Love

She’d been in Charlie’s bedroom a few times before, but this time was certainly different. Butterflies fluttered around her stomach, some of the nervous variety, but most of them fueled by excitement.
They were sitting on the edge of his bed, the door closed and locked, the drapes pulled tightly. She knew that there were a few servants elsewhere in the house, but they would leave the couple undisturbed at least until mid-morning. Glancing up at him, she could see that he felt much the same way that she did.
“It turned out quite well, don’t you think?” Charlie asked, clearly meaning the wedding.
“Yes,” Meg nodded.
“Even though a few guests certainly had too much to drink.”
She giggled, thinking of one older gentleman who had made quite a spectacle of himself trying to climb atop one of the tables to dance. He had been escorted out, but Meg was thankful for the diversion. For once, everyone wasn’t staring at her.
The veil was gone, but she still wore her gown, a thousand pins keeping her hair up. Charlie had on his suit pants and shirt, his tie loosened, his jacket long discarded. The room was lit by a few candles, but she could still see him well enough, particularly the twinkle in his eyes.
He slipped his hand onto the back of her gown, making her catch her breath. “There must be… a million buttons back here.”
“One for each dollar your sister spent on the wedding,” Meg joked. He laughed. “I wanted a zipper, but your sister said that was ‘too modern.’”
“Rather too practical,” he noted. She felt his fingers on the back of her head. “And is there a hairpin for every button?”
“It simply wouldn’t do for them not to match,” Meg shrugged.
Once again, the sound of Charlie’s laughter filled the room. He removed his hand from behind her and took her hand in his. “Meg, I must admit… I’m a bit frightened.”
She glanced up at him, her eyebrows raised. “Why is that?”
“I’m afraid I might hurt you. Or scare you. Or break you.”
She tightened the grip on his hand. “You won’t, Charlie.”
“No?”
“No.” She pulled the skirt of her gown around so that she could face him. “Charlie, you really needn’t worry about any of that. There’s a distinct difference between the things that were done to me and the loving touch of my husband who I give myself to freely.”
His eyebrows arched, and Meg thought she saw tears in his eyes. “You know I would never do anything to hurt your or make you uncomfortable, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“At any time, if you feel you can’t continue, please let me know. I do love you, Meg, more than anything. I can’t take back what’s happened to you, but I can promise you, it will never happen again.”
Tears were streaming down her cheeks now, but she didn’t feel the need to hide them or force them to stop. Never showing weakness or vulnerability had been her battle cry for so long, but with Charlie, she knew she was perfectly safe to show her true self. The monster was gone, forever. There was no need to push him down inside the box in the back of her mind because the box was empty.
Meg slowly leaned forward and slid her hands up the side of Charlie’s face. “I love you. Thank you for fighting for me, even when I was the one you were fighting against.”
“Thank you for bringing me back from the dead.” His lips found hers, and any fears or hesitations were all gone as Meg surrendered herself fully to the man fate had chosen for her such a very long time ago.
April 15, 1913
Charlie paced the hallway outside his own bedroom, unable to sit for more than a few moments at a time. Jonathan sat watching him, an amused expression on his face, as he wandered from one end of the hall, turned sharply on his heel, and headed back.
“You are going to wear the carpet out,” Mr. Ashton mused, also watching his son.
“Perhaps if this wasn’t taking so long, it wouldn’t be necessary,” Charlie replied curtly.
“As excruciating as it is for you, imagine how Meg feels,” Jonathan reminded him.
He had a point. She’d been in the bedroom with Dr. Shaw, Kelly, and his mother for over four hours now. Every once in a while, he’d hear a small whimper, but for the most part, she was silent. He imagined that had more to do with her mettle than a lack of pain.
“It shouldn’t be too much longer now,” his father assured him.
“I should hope not,” Charlie muttered, turning and heading back the opposite direction. Looking down, he thought to himself, “We can always purchase new carpet.”
His own thoughts were not alone in his head, however, and even though he’d been seeing Dr. Morgan for over nine months, from time to time, he’d still hear the voices. Now, they were more like background noise, like something one might overhear in a restaurant. The violent thrashing sounds had all but faded, the flickers of faces saving themselves for times when he was most stressed or anxious. Right now, he was both, and the other passengers in the water seemed set on reminding him that he did not wait alone.
Almost another hour went by before his mother came to the bedroom door. “It shouldn’t be long now,” she said, stepping out into the hallway. “We can see the baby’s head.”
