Epilogue Gertrude
Epilogue
Gertrude
The lost pages
I dressed carefully in a skirt and blouse that one of the ladies in the Norfolk hospital had donated to me.
I still had my oilcloth sack containing Sigrid’s papers, the book from Chief Mate Riggs, my gems, and the coin.
And of course, my son was with me now. The baby was perfect, and though he’d been made in a shattering moment of violence, he was all mine.
Somehow the two of us would find our way in this country.
A knock on the door, and I looked up to see Dr. Brooks. He looked as he always did, unruffled and perfectly at ease. “Gertrude, it’s good to see you up.”
I held my breath. I hadn’t seen him since I’d been transferred to the hospital. “Dr. Brooks.”
“I won’t stay long. Just wanted to see how you’re faring. How’s the baby?”
“Very well.”
“What did you name him?”
“Eric. After my uncle.”
“Excellent name. I’m certain you two will be just fine. You’re a survivor.”
I’d never seen myself as strong, but that would have to change.
“Did Sigrid return to Austria? It’s very dangerous there now.”
“All I can say is that she’s traveling.” He met my gaze. “She’ll be fine. She’s also a survivor.”
“And William?”
“There was an accident on the ship as he was fleeing. He fell and broke his neck. Unfortunately, he died.”
I pictured him bleeding out. Had that loss of blood caused him to fall?
As if reading my thoughts, Dr. Brooks said, “He got into a fight with another man at one of the lifeboats. He stumbled back. Tragically, he landed very hard.”
“Did you see him die?”
“I did.” He moved to a stack of cards on the table. Many of the sailors of the USS Roper, which had rescued us, had sent notes. There were also flowers from the DuPonts. “He’s in the past now.”
It all sounded good. But questions lingered. “I saw you and Sigrid on the deck of the Oceanus.”
“I suppose you did. But that doesn’t matter now. As I said, she’s traveling across the Atlantic.” He faced me. “I also received word that Alfred Gruber was killed four days ago. A boating accident on the Danube River. Took days to recover his body.”
Fear and relief collided. Could Alfred really be dead? “How do you know that?”
He looked amused. “I still have many contacts. I put out feelers and heard about the tragedy.”
“I never mentioned his name.”
“Sigrid did.”
My knees became so weak I sat on the edge of my bed. “You’re certain of all this?”
“Very.”
I suspected if I pressed for more details, he’d be polite and charming and, in the end, tell me nothing. “Thank you.”
“Of course. Happy to help.” Determined footsteps sounded in the hallway. “That would be Mr. Riggs. He’s been worried about you.”
“Me?”
“You seem to have that kind of effect, I think. Good luck to you, Gertrude.”
I reached for the pouch and handed him Sigrid’s identity papers. “I’ll choose a new name.”
He nodded but didn’t accept the papers. “You keep them.”
“Can you suggest a name that sounds as if it belongs in the United States?”
“I like the name Margaret.”
It sounded different from all the other identities I’d used in the last year. “I like it.”
“Good luck, Margaret.”
He was gone before I could say another word, and seconds later, Mr. Riggs entered the room with a small bouquet of flowers that looked as if he’d picked them from the garden outside my hospital window.