THE SHIP OF DREAMS
Chapter Eight

Mac and Anastasia casually walked down the deck, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. They watched people passing by, either holding hands or chasing after young children. A group of boys was engaged in a game of football on one corner of the deck, and to Mac, they seemed to be having a wonderful time.

"Say," she whispered to Anastasia, who had not really spoken much since they had left the saloon. "Why don't we join in?"

Anastasia gasped. "We couldn't do that! They'd never let two girls play, anyhow." She sniggered.

Mac smirked. "Want to bet?"

Anastasia finally had to comply, and she allowed Mac to pull her over to the group. The boys were no older than thirteen or fourteen, but as far as Mac could tell, all of them spoke English. "Hi!" Mac greeted them cheerfully as she approached them. The boys stopped kicking the ball and stared at her.

"What do you want?" the tallest asked seriously.

"Can we play?" Anastasia spoke up, causing Mac to grin.

"No way!" another scoffed.

"And why not?" Anastasia folded her arms and gave him a nasty stare.

"Because you're girls!"

"I ought to slug you," Anastasia snarled, holding up her fist.

"Oh, really? I'd like to see you try it!"

Mac held Anastasia back as she made to leap onto the boy, which was a lucky thing, because they did not see the three young adults in black preparing to rush over to the scene. In fact, they stood but five feet away, watching anxiously.

"Listen," Mac panted, once she managed to restrain her friend from causing any damage. "I'll bet we can play easy."

"How much?" the tall boy asked with a smirk.

Mac frowned. One thing her father was against was making bets, but she did not have to tell him about this, and she felt she was fighting for a cause anyway. "A dime."

The tall boy pulled out a shiny silver coin and held it in the palm of his hand so Mac and Anastasia could see it up close. "Fine. A dime it is. All right, then, let's start a new game and see if these two can really play."

Mac and Anastasia grinned proudly at each other before jumping in and taking their positions.

Callista, Sam, and Michael nearly collapsed with relief at the outcome of the situation. "That's Ana for you," Michael grumbled. Sam rubbed his hand over his face, glancing down at the gun in its sheath. He was certain he would not have had to use that, but one never could tell.

"Still, let's watch and make sure nothing else happens."

"Right." Callista blew out her breath, and the three guards took a seat on the closest bench to watch the game.

*****

Coddie Anna felt terrible. She lay limply on her mother's bed, her stomach churning after her lunch had resurfaced. Seasickness, of all things, she thought miserably. "Make it stop, Mama," she begged, watching as Rose sat down on the chair at the vanity and gazed at her reflection in the mirror.

"It will." Rose sighed, picking up one of her old butterfly clips with her fingers and turning it over and over. She felt as though she were trapped. Trapped where she did not belong, and there was absolutely no way out.

"Mummy?" Coddie Anna whimpered, as Rose clutched at the clip, and suddenly she threw it against the floor, making a loud thrap. Coddie Anna sat up quickly, startled, and was even moreso when her mother covered her face with one hand. "Mummy, what's wrong?" Coddie Anna ignored her stomach and slid off of the bed, walking over to Rose, and reached out to touch her mother's arm. "Mummy?"

Rose slowly looked up. "Coddie, could you go and visit Nana for a little while? I want to be alone for a bit."

Coddie Anna hesitated, but she knew best not to argue with her mother when she had one of these depression spells. She nodded, and headed towards the door, opened it, and hurried out.

When Coddie Anna was gone, Rose stood up and looked at her reflection in the mirror again. She had dark circles under her eyes, showing how little she had been sleeping lately. Without warning, the strings inside of her snapped, and she went into a frenzy around the room, knocking things violently off of her nightstand, including a portrait of herself, Coddie Anna, and her dead husband. She stared at the broken frame on the ground and fell to her knees, picking it up and fingering the cracks softly. She had no idea what he would have thought if he'd seen her like this. Probably horrified and disappointed, as she had been very strong when he was alive.

Rose picked up the portrait and set it back on the nightstand, before standing again and looking at the mess she'd made. She finally collapsed onto the bed, sobbing quietly, until she at last drifted off into a light doze.

