EVERYTHING’S NOT LOST
Chapter Forty-One

"You sprained it." The doctor sounded positive as he continued to examine my ankle. Doctors are completely overrated, let me tell you. Harry, I think, scared out of his wits, since my ankle swelled even more—had a doctor called in. That in itself took hours. You’d think there would be more doctors in such a big city, but I suppose not. All the while he was on the telephone, getting ready to reach his hand into the mouthpiece and strangle whoever he was talking to, I had time to clean myself up, all the while leaning against the bathroom counter—keeping the pressure off of my ankle. I now have new respect for trapeze artists. It’s difficult standing on one leg for as long as I did, I have no idea how those trapeze people do it.

The sun has since set (it was light when this doctor first arrived) and it’s completely dark out…yet, here I am, being picked and prodded like a laboratory rat, when I should be fast asleep. I sighed, leaning back into my pillows. The doctor himself looked like he could be my grandfather—he’s that old. I don’t think he can even see straight, let alone diagnosis problems. Why hasn’t he retired yet?

"Are you sure?" Harry asked him, sitting on the edge of my bed, to my left. The doctor nodded.

"Absolutely positive."

"But—"

"Harry, let the man do his job," I told him. So he can leave. Then again, Harry’s felt the need to question every little thing the doctor has said since he’s shown up. I sighed, rubbing my eyes. I’m surprised this doctor hasn’t left yet, refusing to help. Isn’t there a code that says these medical professionals can’t leave someone in need—so technically, he can’t leave until he helps me. Oh, that’s reassuring.

"And how did you cause so much damage to yourself, Miss Andrews?" the doctor questioned, ignoring Harry.

"I tripped on the area rug." As if it’s any of his business. I glanced at him and he doesn’t look like he believes me.

"I see." Oh, the skepticism in his voice is incredible.

"When will I be able to walk?" I asked, attempting to change the subject. He took in a deep breath, moving my ankle around in a few different directions, as he had done when he first came in here. And he’s hurting me! "Okay, that hurts!" I practically screeched at him.

"I apologize," he said sincerely. "Well, the swelling should come down in about two to three days, and the pain also." That’s comforting. "As for walking, I suggest you stay off of it for as long as possible." I shook my head. I can’t do that.

"But—"

"Ann, whatever it takes," Harry chimed in. I sighed at him, trying not to roll my eyes. The trial. I want to go. Besides the fact that Harry’s going to testify, I want to see why there’s such a big fuss about Titanic. There was an iceberg and that’s it. There is no conspiracy. I was there, I know.

"Crutches will work for you, my dear," the doctor said hopefully, gesturing to crutches he had come in with minutes ago. I wondered why he had brought them in to begin with, but I suppose after hearing the nature of this patient’s injuries, he thought—Hell, let me bring them. That’s what I have them for, right? "Let’s not make the pain chronic, so limit the activity to the best of your ability." Yes, let’s not make this pain chronic. It hurts! "Then again, stiffness can be a problem…" Does he even have a medical degree?

"So, should she walk or shouldn’t she?" Harry asked, trying not to sound as frustrated as he is.

"She should, after a few days." He paused. "You’ll be back up to your old shenanigans in no time," he said, with a smile. Men. He looked up from my ankle to me, before going for his bag. He pulled out skin-colored bandages and began to unroll it from a rather large bundle. "We’ll wrap this up and you can rest, my dear." He began to tightly wrap my ankle with the bandages, all the while humming to himself. There was silence until he finished tying the bandages. "Make sure you keep it dry."

"I will," I promised. It’s much easier to promise that than to promise I’ll stay off my feet when I know I won’t. Harry would have to tie me down to the bed to keep me still. The doctor took out what looked to be a pill bottle from his briefcase before standing up from the bed.

"Should the need arise, you can use the crutches to get yourself around. I recommend staying in bed. I urge you to, in fact. And make sure you keep that ice on it. It’ll keep the swelling down." Well, Harry had been right on that account. I managed a nod. "And should your ankle get worse, the swelling or the pain, please let me know." He handed Harry the white bottle. "This may help her sleep."

"What is it?" he asked the doctor.

"It’s a pain reducer, but it tends to make some patients drowsy. Let’s just say I wouldn’t operate heavy machinery after popping a few of them." He smiled. "I think, judging by your weight, one would be sufficient. Just have something to eat before you take one, okay?"

"Alright," I said, with a nod. "Thank you, Doctor." He smiled.

