THE SHIP OF DREAMS
Chapter Nineteen

Author’s Note: Thank you, Anne, for helping with this chapter. I really appreciate it.

--Erin

Callista, Sam, and Michael stood watching Anastasia from a distance, enjoying the fresh air, cold as it was, and sunshine. They were becoming very used to the sound of the waves crashing up against the sides of the ship and the soft sea breeze blowing in their ears. "So much for the smooth journey," Michael told Sam, raising an eyebrow. Sam stopped pacing, and glared at the boy.

"It was the first incident in three days," he pointed out. "Three days. And we were there to see it. So stop acting like it was something we missed!" He turned his back and began muttering angrily to himself in Russian, which Callista hadn’t heard him do in a while.

"There is a child present," she told him, and he glanced over his shoulder.

"I know!" he snapped, muttering a bit more loudly this time.

Michael was trying very hard not to laugh, and eventually he let out a squeak, covering his mouth with his hand. Callista grasped him by the shoulders and pulled him over to the side. Sam ignored this, and went to sit down on one of the empty benches close by. Some days, he wondered what provoked him to be in this position. Well, actually, he had not technically chosen to be an agent of the secret police on his own. It had happened quite by accident, in fact, and, he had decided after a while, by fate.

His childhood had been less than pleasant, for he’d grown up rather poor, with a seamstress for a mother and a shoemaker for a father. At twelve years old, they could not afford to keep him any longer, and sent him to live in a very strict orphanage in Moscow. For three years he’d dealt with it, and finally he could not handle it anymore, so he sneaked away. He became an apprentice for a blacksmith, and on his way into town on an errand, he’d accidentally bumped into one Grand Duchess Olga, who was on an outing with her aunt. Immediately, he’d been interrogated by police, who took down his name, age, description, and had let him go when they decided he was not there to cause harm to the princess.

Weeks after the incident, Sam received a scroll from the Tsar, mentioning that he was looking for a member to add to the imperial secret police, and he was looking for someone right around his age. Shocked, Sam’s master had encouraged him to go to the palace and at least speak with the Tsar, because to do so was certainly an honor. Of course, Nicholas had taken to Sam immediately, and within days he was placed in uniform and began training.

"You look in desperately need of a club on the head," Michael boasted teasingly, noting the strange expression that had come over Sam’s face, and Callista groaned in irritation.

"I’ll give you one to your mouth," Sam growled. "Why not use your irritating energy and take a couple of walks around the deck, eh?" His glare was so menacing that Michael cowered, and immediately took off. When the boy was gone, Callista smirked, sitting down as well.

"And I thought I was a bit tense," she teased, reaching her hand up to massage the back of his neck.

Sam looked at her, not smiling, and fiddled with his overcoat sleeve. "Well, I’ve been thinking, you know…why the hell am I here? I was nothing as a boy, and…" He shrugged.

Callista frowned. "Sam, I’m sorry. I was sending my worries to you, and I did not stop to think how my words would have affected…" She looked down at her hands. Anyone who worked for the Tsar seemed to have the same question. Why was I here? Why was I chosen? She remembered how stiff and nervous Sam had appeared when he’d first come to the palace to work.

Sam turned to Callista, smiling warmly, and wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders, planting a tender kiss on her cheek. She shuddered at the closeness, turning to look into his eyes. "It is not your fault," he whispered, caressing her forehead, smoothing her hair with his fingertips.

"Sam, I always try to remember life without you, and I can’t," she told him. "I’ve never told you this, but I do love you."

Sam stared at her, startled, and did not answer for a couple of moments. Instead, he only let out a breath and a soft, "Wow." Callista blushed and stood up, covering her mouth with her hands, and shook her head.

"Oh, my God. I’m sorry…" she apologized.

Sam stood up as well, and went to put both hands on her shoulders. "Sorry? Callista, you should not be sorry. I just was surprised. That is all. You truly love me? How long have you felt this way?"

Callista lowered her hands, chewing on her bottom lip. "Oh, I’m not sure, Sam. But I love you so much."

He took her hands, squeezing them, and kissed her forehead. "I love you."

Michael, who had come back, heard the last line, and his mouth dropped. No, it couldn’t be. Could it? Oh, no! He slapped his hand against his forehead as they suddenly kissed again, and he hurried over to the rail, turning his back so they wouldn’t recognize him as they made their way towards the door.

"Wait!" Michael whirled around, causing them to jump. Sam blinked, having completely forgotten he’d told Michael off earlier. "Where are you two going? Aren’t you forgetting something?" he hissed, nodding towards Anastasia and Mac, who were helping a very weary-looking Jack to his feet.

"Sam!" Callista hissed, nudging his arm. "We can’t be neglecting our duties!"

Sam looked at her, frowning. "No, we can’t. But, Michael, if you would be so kind as to give us a bit of a chance to relax and to show what you really can do, could you keep an eye on them?"

