After lunch, Christian allowed Charlotte to spend time with Jack and Cora while he went back to the cabin to write a bit and to take a nap. After making Charlotte promise she wouldn’t cause any mischief and after embarrassing her with his usual fatherly affections, he began whistling softly as he headed down the small flight of steps. He was glad he could barely feel the rocking of the waves on this ship as it was so large, though to his surprise he’d seen a couple of passengers leaning over the rail looking awfully green. Then again, sometimes nerves got the better of people.
Christian opened the door to the empty room and took his place at the desk before the typewriter. He removed his hat and set it down beside him, hanging his overcoat on the back of the chair. Charlotte was very understanding of his need to be alone when he wrote, so even before they boarded the Titanic she would amuse herself by other means. Christian flexed his fingers and began to continue where he left off in Southampton, squinting a little with concentration. It sometimes amazed him how he remembered the incidents twelve years past so well, but then when Satine’s face appeared in his mind he knew. Those were the days when their love was young, when she was alive.
As he typed, he thought back to the drawing Jack had done of her, and half wondered if it would be rude to ask if he could keep it. I have only one photograph. He reached into the chest on the floor, hunching over so he could rummage around in the clutter. The black and white picture was hidden in a small compartment, and he pulled it out very carefully. It was their wedding photo. Satine, dressed in layers of white silk and lace, had her arms around Christian. Her long hair hung loosely, curling naturally at her shoulders, and her radiant smile made him shudder every time he saw it. Christian set the photo on the desk beside the typewriter as he continued his work, pausing to glance at it every so often. Charlotte looked so much like her mother that it was almost painful to look at her.
With a quiet sigh, Christian began typing again, shaking his head and attempting to lose himself in his imagination for the time being.
Meanwhile, Charlotte and Cora skipped happily on down the deck on either side of Jack, each trying to hold separate conversations at once. He finally stepped in front of them and held up his hands. "Stop!" he exclaimed, and each of the girls closed their mouths. "My head’s spinning." Jack chuckled and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "How about we have a seat, and I let each of you have a piece of paper and charcoal?"
The girls beamed with delight and hurried after him to the recreation area. Charlotte noticed, when they arrived, the nice-looking lady from the general room. She sat alone again on one of the benches, holding her aged shawl tightly around her shoulders to keep out the chill.
"I want to say hello to her," Charlotte told Jack, who sat down and began going through his sketchpad. "She looks awfully lonely."
Cora peered over the back of the bench, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue.
"Charlotte…" Jack turned to find the child missing, and his eyes widened with alarm. He nudged Cora.
"Where did she scurry off to?"
Cora pointed, and Jack saw Charlotte walking over to the young woman.
"Hello!" Charlotte greeted, and the stranger jumped in surprise.
"Oh! Hello, dear. Might I help you?"
Jack smirked, deciding that Charlotte must have inherited her mother’s personality, as opposed to Christian’s.
"You looked lonely," Charlotte replied. "That’s all. I wanted to keep you company."
The woman smiled at the child, inspecting Charlotte closely up and down. "That is sweet. What is your name?" She had a thick Irish accent, which pulled Charlotte in immediately.
"Charlotte Calvert. What’s yours?"
"Abigail…you may call me Abby…McMullen. A pleasure! Are you out here all by yourself?"
Charlotte shook her head, pointing to where Jack sat, watching as Cora drew pictures. "I’m with my friends…my father is writing downstairs. Are you married?" She asked this question so suddenly and seriously that Abby found it very amusing.
"No, unfortunately. My last love died in an automobile accident last winter."
Charlotte frowned. "Oh, how sad! My mother died a little while ago."
Abby cocked her head to one side. "I’m sorry."
Charlotte shook her head. "But my papa says my mother’s in heaven now, and very happy. I hope so."
Abby smiled. "You’ll have to introduce me to your father sometime…I’d like to meet him."
Charlotte felt her heart leap joyfully, for this was what she’d been expecting to hear. "He’d like that! Maybe you could meet us at supper tonight?"
Abby laughed. "We’ll see."
