Unsinkable (5 page)

“So would I, Beckett. And not because Mother might want that.”

“Of course not.”

She looked up at him happily and he pulled her close. “What did you write, before your father interrupted?”

“Well, in just a few minutes, we will bump into Mr. Andrews.”

“Do you think it will really happen that way?”

Beckett smiled and gave her a quick kiss. “If it doesn’t, I will find him.”

                               *******

Of course, it happened just as he had written it. As he and Carrington had once again clasped hands and started walking around the perimeter of the decks, the ship’s builder had crossed their paths, holding blueprints of the grand ship and seemingly preoccupied, so preoccupied that he nearly bumped into them.

“So sorry,” said Thomas Andrews.

“It’s quite all right,” Beckett replied, because even though he meant it, that was what he had written.

 The man extended his free right hand. “I’m Thomas Andrews, the ship’s builder. I am afraid I am too concerned with details and perhaps not enough with making sure the passengers are happy- and don’t come to harm at my expense.”

“Beckett MacKenzie,” Beckett said, shaking his hand. “And this is Miss Carrington St. Clair.”

“I trust that they voyage has been satisfactory?”

“Oh yes,” Carrington said.

“And you are finding your way around the ship without getting lost?”

Carrington cast a look at Beckett. Beckett said, “If someone wanted to see what was in the cargo hold, how would they get there?”

Mr. Andrews raised an eyebrow. “I suppose that first I would ask
why
someone wanted to see what was in the cargo hold.”

“Curiosity mostly,” Beckett admitted. “Carrington has this idea that perhaps there is a mummy on board.”

Thomas Andrews smiled. “I had heard that rumor myself. I take it you are one of those people who have become enamored with Egypt?”

“Yes, Mr. Andrews.”

“I will never admit to telling you how to get there.”

Beckett smiled. “Of course not. Nor would we suggest that you had.”

“And if you should find a mummy, Miss St. Clair, I should wish to be the first person you told.”

He rolled out one of his blueprints and showed them how to find the cargo hold. “I wouldn’t stay too long,” he warned.

He discreetly left and began talking to another passenger.

Carrington said, “How much like what you wrote was that conversation?”

“Almost word for word.”

“Beckett, that is starting to unnerve even me.”

“Me too, but if you want to go…”

“I do.”

He took her hand and they followed the directions that Andrews had given them.

                                    ********

Both Beckett and Carrington were stunned to see how much the ship was carrying far below the passenger decks. An automobile, numerous crates, trunks, furniture items. It looked as if some of the passengers were taking the contents of their entire homes with them on this crossing.

“Did your characters
find
a mummy?”

Beckett said. “You mean do we? I’m calling them by our names temporarily.”

“Yes, do we?”

“In the story we find a crate we think has one inside. I haven’t gotten farther than that. I didn’t want to make it that easy. We’re looking for a crate the right size, with Egyptian markings on it. I assume you’ll know what that looks like?”

“It would be long, and perhaps even have some hieroglyphics on it then?”

“Yes.”

Carrington stopped in awe of a pile of wooden crates. Three were rectangular and looked like packing boxes. “These are Molly’s crates.” She pointed to the labels.

“Then our mummy should be close by,” Beckett said. “Assuming we are still following the storyline of what I wrote.”

Carrington turned around and then looked behind Molly’s crates. “Here, Beckett.”

He joined her and saw a box he had described but never seen. There was no name or label on the box. There were, however, several words written in Egyptian hieroglyphics. “What are the words on the box?”

“It’s a warning. Threatening terrible things to anyone who dares to disturb the body of the princess. Our mummy is a royal.”

“You read ancient hieroglyphics?”

“In real life, yes. Do I in your book?”

He laughed. “In my book you qualify as an expert, so perhaps your knowledge will increase.”

“I want to open it, but that isn’t how you wrote the story, so I am afraid to touch it.”

“Based on the warning I’m afraid to touch it. And it may be nothing. I haven’t decided if it’s a real mummy in the story and in real life, it could be anything, it just came from Egypt. There were several people with the Astors in Cairo.” It had been stuffy in the hold, but he felt a sudden chill. “Let’s go, I’m starting to get a little spooked.” He took her hand again and they found their way back up unto the deck.   

