FATE, MAYBE?
Chapter Three

Monday, April 15, 1912

I was happy when the sun finally rose so that I could start my day and hopefully busy myself with tasks that would keep my mind off the nightmare from last night, but it was hard. My thoughts kept wandering and I couldn’t help but think about what I might be doing aboard the Titanic.

Everything I saw reminded me of it--the light, my bed, even the chickens. I just couldn’t help but kick myself for being so stupid. It had been more than four days since I had gotten off the ship. Usually I thought the same thing every day, about how happy I would have been if I hadn’t gotten off.

Today was different. Instead of the regret and stupidity that I usually felt for myself, I felt…guilty? I couldn’t figure out why, though.

Towards midday, Mother noticed that she had run out of flour. My brothers were all working out in the field, trying to get the potato crop to grow, and she didn’t want to disturb them, so she sent me into town to fetch it for her.

I didn’t mind. Walking was almost fun for me. I liked to wander the hills or walk along the shoreline. It gave me time to think.

Today, walking along the dusty road, I found it hard to think. I kicked a rock back and forth between my feet, then scanned my surroundings for any real signs of life. There weren’t any.

The fields where our neighbors and friends used to farm were all overgrown and the houses were left empty as they took their few remaining possessions to search for a place where the poverty wasn’t so bad. No one had heard of such a place, but I guess they thought it was worth a try.

My parents had argued many times over this subject. My mother wanted to leave. She didn’t think that there was anything left here for us, but my father was a proud, stubborn man, and he didn’t want to leave. He insisted that he could get the crop to grow and that we could live a carefree, happy life again. My mother gave in and we stayed, but every so often the subject would come up again, along with another argument.

I could tell something was wrong as soon as I got close enough to see the town clearly. People were running all over the place and I could hear the paper boy desperately trying to shout over everyone’s voices.

That’s odd, I thought. There’s never any news.

Women were crying and small children clung tightly to their mothers’ dirty dresses, looking around, confused about what was happening.

Suddenly, I felt someone run up to me from behind and hug me tightly. I looked up to see my best friend, Lana, clinging to me.

"They’re gone!" she screamed through tear-filled eyes. "Both of them are gone, dead," she said again.

I had no idea what she was talking about.

"Seamus and James are both dead! I’m never going to see them again!" Lana yelled at me, wishing I would get the idea.

"What?" was all I could ask. James was Lana’s older brother and Seamus was a man who Lana hoped someday to marry. She was in love with him. "How do you know this?"

She looked down at her feet before continuing.

"Can’t you hear them?" she asked. "The lad over there…" she said, nodding to the paper boy still screaming out the morning’s headlines. I tried to listen to what he was screaming, but she continued explaining before I had the chance. "They’re all dead. Everyone…"

She couldn’t go on. Another tear ran down her face.

I gently prodded her on. "Who’s dead?"

Nothing.

"Lana? Who’s dead?"

She looked up and took a deep breath.

"The Titanic--it’s gone, somewhere laid down to rest, forever sleeping among the fish. Gone." She paused for a moment, but then, suddenly, her emotions took control of her and she couldn’t hold it in any longer. "It wasn’t supposed to happen like this! It was supposed to be the unsinkable ship! It wasn’t supposed to go down! It wasn’t supposed to sink! It…it…it…"

Then she collapsed in my arms, leaving me completely alone with my thoughts.

Sleeping among the fish. Gone. The words rang in my head as I tried to shake them off.

No. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. Why would all those people lie to us? It had to be a mistake. It had to. It just had to. There was no possible way…but what if there was? What if it wasn’t all a lie? What if all those people really were floating lifeless somewhere in the ocean? I shook my head. No. It couldn’t be true. I refused to believe it.

The paperboy moved up further along the street, closer to us. Then, suddenly, I could hear what he was saying.

"Titanic sinks four hours after hitting iceberg!" he screamed. "Eight hundred sixty-six rescued! One thousand, two hundred and fifty left to perish!"

I felt like I was going to throw up. It was true. All of those people were gone. I thought that it would all pass until the realization hit me. I was supposed to have been on that ship.

I wasn’t even supposed to be here now. I was supposed to be gone, living peacefully in heaven.

