THE SHIP OF DREAMS
Chapter Twenty-Seven

"There you are!" Callista motioned for Mac and Michael to come towards them, as they stood by the usual "slumming" rail. "Oh, Mac, you look absolutely stunning!" She gasped, and Mac curtsied properly, making her smile.

"You two make a very handsome pair I agree," Sam added, and Michael rolled his eyes.

"Thank you, father," he teased, and Sam shook his head. "Now you know the rules. I do not want you there all night…be back by…"

"9:45," Michael replied, and nodded. "I know. It’s not as though you haven’t told me all of this a million times before."

Sam scowled at him. "Just behave yourselves, and try not to delve too deeply into conversation! Just try not to be stupid, Michael."

Sam and Callista aided the children over the rail, again using benches for them to step up on. "You are too young for kissing!" Callista added, and Michael stared at her turning a brilliant shade of pink. Mac smirked, wondering if that had been on his mind at all. She was not sure if she would accept a kiss, if it were the proper time, but it never hurt to think about it.

"Come on…let us get out of here before they embarrass us further!" He urged Mac along gently but quickly, pretending as though they knew exactly where they were going. "Where is this place…do you know?" He added, and Mac shrugged.

"It can’t be too far, as it’s one of the main restaurants."

"Would not mind asking someone, but then they’d find it fishy," Michael sighed. "Just listen for music, I suppose, and we’ll follow it. I’m sure that’s where everyone will be."

Mac swallowed, her throat feeling like sand paper. They turned this way and that, feeling as though they were walking through some kind of strange maze. The first class section of the Titanic certainly had more rooms available for its passengers, as compared to steerage. They kept walking until they heard giggling and chatter, as well as a band playing in the distance. "There!" Mac whispered, pointing, and Michael followed her finger to the lit room about twenty feet away. It was already filled with children of all ages, either dancing, standing about, or sitting with one another.

"Perhaps we could forget about it and do something else?" Mac suggested, and Michael looked at her.

"I’ll protect you," he promised, and she pursed her lips.

They walked to the door, accepting a kind greeting from a steward, along with a special card each. "What is this?" Mac whispered, then suddenly she recognized it. A card with lines for writing on…for boys or girls to sign if they wanted to be your dance partner for certain numbers. At the palace ball in Russia, she’d been given one for Olga’s birthday party, though she’d been with Alexei most of the time. No one disturbed the guests of the Tsarevich, so she’d been lucky. Especially since they’d hidden in a corner for the most part, until the Tsar and Tsarina insisted her son be introduced to this or that gentleman or this or that lady.

Michael snorted as they went over to find a table, and leaned towards Mac. "I will bet you anything that your card will be full by the end."

Mac stared at him. "No, it won’t!" she gasped. "No one knows me well enough to ask me to dance, and I…"

"Might I sign your card, please, Miss?" A young boy of probably no older than ten asked, nearly startling Mac out of her wits. Michael stared at him, and then at her, and had to bury a fit of laughter by taking a few gulps of water from the glass at his place.

"What’s your name?" Mac asked, smiling at the boy, curtseying as he bowed, and allowed him to sign the card.

"Henry."

"Hello."

"What’s yours?"

"Macena," Mac started to use her nickname, but decided it might be more polite to use her full first name, which she hated by the way. “Pronounced Mah-cay-nah," she added, and Michael blinked. He’d never heard Mac’s full first name before, and played it over in his head. "Macena." He muttered under his breath, and found Mac smiling at him after Henry went away to his first soon-to-be partner.

"That is your name?" Michael asked, and Mac looked at him.

"Please do not use it again when we leave here," she whispered. "It’s awful."

"I like it," Michael told her. "It’s very…"

"Unusual?"

"Now don’t be rash."

"But it is, you may say so, because it is true." Mac giggled. "So you are causing me to bite my tongue then. I have my first dance partner after you." She watched as he signed his name on her card, using the traditional Russian letters, and she gazed about the room. "This is very nice I must say," she admitted, as they went out onto the floor. Several of the first class children stared at them, as they got into position.

"I’ve not seen you before," A girl of eight pointed out, and Mac looked at her.

"Oh, we do not come out much."

"Why not? Won’t your parents let you?"

Mac felt her heart flutter as Michael put his hand about her waist. For the moment, he’d nearly forgotten how young she was. "Of course they do, but we’ve not been to all the restaurants. We only eat at the main dining room." She was grateful when Michael swept her away, and felt her heart racing against her chest. "I could have said we were hermits!" she giggled, and Michael grinned. "That sun poisons us, or makes us melt like a witch!"