*****

Around tea time, Mac and Anastasia said good-bye to the boys they had played football with, ten cents richer than they had been earlier that day. "Not a word," Mac told Anastasia.

"Not a word." Anastasia smirked. "We showed them."

"Yep! Come on, or my father will be worried."

They hurried back down the stairs and towards their cabin, and Mac opened the door, entering first. Jack was still asleep, but he was lying on top of the covers with his back to them. "Wow," Mac whispered. "He must have been tired."

Anastasia shrugged. "Should we wake him?"

"Well, he'll miss supper if we don't," Mac told her, and she crawled up onto the bed, giving him a gentle shake. "Papa, we're back," she spoke, and Jack mumbled something inaudible under his breath, only shifting a bit. Anastasia glanced around the cabin when she noticed a picture frame sitting on the desk.

"Mac," she began softly, lifting the frame into her hands and staring at it. A beautiful woman with dark hair was the subject, and she appeared to have very dark, intense eyes. She reminded Anastasia very much of Mac. Mac, however, wasn't paying attention. She had started to tickle her father to try and force him awake, and soon Jack started laughing, and his bright blue eyes snapped open.

"Mac! Honey, honey, stop it." He gasped, managing to sit up once she released him from the torture. Mac sat cross-legged on his bed and grinned evilly as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and yawned.

"Pardon me." He chuckled. "What time is it, honey?"

"Four."

"Jack?"

All heads turned in the direction of Anastasia's voice. "Hmm?"

"Who's this?" Anastasia held up the frame and showed him. Jack took the frame from her and put his arm around Mac tightly, kissing her hair.

"This is a picture I took of your mother when we were first married," he replied.

"That's Mac's mother?" Anastasia gasped. "Gosh, she's beautiful! She has Mac's eyes. What color hair did she have?"

"Reddish blonde, and Mac has a mixture of both of ours." Mac had light strawberry blonde hair, which had hints of her father's dirty blonde and her mother's red. Unlike her father, Mac had dark brown eyes, while he had crystal blue.

"Ana, can you put this back where you got it?" he asked, coughing slightly.

"Are you coming down with something, Papa?" Mac asked.

"I don't think so, sweetie."

Mac cocked her head to one side. "You have a cough," she pointed out, and he smiled at her, pushing himself to his feet.

"He's had that cough for a while, though," Anastasia pointed out. "Dr. Botkin just said it was an aftereffect from the pneumonia."

Just for good measure, Jack coughed again, covering his mouth with his hand. His chest hurt from the force of the coughing, but felt better after a moment or so. He glanced down at Mac, who was watching him worriedly, and he just ruffled her hair. "I'm fine, sweetheart. It could just be allergies."

"Hope so," Mac replied. "I'm hungry, though."

Jack put on his waistcoat and bundled up for the outdoors as he followed the girls outside. "Me, too," Anastasia agreed, nodding.

"So, what did you two do while you went for a walk?" Jack asked, as they made their way towards the third class saloon.

Mac glanced at Anastasia and raised her eyes, shaking her head. "Well, we just walked around and watched people," Anastasia lied.

"That's good. I'm glad you two stayed out of trouble." Jack grinned playfully at his daughter as he put a hand on her shoulder and led her into the dining room. They went to sit down at one of the empty tables, and ordered tea and coffee for the time being.

"To let all of you know," the waitress began. "Dinner is not until seven."

"That's all right," Jack replied.

"But you can have appetizers if you wish."

Jack looked at the girls, who nodded eagerly, and he ordered something small to hold them over before supper. When the waitress was gone, Mac leaned forward and took her father's large hand in her own, glad to find it warm and cozy as usual. "I love you, Papa," Mac whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder. Jack smiled softly at her.

"I love you too, baby." He sat back in his chair and looked at Anastasia, who was tearing little pieces of her paper napkin and rolling them into balls. "Are you all right?" he asked, causing her to look up and blink her blue eyes.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine...just daydreaming. That's all." She blew out her breath and leaned back in her own chair.

"Are you homesick?" Jack reached over and touched her hand gently.

She nodded softly. "A little, I guess. I miss Mama and Papa mostly, and my brother…" She was careful not to say Alexei's name out loud for fear of people being familiar with him on the ship. "…but I suppose that's to be expected. I wanted to go on this trip, so I'll have to handle the good with the bad."

