One Night to Remember (8 page)

The thunder from the explosion continued to rattle and drone, an incessant buzzing that increased into its own crescendo. And when Thomas thought the noise couldn’t reach a louder peak, the sound of something cracking—a loud splintering as if the sea itself had opened up—proved him dead wrong.

With a cavernous groan, the Titanic broke in two. The middle of the ship disappeared into the sea, but its lower decks remained fastened to the exposed stern. Dragged underwater by the attached sections of deck, the stern rose nearly vertical before bobbing atop the water, waiting…filling once more.

If Thomas wasn’t frozen to the core, he might’ve cried like the others. He might’ve gasped, had he been able to fill his lungs with air. He might’ve done a lot of things, but instead stared at the sight before him, a groan of his own escaping his chest.

The stern of the ship seemed to bob a few moments, upright like it was pointing to the heavens. Thomas doubted the heavens were watching—surely they wouldn’t have allowed such a tragedy…

Inching slowly, the ship turned on its center, hiding the horror on its decks from the people in the water. And with a deadened sound that tore the hope from Thomas’s soul, the Titanic slipped into the sea.

He’d never felt more powerless or more achingly alone. Dismal moaning spread thick across the waves like fog. Fear, despair and agony rang clear, followed by a tang of shock and blind anger. It occurred to Thomas that each of the thousand passengers floundering in the water were the same…they were each facing death.

For the thirty or so passengers clinging to the overturned hull of Collapsible B, their fate would be entwined.

“What am I to do?” the man who’d saved him asked. His accent was thick. Spanish maybe. “Lord, what am I to do?”

Thomas balanced on the keel, watching in shock as chunks of debris—timber beams and wooden doors, furniture and paneling—popped to the surface, knocking people in the water unconscious.

“You’ll hang onto this boat,” Thomas said, praying a piece of debris didn’t spring up beneath them. “And if you’re dragged over the edge you’ll swim like the rest of us. We’re equal now—first to third class is no matter. In death and survival it’s every man for himself.”

“But I cannot.” The man’s voice softened. “I cannot swim.”

Thomas’s heart hurt. This was not fair. He shouldn’t be hanging on for life on the back of this overturned boat. He shouldn’t be near this man, who was holding a mirror to his beliefs at a time like this.

First or third class…they were both equal. Elizabeth didn’t have to convince Thomas of that. But she’d gone further, hadn’t she? She’d tried to even out the balance, taking from those who felt entitled, giving to those who didn’t stand a chance.

This man, the man with glistening eyes who looked too much like his father, had not had much of a chance to get above deck. Full knowing he could not swim, he hadn’t even secured a life vest for himself. And now, staring death in the face, the man was not panicked and fighting to steal a life vest off the back of another.

He’d accepted his fate and the sour hand he’d been dealt.

“Here.” Thomas sighed, his chest convulsing in a shiver, as he took off his own life vest and handed it to the gentleman. Although Thomas knew the man would have no idea what he meant, he said, “Courtesy of Miss Elizabeth Scott.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The morale on Elizabeth’s boat had gone from hopeful to paralyzing in no time. They’d been gripped by the cold, held prisoner by self-preservation. Elizabeth could nearly feel her organs shutting down, chugging slow, like the train at South Station in Boston coming to a stop. They’d become deathly quiet, rowing to the Titanic’s position using no gauge other than where they thought she’d gone down.

How long had it been since they saw the ship break in two and slip beneath the surface? Thirty minutes? An hour?

God,
she didn’t know.

Too long.

Elizabeth’s insides curdled with regret. She should’ve known the mystery ship was too far away to reach in time. She should’ve never left Thomas’s side. They could’ve figured out their next step together…

Now, there was no moon to light their way. No star to guide them. They were lost in the gloom of pre-dawn, praying for a sign they were close to the wreckage.

“Wh—where are the other lifeboats?” Elizabeth mumbled from her crouched position near the front of the boat. Her words were short. Jumbled. Forced out in a cold huff. “They’ve go—got to be around here somewhere. Could we have passed o—over the wreckage?”

