By the time he reached his cabin, the peculiar thought had almost left him completely. He knew Jonathan wouldn’t expect him back for several hours, assuming he would not be able to escape the lounge. He poured himself a brandy and made his way out to the private deck. The evening was chilly, but the air felt good, and he was hoping it would clear his mind. While visions of little Ruth and her intriguing aunt were welcome thoughts, his mind kept returning to the events of the last few days that had led him to his current position. It all seemed a bit surreal, but then so had his entire engagement, quite honestly, and only now that it seemed to be over did he feel he could finally get on with his life at long last.He had arrived in London to attend to a few business matters, both on behalf of his father’s steel company as well as the new celluloid manufacturing company he was starting on his own. His father had made a name for himself in the steel industry early on

Her bedroom was always dark. She wanted the shades open, at least partially, so some of the light from the street, or better still, the stars, could shine in. But no matter how many times she opened them, even if it was just a crack, her mother’s lady, Ms. Julia, would always come in just as she was about to drift off and close them. Even when she had asked nicely, even when she had begged her mother, she was told they needed to be closed. Closed tight.It was the same nearly every night. She’d beg to stay up, to read another book, to sit by the fire, even to clean her room. Eventually, her mother would have enough and send her up. She’d linger with the toiletries, sometimes insisting on putting on several of her nightshirts all at the same time. In the summer it was unbearable to do so, but then, so was the alternative. Of course, it didn’t make a difference. Regardless of what she wore, it never made a difference.Eventually, she’d give

Jonathan Lane was a wiz at gaining information, in any situation, in any location, and being aboard the Titanic had not limited his resourcefulness. Though they had just encountered little Ruth and her Aunty Meg the day before, he had already ascertained a room number, the names of Ruth’s parents—Daniel and Kelly O’Connell—and the fact that the other woman sharing their room was registered on the ship’s roster as Meg Sister, which he thought was rather odd and perhaps a clerical mistake. Early on the morning of April 12, he ran into a steward for Steerage passengers who mentioned the peculiar sight of a very attractive, fair-haired passenger leaving Third Class accommodations dressed in a pink robe in the middle of the night, spending several minutes peering into the Atlantic before returning to her cabin. He said the only thing truly unusual about it was the fact that the robe did not match the class. It seemed rather expensive, he noted.

It seemed Jonathan didn’t like the lack of conversation either. Eventually, he asked, “What are your plans once you reach America, Miss Meg?”“Oh, I’m not sure yet,” she admitted. They had made their way to the stairwell, and she was ever so cautious to watch her footing above the sleeping babe’s head as she made her descent. Jonathan seemed ready, lest she slip or fall, but she made it safely down, heading toward the corridor.Once she reached level ground, he asked, “What was your trade in England?”“Actually,” she dodged, “America is all about fresh starts. I think I may try my hand at something entirely different than what I am used to.” She could see their room just at the end of the hall, and though she didn’t mind Jonathan’s questions, they were becoming more personal and more pointed.“That sounds like an exciting venture,” he replied. “And

“It’s definitely broken,” Dr. J. Edward Simpson assured Daniel once he reached the hospital located on D Deck, which was just one deck below where the incident had taken place.Daniel had already ascertained that bit of information, but hearing the medical expert confirm it made it no less difficult to swallow. “What now?” he asked.“Well, first I’ll set it, which will likely be quite painful, then I’ll cast it, which will take quite some time, and then in a month or so, depending upon how it heals, you can have a doctor in New York, or wherever you’ll be residing, remove the cast,” Dr. Simpson explained.“A month?” Daniel exclaimed, looking at Charlie and shaking his head in disbelief.“It’ll be all right,” Charlie assured him.“But how am I goin’ to work with a cast on my arm?” Daniel questioned, rubbing his good hand along his forehead and