"That’s the spirit!" he teased, spinning her slowly and allowing him to move beside him in an almost trot. "Now who actually came up with your name, Macena?"

"My mother, of course. My father told me he tried to convince her to call me Mary or Samantha instead, but she told him they was not Russian enough. Besides, she thought it funny that if she used my nickname, my name and my father’s name would rhyme."

Michael nodded in understanding. "I see, and they do."

"It is funny, though. My father does like that part of it, anyway."

The first song stopped, and Mac, along with everyone else in the room applauded the orchestra enthusiastically.

"Would you like something to eat, Mac? Perhaps we’ll sit for a turn, and then you can dance with Mr. Henry no last name."

Mac glanced at their table, finding it to be filling up, and she allowed Michael to lead her there. They were greeted cheerfully by the others once they sat, and a waiter came around pouring sparkling cider instead of champagne.

"Annabelle Smith," a young lady next to Mac introduced herself, and Mac nodded politely to her. "I do believe I’ve seen you around here before, but I’ve never seen you at supper! Do you not come often?"

Mac frowned. "Oh, we sit in the very back. We like to keep more private," she explained, and Annabelle nodded.

"Oh. I wonder why?"

"My mother is very shy," Mac explained. "She does not like to talk much, so wishes to sit out of the way."

"What a shame!"

"Might I sign your card, miss?" Another younger boy across the table asked Mac, and Annabelle pointed to him.

"Charles Smith III!" She chuckled. "My young brother. Charles, you are going to dance with every girl in the room, are you not?"

"Indeed I intend to!" Charles replied matter-of-factly, and Mac had to laugh at that, passing her card to him to sign. A girl next to Michael with her hair pulled back into a brown, braided bun, asked if he might dance with her for a spell. "Of course, Madame, My pleasure."

"Lilliana," she replied.

"Michael."

"Charmed, I am most sure!"

Mac was starting to feel comfortable already, once she received the card back from Charles.

"Did you know Mr. Guggenheim’s dog broke loose today?" Annabelle asked. "And they found him in the kitchens?"

Everyone laughed. "What kind of a dog? A big one?"

"No, I don’t think so. I think it was one of the smaller ones, because it managed to wedge itself between the table and the sink, looking for scraps."

Mac smirked, holding her head up proudly, using her past life at the palace to guide her manners. She kept her back straight, grateful she did no have Olga’s restraining rope to keep her from slouching as she had before. Though as much as she hated to admit it, the ropes did help, and she was able to remember not to slouch when at formal dinners.

She sipped from her cider glass, listening with content at the conversations going on around her. It wasn’t until she felt eyes on her back that she dared to turn around. She nearly fainted right on the spot…Coddie Anna sat a few tables away, and she was staring at Mac suspiciously, squinting as though she could not see well enough.

Quickly, Mac turned around, and stepped lightly on Michael’s foot. He stopped talking to Lilliana, and leaned towards Mac so she could whisper in his ear. His eyes widened, and he excused himself to quickly bring Mac to a safe spot so they could speak.

"She’s here?" he hissed, and Mac nodded, her eyes very wide. "Oh damn, yet another thing to worry about! If she recognizes us, no doubt she’ll cause a row, won’t she?"

"Oh I hope not," Mac replied, fiddling with the sash of her dress.

"What do we do?" Michael asked, and the two peeped around a corner back into the café. The clock on the wall read 8:15, so they still had a good hour and a half left. Coddie Anna had her back turned to them and was chatting happily with her date, so they turned back to each other.

"Well we can’t just hide here the whole time! Besides, Henry would be heart broken if I didn’t accept his offer to dance."

"I suppose Lilliana would be upset as well, and you know I am too charming to upset a lady." Michael stiffened and nodded his head so formally that Mac snickered, pointing at him.

"You are so silly," she teased, and he merely nodded again.

"Thank you Madame."

"Let’s go back," Mac told him. "Just do not look at her, whatever you do."

They slid along the wall, ducking around a crowd, and snuck back to their table. "Where did you go?" Annabelle asked when they sat back down, and Mac smiled at her as though nothing had happened.

"Oh, nothing, we just had some business to discuss. We’re all right." She began nibbling on the appetizers which had arrived, including a variety of finger foods. The first course went quite quickly, and soon Mac was being taken around the room by Henry, while Michael and Lilliana danced close by. Michael would lean far to the side when Mac came towards him, and the two of them would make funny faces at each other while their partners weren’t looking.

