MAKING LUCK
Chapter Eight
April 15, 1912
Collapsible C
"Cal. Wake up."
Cal groaned and forced himself to
return to unpleasant consciousness. He was cold and tired and sore and wanted
to be anywhere but that cramped little lifeboat right now. He glanced around
him. Jack was sitting across from him, gently shaking a sleeping Rose. Tommy
and Fabrizio were slowly rousing, groaning after having slept in such odd
positions. Cal glanced around him; sometime over the course of the night, the
little girl--Cal would really have to find out her name--had crawled into his
lap and settled against him. He didn’t mind; in fact, he actually liked having
her curled up and sleeping against him.
Cal glanced past the ship,
looking at the horizon. He saw the Carpathia not too far away, waiting among
the icebergs for the trail of lifeboats to come closer. He should have felt
relieved at seeing the boat; he certainly had last time. But somehow…he didn’t.
This wasn’t to say that he wasn’t glad to see the ship; it was one step away
from the Titanic. But he couldn’t help the overwhelming guilt that was roiling
within him. Women and children died; he knew that. He was no better than that
rat, Ismay. Speaking of whom, the ship’s owner was sitting by the edge of the
boat, looking utterly remorseful.
"It shouldn’t have
happened," he muttered.
The little girl in Cal’s lap
stirred and, upon becoming aware of her surroundings, turned to look up at him.
They stared at each other for a moment, Cal utterly unsure of what to do. And
then she leaned back against him, staring out at the gray horizon. Perhaps the
world was bleak from her point of view as well. Perhaps it was hopeful. Cal had
no way of knowing.
"Y’know," Tommy said,
clearing his hoarse throat, "me mam always used ter say…it’s…it’s not fer
us to know why…why God does, well, what he does."
Those who had heard him
contemplated his words as the boat drew closer and closer to the small steamer.
*****
The Carpathia was a haze to Cal.
He remembered giving his name to a steward before moving on. Everyone separated
once they boarded. Jack and Rose melted into the crowd; Rose, no doubt, did not
want to be recognized. She had given her name as Rose Dawson, if that was any
indication of her intentions. Fabrizio followed a Norwegian family off to the
side, holding hands with their blonde daughter. The little girl tugged on Cal’s
jacket; he picked her up obligingly. Tommy paused and turned back to him.
"That was a…a good thing yeh
did. On the ship," he said stiffly; Cal received the distinct impression
that he was made of piss and vinegar and didn’t mince words well.
"Oh, yes. All in a day’s
work," Cal attempted.
Tommy held out a hand. "It
was nice meeting yeh, Cal Hockley."
"And you…Tommy Ryan,"
Cal added, returning the handshake. They parted then.
Cal carried the little girl up to
the first class deck, ignoring offers of coffee or brandy. She clung to him
tightly; he was all she had now. She was very young; two or three, perhaps. Cal
couldn’t help wondering what on earth had happened to her family. How could
anyone leave a child behind?
"Cal!"
He turned and almost didn’t
recognize the woman before him for a moment. Ruth’s hair was falling loose and
her face was pale and gaunt. She looked as if she had been through hell and
back again. She probably had; the last Cal had seen of her, she was screaming
for Rose. Ruth ran towards him, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Have you
seen Rose? Is she alive?"
For all of the nuisance she had
been to him over the past few days, Cal felt for Ruth DeWitt Bukater at that
moment. A social empress though she was, her daughter took precedence over
everything. Cal saw that now. He realized not long after the sinking that Ruth
was using a marriage between him and Rose to support herself since her late
husband had squandered everything. He had resented her then; now, he saw that
it was the only way Ruth knew to help Rose. She only wanted the best for Rose;
that was why she urged her into a marriage of convenience.
Cal could only imagine what Ruth
had been going through; no doubt she had been sitting in a lifeboat for hours,
wondering if Rose was dead or alive. He sighed and hefted the little girl.
"She…she is alive. I can tell you that much."
Ruth’s face was confused.
"I…I don’t understand. Where is she? I want to see her!"
Cal shook his head. "Not
now, Ruth. She is alive and well, I promise you. She’ll come to you when she’s
ready."
Ruth looked as if she simply
couldn’t comprehend what was being said. "I…Rose…"
"She’s been like this ever
since we left the ship, sir," Trudy informed him quietly. Dinah was
meanwhile trying to calm down a blustering Ruth.
"Let’s find a room for you
to lie down in, shall we, Ruth?" Cal asked tiredly.
Ruth nodded numbly and followed
him meekly.
*****
Some hours later, the Titanic’s
seven hundred survivors and most of the Carpathia’s passengers and crew
gathered for a memorial service led by Captain Rostron. Cal had left
Emilia—that was her name, according to the kind stewardess who spoke Polish—to
sleep in the cabin he had procured under the care of Dinah. Cal, Ruth, and
Trudy quietly joined the others. The crowd spoke in hushed whispers until the
service commenced. Cal glanced around him, taking in familiar faces.