Charlotte grinned. "Okay! Well, I have to go now…it was nice to meet you!" She shook Abby’s hand before hurrying back over to Jack.
"What have you been up to?" he asked. "I hope you weren’t pestering that lady."
Charlotte shook her head. "I wasn’t…I think she was very nice to me."
Jack frowned as he offered her a piece of blank paper. "I don’t want you mingling with strangers too often, kid…not unless your dad or I are with you."
Charlotte blushed a little, but agreed. Soon, Jack had both girls doodling, and leaned against the back of the bench to relax.
Abby, meanwhile, watched Charlotte curiously for a few moments before deciding to make her way back to her cabin.
After a while, the children grew weary, and Charlotte soon fell right to sleep in Jack’s lap. He smiled at her as she lazily sucked her thumb. Cora’s eyes were drooping, but she hadn’t fallen asleep quite yet.
"All right, you two…I think I’m getting the hint here."
Jack carefully lifted Charlotte, and took Cora by the hand. "Lead the way, milady," he encouraged, and Cora hurried a bit ahead. They walked through the narrow hallways until they reached the room. Christian still sat typing when Jack peeped through the door. He knocked gently, causing Christian to glance over his shoulder.
"Hi," he whispered, standing to take his sleeping daughter into his arms. Charlotte murmured something inaudible in her sleep, nestling against her father’s shoulder. "Ran out of energy, did she? I hope they weren’t too much trouble!"
Jack shook his head. "No, they were both very well behaved." He didn’t want to mention the stranger…Christian already had enough to worry about.
"Thank you, Jack. I think Bert went with Fabrizio to the saloon, but they’ll be back in a bit."
Jack nodded, startled when Cora hugged him tightly around the waist. "Thank you, Jack!" she exclaimed, making both men laugh.
"You’re welcome." Jack patted her head and glanced at Christian. "Well, I’ll see you at dinner."
Christian lay his daughter down on her bed, brushing her hair away from her face. "Yes. Thank you again." He shook Jack’s hand.
"No problem." Jack gave a final wave before heading out of the room, and Christian took a deep breath.
"Can I read some of your story?" Cora asked, hurrying over to the half page of typed words before Christian could stop her. Cora climbed up onto the stool, peering closely at the paper, and began to read very slowly but rather well for her age. "But…someone…else…had…his…eye…on…Satine…"
"Ah-ha." Christian plucked her off of the stool. "This is not for you, my dear. I think you had best join Charlotte for a little nap, eh?"
Cora pouted. "I’m not sleepy," she defended herself, though she gave a loud yawn following her statement. "Not sleepy."
Christian managed a small smile, helping her up into her bunk. "Will you read me a story later?" she murmured as he tucked her in.
"We’ll see." He looked at Charlotte, who was sleeping soundly, and waited until he was certain Cora was asleep before taking a seat in his chair again. It wasn’t until Bert returned nearly an hour later that he decided to stop his work for that day.
"You got her to take a nap?" he chortled merrily.
"Well, it was a bit of a struggle, but I did," Christian replied softly.
"Oh, I meant to tell you. Tomorrow night there is a party in steerage, so you might want to think about puttin’ your dancin’ shoes on."
Dancing. Christian hadn’t danced much since Satine’s death…the two of them danced religiously, it had seemed, when she had been alive. Whether it be in their private quarters or on the stage, they had rarely stopped. Now, despite Charlotte’s efforts to carry on the tradition, he felt as though he’d lost his feet somewhere along the way.
"Sounds interesting," he replied, deciding it would be best to just go and see what it was all about. He couldn’t remain a hermit, cowering inside his own thoughts. Satine would want you to enjoy what’s left of your life rather than wallow in misery.
"Good lad." Bert clapped a hand on his shoulder, nearly knocking him over.
"What time will it be?" Christian moved to sit on the edge of Charlotte’s bed, rubbing her back. She hadn’t stirred at all.
"I think it starts at nine and goes ‘til two in the morning."
Christian nodded. "I’ll have to see."
"You’ll be there." Bert narrowed his eyes, and then turned away to go over to his bunk. Christian watched him for a moment before deciding to lay down on his own bed and read for a little while.