EVERYTHING’S NOT LOST
Chapter Forty-Six

"Are you out of your mind!?" he exclaimed to me.

"Harry, he was lying!"

"How do you know that, Ann?" I sighed, brushing hair out of my eyes. The tears that had come so unexpectedly began to form, even more so than before—enough to make everything around me seem fuzzy. I don’t want to be interrogated by my fiancée, future husband. I can’t even look him in the eye. "Oh, Antoinette." He gently pulled me towards the other side of the hallway and sat me down into one of two empty chairs. He took the crutches and leaned them against the other chair. I began to cry, weep even, into my hands as he kneeled down to my level. "I’m sorry, I—" He hugged me and I instinctively wrapped my arms around him. "Oh, Antoinette." He pulled me in closer to him as dozens of tears began to fall down my cheeks and onto his officer’s uniform.

"Oh, your uniform," I whispered into his ear, trying to brush the tears away from the wool. He looked at me, shaking his head.

"It’s alright." I held onto him tighter than before, my eyes welling up with more tears. "Ann, Ann." He stroked my hair. "Ann." He kissed my cheek as I held on tighter. I can’t believe I’m crying over this. I’m crying like a maniac over this. I yelled at Bruce Ismay—but, it’s not even that. I don’t care I yelled at him, he deserved it. It’s my father. I know he wouldn’t want me crying, but the sadness Ismay had conveyed when discussing my father made me miss him all that much more. In reality, there’s nothing anyone can say, nothing anyone can do, to make him come back to me. And I thought I couldn’t cry any more about him being gone. What I lost is too much. I lost him. All of those people in that room lost someone and there I was, yelling at someone I consider responsible. I know, in reality, it’s not his fault, but someone must be blamed. I’m not strong. I’m not. I’m weak, and perhaps, that’s why I feel as though someone has to be held responsible. Then again, perhaps it was just an accident, a very twisted accident. And sure, I suppose looking on the bright side—I met someone on account of Titanic, the true love of my life, but I lost so much.

"I shouldn’t have forced you." I glanced at Harry, halfway releasing the hug, realizing the look of remorse he has on his face.

"What?"

"You didn’t want to come. I wanted you to, I’m sorry…"

"This isn’t anyone’s fault." I swallowed back my tears. "I didn’t expect to blow up like that."

"I know your father—"

"He’s gone," I said softly, "I know he is."

"He was your father, Antoinette. You loved him. Nothing can take his place." I stared at him. I can’t believe he said that, because it is so true. Nothing can take my father’s place. I sighed heavily.

"I don’t know." I rubbed my forehead as he took my hands, leaning in even more so to me. "I didn’t expect myself to be an emotional basket case." I forced a smile at him as he pulled out a handkerchief and gently wiped my eyes. "I should be able to handle this, I mean, by God—"

"You don’t have to prove anything," he whispered to me. "Not to anyone. You don’t even have to be able to handle it." He took in a sharp breath. "It’s not something anyone truly gets over." He brushed a wisp of hair out of my face. "…Of course, I want you to be happy, Antoinette. I really do."

"I know," I said softly.

"Whatever it takes to make you happy, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I love you."

"I love you, too," I managed to say. He put his forehead to mine.

"And I’m right here." I looked him straight in the eye.

"For always?" He nodded.

"For always." I sighed as he gently kissed my nose. He always seems to catch me in my most vulnerable moments, he really does. And yet, I don’t care. I really don’t. Why should I care? Then again…I tend to ask too many questions, too many stupid questions, questions that need to be answered. I glanced at Harry, who still had a smile on his face. Perhaps I need that reassurance, the reassurance that someone in this world won’t leave me all alone—because God knows I’m not going back to England. And I know Harry won’t leave me alone, no matter what. ‘Til death do us part. Marriage, oh, marriage…

"You shouldn’t marry me," I decided softly, shaking my head.

"Why not?" he asked curiously.

"I’m insane." He smiled.

"No, you’re not." He paused. "If you’re insane, I’m insane. And the best the insane can do is stick together…which means marriage for us." I smiled unexpectedly at that and he seems somewhat relieved that he got me to smile. "And let’s not forget about your ankle. How much does that hurt? A lot?" I managed a slight nod at him, even if he’s changing the subject. "Once I testify, we’ll go back to the hotel and you can rest, I promise." He stopped, before smiling. "And besides, now that our little secret is out about the china, Bruce Ismay will be after my paycheck. The quicker we can get out of here, the better." He forced a slight laugh.

"He yelled at me," I sniffled.

"Are you crying because he yelled at you?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I hope not." That would make me truly crazy. He kissed me on the cheek.

