Prologue
I lay dying in a large, luxurious mahogany canopy
bed under a dark blue velvet comforter. The silk sheets that had always
caressed my body were now gone and in their place were a pair of ugly, brown
sheets of a fuzzier fabric which felt exceedingly uncomfortable to me.
My once beautiful, long, curly, dark brown
hair was now soaked in sweat and lay in disarray across my sweat stained
pillow.
I felt hot, and yet extremely cold at the
same time which caused me to feel as if my skin were crawling, or didn’t quite
fit right somehow.
My daughter Elizabeth sat by my side in an
old wooden chair that creaked with her every move. She looked on, watching
helplessly as my coughing grew worse.
Elizabeth dabbed away at the sweat beads
from my forehead and around my reddened, oval shaped face with a cool, wet
washcloth in the hope that it might bring me at least some comfort.
It was 1936 and even with all the medical
advances they’d had in the last hundred years the doctors had been unable to
diagnose my condition and had no idea as to how to treat it. The only thing
they knew for sure was that I was dying.
I had chosen to be home, where I was more
comfortable, and in my nice warm bed when the end came rather than in some
sterile hospital full of strangers.
My son Benjamin was now on his way to my
home in England to be with me in my final moments.
As my daughter watched my health decline she
hoped that he would not be too late.
“Ben, is on his way mama.” She’d repeat
every now and then, which I think was both meant to comfort me and to remind me
so that I would keep holding on.
She and I both knew that if I had passed
before Benjamin could get there he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.
Though my bed was toasty warm I felt as if I
were wrapped up in a blanket of ice. I had begun coughing up blood a couple of
days earlier and my daughter very rarely left my side.
I began to breathe more slowly now, each breath
burning my throat on its way in. “44 was too young to die” I thought to myself,
and yet it had felt like I’d been around far longer than that. Like death had
somehow been long overdue.
Though I love my children deeply I was ready
to die. I missed my husband desperately since his passing. I could still hear
his last words to me ringing in my ears. If I closed my eyes I could feel it.
“I’ll come back to you” he’d promised. It was what he’d always promised me, and
until then he’d always kept it. Soon I would be the one coming home to him.
William was lucky to be rescued from the
water when the Titanic went down. But after the sinking he was often whispered
about in society because he survived.
They couldn’t believe he would save his own
life when so many women and children died and there were even rumors that he
had been one of those men that dressed as a woman to get into a lifeboat.
His reputation amongst New York Society was
about as tarnished as Mr. Ismay’s for surviving. But nothing was worse than the
guilt he’d carried himself for surviving that night. He never thought he
deserved to be saved. He felt as if it were some sort of a fluke.
When the First World War broke out he
enlisted. He had it in his head that somehow if he could survive it, it would
prove to himself that he deserved to be alive. While in service he saved the
lives of three of his follow soldiers, but died in the process. He died a hero,
his reputation had finally been restored, but that didn’t mean much for me. I
would have much rather have had my husband home watching his children grow.
I’ve been in mourning for him since the day
I’d found out he’d been killed in battle and I’d never remarried.
Such things had always been far too painful
to think about, but through the physical pain I was enduring, these thoughts
had become my only real comfort. Like any other illness or injury it would soon
be over and I would finally be at peace.
The separation from my children would only be
for a little while. Even less than a mere blink of an eye when you think of it
in terms of eternity.
I would soon be rejoining with William in a
world where there is no more pain or suffering, no more striving for a feeling
of happiness that most never achieve, and those that do only achieve it for a
short time. A world without want or desire. I’ll be entering into a world of
peace and harmony.
I let my body relax in surrender to the
idea, but every time I would, I’d hear my daughter’s voice say “Ben, is on his
way mama” and I knew I had to hold on.
As time went on my coughing grew even worse
and it became harder and harder to breathe.
I wanted death, wanted the peace, but more
than anything else I wanted to be reunited with William again. That had been
the thing I’d wanted most since the day he’d left.
I began coughing and choking on my own
blood. The coughing had become so violent I wasn’t even able to stop long
enough to catch my breath. I had lost awareness of everything around me and was
sure this was the end.
Suddenly the pain stopped, the urge to cough
had left me and I felt relief. I could take a deep breath.
I inhaled and exhaled deeply a couple of times
and smiled at the ease I felt. I could breathe easily for the first time in…I
couldn’t even remember how long.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a light.
The light shined so brightly, yet it was painless to my eyes.
I turned towards
the light and saw it was coming from a tall, tan man with a muscular build and
slightly chiseled features.
He had a strong
chin and square jaw, brown eyes, thick brows and mustache, and dark brown hair
that had been neatly combed backward. It was William! And he looked the same as
he had the day he left.
I laid back in bed stunned to see him
standing there. Was he a ghost? Was he death? Or had he been an angel, sent to
retrieve me?
William said nothing. He gazed down upon me
smiling warmly, sweetly, as if to welcome me.
I wanted to smile back at him, but I was
afraid.
He held out his hand and I could feel him
beckoning me. I could feel him telling me that it would be alright, though he
made no sound at all.
I looked over to my daughter and noticed her
looking down, but instead of looking at me she seemed almost to be looking past
me.
“Mama…” she called weakly, her voice
slightly cracking.
“Yes, Lizzy?” But something told me she
wouldn’t be able to hear me.
I sat up to look behind and saw just as I
suspected. My lifeless body lying in a bed that was no longer mine.
I looked down in shame. “I can’t leave yet.”
I looked up at William. “Our boy… I have to be here when he arrives! I have to
be here for him!” I’d been waiting for the day that I’d see William again since
the day he’d left, and now that he was here, I couldn’t bring myself to leave
my children.
Both of our children were now adults. Both
were married. Benjamin and his wife had, had two boys and Elizabeth had gotten
married very recently. I knew they had lives of their own, and as I thought
about the children I would be leaving behind I felt a calm sweep over me, a
knowing…I knew that everything was going to be alright. My children would be okay.
Benjamin and his wife would have more children, and somehow I knew that
Elizabeth was pregnant with her first son, even though Elizabeth herself did
not know she was pregnant. I knew that my daughter’s marriage would be as happy
as William’s parents’ and that they would move to Ciel, my father’s plantation in
Georgia, which I had left her in my will along with his half of the
mine. I could feel their happiness and I smiled to myself.
Tears of joy began to form as I looked into
William’s eyes once more, and reached out for his hand.
When my hand touched his, I noticed that I
no longer had the pale, skeletal arm of a frail, sickly woman, but that my
porcelain arms looked healthy again, and youthful! Had I also gone back to the
age I was when he’d left?
I wanted to check in one of my mirrors, forgetting
for a moment that my reflection would no longer show, but William began to lead
me towards an open door.
I walked through the door out of my room
hand in hand with William, but I came out walking through the gangway doors
alone, boarding the Titanic on the morning of April 10, 1912.
I looked around at my surroundings. The entire
room was white steel with large windows, giving me a view of the people on the
pier below on one side, and a gorgeously ornate wooden door with delicate black
iron decorations around the round window of the door on the other side leading
to the passenger area. “William?”
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