Titanic: True Love Forever

Chapter 13: Magic

I reach the D deck and the barred door is immediately pulled open by the attendant reaching outside the elevator. Inside the elevator were mirrors mounted in wooden shelves on either side, in which I could keep an eye on my still slightly damp hair for unnatural hair. Aside from the darkening of the color a bit, the problem with my hair is barely noticeable if no one is looking.

As I walked out, it was a busy crowd, with some first class guests who had just come up from the Nomad being guided into the elevator by the stewardesses. A few of the guests I was close to saw me and smiled politely, and I nodded slightly as my smile remained unchanged.

Unfamiliar with the place, I calmly walk along with a lady in a goose-yellow dinner suit to the reception hall, but soon realize that I'm going the wrong way, as the lady has apparently gone to the reception hall to catch up with a passenger who has just come aboard. If I wasn't there to pick up anyone, then being single would have been unusually conspicuous.

Of course if the passengers hadn't already boarded, with the Nomad and Transportation ferries departing and Titanic taking a while to restart, I could have walked straight through the hospitality hall to the first class gangway door to disembark in my current attire.

I looked at the classical doors leading out of the hospitality hall and squeezed the fan in my hand, shaking my head in regret. I turned and walked slowly out of the reception hall, walking almost on tiptoe as an exercise in dance moves because the handkerchiefs stuffed in my shoes were making me uncomfortable.

The color of the carpet beneath my feet begins to shift, transitioning from a plain single light gray to a white woven black pattern. I don't move to observe the place, the female guests in their still-Victorian corseted gowns, or the men in tuxedos fading into oblivion.

The overhead lights, the walls were so brightly lit that all the details of the place showed through. As I stepped out of the reception hall, I could see the grand staircase of oak stretching down from the upper deck, gilded wrought iron supporting pale-colored oak paneling. At the lowest point of the handrail to the D deck, a rotating shaped candelabra was placed, the candle lights on it turned on, giving off a warm yellow glow.

I avoided the wicker chairs that lined the grand staircase, a small dining room where waiters came and went, entertaining guests just seated with some pre-dinner drinks. Walking underneath the candelabra, I stepped onto the stairs and reached out with a gloved hand to touch the pattern carved into the top of the stairs.

Even through a layer of fabric I can feel the rounded delicacy of the oak reliefs, the flowery branches of the entwined artwork slipping past my fingers, there's barely any sound of engines to be heard here, this palace by the sea doesn't bring the slightest shudder to this ornate place. As I walked up the stairs and looked down at the handrail, I had to believe that we were actually on land at this moment, attending a magnificent banquet in the Louvre.

"It's very beautiful isn't it?"

A warm, mellow voice suddenly sounded beside me, and I looked up only to find a man standing next to me, dressed in the standard white bow-tie tuxedo of a dinner party, his gray hair slicked back in a formal fashion, a gentle smile on his somewhat older-looking face, and very friendly eyes. He appeared to have just come down the stairs from above and happened to be on the same flight of steps I was going up, which brought us right face to face.

With my hand still resting on the oak handrail, I tilted my head and smiled broadly and said, "Crafty, this is one of the most beautiful pieces of art I've ever seen."

"High praise." The man nearing middle age couldn't help but say happily, as if it wasn't the staircase I was praising, but himself. He opened his mouth to introduce himself, "Thomas Andrews."

"Nice to meet you, Emily." I extend my hand and he moves to shake it gracefully before releasing it.

"I'm glad you enjoyed Titanic." The corners of Andrew's mouth turned up dramatically in a genuine, adorable smile.

Cute was obviously a poor way to describe a middle-aged man, but I couldn't find a more appropriate adjective.

I would have liked it better if it hadn't sunk, and I continued with that subtle and gracious smile, "Everyone will be conquered by this ship, Mr. Andrew."

"I hope so, its the pride of the workers at the Harlan Waugh shipyard, and mine." Andrew turned his head downward, his eyes calmly gazing at the guests going down the stairs, these are the first passengers this ship has welcomed, everything here is so new and clean, I may even still be the first passenger to touch the handrail of this section of stairs.