“There might not be any wreckage,” the man sitting beside her said with a labored cough. “A ship that size will cause suction when it goes under. It might’ve sucked everything down with it.”

“Don’t say that.” Elizabeth couldn’t, wouldn’t believe it. “Wait…”

Was that…
yes
…a dull, monotonous cry.

She barely made out the man’s words…
My God…

“Do you hear that?” Fear snatched her heart with cold, steely fingers. “Someone’s out there…”

The oars picked up speed again, slicing through the water more purposefully than they had before. But by the time debris started bumping the sides of their lifeboat, the cry had gone quiet, the night colder still.

They rowed on, reaching more debris: chunks of cork, pieces of deck chairs. They didn’t see a single passenger. Not a single soul to save.

“We must’ve gone off course. We must’ve gone the wrong way…no one’s here.” Elizabeth had never felt more alone or more like a failure in all her life. Thomas had sent her to bring back help. How could she have left him? There was nothing she could do to turn back time and change the course of things, though if she could…

A light bleeped on the horizon.

“Help!” the officer in command shouted, pointing to the blinking yellow light. “Help is finally here! Thank the Lord!”

He praised God as if he didn’t think their boat would ever be found. As if they’d sail the waters of the Atlantic as the missing lifeboat of the RMS Titanic.

Elizabeth didn’t share his excitement. There had to be over two thousand people on board the ship. Saving twenty eight lowly passengers who were too weak to bring back help for the others was nothing to be joyous about.

Turned out they’d been wrong—there weren’t twenty eight rescued souls.

There were seven hundred.

The Carpathia had steamed to their side, a beacon in the rays of first light. Its decks brimmed with passengers, mostly women and children, who were teary eyed and down trodden. They looked how Elizabeth felt inside. Had she not been frozen and still in shock, she may’ve let herself break down a bit.

But not now.

Now she had to stay composed. She had to find Thomas among the people on board.

He had to have made it off on a boat. There were other men on board the Carpathia, milling about. Some offered their services while others comforted their women. Their arms were wrapped around them tight, cuddling them as if this ship too, could fall victim to a tower of ice.

Those few men had found a way to escape such a tragedy. Surely Thomas had too…

Most of the rescued were wet in some way, their hair stringy, their clothes soaked through. Their shoulders were covered with scratchy wool blankets provided by the Carpathia. It was hard to tell one person from another in such a state, but Elizabeth wouldn’t give up.

Classes were separated by deck. She walked them for hours. Checked every survivor list available. Asked officers if they’d seen a man who fit Thomas’s description. She even went so far as to demand an announcement be made over the whole of the ship, asking Thomas to report to the wheelhouse. She’d been denied, but it didn’t hinder her search.

Even when the final lifeboat was emptied and the last passenger brought aboard the Carpathia, Elizabeth still couldn’t believe it.

Thomas had to be on board. He simply had to be. Elizabeth couldn’t explain it, but she still felt connected to him. She could
feel
him in her veins, surging through her heart. He couldn’t be dead.

She held on to that feeling, disbelieving the hard truth that Thomas had perished with over a thousand others. Until she stepped foot onto the boat deck.

Hundreds of women were wailing, grasping at the collars of officers, begging to turn the ship around and search for survivors once more. They’d lost grandfathers, fathers, brothers…husbands.

Thomas was none of those things to her, yet she mourned him just the same.

Minutes slipped into hours and hours piled into days—three long, dreadful days. Sometimes it seemed as if they’d never reach New York. Elizabeth clung onto hope, even when it seemed all hope was lost. There was no other ship carrying survivors and no other lifeboat sailing the Atlantic, waiting to be found. Neither of those facts stopped Elizabeth from thinking them.

She simply couldn’t get it through her head, or her heart—Thomas was gone.

As they sailed over the Grand Banks at dusk on the third day, Elizabeth found herself wandering aimlessly around the boat deck. Her heart was hollowed, her soul rattled.

There was not enough room inside for Carpathia’s passengers as well as the survivors they’d picked up from the Titanic, so most of the survivors gathered at the stern of the ship. Elizabeth took a bench seat next to an older woman who seemed to be smothered by her blanket. She’d draped it over her head and cinched it at the neck, exposing the redness of her face and nothing else. It was clear from the blankness in her stare that she’d lost someone dear to her.