"Maybe your brother and Seamus were rescued," I offered.

Lana shook her head. "No. They were at the bottom," she said. "There’s no way they could have survived."

"Don’t say that," I said. "You never know. Maybe, by some strange miracle, they survived."

Lana was just about to protest, but then her mother came into view, beckoning her over. Lana’s mother’s eyes were red and puffy, too. She had obviously been crying along with her daughter.

I squeezed her one more time, then let her go. Lana trotted over to where her mother was standing, only looking over her shoulder at me once before leaving.

When they were finally out of view, I stood there for a moment, looking at the spot where they had disappeared.

There was no way I could imagine what she was going through--a lost brother and a lost lover, both at one time. Lana was strong. It was amazing how well she held herself together. I could see her pain. I could see that she hurt, but nevertheless she stood straight and proud, as if she had something she had to prove to everybody. I admired her for that.

Unexpectedly, I felt something wet roll down my face. I was surprised to find that it was a tear. I wasn’t as strong as I thought I was. I tried to wipe them off my face, but the more I did so, the quicker they fell. Before long, I felt myself sobbing.

My legs were shaking and threatening to collapse beneath me. Then I felt two strong, warm hands wrap around my waist, holding me up.

"Ye’ all right, miss?" I whirled around and found myself staring into two beautiful blue eyes. The man was handsome. I couldn’t deny it. He had brown hair with a tint of red that reflected beautifully in the sunlight. His chin looked freshly shaven and he wore expensive-looking clothes, too expensive for anyone in this part of the country.

"Y-yes," I stammered. "I’m fine."

"Are you sure?" he asked politely.

"Yes. I just need to get some flour. Then I should be heading back home," I told him.

"Oh, would you mind if I accompanied you at least around town? We don’t want you falling and hurting yourself, now, do we?" he asked. It was surprising how well his charm had already worked on me.

"Sure," I said, laughing a bit at his last remark.

He looked at me strangely and said, "You have a beautiful laugh."

I blushed and walked over to one of the stores to buy the flour my mother had asked for. When I handed my few coins to the woman taking the money, the man pushed it away and handed her his own money. I glared at him and thanked him when we got out.

"You know, I could have paid for that," I said.

"Yes, but I didn’t want you to," he told me.

"That’s great for you, but I don’t even know your name or anything about you," I said, reaching for the bag of flour that he was also carrying for me. He didn’t let go.

"Nolan," he said.

"What?"

"My name. It’s Nolan. Now, if you want your flour back, you’ll have to tell me yours," he insisted.

I sighed and then told him my name. "Helena."

Nolan smiled. "It’s a pretty name."

"Thank you," I said. "Now, can I have my flour?"

"No. I’d rather carry it," he said, letting a beautiful smile creep across his face.

"What? But you said…" He cut me off.

"I was going to see if I could walk with you to your home," he said.

I shrugged. "I don’t see why not, but you’d probably get your clothes dirty," I said, nodding at his fancy attire.

"Is it a long walk?" he asked, not answering my question.

"Yes," I answered simply.

"Good. That leaves us longer to talk," Nolan said, running ahead of me and backwards so that he could look at my face.

He was still smiling, as was I, but I think that was only because he was. Suddenly, his smiled disappeared.

"Helena?" he asked.

"Hmm?"

"Why were your crying earlier today?" he asked, slowing down to walk next to me at my speed.

I looked at him and didn’t say anything for a moment. Then I stopped.

"You know that ship, the Titanic?" I asked.

He nodded. "The one that sank?"

"Yes. That one." I took a deep breath. "Well, I’m not supposed to be here. I was supposed to be on that ship, but I got off because of the paint. It made me sick. I’m supposed to be dead, but I’m not, and all those other people are. I just feel so guilty." Then I started sobbing, but it only took a moment for Nolan to wrap his arms around my waist and whisper things into my ear to try to calm me while he rocked me back and forth. I somehow knew everything would be all right. I would live a happy life with children and grandchildren and maybe someday I would get to see America.

I didn’t know why I didn’t stay on that ship. I didn’t know why I was the one who got sick, and I never would.

But I couldn’t help but ask myself, "Why?"

I guess…fate, maybe?

The End.

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