"You're the engineer of this ship?" The name suddenly came to me, one of the designers of the Titanic and the chief shipbuilder. He didn't look like any of the movie characters, properly speaking, he was much more handsome.

Then for the first time I fell into weird self-doubt; was I traveling through England a hundred years ago, or was it Cameron's movie? Or have they been so confused into a mush that even time itself can't tell the difference.

"Yes, one of the most insignificant workers within the shipbuilders." Andrew nodded, humorously self-deprecating, "Now collecting passenger comments on their experiences on this voyage."

I figured he definitely didn't need my honest assessment, and I was itching to slam the gangway door and jump off the ship into the ocean immediately.

"It was very luxurious, beautiful, comfortable, and magical." I took my hand away from where the handrail had been and kept my gaze upward, from its bronze railings to its gilded decorations until, at the very top, the light spilling from the massive dome supported by cooked iron.

It reminded me of what the ship would look like a hundred years later, inside the deep sea, the photographs covered in a gray-green tint, the broken hull hidden in the silt, having become one with the ocean.

"Fantastic?" Andrew looked upward just as I did, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "That's what my wife says, it's a magical ship, maybe when my daughter is old enough I'll bring her for a ride on the Titanic."

Ride the wreck of the Titanic? Provided you can still salvage it.

"Is Ms. Emily alone? Where are your parents?" Andrew inquired amiably, like an elder.

"I'm traveling with my uncle, he's resting in his cabin from seasickness." I calmly wove some irrelevant lie, my mind already calculating the time when Calhokley would lead the picketers up. I had kicked with such force that he should have been unable to crawl from my kick, so it was the old poodle who had come here looking for it. The trouble was that only Carl, who couldn't get up, had seen what I looked like, and without a photograph or Jack's skill at drawing, it was no easy matter to find me in the five decks where the poodles were gathered.

By the time he can move properly tomorrow, I'll have jumped ship and climbed ashore, so I'll still be safe in the meantime.

"As hard as it sounds, he probably doesn't think as highly of the Titanic as you do." Andrew said with deep concern, for a moment his right hand showed as if he was going to reach for something, but he quickly reacted back to the fact that in a tuxedo he probably couldn't reach for anything with both hands but his pocket watch.

"To him, whatever ship is rated is average, including the Lusitania." I calmly continued to climb into conversation with him; one was more conspicuous, and having a man around me would drown me even more in the guests. Half of my attention is divided between all the entrances to the place, always on the alert for the Carl's old poodle to make an appearance.

Andrew can't help but laugh out loud as he continues to say in a friendly manner, "Are you touring the ship?"

"No, properly speaking, I'm looking for the dining room. I seem to have missed my meal and was tending to my poor uncle when the ship's bugle sounded urging people that it was time to go to war." I stated the need easily and without a hint of embarrassment. All the food I had eaten earlier in third class had been digested in one toss, and it might be hard to stay up until noon tomorrow on an empty stomach.

"It's never too late to dine, the chef here is on call twenty-four hours a day." Andrew bent his arm in a gentlemanly, inviting gesture, "The honor of being your escort?"

"Thank you, Mr. Andrew." I placed my hand in his bent arm and followed him down the stairs and back up to D deck.

"The dining room is closely connected to the stairs, so you can walk right in through here when you come down the stairs, and a waiter will lead the way for you. If you want fancier service, you can take the elevator or by taking the grand staircase to reach deck B, where the Gatti's restaurant will be more comfortable." Andrew narrated as he led me on his arm into the large, luxurious dining room of the first class cabin, where a number of gentlemen who had finished their meals came out and they nodded to each other in greeting. When the men had gone, he began to introduce them again, "They will go into the lounge on deck A. There may be ladies left in the dining room, chatting, well, or complimenting each other, I hope you don't mind if I say so."

Andrew, who had finished his self-tongue-twisting, quirked his mouth mischievously, not at all as curmudgeonly and serious as a man of his age should be.

The description and expression made me giggle so hard I could barely pretend to be a lady and laughed out loud. I found myself beginning to like Titanic because he was responsible for a very cute designer.