Jack and Rose were standing among
other steerage survivors, hands entwined familiarly. Fabrizio was also holding
hands with the blonde Norwegian girl, her parents standing by solemnly. He
could make out Tommy’s grim visage nearby, squinting—almost scowling—at the
ground. Margaret Brown was looking uncharacteristically grave, as were the Duff-Gordons.
Gracie was standing near Madeleine Astor, the latter of whom was sobbing
quietly. The Countess and her cousin were staring, stunned, at Rostron.
Ruth at times held a handkerchief
up to her face, sniffling quietly. Trudy was shaking silently; if Cal wasn’t
very much mistaken, there was a lost steward whom she had grown rather fond of
over the course of the voyage. Women’s sobs occasionally punctuated the
service, wrought with pain of the deepest kind. Cal’s inner state was roiling,
threatening to burst. All the while, he felt that he shouldn’t have been there.
He should be one of those being mourned. No; he didn’t even deserve that. There
were men who had stayed behind and fought to help as many women and children as
they could until the bitter end.
Someone moved beside him and a
voice like a chilly sea breeze whispered into his ear, "You did what you
could. You saved lives. That is a thousand times better than acting as you did
before."
When Cal turned to find the
speaker, he couldn’t see anyone looking at him. However, he received the
distinct impression that he knew just who had been talking to him.
When the service was over,
everyone parted in clumps or alone, murmuring to themselves. The Titanic
survivors blanketed the decks of the ship, gazing lifelessly out at the ocean
or speaking in low, hushed tones. Cal glanced up and caught Rose’s eye; she was
still planted where she had been before, hand still entwined with Jack’s. She
gave him a nod and he returned the gesture, turning to Ruth. "Are you ready
to see Rose now?"
Ruth stared at him, wide-eyed,
and nodded mutely. Cal nodded his head towards where Rose was standing. Ruth’s
eyes followed the direction of his nod and she gasped. She moved forward,
slowly. Rose gently let go of Jack’s hand and also moved forward. They paused
and then Rose ran towards her mother, throwing her arms around her and burying
her head in her shoulder. Ruth openly sobbed in relief, petting Rose’s hair.
Rose managed to calm her down easily enough. They talked in soft voices for a
long time before they both glanced at Jack.
Ruth looked back at Rose for a
moment and then walked towards Jack. Cal surreptitiously moved closer, curious
to hear how this would turn out. Jack looked nervous; he licked his lips and
rubbed his hands against his hips. Ruth paused before him, silent for a moment.
Then she said coolly, "So. I understand that you love my daughter."
Jack glanced at Rose.
"Well…yes, ma’am, I do."
Ruth was silent for another
moment. Then, "Take care of her. I can’t do that anymore, and neither can
Cal, for that matter."
Jack nodded vigorously. "Oh,
yes, ma’am, I will."
Ruth turned around and headed
back, a reminiscent smile on her face. She glided right past Cal, Trudy
following in her wake. Cal watched them go before turning back to look at Rose.
She was saying something to Jack; he nodded, glanced at Cal, nodded at him, and
then left. Rose gestured to Cal and came forward. They fell into step, walking
along the deck.
"I presume you told your
mother everything," Cal observed.
"Almost," Rose agreed.
"She says she’s happy for us. I think that, in light of everything…she’s
changed."
"Many of us have," Cal
noted. He hesitated. "Rose…I do think that…I did love you. Once. But it
changed so quickly."
Rose nodded slowly. She bit her
lip and turned to look at him. "I think you might have. But you still
loved Gemma."
Cal’s spine stiffened. "I
haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. We divorced.
Nastily."
Rose almost smiled. "But she
was the one who filed. Not you."
Cal squirmed. "Rose, you
have to understand…it was my fault. She found out about…"
"Your mistress?" Rose
finished wryly.
Cal gave her a sharp look.
"How did you find out about Violet?"
Rose had a smug look. "Gemma
told me. But of course Mother wouldn’t believe it, so I had to pretend I never
knew about her. What will you do now?"
Cal shrugged helplessly.
"I…you know, I haven’t the faintest. Get rid of Violet, for one
thing."
Rose arched an eyebrow.
Cal shrugged again. "What? I
don’t love her. I never did."
Rose shook her head. "I will
never understand men." She gave Cal a sideways glance. "I think you
ought to make things up with Gemma."
Cal scoffed. "Really, Rose,
I think Jack has made you a bit ridiculous in your notions of the way the world
works. We’re divorced; if there was any love in our marriage, it wouldn’t have
ended that way."
"You still keep her picture
with you. The one of her at your honeymoon in Paris." At his incredulous
look, Rose rolled her eyes. "I’m not blind, you know. I’ve seen it. You still
love her. Ask her for a second chance, Cal."
"I don’t deserve a second
chance," Cal said harshly.
Rose shook her head. "God
gave you a second chance at life; she’ll give you a second chance at love.
Women don’t let go of men easily, Cal. She wants you back. I know she
does."
And somehow, Cal found it very
difficult to contradict her.