Michael scowled a little, but tried to remember that any chance he was able to see Mac again was well worth it. "Oh, I suppose." He nodded. "Go and enjoy yourselves, only do not get into too much trouble. Don’t do anything stupid," he added, and Sam pointed a finger at him.

"And the same response to you. To be a guard means that a person must be very responsible. I realize you are still in training and have not had the experiences that Callista or I have endured, but you will never learn if you are not put to the test at least once."

"Oops!" Callista suddenly grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled him behind a bend as Jack, Mac, and Anastasia grew closer to them. Michael slipped beside them, and the three watched as Mac led the way inside, chatting quietly with her father.

"I still don’t understand what the point of hiding is," Michael hissed once they were clear, and tiptoed towards the door. "Why can’t we just let them know we are guarding them? I still feel like a bloody thief sneaking around all of the time!"

Sam rolled his eyes as he and Callista stepped in first, ducking a little to avoid hitting the door frame. "It is an element of surprise," Sam replied simply. "Now, go and do as you have with us, if you please. And make sure to hide, all right?" He narrowed his eyes and Michael nodded, scurrying off towards third class, making Callista laugh once he was out of earshot.

"Sam, I do wish you would not be so hard on him. He is young, after all. We both were young, too, at one time or another."

Sam smirked, bringing her in the direction of their cabin. "Well, that is true," he replied. "But I do not want the boy to ruin himself. I do care for him as a brother, almost, and if any harm were to come to him I would never forgive myself. Therefore, one must be harsh at times to get a child to listen and understand."

Callista let go of Sam and stepped back, surveying him at a distance. "You are becoming more and more like that wise old owl every day." She giggled, causing him to laugh as well, and the two of them followed in Michael’s wake down to steerage.

*****

By the time Jack, Mac, and Anastasia reached their cabin, Jack was nearly out of breath, and coughing hard. He was almost grateful when they took charge for once, sliding his shoes off, removing his coat, and pulling down the covers on the bed. "Thank you, girls," he whispered, easing himself under the blankets and allowing Anastasia to fluff his pillow.

"Are you sure you don’t want me to find the doctor?" Mac asked, feeling her father’s forehead, which was a tiny bit warm, but not warm enough that it was dangerous. He smiled weakly, and shook his head.

"That’s not necessary, honey. I’m just tired, and I think I’m going to take a nap. Will you two wake me for dinner?" he asked, and they nodded.

"Yes, sir," Anastasia replied, and both girls leaned in to hug him. After kissing Mac on the cheek, he took her hands and squeezed them gently.

"You two should not be worrying about me. This voyage is for you to enjoy as well. All right?"

Mac stroked her father’s forehead gently with her fingertips, and frowned. "I can’t not worry about you," she admitted. "You’re not well. I don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to accept that."

Anastasia walked over to the porthole and peered out, watching as the waves lapped up against the side of the ship. She wondered what the view was like from the first class staterooms…certainly much nicer than this! She glanced over her shoulder to see Jack hugging Mac again, smoothing her hair.

"I love you, sweetheart," he whispered. "You know I would tell you if I needed a doctor."

Mac scowled. "You didn’t at the palace."

Jack sighed, nodding in understanding. "Honey, please, please, go and have a good time. That is my personal request."

Mac looked at Anastasia, who shrugged, and the two girls finally complied. "We’ll come and fetch you for supper, then." With one final kiss, Mac and Anastasia walked out of the cabin, passing right by Michael, who was hiding around a corner. He watched the girls head towards the steps and climb them, and then decided to have a bit of fun due to his still childish nature.

He sneaked right behind Mac once the girls reached the deck, and tapped her on the shoulder. Mac whirled around, only to find no one behind her. She glanced at Anastasia, who raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "Did you just tap me?" she whispered, and the Grand Duchess shook her head.

"No…" She, for once, sounded truly innocent. Mac faced forward again, taking a deep breath.

Michael peeped out from his hiding place, laughter in his eyes, and he sneaked back out again. This time, he grabbed Mac’s arm, causing her to cry out in alarm and nearly jump several feet into the air. "Michael!" she snapped, glaring menacingly. "What do you think you’re doing?"

He chuckled, falling in step alongside them. "Being a boy," he replied, nodding to Anastasia, who nodded back. "Where are you ladies off to on your own, then?"

Mac shrugged. "I don’t know. My father’s not feeling well, so he’s resting ‘til supper. We’re just passing time until then, I suppose."

Anastasia cocked her head, and narrowed her eyes at Michael. "So, it’s true, isn’t it?" she asked, taking him by surprise.

"What?"

"Who…what…you are? You can’t fool me anymore…I’ve seen you since before boarding day!"

Mac rubbed her hands over her face, groaning inwardly. She had a feeling Anastasia was suspicious of Michael from the moment she saw him come up to them that morning at the table. "All right." Michael sighed. "Since you already suspect, I suppose I’ll admit that yes, we work for your…" He cupped his hand and leaned towards her ear. "We work for your father, but do not tell Callista or Sam that you know, or they’ll wallop me from here to the moon!"

