Unsinkable (8 page)

“We didn’t touch the box. We didn’t dig up the coffin or disturb a grave.”

Beckett turned to face her. “But I wrote it into the book. Do you think the curse will hold, even though it wasn’t brought here by the usual means?”

Carrington gave a little laugh. “How would I know Beckett? Did you write about anything that happened after the coffin is found?”

Beckett reached for her and pulled her close. “I did, but it didn’t have anything to do with the mummy.”

He bent to kiss her and it was a magical moment. No one else was on the deck as they stood there and kissed in the moonlight. For several moments they forgot all about the story Stead had told and Egyptian curses and potential disasters. Beckett’s thoughts wandered briefly to the chapter he had written and he told himself that he was playing with fire, in more ways than one, but still he kissed her and told himself that he didn’t have to follow up on his written words, that he wouldn’t.

                          *******

Warren paced Beckett’s stateroom. “This whole thing is getting out of hand!”

“Did Stead’s story scare you that much?”

“Yes,” Warren said. “Didn’t it scare you?  You just
happen
to write about a mummy appearing on board a ship- this ship, apparently,
and Stead just
happens
to tell that story?”

Beckett sat in one of the arm chairs. “I didn’t write Stead into the story. Nor have him tell his tale. That wasn’t part of my book. It would have been a nice twist, though.”

“Don’t joke about it.”

“You are scared.”

Warren said, “And you should be. I doubt anyone who was at the table will sleep tonight.”

“According to everyone I’ve spoken to, this is the safest ship that has ever been built. I don’t think we have to worry about anything happening.”

“And when we’re no longer at sea?”

“Relax. You didn’t even walk past the mummy. You haven’t seen it or touched it. You’ll be all right.”

“Are you sure you want to spend the rest of your life with a girl who
likes
that sort of thing?”

Beckett did laugh then. “Yes, I think I am.”

“Don’t you find that an odd hobby for a girl?”

“Not at all. I like that she’s intelligent. Who wants a woman who can’t talk about anything of substance?”

Warren walked to the door. “Well, you’re welcome to that. I’ll take a less complicated girl myself. I guess if you’re certain we aren’t about to face a major disaster I will try to sleep.”

“I think we’re all right.”

As Warren left, Beckett tried to convince himself that all was well, despite the odd sense that perhaps it wasn’t.

                        ********

Captain Smith took the opportunity to walk out on deck and gaze out over the bow of the ship. Ismay wanted to break records and create newspaper stories. All he wanted was to finish this, his last voyage, safely, as he had with every other cruise across the Atlantic in his long and successful career, He looked forward to retiring, but he knew that he would miss being at sea. Miss the view of the waves lapping at the sides of the ship as she cut through the water. Miss meeting and mingling with the passengers, miss the day to day operations of running an ocean liner.

The White Star line had been his life. He was proud of his career and knew that he could end it on a high note. He also knew that even though they had never worked together, the crew under him on this voyage were experienced.

The temperature had changed; it was much colder. There would, no doubt, be ice ahead. Since time seemed to be vastly important to Ismay, he would have to work around the potential danger, but
Titanic
was, after all, unsinkable. It was highly unlikely that the ship could be injured seriously enough to worry about any kind of disaster,

They had already survived a fire in the hull that none of the passengers had been aware of with no real damage to the ship and no injury. Surely that was evidence of the ship’s reputation.

He ran a hand over the rail. He almost wished that he and
Titanic
would have more voyages together.

                                *******

Molly sat in her cabin and tried to read. Her book couldn’t distract her from the story that Stead had told over dinner.

If there really was a mummy on board, and she believed Carrington, then they could all be in danger. She had gone to Egypt with an open mind, a sense of adventure and just a little apprehension. She had read about the curses before she went, but the adventure had taken over and she had banished any idea that she was in danger. She had brought back her own souvenirs and now she wondered if anything she had packed in her three crates was considered sacred enough to incur the wrath of ancient spirits.

Not that she believed any of that.

