Dolphins
Ruth had all but refused to eat a bite of her breakfast, insisting that they make their way to the deck as soon as possible so that she could continue her pursuit of finding “dawfins.” However, the longer she fussed the more waiting she had to endure, and by the time they had finished at last, they had one cranky, persnickety little girl on their hands.
Meg followed behind the family, Ruth’s small hands grasping her parents’ as she led them to her favorite spot for dawfin watching, about where she had run into Charlie only the day before. Meg was holding a sleeping Lizzy, rocking her gently, and cooing at her softly. Even though Lizzy was not her own, she couldn’t help but treat her as such in these small moments when she had the baby in her arms.
As Ruth turned around to tell Meg something, her face broke into a wide smile, and she immediately burst free from her parents’ grasps, shouting, “Uncle Charlie!” as she shot past Meg down the promenade.
“Well, hello there, my little friend,” Charlie said, scooping her up. Her parents followed closely behind, and the look of consternation on her mother’s face was telling. “Now, Ruthy, what did your Aunty Meg tell you about darting off?”
Ruth frowned. “I’m sorry, Uncle Charlie. I didn’t mean to run away. I was just so happy to see you.”
“I understand, little lass, but you must stay with your parents. It’s not safe to be running about on a ship with wet decks. You could fall. Or you could get lost,” he replied, attempting to hand her back to her mother.
Ruth hung on tightly, wiggling her legs in protest. “No, Uncle Charlie. I want you to show me the dawfins,” she insisted, pointing to the spot she had recently vacated.
Daniel shrugged and extended his hand to Charlie. “She seems to have latched on to you. I’m Daniel O’Connell,” he said. “I heard you found her yesterday as well. Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Ashton. So sorry for the trouble.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble,” Charlie insisted, crossing over to the railing where Ruth’s wild gestures indicated she wanted to go. “Ruth and I are fast friends now, aren’t we?” he said, smiling at the little girl.
She nodded. “And today we’re going to see some real DAWFINS!” she exclaimed, peering off into the water.
“I hope so,” Charlie laughed. “Mr. O’Connell, this is my friend Jonathan Lane,” he continued, making the introduction as Daniel and Jonathan both insisted on first names. Glancing around, he finally made eye contact with Meg, and smiling around the back of Ruth’s fiery head of hair, he said, “Hello, Aunty Meg. How are you this fine day?”
Meg blushed despite herself. She had intentionally hung back when she saw where Ruth was running, knowing the child was in no danger. She had hoped she could sneak away, but since she was still holding Lizzy, it seemed rather odd to do so. Now that she had an opportunity to address Kelly, she began to think of a quick exit strategy. However, those green eyes were locked on her, and the words seemed to be twisted around her tongue. Finally, she managed to say, “Good morning Mr. Ashton—Charlie. Good morning, Jonathan. I’m well, thank you. And yourselves?”
Jonathan nodded, which she took to mean he was doing just fine, and Charlie replied, “Quite well, thank you. There’s just something about the fresh air to brighten one’s mood, don’t you think?”
Meg found his comment rather peculiar, considering she knew more about his situation than she should, but she only smiled and nodded in agreement. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to lay sweet Lizzy down for a nap,” she said, managing to pull her eyes away from his long enough to glance down at that precious baby face.
“Oh, I’d be happy to escort you,” Charlie said, a look of disappointment on his face.
Though Ruth was already loudly protesting Charlie’s departure, Meg assured him it wasn’t necessary. “Thank you, but I can manage,” she replied and then added. “Besides, I’d hate for you to miss any dawfins.”
Charlie glanced back out to sea before returning his gaze to her. “I’m sure the dawfins will still be here when I return,” he said.
Meg could tell by Kelly’s expression that she was dying to say something, obviously thinking Meg should take advantage of the offer. A stern look from her former mistress was enough to remind her of their earlier conversation, and Meg repeated her declination. “I’ll be just fine by myself, thank you.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Jonathan offered. “That way we’ll be sure you make it to the cabin without incident, and Uncle Charlie can stay to view any wayward dawfins.”
There seemed to be some exchange of looks between the two gentlemen as well, and Kelly nodded at Meg, insisting she let Jonathan escort her. “Very well then, thank you,” she acquiesced. “It was a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Ashton,” she said cordially. “Ruth, mind your mummy, love,” she reminded and then let Jonathan guide her toward the stairwell that would take them several decks below to where their cabin was located. Due to the late booking, they were given a room on one of the lower decks, and though it wasn’t ideal, they had been happy just to have a room at all.
“How are you finding your accommodations?” Jonathan asked as they strolled along.
Meg considered her response carefully. Of course, to her, Third Class rooms were nothing like what she was used to. Yet, to someone of Aunty Meg’s stature, they should be quite the upgrade from the holding cells one would expect. That is, if one had ever even been on an ocean liner before. Rather than try to determine exactly what he might be getting at—if anything—she simply said, “I can’t complain,” and smiled at him warmly.
“Good,” Jonathan replied, returning the smile. “I’ve heard they are some of the best available when it comes to Steerage.”
“We have enough room for everyone,” she assured him. There were several other people about, but all of them were also Third Class passengers, and everyone smiled and nodded in greeting, clearly enjoying their third day on the voyage.
There was a momentary pause, and Meg wondered if he was giving her an opportunity to speak. Though she could hardly bear the awkward silence, she was determined to say as few words as possible. The less she said, the less the chances of slipping up and saying something only Mary Margaret Westmoreland could know.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