Anastasia stared at him. "Okay," she agreed, nodding. "At least I know you aren’t going to kill us…"

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Michael snorted as he kept his eyes peeled for his co-guards, not wanting them to see him like this. Anastasia shrugged, hurrying to peer over the rail, smiling as the other two joined her. Soon all three were standing on one of the metal bars, leaning on their arms and letting the water spray their faces.

"Well, it’s not every day that three people in black follow you about," she told him.

Michael laughed. "Well, I feel a bit odd doing that myself…I wish we didn’t have to keep it a secret." He smiled at Mac, who blushed and turned away.

Anastasia grinned, looking at them. "I think I’ll leave you two alone for a while." She smirked, then laughed as Mac blushed even more. Singing rudely under her breath, she skipped down the deck, leaving Michael and Mac still perched on the rail.

There was a moment of awkward silence. Finally, Michael spoke. "So…your father isn’t feeling well?" He didn’t know Jack very well, but everyone in the palace had known about him, and that he’d had a terrible case of pneumonia.

Mac shook her head. "No…I hope he’s not getting pneumonia again."

"What did the doctor say?"

"He won’t see a doctor. He says he’ll tell me if he needs one."

"But you’re still worried?"

"He said the same thing at the palace."

"And?"

"And then he fainted in the middle of Olga’s ball. He was so sick…everyone thought he was going to die. All the princesses were upset, and their mother wouldn’t leave his side. She even brought in Rasputin to help him."

"And he got better."

"Eventually. But he’s never been very strong. And now he’s not feeling well again…"

Michael remembered the incident earlier that day. "Maybe it’s just allergies," he suggested to Mac, who looked at him skeptically. "Is he allergic to anything?"

"Animals."

"Their fur, or…"

Mac shook her head. "I don’t know. But there aren’t any animals here."

"Well, there’s dogs in first class, and there’s rats in third class…"

Mac made a face. "Hardly any. And besides, his nose is running green."

Now it was Michael’s turn to make a face. "Green?"

Mac laughed at his expression. "Yes, like when he had pneumonia before." She tried to stop laughing, without success. "You’re making an awful face!"

"It sounds awful!"

Mac stopped laughing. "It is. But he says he’s fine, and he won’t see a doctor."

"Well, if he needs one, we are on the Titanic, and they must have excellent medical facilities."

"But he won’t go to the doctor."

"Maybe he doesn’t feel that bad."

"Maybe."

"You know what?" Michael asked her, turning to look at her.

"What?"

"He reminds me a lot of my father. He wouldn’t let anybody help him if he wasn’t feeling well. He didn’t want to cause anyone any trouble."

"What happened to him?"

Michael started to answer, then stopped. "Uh…I’d rather not say."

"Did he die?"

"Well…yes. He died when I was ten years old."

Mac gave him a stricken look.

"But he didn’t die of pneumonia," Michael told her hastily.

Mac was about to ask what he had died of when Anastasia came back. "It’s almost time for dinner," she told Mac.

"Oh!" Mac turned to look at her, startled. "We’d better go wake Papa, then." She looked at Michael. "We’re going to dinner soon. Maybe we’ll see you there."

Michael nodded. "Maybe." He wished he hadn’t compared his father to Jack. It had only upset Mac more.

Anastasia grabbed Mac’s arm and pulled her along. "Mac likes Michael…" she sang under her breath.

"I do not!" Mac sent an apologetic glance at Michael as Anastasia pulled her inside.

*****

Jack was still asleep when they reached the cabin. Mac looked worried, but went to wake him anyway.

"Papa." She shook his arm. "Papa!"

Jack woke up suddenly, coughing hard. "What…oh, Mac. Is it time for dinner already?"

"Yes, but maybe you should stay here and we’ll bring you something to eat."

Jack shook his head, climbing out of bed slowly. "No. I’m fine." He reached for his shoes. "I’ll be ready in just a minute, girls." He sat down to put his shoes on, leaning over and coughing for a moment.

"I think Mac’s right," Anastasia told him.

Jack sighed, giving the girls as close to a stern look as he could muster. "I’m all right."

The girls looked at each other, knowing that he wasn’t going to change his mind. Mac sighed.

"All right, Papa. But…"

"Mac, I’m fine." Jack looked at the girls. "Let’s go get some dinner."

*****

At dinner, Mac, Anastasia, and even Fabrizio watched with concern as Jack pushed his food around on the plate, taking only a few bites. He was far more interested in the water they were served, drinking almost half a pitcher of it.

"Papa, are you all right?" Mac asked.

He pushed his plate away, most of the food uneaten. "I’m fine, honey. I’m just not very hungry." He stood, leaving his plate on the table. "I’m going out for a bit…I need a little fresh air."

"We’ll come, too." Anastasia started to get up, but Jack shook his head.

"Finish your dinner. I’m just going to get some fresh air. If you need me, I’ll be at the bow."

The girls did as they were told, but they looked worried as he walked away and headed outside.

Chapter Twenty
Stories