Elizabeth sat back and sighed, wondering who this woman had lost.

“I think if you look this forlorn, you have lied to me twice and had a fiancé after all.” The woman’s voice was all too familiar.

Elizabeth leaned forward, peering at the wrinkled brow of the woman who’d been poised and graceful and perfect in the first class dining hall.

“Lady Grace?” Elizabeth took her hand as realization struck. “I’m—I’m so very sorry…did you lose your husband? Lord Grace?”

“Mmm,” she said, tilting her head back until it hit the rail behind her. “I lost my husband…my best friend…my partner. All in one night. And you have lost your fiancé, I presume?”

“No, I spoke the truth before. There is no fiancé.” Elizabeth felt deflated. Sunken and shallow. Even though she couldn’t have known what would happen to the ship or the loss that Lady Grace would suffer, Elizabeth believed herself to be among the wretched for stealing from her. “I’m sorry for your loss, Lady Grace, truly. I heard wonderful things about your husband.”

She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “He was a great man, yes. A bit of a gambler, but that excitement for the game, that
passion
, was what I loved about him most.”

Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know Lady Grace well enough to hold a lengthy conversation, and Elizabeth hadn’t lost the love of her life as she had. Not really, though she supposed with time Thomas could’ve moved up the ranks. He’d already seemed to have wrapped himself around her heart more fully than any other had before.

As they watched the coast roll in, Elizabeth stayed with Lady Grace, holding her hand. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. The tragedy of their experience superseded words.

It wasn’t until the Carpathia pulled into dock and the whistle blew that Elizabeth remembered what Lady Grace had said to her when she’d first sat down.

“What did you mean when you said I lied to you twice?” Elizabeth asked finally, breaking their silence. “When I first came up to you, you said I’d lied to you.”

“Mmm,” she said, pulling the blanket around her shoulders. “You lied about your reason for leaving the dining hall, my dear.”

Hot flashes of embarrassment flooded Elizabeth’s cheeks. Lady Grace had known all along…Elizabeth hadn’t left their dining table because she felt ill. She left as an excuse to steal Lady Grace’s clutch.

Elizabeth faced her completely, cupping both her hands in hers. “I’m so very sorry. Had I known—”

“Oh, I knew you took it from the start, darling.”

“You did?”

She nodded. “If you are in such desperate need of an old woman’s money that you steal it behind her back over a fine dinner of minced lamb, you should have it. I’ve got more money than I know what to do with and look where that fortune has gotten me.” Her broken gaze drifted to the towering heights of the city. “I must start fresh in this place, just like you.”

Elizabeth was struck speechless. Lady Grace had bestowed on the less fortunate, even if the less fortunate wore a first class gown of silk and rubies. She wondered if Lady Grace saw a little girl with the frizzy blonde ringlets when she looked upon her.

They were all the same. Everyone was in need at some point in their life. It was only a matter of when. For Elizabeth, that time was now. She needed a friend…

“Has The White Star Line secured you a room?” Elizabeth asked. “Or are you leaving New York right away?”

“I’m staying for a bit, I think.” Lady Grace stood with elegance, her chin high despite the toll the night had taken on her. Seemed even a worn wool blanket could be made luxurious with the right woman wearing it. “Would you care to escort me, Miss Scott?”

“It’d be my pleasure.”

As they stood and made their way toward the bow, a man with a scruffy beard stepped in front of them, cutting them off. “Please excuse my eavesdropping, but you are Miss Scott?” His Spanish accent rang heavy.

She’d never seen, or heard, this man in her life, she was certain of it. “Yes…”

His seemed to collapse at the confirmation, his chest sinking, his shoulders drooping. “I must thank you.” His big brown eyes welled with tears. “You saved my life.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, wishing she was the Miss Scott he knew so she could consol him the way he needed. “You have me mistaken for somebody else.”

“No, it is you. The other night…” he paused, skipping over the cruelest part. “I met your…your
Thomas.
”

“Thomas?” His name came out as a squeal. “You were with him? Did he make it?”