A VOYAGE TO REMEMBER
Chapter One
A young woman with dark,
medium-length locks waited at almost the very end of the line on the wooden
ramp that would take her to her new life. She was happy not to be the very last
on board, for five people stood behind her. She wore her nicest outfit--layered
skirts and a white blouse with her worn leather shoes. In one hand she held her
enormous leather suitcase, and in the other her ticket for the unsinkable ship.
After going through all the procedures for a normal third class woman, she
finally walked up the ramp and turned to a handsome officer. He sent her a
genuine grin after going over her ticket.
"I hope you enjoy the
voyage, Miss Isolde Eiry Conway," he said while gently handing back the
ticket, their hands brushing for a moment.
"Thank you, Officer--"
she began, without knowing his name.
"Lowe," he said with a
smile. "I hope to see you on board later," he added with a whisper.
Isolde only blushed and hurried
on her way. She did not realize that the handsome officer had turned to follow
her with his eyes. He was brought back to reality when an upset passenger
impatiently stood there with a ticket held out to go on board.
Meanwhile, Isolde was making her
way inside. She looked up to stare in awe at the Grand Staircase. Her gaze
stopped when a rude first class woman knocked her to the ground.
"I'm so sorry, Ma'am--"
Isolde began to say while picking up the redheaded woman's hatbox.
The woman and her company looked
down at her with disgust. "I can't believe they let this class on the ship,"
she sneered to a dark-haired man. He snatched the box from her with a malicious
glint in his eyes.
Isolde stood with an open mouth
at the response. They talked about her as if she weren't there. "I'll have
you know--" she began angrily, but the group turned away.
Isolde sadly shut her mouth and
moved a curled lock behind her ear. She knelt down to pick up her belongings.
The suitcase had managed to snap open in the fall. She muttered to herself
angrily when someone knelt before her. Isolde's head snapped up to see Officer
Lowe. Her mouth formed a small O as he handed her a book. She quickly snapped
the case shut and stood, but tripped over her own skirt. Lowe laughed and put a
hand on her waist to help her up. She blushed and smoothed her skirt.
"I'm sorry about them,"
Lowe said, apologizing.
"It's not your fault,"
Isolde said. "It's not like they're under your charge."
"Well," Lowe said,
changing the subject, "if I may, I'll show you to your quarters."
He gently took the suitcase from
her hand and placed one of his own on her back. She smiled up at him.
"Thank you, officer."
"No. That's too formal,
Miss," he said while quickly looking down at her. "Call me
Harold."
"Well, if you insist,"
Isolde began slowly. "But then, you cannot be calling me Miss all the
time. Just Isolde."
"No Eiry?" he inquired
as they headed down the lift to E-Deck.
"Goodness, no," she
said with a bell-like laugh as they stepped off into a crowded hallway of her
fellow class.
He tried to reply, but the
buzzing of many languages filled their ears. Harold gently took his hand off
her back and grabbed her hand. He pulled her down seven twists and turns before
stopping in front of a white door, still smelling freshly of paint. He looked
down at her and handed her the case in the nearly empty hall.
"I hope to see you soon,
Isolde," he said in a softly accented voice.
"Maybe on deck," she
said with a smile, her accent much stronger.
"I'm off at night from eight
to eleven," he added in a whisper, in case anyone overheard. "I
expect to see you at the stern--"
"Around 10:30 tonight,"
she finished.
Harold nodded and quickly turned.
"Duty calls," he said while walking down the hallway.
Isolde sighed and leant against
the white door. Was this what love felt like?