Not in theory anyway.

She climbed out of bed and went across the cabin to her smallest trunk. Opening it, she found one of the jade ushabtis like the one she had given Carrington. She found a ribbon and tied it around the small figure and tied a knot at the end.

“Just in case,” she said aloud to herself as she slipped it over her head. Until they safely docked in New York- and maybe for a little while after- she would wear it for good luck.

Feeling less anxious, she climbed back in bed and pulled up the covers and extinguished the light. No reason not to just go to sleep.

She only hoped Stead’s story didn’t invade her dreams.

                           *******

Carrington slipped off her bunk and found her slippers and a heavy robe. She couldn’t sleep. Stead’s story and Beckett’s were keeping her awake.

Walking softly so as not to disturb her parents in the adjoining cabin, she left the room and walked down the narrow corridor. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, she tapped gently on Beckett’s door.

He swung it open, looking attractively rumpled, as if he’d fallen asleep writing. The book was in one hand, his starched pleated shirt was wrinkled and unbuttoned.

“Can I come in?” She whispered the words.

He nodded and she stepped inside and he closed the door.

“You couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

“How did you know?”

He laid the book on the desk and took her in his arms. “Because I wrote it.”

“Before or after the story at dinner?”

“Before lunch.”

She looked up at him. “What happens now?”

He pulled her closer. “I’m not sure that you want to know.”

“And I’m fairly certain that I do.”

He kissed her more passionately and she felt light headed as she kissed him back.

Beckett knew the words that he had written and tried hard to fight against them. But he knew that he wanted this to follow his storyline. He wanted to hold her closer and kiss her passionately. He wanted what followed. Whether it was right or wrong. And he was so caught up in it that he no longer cared what was right and what was wrong. He just wanted Carrington.

Carrington kissed Beckett and felt her heart pounding. She was in love with him, she knew it. Whatever he wanted, wherever he wanted to go,
whatever he had written in the book
, that was what she wanted. She didn’t need to ask him what was going to happen. It was simply going to happen, that much she certain of.

                                      ******

Beckett reached for Carrington in the darkness and she moved closer to him. His arms went around her. “We’ll never know if it was because we love each other or because I wrote it,” he whispered.

“I will. It’s because I love you. And you love me. You must.”

“But I wrote it in the book. It was just like that…”

“Do you love me?”

Beckett raised up on one elbow. “More than life itself.”

“Then this was going to happen eventually.”

“Not like this, not in secret aboard the same ship where our parents and friends were. We would have waited until we knew each other better. Maybe until we were married.”

“Or perhaps not. You can’t plan every moment, Beckett. Sometimes life just happens. Isn’t that what you’ve been saying that you want? Isn’t that why you don’t want the job you’re expected to take at the bank? Why you want to write?”

“I don’t know any more why I want to write. Or if I’m even any good at it.  Or if I should even finish this book. This was supposed to be my way out of the life I was expected to step into. Now I have no idea what I want, what I should do.”

“Does that include me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Am I a part of what you aren’t sure you want?”

“Oh, I want you, Carrington. I want you to be a part of whatever life I finally end up leading.” He kissed her gently and brushed a lock of hair off her face.

“Finish the book, Beckett.  Finish it before you make any other decisions.”

“Do I finish it the way you want it, or I want it to end?”

“Write it. Just see what happens.”

“It doesn’t bother you that I seem to be controlling our fate?”

“In one way or another, don’t we all have the chance to do that?”

He laughed softly. “I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

“Then maybe you should.”

He kissed her again. “Maybe I should.”

She sat up. “What time is it? I have to get back. Mother will have a fit if she finds out I was here.”

“Early morning, I think.” Beckett reached for his watch. “Oh no. Almost daylight.”

Carrington reached for her gown and robe and threw them on hastily. “I’m going now. Don’t even think about walking me to the door. You’ll kiss me and someone will see…”

He pulled her close. “I would kiss you.”

“Beckett, I have to go…now.”

He kissed her once more and let her go.

                              ******