"Not a problem at all, Miss Andrews. Good evening to both of you." With that, he went down the suite’s hallway and the door opened before clicking shut. I sighed somewhat of a breath of relief, glancing at Harry, still sitting on the bed. He calmed down as soon as the doctor was good and gone. His shoulders weren’t tensed up anymore.

"All common sense," I muttered, putting the ice back onto my ankle. "Why did we need a doctor again?" Harry shook the pill bottle before placing it onto the bedside table.

"I had a good idea that he might give you these."

"I’m already tired," I admitted, "But, the pain factor scares me, so I’m taking one."

"Good idea." Silence. "I guess, uh…" His voice trailed off, "I guess going to the trial is out of the question."

"For me?" I questioned.

"No, for me." I shook my head at him.

"No, no, you have to go."

"Ann, I’m not going to leave you here—"

"They’ll throw you in jail if you don’t show up. They subpoenaed you, you have to go. It’s law. If you don’t show up…Well, it won’t be a pretty sight." I can just imagine the police handcuffing Harry and dragging him away…I put a hand on his shoulder. "Besides, you can’t go to jail. We just got engaged." He laughed at that, wrapping his arms around me.

"That’s very true," he said, with a nod, pulling me towards him. "And for that, you get a prize."

"A prize?" I asked, with a smile.

"A I don’t want my fiancé thrown in jail prize." I raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Because some women want their husbands in jail…?" I laughed.

"Okay." A kiss. "Well, I should’ve known!" I giggled.

"How about I order us some dinner?" he suggested. He still seems to be so happy, still beaming, about earlier today, even under these dire circumstances—me being unable to walk. I have to admit, I feel bubbly myself and I never feel bubbly. I only feel bubbly when I’m with him. Bubbly or not, I shook my head. No dinner. "No?" he asked, surprised.

"I’m still full from last night."

"You need to eat before you take any of those pills. But…" His voice trailed off, before his eyes lit up, as if an idea had struck him. "I’ve got it. I’ll be right back." He dropped the embrace and standing up, went for the kitchen. I heard rustling of dishes and what sounded like silverware and a moment later, he reappeared into the room, holding dishes that had chocolate cake, the cake from last night, on them. Well, it’s chocolate on chocolate cake. Chocolate cake with chocolate frosting…complete chocolate paradise.

"Cake?" I questioned, as he handed me a dish, a fork and a napkin.

"Cake," he replied, with a sturdy nod.

"Dessert was always better than dinner, anyway." He smiled at me, taking a bite of what looked to be the half-frozen chocolate cake as he sat down beside me.

"Very true." I took a snippet of the cake and plopped it into my mouth. Oh, chocolate heaven. I seemed to sink back into my pillows at the luxury of the dessert. "Is it good?" he asked, with a smile, leaning back into the pillows next to me.

"Yes." I took another bite. "Actually, I forgot all about the cake."

"Well…so did I. But, the thought of food and then…" He snapped his fingers. "It popped right back into my head." He smiled.

"Well, I’m proud."

"You should be," he replied, mouth half-full.

"And in all of my years, I have never seen a ship officer gobble down cake quite like you."

"We do eat, you know!" he laughed.

"Well, I know that!"

"My job doesn’t consist of getting tea for everyone, contrary to popular belief."

"That was one of the requirements, though. Can you boil water, my good man?" I laughed.

"After getting tea, you move up to getting food for everyone," he continued.

"Then, what’s the steward’s job?" I asked.

"To stand around and look as if they’re doing what they should be." I tried not to choke on the cake, from laughter, as I swallowed.

"That’s true," I agreed, "they never actually did anything. And when they tried to, I got aggravated. I was always the one they zoomed in on." I pointed to myself, just to prove a point. "Not sure why."

"You were there."

"True." As we finished off the remaining cake, there was just sounds of us eating away, like starved beasts. Alright, so I suppose I was a little more famished than I thought. When Harry was finished, he placed his dish onto the bedside table and when I was done, I handed my plate to him, and he stacked it on top of his.

"Well, then…" His voice trailed off. "Are you cold?"

"What?" How random could he be?

"I only asked, because I’ll help you get under the blankets."

"Oh." I laughed at myself. "Sure." He swung his legs over the bed and stood up, pulling back the blankets. I managed to pull myself under the sheets and covered my legs up, taking the cloth filled with ice under the blanket and positioned it on my ankle.

"Comfortable?" he asked, folding the blankets over my waist.

"Perfect." He took the pill bottle and shook it.

"Want one?" he offered. "They may help." I nodded and he popped open the top, handing me one. "I’ll get you some water, if you’d like—" I swallowed it, cold-turkey. "Or not." He sat down beside me, wrapping an arm around me. "Do you want any water?" I shook my head.

