MAKING LUCK
Chapter Nine
Wednesday, May 2, 1912
Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
Gemma Hockley quietly shut the
door to the nursery, loath to awaken the baby she had just put to sleep. Amelia
was very fussy and extremely sensitive to any disturbance within ten minutes
after being put down for a nap; if that were to happen, she would never get
back to sleep. The house was relatively quiet now that she was alone and the
baby had been put to sleep. And the servants, well, they were always quiet as
mice. One could never hear them approaching. This was precisely why she started
when a maid, Ernestine, soundlessly appeared from around the corner. She bobbed
into a curtsy. "There’s a visitor for you in the parlor, ma’am."
Gemma nodded tiredly and followed
Ernestine down the staircase. "Yes, very well. Who is it?"
Ernestine’s spine stiffened a
little bit. "It’s Mr. Hockley, ma’am."
Gemma froze on the stairs, her
hand gripping the railing and her face turning pale. Ernestine turned and
regarded her cautiously, afraid she might have to catch her mistress. Gemma
seemed to finally regain her composure, to an extent. "I…I wonder why.
I…well, I suppose I’ll receive him."
Ernestine nodded and continued
down the stairs, Gemma following in an unsteady state. Ernestine opened the
double doors and curtsied. "Mrs. Hockley, sir." She stepped aside to
allow Gemma to enter.
Cal was standing, holding his
bowler hat in an almost anxious manner. Gemma said almost because Caledon
Hockley was never, ever anxious. Ernestine closed the doors, leaving Gemma and
Cal alone. She cleared her throat, praying to God for the strength to be
cordial. "Please sit down."
Cal waited until she had draped herself
carefully in an armchair. He was not regarding her coolly as she had thought he
would; in fact, it was almost as if he had come for a pleasant social call. Of
course, that was impossible; they hadn’t been pleasant with each other since
Violet had entered the picture.
Cal decided that since he was the
one to call, he should be the one to start the conversation. "Well…how are
you, Gemma?"
She was taken aback but shrugged.
"I’m…well, I suppose. And yourself?" She suddenly realized what a
frightfully stupid question that was. "I mean, all things
considered…"
"I’m well," he replied.
Gemma fiddled with some
decorative thread at her waist. "I…heard about your fiancée. Rose. I…I’m
very sorry."
Something almost like an ironic
smile flitted across Cal’s face for the briefest moment; it was so sudden that
Gemma doubted she had even seen it. "Yes…it was…a great loss. But I would
not like to talk about that just now."
Gemma nodded, understanding.
Cal hesitated before going on.
"Are the children home?"
Gemma shook her head.
"Mother and Father took the boys out not long ago; I don’t know when
they’ll be back. And I just put Amelia down for a nap."
Cal nodded, looking somewhat
disappointed. "I see. Well…that gives us a chance to talk privately,
then."
Gemma focused on the thread she
was toying with. "I suppose. Was there something you needed? Another legal
matter, perhaps? Was there a contract you wished me to sign?"
Cal sighed. "No, it’s not
that at all." He paused. "I’ve stopped seeing Violet.
Completely."
"Well, good for you,"
Gemma said icily.
Cal got up and paced. "I’ve
sent her back to her family in New Haven. I thought you ought to know
that."
"Well, it’s a bit late to be
making amends, isn’t it?" Gemma spat. "You were engaged until less
than a month ago. And I told that foolish girl all about your whore, and she
still went to you!" She rose to her feet.
Cal had his back to her.
"I’m afraid that I gave Rose no choice in the matter. Not until it was
almost too late."
"What?" Gemma asked,
taken aback.
Cal shook his head and turned to
face her. "I’ll explain it to you sometime, if you would still see me. I
came to apologize, Gemma. For so much. I…Titanic…it changed me. For the better,
I should hope. I’ve…my eyes have been opened. I want to take back everything that
happened."
Gemma was thunderstruck.
"But…I…you…Cal! You simply cannot do this! You can’t just divorce someone,
get engaged to another girl, and then go back to your former wife! That isn’t
how things work, Cal!"
Cal sighed heavily. "I am
well aware of how society dictates what should and should not happen, but I’m
rather sick of society’s laws at the moment. I’m not asking for you to marry me
tomorrow; I simply want another chance. For you to…test me out, I suppose. I
want to prove that I have changed, Gemma."
Gemma crossed her arms. "I’m
not sure I can do that, Cal. You…humiliated me, among other things. I just…I
just don’t know, Cal."
Cal toyed with his bowler hat.
"I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’ve adopted a little girl. Emilia.
She’s three years old. She’s learning English, albeit very slowly. And I would
be honored if you would bring the boys to the park tomorrow to play with her
while we talk."
Gemma had heard rumors of a
Polish orphan taking residence in Whitehall, but she hadn’t been sure of what to
make of them. She was rather shocked at his confirmation. "Well…I…I
suppose. Two o’clock?"
"Two o’clock," Cal
agreed, nodding. He made to leave and then paused at the door, turning.
"Thank you, Gemma." And he left.
Gemma sank into a chair.
Ernestine scurried into the room a few moments later. "Ma’am, are you all
right?"
Gemma nodded faintly.
"Yes…perfectly."
Thursday, May 3, 1912
Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
Gemma had her hands folded in her
lap, watching her boys on the seesaw. Amelia whined from the baby carriage and
Gemma turned to her, reaching forward and jiggling the baby’s foot. Amelia
gurgled and stilled, cooing as her mother presented her with her silver rattle.
"Good afternoon,
Gemma."
Gemma glanced up and saw Cal standing
before her, a tiny little girl’s hand in his own. She was precious, Gemma would
concede, in a little blue-and-white organdy dress with a matching hat. Blue
ribbons adorned her sandy-blonde hair, and she held an azalea in her hand.
Gemma smiled a little at her, barely glancing at Cal. "Good afternoon.
This is Emilia?"
He nodded, recognizing the
maternal look in Gemma’s eyes. He jiggled Emilia’s hand a little and she came
forward, holding out the azalea to Gemma. She accepted it, somewhat surprised but
ultimately flattered. "Thank you!"
"Daddy!" Cal Jr. and
Charles ran forward, flying into their father’s arms. He exclaimed over how big
they had gotten and asked them if they were behaving and they said yes, they
were, and asked if he had brought any presents, which of course he had. They
were hesitant to play with Emilia, considering she only stared and said very
little, but as children are apt to do, the three were soon frolicking along on
the path. Cal and Gemma followed, the latter pushing the baby carriage.
"She’s very sweet, Cal.
Where on earth did you find her?" Gemma couldn’t help asking.
Cal contemplated his response.
"Well…I picked her up on the Titanic, actually. She’d gotten separated
from her family."
"Where are they now?"
Cal shook his head. "They
haven’t shown up as survivors, and their bodies haven’t been identified. If we
still can’t find them next month, I’ll be able to truly adopt her."
"You have changed,"
Gemma said in a hushed tone.
Cal was quiet for a moment.
"You asked me about Rose yesterday. Gemma, what I am about to tell you
is…well, it’s going to sound quite ludicrous, I know."
Gemma raised an eyebrow.
"Try me."