ELUDING DESTINY
Chapter Twelve
John Farraway leaned over the
railing, breathing in the sea air deeply. Around the ship, the sky was
darkening, becoming almost indistinguishable from the sea on the eastern
horizon. Already, the moon was visible, pale and crescent-shaped above him. The
bitter wind, which had kept most of his fellow third class passengers inside,
stung his bare face and hands, but he didn't care. He found the cold, empty
evening a refreshing change from the cramped quarters where he'd spent most of
the day. In fact, he'd only ventured out of the room once that day, to fetch
Emily a pitcher of water...
His heart went out to his
daughter, but at the same time he was relieved to be away from her. The petite
six-year-old had fallen ill the day the Titanic had left port, and her illness
had only gotten worse. She was pale and feverish, shivering underneath the thin
blankets, bright spots of color on her cheeks, her glassy eyes begging him to
make the hurt go away. She likely had influenza, maybe a mild case of
pneumonia. She couldn't keep anything down but water. John had sat in the tiny
room for hours almost every day since they'd boarded, nursing his daughter,
listening to her moan and toss and turn. She had a nasty virus. John was
worried that Frances would catch it.
And Katherine was worried about
everything else.
He sighed. He could easily
picture Katherine's face in his mind, lined with worries, her dark eyes afraid
and desperate. Leaving England for America was a choice he had made alone. He
hadn't consulted her because he knew she would refuse. But he'd lost his job.
There was nothing left for him in Liverpool. So, he'd booked them on the
Titanic, using up nearly the last of their paltry savings, leaving them with
almost nothing to start with in America.
And now Emily was sick. Hospital
bills were inevitable; he would not let his child stay ill if there was a way
he could prevent it. And neither would Katherine. But even though she had said
nothing to him, he knew that she was worried. And he was worried, too, more
than he would ever let on. What if he couldn't find work? What if they ran out
of money? What if his children went hungry? What if Emily became sicker? And
Frances did, too? What if...?
So many questions. John felt
helpless, and angry because he was helpless. What could he do? He needed to do
something, for God's sake. He couldn't just stand here. His family was at
stake. But there was nothing...
Or was there?
He paused in his thoughts,
switching them abruptly. The vision of a gold watch entered his mind. A
gleaming gold watch, worth more than he could ever hope to possess. And the
image of a red-haired girl in a glittering dress, laughing in the arms of a
young man whose tousled blond hair fell into his eyes. A young man whom he had
seen earlier. With a sketchbook.
I am looking for a man...if you
have any information, I'd be more than happy to compensate you for your
troubles...
John sucked in his breath. Could
he do that? Could he, in good conscience, help the aristocratic snob in the
penguin suit? And in doing so, betray the young man who had done him no wrong?
He gripped the railing tightly
with both hands, his mind wrestling with a decision that had no right answer.
Either way, he'd hurt someone. But Emily...and Katherine...and Frances...
He pictured again his young
daughter, her dark curls clinging to her sweaty forehead as she bent forward, knuckles
white as they gripped the blankets, deep coughs racking her tiny form. The
image made the decision for him.
Yes. He could do it. He could and
he would.
For he remembered the young man's
name, the kind young man who had introduced himself Friday evening and offered
to do a sketch of Frances.
Jack Dawson was a small price to
pay for his family's well-being. He had no choice. It would be done.