The sun seemed extremely bright after the dark of the cargo hold. Beckett struggled a little with his emotions. Seeing once again what he had written come true had that effect on him. “I think I will go write for an hour or two. Is that all right?”

Carrington said, “Of course. I’ll just go see what Mother is doing. Shall we meet for lunch?”

He bent to kiss her cheek. “Yes. I’ll meet you by the staircase a little before noon.”   He watched her go and then went to the gentleman’s reading and writing room.   

                               ********  

Carrington sat with her mother in the wicker filled Palm room, the first class ladies’ lounge. Fragrant vases of flowers adorned the tables, comfortable cushions were in every whitewashed chair. It could have been someone’s solarium at home, only on a grander scale. A quartet of musicians played softly in the corner. Carrington had noticed that always there was music on board
Titanic
, a piano or strings seemed always to be serenading the quests of the first class cabins.

“Tell me how it is going with Mr. MacKenzie.” Rose St. Clair poured herself a cup of tea from the silver teapot on the table in front of them. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Carrington said.

“Don’t be obstinate, Carrington. Are you getting on well?”

“Beckett and I have always ‘gotten on well,’ Mother. You know that.”

“I’m not talking about when you were children. Do you think this could be a…permanent relationship?”

Carrington reached for the tea pot, not because she particularly wanted a cup of tea but because she needed a moment before answering her mother.

“Mother, I wish you would let me decide that. It doesn’t help anything to have you involved. But since you asked, yes, I could see myself having a future with Beckett.”

“He is very wealthy,” Rose said, smiling, something she seldom did.

“I don’t care about that,” Carrington said.

“Of course you do,” he mother insisted. “Or you would, if you ever found yourself living beneath the standard you always have.”

“I like Beckett, Mother, and quite a lot. And for now, that is all you need to know.”

“Spend time with him. Use this opportunity.”

“It isn’t a business merger, Mother.”

Rose leaned closer. “Everything in life is a business merger, Carrington. That is how you have to look at it. You can’t just go on emotions. One day you will learn that.”

“If you really believe that, then I feel sorry for you, Mother. I intend to live my life differently.”

“You say that Carrington, but we both know that you will do what you are expected to do.”

Carrington’s eyes flashed with anger. Why? She
wanted
a relationship with Beckett. She didn’t just like him, she had fallen in love with him.

“You can’t force me to marry anyone. And no one except Alastair has asked.”

“Then make it happen. At least you like him. Perhaps you even care for him.”

“Mother I have a headache. I’m going to lie down.”

She didn’t, but she also didn’t want to continue this conversation. She swept out of the Palm Room and went back to her own cabin, thinking as she went that she wanted to plan her own life.

                                    ******

Beckett sat in a crimson leather chair in the writing room and worked on his book. The words weren’t coming easily because he felt as if he were manipulating his characters in order to manipulate his life. But still he wrote, he wrote the story the way he hoped that he and Carrington would end up. Dare he tempt fate? Did he allow his characters to fall deeply in love, explore their passions, and admit their physical attraction? He hesitated, his pen hovering over the page. He had dated a number of girls while he had been at the university. No one had made him feel quite like Carrington had. None of them had captured his attention and his heart long enough for him to consider making them his wife. And yet, with Carrington, that is how he felt. He began writing again, willing himself not to stop, writing the story the way he wanted it to be, whether he should or not and knowing even as he did that there would most certainly be consequences.

                                *******

 Despite her mother’s meddling, Carrington found herself searching the dining room for Beckett as she took her seat and read over the luncheon menu. As always, a string quartet played softly as she tried to decide what she wanted to eat and not be obviously searching for Beckett. What is he had changed the story and they were destined to part?  What if he changed his mind? It bothered her that she was worried so just because he was a few minutes late. Molly joined her, and asked how her mummy search was going.

She was just starting to share the morning’s foray through the cargo hold when her mother sat down beside Molly.

“Carrington,
where
is Beckett?”

“I expect he’ll be along when he gets hungry, Mother,”