"No."

"Anything?" he conjured on.

"I’m fine," I reassured him.

"Alright." I brought myself closer to him, putting my head on his chest. Listening to his heartbeat under me, it’s amazing how safe I feel. I really do feel safe. He makes me feel so safe, it’s incredible. The only other man I’ve ever felt this safe with was my father. It may sound strange, but it’s true. As the moments seemed to pass, my eyelids began to grow heavy. "Falling asleep there, Love?" Harry asked, brushing hair from my eyes. I managed a nod, curling up beside him even more so than before. "Well, just count some sheep and then, you’ll be off…" I didn’t even have the chance to count, because I fell fast asleep.

I woke with a start. Looking around me, the lights are all turned off and it still seems to be night. It still looks to be night, judging from the windows looking over the city. It’s still dark. Oh! I sighed angrily. Dumb medication! I didn’t even sleep through the night! So much for constant, sound sleep. I sighed again, placing my head back onto my pillow. Wait, how did I ever get on my pillow? The last thing I remember was laying on Harry and now, here I am, on the pillow. I now feel soft air against my neck and froze. It sounds like breathing—soft breathing. I slowly turned my head to see Harry fast asleep beside me, under the covers with me, his arm around me. I brought myself closer to him. I can’t believe he didn’t get up and go to his room. Not that I’m sad he didn’t, I want him with me. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I quickly glanced around the room and see that he had his officer’s uniform overcoat thrown over a chair. Looking at him, I could now see the white starch of the shirt that he wore, under the overcoat—even in the dark. It’s that white. His tie is also thrown to the floor, along with his shoes.

"You awake?" he mumbled to me. I almost jumped a mile, but when he opened his eyes, I nodded, managing a smile. "Hi, stranger."

"Hi."

"You passed out immediately after taking one of those," he murmured, his accent as present as could be.

"So did you," I replied softly, "and here you are."

"I can leave…" he said, gesturing to the door. "I didn’t actually plan on staying here all night. I didn’t want to leave you here by yourself. But, I’ll leave now—" I shook my head and he stopped.

"No, no, that’s okay. Stay."

"You sure?" I nodded.

"Positive. I mean, after all, we’ll have to get used to each other eventually."

"The terrors of marriage," he yawned, smiling. "Anyhow, do you have any idea how soft you breathe? I thought, for a few moments earlier, you stopped breathing completely."

"Corset," I said simply, with a shrug.

"I was afraid to move you," he admitted. "I thought I was going to break you."

"No porcelain here." He smiled.

"Well, you never can be too sure." He paused, touching my cheek gently. "You look like you are made of porcelain. And now…" He kissed my cheek, "I’ve come to the conclusion that you are too good for me." I laughed at that.

"Now, why would you think that?"

"Because you are. You’re everything a man could ever want, Ann."

"But, I don’t want every other man." I smiled. "I want you."

"And I’m very lucky. But, to be honest, I wasn’t sure if you would even say yes," he suddenly admitted. "You’re too beautiful."

"You’re shocked I agreed to marry you?" I asked skeptically. He seemed to practically blush under the cover of night and the sheets, and I laughed, bringing myself even closer to him. "I wouldn’t have been able to say no."

"Seriously?" he asked, unsure of whether to believe me or not. "I was also unsure because I could barely form the sentence. It took a lot of energy!" He chuckled to himself as I attempted to straighten his shirt collar.

"Now, not to get off-topic with you…" One thing I never asked him.

"But, you will…" he smiled.

"Yes, I will! What time do you have to be there for tomorrow?"

"For the trial?" I nodded. "I have no idea. I want to say the paper said ten, at some hotel…The name escapes me now—"

"That’s not all that early. You better check it. That and the hotel name!" I giggled.

"I will," he promised, "in the morning."

"If you’re late, it could mean jail time…" I laughed, tapping his nose for effect.

"I won’t be. I’ll leave at the last minute, anyway."

"Why? It’s better to be early—"

"I want to stay with you for as long as I can."

"You’ll see me!" I laughed. "I’m not going anywhere."

"You can’t go anywhere."

"True, true." I smiled, looking up at him. "I almost want to go. To the trial."

"You and I both know it’s for the best if you just stay here." I sighed.

"I know."

"Then, once you’re better, we can inform your mother of our wonderful news and you won’t be on crutches." I laughed out loud at that, hiding my laughter in his shoulder. The sarcasm in his voice is as thick as molasses.

