. The lounge is paneled in intricately carved oak. I find her sitting at a table in a plush green velvet upholstered chair. Her smile brightens when she sees me walking toward her. She stands to greet me in a yellow silk tea dress.
We sit and sip our tea, talking for over an hour. Conversation with her comes so naturally. It feels like talking to a big sister or your best girlfriend. I feel so open and honest with her, aside from pretending to like tea. I thought I knew her life story from family records, but I’m realizing there is so much more to her. She kept so much hidden in the character of Alice Carney.
She suggests we walk on deck in the sunshine while we wait for Ben and John to finish their game. I gratefully accept. I’m eager to spend any moment I can with her. I don’t know how Ben has time for all this physical activity, from squash this morning to shuffleboard this afternoon. I’d need a nap from just watching him play squash.
We stand near the shuffleboard game, watching the men compete. Edward is with them and when he sees me, he plasters that smug smile on his face and calls my name. I fake a delicate smile. Once he looks away, I roll my eyes and look out at the water.
Violet notices my disgust and laughs. “Oh, goodness. And to think I thought the two of you were involved.” She has her hand to her mouth and is deeply laughing. The way she tilts her head back to laugh looks like my dad, and for a moment I feel him here with me too.
“Absolutely not, no. I would never.” I get so carried away by denying involvement with Edward that I stumble over my words. “He’s not the one I—” I stop myself when I realize what I’ve almost said. But it’s too late. She’s perceptive, and she’s noticed my almost admission.
“Oh.” She has a sly, playful tone to her voice as she smiles. “So, there is someone?” Suddenly it feels like we’re two school girls talking about the cute boy on the playground.
I cave. It’s nice to have someone to talk to about it. I know I have Sarah, who has been so supportive these last few days. But it’s especially nice to have someone who doesn’t know the details of my situation. She doesn’t have a clue who I truly am or where I’m really from. She doesn’t know the object of my affection and the obstacles standing between us.
“It’s complicated.”
“The best ones are.” She smiles at me and nods her head toward John. “Fight for what you want, Alice. Whatever complications there may be, surely they must be worth the risk. Love is a rare thing. If you find it, cherish it, and hold it near. Don’t be afraid to be loved, Alice. Promise?”
I take a gulp and nod. Her words comfort me. And even though she’s only a few years older than me in this time period, I can’t help but wonder if this is the comfort most girls seek from a mother. I know she’s right, but it’s not as simple as she might think. I know what lies in store tonight. The hourglass of the Titanic’s life is swiftly dwindling. My time here is running out, with her and with Charlie.
I turn around to face the ocean. I just want to watch the waves while they still pose no threat. Soon enough, this water will be a graveyard and the world will remember the devastation. But right now, I want to remember these small moments. Being with Charlie and getting to meet my great-great grandmother. These are the moments I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life.
I stand leaning over the rail with her, the salt breeze sweeping over my face. As she looks out over the peaceful waves, I just take her in. I want to study her features, ingrain them permanently in my memory. Her eyes, like mine, are watching the water with tranquility. The breeze is brushing her soft auburn curls onto her face. I watch as she lifts her lace gloved hand and delicately sweeps the hair out of her eyes. She turns to look back at me, and I pretend I too have been staring out at the water. I can’t let her see the guilt on my face. I know the foreboding secret this water holds for her and so many others. I want to throw my arms around her, tell her what’s coming and that it will all be alright. But I can’t. Dr. Conrad warned us of the potential catastrophic ramifications if we warned anyone what is to happen.
Everything must go on as history has allowed . I keep reminding myself of his words. I’ve already told Charlie about the disaster. I can’t let myself tell anyone else, especially someone whose survival ensures my existence.
I want to tell her to go walk on the deck with John. Walk with him, slowly. Take in every morsel of time. Study his face in the sunlight. The way the light hits his black hair, making it look almost midnight blue. The way he walks beside her, stealing glances back at her. The way he still looks at her as if it’s the first time he’s ever seen her, as if she makes his heart stop even after years together. But I can’t intervene, and my complicit silence eats away at me. John will go down with the ship. Ancestry records show he placed her into lifeboat eight and then made his way toward where other men were convening, hoping for a remaining spot. Eyewitness records show him aiding others into boats, refusing a spot for himself when he realized how many women and children had not yet boarded. He watched over the rail as lifeboat eight made its way away from the ship and out into the cold ocean. He looked out over the water, seeing nothing but the waves and his own breath in front of him. He stole one last glance in the direction of his wife, and was never seen again. His body was never recovered.
Thirty-year-old Violet Kelly will become a widow tomorrow, with two children. She doesn’t know it yet, but a third child, a son she names John, is safe in her womb. She raises her children alone. Her broken heart never allowed her to remarry. She spent her life raising them with love and kindness to provide them with the best opportunities. She advocated fiercely on behalf of women’s suffrage when it wasn’t safe to do so. Her children marry, thrive and have families of their own, leading eventually to me.
I wish I could tell her she’ll be okay. I wish I could comfort her, and tell her that the tragedy and destruction that will soon come for her will not pull her under. She will be stronger than the current. More so, I wish I could tell her what a beautiful thing she made of it all. The more I know this strong woman, whose own strength is yet unknown to her, the more I realize why I’m named for her. I can only hope to live a life worthy of her legacy and sacrifice. More than anything, I wish I could thank her. For changing the trajectory of my life, and for the lessons I am still learning.
But for now we stand here, watching the ocean, in the peaceful silence only a genuine friendship could provide.