Mac tried her best to hide her face from Coddie Anna as much as possible, forcing Henry to go one way if she saw Coddie Anna coming towards them during the dance. She was grateful to go back to Michael again after the dance ended, though thanked Henry kindly before sending him along.

"You two were so excellent," Michael told her as he pulled her around in a famous waltz.

"Huh…ahem!" Mac cleared her throat, and Michael immediately moved to the other side of the platform.

"This is very awkward…I’m surprised Rose didn’t tell her we were coming," he whispered, and Mac shook her head.

"I don’t think they’ve been on very good terms lately, you know, after what she did to my father at lunch the other day." Mac was still smarting over it…no one insulted her father without going through her first.

Michael shook his head. "I’d have been upset if it had been me being talked to that way," he sighed. "Some of these people can be such snobs…"

"Shh!" Mac hissed. "Someone’ll hear you!"

"Sorry." Michael apologized. "I’d like to get to know him, but I don’t think he felt very comfortable around me."

Mac frowned. "That’s because my father is very overprotective of me. I’m all he has left, and I think he feels that if I find a boy, he’ll lose me."

Michael chuckled. "Well, you’re too young for a boy yet anyway, so I can see why he’d feel awkward."

"My Mother would have liked you I think," Mac told him. "Though I wish I’d gotten to know her. In her pictures, she is always so happy and smiling…at least the ones my Aunt showed me. Papa only has one, and it’s a very formal portrait. But I think she would have been happy for me to have a friend who is a boy."

Michael smiled softly. "I did not know my mother either," he admitted. "She died when I was three."

"I’m sorry," Mac told him. "And you lost your father when you were ten."

"Yes. The palace has been my home for the past five years."

Mac stared at him. To have lost both a father and mother must be dreadful, and she shuddered to even think about being an orphan. Though having the Tsar and Tsarina act as your mother and father was as good a substitute as any, and Alexandra had been a wonderful mother to her. She continued dancing with Michael, noticing the waiters coming back to the tables with more food, and raised her eyes. "How many courses are going to be given here?" she asked, as she’d had dinner already that night.

"Wouldn’t be shocked if it were five or six at least. You know these first class folks," he whispered into her ear, and Mac shook her head. It was amazing how much food the first class passengers were expected to consume in one meal.

"Are you hungry still? Perhaps we could take another break and sit down," Mac suggested, her feet aching from the constant movement in the tight flats.

"You’re tired?" Michael asked, and she nodded. "It’s not easy dancing for a long time in these ridiculous shoes!" she replied, and Michael lead her back to their table. The music continued playing as they worked through the next course, and Mac felt shockingly at home here. She was so used to living in splendor like this at the palace, and it had been a rather big blow having to stay in steerage. Then again, the imperial family did not bathe in their luxury as these people in first class did. They dressed simply, ate simple food, slept in hard camp beds without pillows, took ice cold baths in the mornings…they barely had a penny to their pocket for the most part.

The rest of the party went surprisingly smoothly, though Mac and Michael were expected to leave before the dessert could be served. "You have to go?" Lilliana asked with disappointment as Michael helped Mac out of her chair at 9:15.

"Unfortunately we do…she’s too young to be out too late," he explained, and the others at the table nodded. They exchanged good-byes, and Mac had never been more grateful to escape a place in her life. She dashed out onto the deck, breathing in the cold sea air.

"I never saw you run so fast," Michael laughed once he caught up with her. "I thought you were comfortable there."

"I was, but I still hate being in these gowns, and my feet are numb as it is!" She looked down, sighing heavily. "I’ll never make a perfect lady. I don’t care for it." She limped beside him, and Michael snorted.

"Would you like me to escort you to the hospital wing?"

Mac thought for a moment. "Well, perhaps I’d better go back to my cabin and get Ana first, if she’s not asleep. I would like to change into more comfortable shoes too, but I can’t get out of my dress until I leave here for good tonight." She growled under her breath as Michael helped her over the rail, and the two of them hopped to the lower deck with a soft thud.

"It’s so cold tonight!" Mac told him, and the two of them decided to peep over the rail at the water.

"I’ve never seen the ocean so still like that," Michael admitted. "Looks almost like glass." He shuddered. "I shouldn’t like to know how cold it is." He and Mac smiled at each other, before heading back in the direction of the cabin.

Chapter Twenty-Eight
Stories