"Now, he’s definitely not worth crying over. That’s like crying over spilt milk." I’m never this emotional. What has gotten into me? "Must be those pain pills," he said, with a smile. "They mess with your mind." He wiped a few more oncoming tears away. "Come now…This isn’t worth crying over. Your father wouldn’t want you crying about this." I know he wouldn’t.

"I can’t." I hiccupped. "Help it."

"He loved you too much to see you upset. And now, you’ve got the hiccups," he said, with a little laugh. That’s when the doors behind us opened and we both looked up from each other to see Lightoller walking towards us.

"Everything alright?" he asked, in barely above a whisper as he shut the doors behind him. He walked towards us and found a seat for himself to my right.

"Everything’s fine," Harry reassured him. He glanced at me. "Isn’t it, Love?" he asked, sounding unsure. I nodded as he handed me his handkerchief.

"Everything’s fine." Lightoller seemed to sigh a enormous breath of relief as he leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well…Let me just say I love your wife, Harry."

"Future wife," I corrected.

"Why’s that?" Harry asked him, with a large smile as I hiccupped again.

"Never in all my years have I seen someone put Bruce Ismay in his place like that!" He took off his officer’s hat and acted as though he was going to throw it down the hall and out of sight. "He’s made me want to quit and become a blacksmith." I smiled at that. He was serious.

"I think I cost Harry his job," I said to Lightoller, hiccupping again into his handkerchief.

"Oh, Ann, I doubt it!" Harry grinned at me.

"I doubt men will be lining up to sign up with White Star Line after all of this is put to rest," Lightoller pointed out. I nodded.

"True." The door opened yet again and one of the guards gestured to Harry and Lightoller.

"Whichever one of you is Fifth Officer Harold Lowe, we’re ready for you." Oh, that must be Henry, the poor thing that keeps getting yelled at. He looks aggravated and tired. Ismay must be done getting abused—it’s Harry’s turn now.

"Well," he said to me, hesitating, "I guess it’s my turn." He isn’t moving, though.

"Go," I urged. "That way, we’ll get out of here." He nodded and slowly but surely stood up on his feet, squeezing my hands before letting go of them.

"Charlie, keep an eye on her, would you?" he asked Lightoller. I’m not going to even comment to that. I realize he wants to make sure I’m okay, and isn’t treating me like a child. Had my father said that, I would’ve rolled my eyes and told him everything was okay. I can’t be sure of what’s okay now.

"Of course."

"And don’t you dare run off with her and get married—!" Lightoller smiled at me.

"That ruins my plans."

"Before I die, Officer!" Smith’s voice rang through the hallway and I realize he’s still standing in the same spot where we had left him, in the front of the room. "Before I hold you in contempt!" He’ll threaten, but that’s it.

"Alright, then." Harry kissed me on the head. "Wish me luck."

"Don’t lie," Lightoller said simply.

"Oh, thanks for the tip!" Harry replied sarcastically before stepping into the chamber of death. The moment the doors shut behind him, Lightoller managed a laugh.

"Am I getting invited to the wedding?"

"What?" I asked, confused.

"The wedding, am I invited?" I laughed, rubbing my forehead.

"Sure, if you want to come…" I hiccupped. "Harry might be worried you’ll try to kidnap me, though, so you have to be on your best behavior." He put his hand to his heart.

"I will, I promise."

"I’m taking you up on that promise!" I laughed. He smiled, clearing his throat. As we quieted down, I could hear the Senator talking, loudly, even though the doors to that room are completely shut.

"Do you want anything?" he asked me suddenly. "Coffee, tea…? I need something to wake me up and I’m going to see if I can sneak a free cup—" I put my finger to my mouth, shushing him.

"Listen." I gestured to the doors. "You can hear them." He stopped momentarily before nodding at me. He teetered in his chair, folding his hands, listening intently. I sat closer to the edge of my seat, tilting my ear to the doors.

"Would you please state your name for the record?" Smith asked Harry.

"Harold Godfrey Lowe."

"Your occupation?"

"Officer of the White Star Line."

"In what capacity?"

"Well, I was the Fifth Officer on Titanic."

"And merely for classification, Officer Lowe, what was the iceberg made of?" Is he kidding? I glanced at Lightoller, who had the same look on his face that I must have on mine: a look of what?

"Excuse me?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"What was the iceberg made of?" Smith repeated.

"Well, the iceberg…" Harry’s voice trailed off. "Although I never saw it, I assume it was made of…ice." He had said it with such seriousness, I held back my impending giggles. Why would someone ask what an iceberg was made of? Lightoller glanced at me and before I knew it, we were both laughing hysterically.

Chapter Forty-Seven
Stories