“Oh, he’s crowning!” Mr. Ashton explained, seeming proud to have known the medical term.
“Yes, and Meg is doing splendidly. She’ll start pushing, and soon you’ll be a father, Charlie.”
The words were said with such pride, Charlie almost smiled, but concern for his wife and their child prevented him from doing so. “I wish I could come in.”
“Don’t be silly, Charlie,” Pamela said with a laugh. “A father in the birthing room.” She shook her head as if it was the most ridiculous notion she’d ever heard. “I shall let you know when we have a baby, though I think you might hear for yourself.”
Charlie nodded his thanks and went back about his pacing.
“I have cigars all ready,” Mr. Ashton said. “It’s a tradition, you know?”
Charlie didn’t answer. A few moments later, Meg’s whimpers turned into grunts punctuated with sharp screams, and he wanted desperately to enter the bedroom to make sure she was all right. He could hear Dr. Shaw’s reassuring voice letting her know she was doing just fine and reminding her to bear down and push, but it wasn’t quite enough. Just when Charlie was about to throw tradition aside and let himself in, a new sound filled his ears.
It started off as a shrill screech, but within a second or two, it morphed into the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. Turning to face his father, he asked, “Is that my baby? Is that the sound of my baby crying?”
Mr. Ashton was on his feet, clapping Charlie on the back. “I believe it is, my boy,” he replied. “Congratulations.”
While Charlie accepted the hugs and handshakes from his father and Jonathan, he anxiously awaited his mother’s return to the door. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but it felt like an hour.
With a flourish, Pamela opened the double doors. “The baby is here! And Meg is doing just fine.”
“Let me in,” Charlie insisted, nearly pushing past her.
“Dr. Shaw isn’t quite finished cleaning up,” his mother cautioned.
“I don’t care,” Charlie replied, waiting for her to move her arm, which she did with a smile.
He paid no mind to Dr. Shaw still seated at the end of the bed doing something under the sheet Charlie probably didn’t want to know about. Meg’s face was beaming, lighting the entire room. Kelly was next to her, but she moved aside as Charlie entered.
He approached cautiously, but even from across the room, he could see the tiny bundle she held to her chest. Tears of joy slipped from his eyes and he let them run. “Hi, Da,” Meg said, in a soft voice, turning the baby as if the voice came from the tiniest lips Charlie had ever seen.
“My God, what a beautiful face,” Charlie said, bending to kiss Meg on the forehead. She tilted her head so that he found her lips, instead. Turning his attention back to the baby, he continued to stare into a pair of blue eyes that seemed to match Meg’s almost perfectly.
“This is Henry,” Meg said, as Charlie sat down on the bed next to her. “And he has ten fingers and ten toes. He’s absolutely flawless.”
“Henry,” Charlie repeated. “I have a son?”
“You do. A perfect baby boy,” Meg assured him. “Would you like to hold him?”
“More than anything,” Charlie replied. Carefully, he took the baby from Meg’s arms and held him nestled against his chest. Henry made a small gurgling noise, and looking into his eyes, Charlie saw nothing but happiness—a new beginning, a new chance to start life afresh with every opportunity before them. Any doubts he’d ever had about the existence of God were washed away as he marveled at the amazing being before him. “You did an excellent job, Meg. He really is perfect.”
“Why thank you,” she giggled as Dr. Shaw assured her everything was just fine. “You may have had something to do with it.”
“No, all of the credit must go to you, my love.” As much as he wanted to hold his son forever, he realized Meg wanted him, so he carefully handed him over, staying right there beside her, his arm around her shoulders.
“I’ve always wanted a little boy,” Meg mused. “And now I have one. A perfect one.” She looked tired, and Charlie thought she might fall asleep.
Others seemed to notice as well. “We’ll give you a few moments,” Dr. Shaw said. “I’ll return in a bit to check on you.”
Pamela and Kelly both smiled reassuringly at the happy family before they made their way out of the room.
Meg tilted her head into Charlie’s shoulder. Looking down, he could see that Henry was dozing off. The room was silent, and he held his wife and gazed upon his son’s face in pure wonder and joy. Then, it occurred to him that the room truly was completely silent. Not a whisper, not a shout, not a thrash, nothing. The only sound he could hear were the breaths of his wife and son and his own heartbeat pounding in his chest. For the first time since Titanic, Charlie enjoyed the sound of silence. Gazing down at the face of his son, he reveled in the thought that life did go on after all, and the morbid remembrances he had from that night were drowned out once and for all by the love he felt for his family and this new beginning.