Jack stared at her, and raised an eyebrow. "Well, homesickness is very normal for someone to experience when they've been away from home for a time." He tapped her nose playfully, and she grinned. "You'll feel better in a few days, I'm sure."

Anastasia nodded. "I hope so." She sighed and leaned her chin in her palm.

The waitress came back at that point with plates of crackers and cheese for them, and the girls began to eat and chat at the same time, while Jack sat gazing ahead, sipping his coffee.

After tea, the three of them went to the third class recreation area, where Jack could sit and sketch, and the girls could sit and read. Anastasia had out War and Peace, and Mac A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. Mac lay on her father's lap, using it as a pillow, and Anastasia leaned against his shoulder. The girls were quite relaxed on their own, which pleased Jack, as he usually had to find ways to calm them down.

*****

Callista, meanwhile, was slow-dancing with Sam to an old waltz that was playing on the old piano in the corner. They kept an eye on Michael, who was leaning against the ship's rail and gazing down at the water, the wind ruffling his hair as it blew past him, and also kept a close eye on Anastasia at the same time.

"You always smell so nice," Sam complimented as they swayed to the music. Callista had her head resting on Sam's shoulder and was quite relaxed, moreso than she had been in a long time. She smiled, pleased.

"And what do I smell like, may I ask?"

Sam shrugged. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but it's nice, whatever it is."

Callista lifted her head and grinned as she gazed into his dark eyes. "You can't put your finger on it, huh?" she teased.

He smirked as he twirled her around with one hand. "So, what do you think?" he asked, as he brought her to him again so her back was against his chest.

"Of what?"

"The Titanic. Not worried anymore, are you?"

Callista shrugged, lifting her face to the cool sea breeze. "Not anymore, really. It was stupid of me to be afraid in the first place. But I never imagined a ship larger than the Standart, and here it is." She tapped her foot on the deck, and Sam laughed.

"Yeah. It's pretty damn big." He smirked. "But I'm glad you aren't worried anymore. I don't think we have anything to worry about."

"Except sinking, maybe." Callista sniggered. "Which is probably impossible with this ship. And we seem to have a fairly experienced captain, too--he'll be able to avoid any ice."

Sam shrugged. "I don't know much about him, but it's been pretty smooth sailing for the most part." The two parted and leaned against the wall, folding their arms. "Actually, if we do sink, we wouldn't have to worry about going back to all of the crap in Russia. If the Tsar doesn't get his act together, the country is going to fall apart. It already is breaking strings." He said this in a low voice so no one would hear him, and Callista nodded.

"Strikes and riots. That was a smart move he made, getting Jack out of there."

"I hate to even think about what kind of a mess we'll go back to."

"Let's not," Callista argued. "Let's forget about it for now, and enjoy ourselves while we can. The voyage isn't that long."

Sam grinned at her. "All right. If that's what you want."

"Damn. It's getting cold out here." Callista shivered. "Let's go back inside. I think Jack has pretty decent control over her right now. My toes are starting to go numb out here."

Sam nodded. "Let me tell Michael to stay out here, though. You and I can go and grab a pint in the saloon."

"You just had one!" Callista gasped.

"I could certainly stomach another." Sam snorted.

"Fine, fine. But don't come crying to me when you wake up tomorrow morning with a hangover." She followed Sam over to Michael, who nearly fell overboard when Sam tapped him on the shoulder. Michael was grasping the rail, his face white and his eyes wide with surprise.

"Don't do that!" he snapped.

"Sorry," Sam replied. "Didn't know you were daydreaming."

"Yeah. What is it?" Michael asked, once he relaxed a little.

"Callista and I are going inside to get a drink. You are going to stay out here and watch over Ana until we come and get you."

"How come I'm always the one stuck outside?" Michael complained.

"Because I said so," Sam snapped.

"Oh, fine." Michael pouted. "Good-bye." He turned back to look out at the ocean, and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Come on." He led Callista towards the door.

"That was mature." Callista sniggered.

"I know. Who said I was?" Sam's eyes were twinkling as they went inside.

Chapter Nine
Stories