"She’ll be so happy, she’ll go pick flowers on the side yard while skipping…" my voice trailed off as he started to laugh.

"Will she make wreaths of daisies for us to wear?" I smiled.

"Daisy wreaths and wheat wreaths, for the wedding." He started to laugh more so than before, remembering our conversation on Titanic. How could that conversation be forgotten to begin with?

"Oh, it’ll be wonderful," he choked out between his fits of laughing.

"Just lovely, I’m sure." I sighed, rubbing my eyes. "Oh, the…wedding."

"What about it?" I sat up, staring at him. Doesn’t he realize how much time goes into a wedding? I doubt it. He’s a man. Men never understand. Then again, I don’t understand what all the fuss is about when it concerns weddings. Why can’t they be simple?

"We need to plan and…all of these other things need to be scheduled! There’s so much work to do—" He laughed, putting a finger to my lips to shut me up.

"Love, it won’t be complicated." He paused, glancing down at me as I put my head back onto my pillow. "I always thought weddings should be small, anyway."

"You do?" I asked. He nodded.

"Surprised?"

"No. I always thought the same thing." He smiled.

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm. Every wedding I ever went to, it was a big to-do. Besides the fact that all of those marriages were arranged, it was so formal. It wasn’t personal."

"Been there, done that," he laughed.

"My cousin’s wedding alone made me never want to get married." I sighed. "I want our wedding to be personal, Harry. Quiet, small…"

"With as few people as possible?" he suggested.

"Sure, why not?" I laughed at the idea, but loved it all the more. The only person I really would want at my wedding would be my father and I’m sure he will be there. "What about your family?"

"Ann, I haven’t spoken to anyone in my family for years." Oh, right.

"But, don’t you think they deserve to know you’re getting married?" He shrugged a shoulder.

"Not really, no. Why would I want to bring them into something that isn’t about them? They’ll turn the whole ceremony into something about them. It’s our happiness that matters, not their approval." He stifled a chuckle. "And besides, I’m sure your family will have enough to say."

"Screw them." Even in the darkness, I could see his eyes grow wide.

"Excuse me?"

"Screw ‘em!" I repeated, slamming my fist down onto the mattress. "If they’re not happy, they can all go to Hell. Both my family and yours." My mother may think I’m throwing my life away, but I don’t feel as if I am. I love Harry and even if he had no job, and was living on the street, I’d still love him. Although I must admit, I think he looks great in that officer’s uniform.

"I love that, Antoinette, I really do. I think, though, you’ve been spending too much time with me!" I shook my head. Never enough time.

"No, I don’t think so!" I kissed him quickly on the cheek. "I love you."

"I love you." He kissed my cheek a few times, to my left and then to my right, kissing me on the nose. I couldn’t help but giggle until he kissed me, making the laughter abruptly stop. As he let go of the kiss, he took my hand. "Dear God, you’re freezing," he mumbled, taking my other hand. I am?

"What?"

"Your hands are freezing."

"I don’t feel cold."

"Well…" He pulled up the bed’s comforter, stuck at our feet, and wrapped it around me. "You’re cold." He took both of my hands and rubbed them, trying to get my blood flowing. I don’t think he’s having much success.

"Harry, I’m not cold," I laughed. He smiled, continuing to rub my hands.

"You say one thing, your hands say another." His feet, conveniently still in socks, hit mine and he jumped. "Oh, Ann, your feet are freezing, too!" he exclaimed, tiredly laughing.

"I have no circulation in my feet or my hands. Poor circulation." I squeezed his hands. "I’m not wearing socks like you are."

"Well, stockings count…"

"You and I both know they don’t! They’re much thinner than socks!"

"I wouldn’t know," he said, with a shrug. He continued to rub my hands, before looking up at me. "You know, I never got a chance to ask you…" His voice trailed off.

"Ask me what?"

"Are you happy?" Happy? He’s asking me if I’m happy? Is he serious? How could I not be happy? I feel like the luckiest girl on this Earth. I’m getting married. I never thought I’d be one of those brides-to-be who was just giddy, but here I am…giddy. Me, Antoinette Andrews, giddy. I never thought I’d be this excited about anything in my entire existence. Thinking back, I never thought I’d be this happy ever again. I was so miserable. Now, I’m so joyful and all of these other emotions—And that’s all my father wanted for me, for me to be happy. I kept my eyes locked on the dark beige ceiling and I know Harry’s just staring at me, waiting for an answer.

"Besides my damaged ankle?" I asked.

"Besides the ankle."

"Yes."

Chapter Forty-Two
Stories