Anticipation
Meg had slept in the morning of April 13 well past the last call for breakfast. Kelly had also slumbered on for quite some time, though hungry children were able to poke and prod enough to finally get her out of bed in time for a morning meal. While Daniel was still in obvious pain, he had managed to leave the small cabin with the boisterous little lass, her sister, and their overly tired mother, leaving Meg to roll back over and continue what could no doubt be considered the best sleep of her life.
There had been no nightmares, despite the fact that she knew she’d be walking in to a real live one later that evening, and she had dreamt only of Charlie and the life they would have had together had she only done the right thing in the first place. When she finally pulled herself from bed and dressed just before noon, she did so with an air of solemnity. Regardless of how she handled herself this evening—walking into the hornet’s nest without giving him fair warning, or showing up and praying for the best—he would end the night knowing precisely who she was. Whether or not he would let her explain her reasoning was unclear for now, but that was the one prayer on her tongue as she set about her morning. Unfortunately, she knew God didn’t owe her anything.
She was able to catch up with the rest of her family in the Third Class Dining Lounge for lunch. They had just taken seats when she arrived, and Ruth in particular was overjoyed to see her. “Aunty Meg! Did you dance with Uncle Charlie at the party last night?” she asked in her melodic voice.
Meg glanced at Kelly who shrugged, clearly having told her nothing. “Why do you ask?” she asked, placing a napkin on her lap.
“Because he’s a prince, and you’re a princess. That’s who is supposed to dance together at the ball!” she exclaimed swinging her doll in the air.
“Well, it wasn’t a ball,” Meg reminded her. “It was just a party.”
“But Dolly New Eyes says it’s the same!” Ruth insisted.
Dolly New Eyes had gotten her name when Daddy had to replace the originals with marbles last year. The doll had been Meg’s when she was a girl, but now she was Ruth’s fondest friend, and she was rather happy to see her out and about aboard the Titanic. “Dolly New Eyes knows a lot about such things, then?” Meg asked.
“Yes, she does,” Ruth nodded.
“All right, then. I suppose they are similar. And yes, I did dance with Uncle Charlie last night. But, sweetheart, you mustn’t think that Aunt Meg and Uncle Charlie are a prince and princess who will get married someday. That can’t happen,” she explained, catching Kelly’s and then Daniel’s eyes.
“Why not?” Ruth pressed on, a puckered expression on her face.
“Because Aunt Meg isn’t a real princess, and Uncle Charlie must marry a real princess who does royal things and lives in a castle with servants….”
“But you used to have servants and live in a grand house. Mummy…”
“Not any more, darlin’,” Kelly exclaimed. “Aunty Meg is just like us now. She will have a job and wear clothes like ours. She will marry a fine, hardworking man like your father.”
The disappointment on Ruth’s face was obvious and unsettling. “But Aunt Meg has to be a princess. You can’t stop being a princess. No, you’ll see. You’re wrong, Mummy. Aunt Meg, Uncle Charlie is your prince. You’ll marry him and live in a grand house in New Yowk. You’ll see.”
“All right, sweetheart,” Meg said, offering a small smile. Then, in an attempt to change the subject, she offered, “Now, what are we having for supper?”
* * *
“Oh, this is going to be so good!” Molly Brown exclaimed as she sat across from Charlie at a secluded lunch table in the First Class a la carte dining room. “I am so glad that your friend agreed to come! It’s sort of like plannin’ a weddin’…”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Charlie cut her off.
“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant. Don’t worry. I ain’t gettin’ ya hitched just yet. I mean, everything’s got to be just perfect, you know? Right dress, right shoes, right timing. That sort of thing,” she explained taking a bite of Waldorf salad. “What’s she look like?”
“She’s beautiful,” he replied, a starry-eyed glaze forming over his handsome face.
Molly giggled. “That ain’t very helpful there, Romeo. I mean, is she short or tall? Thin or curvy? Light hair or dark hair?”
“Oh, right,” Charlie said, dragging himself back to reality. “She’s sort of tall, I guess, for a woman. Taller than you. She’s … fit I guess you could say. Certainly not pudgy but not scrawny either. She has beautiful blonde locks, and most of the time she wears them down…and beautiful blue eyes.”
“Wears her hair down? Guess a lot of them Third Class passengers do that. You sure she’s old enough for you, stretch?”
“I’m sure she’s old enough, yes,” he replied, although it was true that he had no idea of her age, not really.
“All right. I’ll probably have to borrow a dress from Lucy,” she muttered almost to herself. Lady Duff Gordon was a well-known fashion designer, so chances were she would have some appropriate attire to choose from. “Shoes might be tricky. Did you happen to notice whether or not she had big feet?”
Charlie chuckled. “We spent quite some time dancing last night—and not very well. Luckily for me her feet are rather small.” Memories of the night before sent him off again, and Molly shook her head at him, a small smile on her face. Eventually, he noticed her stare and asked, “What? Whatever are you laughing about?”
“Could you try to stay with me until we get this figured out?” she prodded, chuckling quietly.
“I’m sorry… it’s just… she’s so…. Wait until you meet her Molly,” he finally concluded.
“Can’t wait,” Molly assured him. “Dinner starts at six sharp. It’ll take at least two hours to get her ready. Can you send your man-servant--what’s his name, Jonathan?—to fetch her and bring her to me around four o’clock?”
“It takes two hours for you to get ready for dinner?” Charlie asked in shock. “What in the world takes so long?”
“A lady never reveals her beauty secrets,” Molly replied, a gleam in her eye. Of course, there was no need to explain she had factored in a bit of time for emergencies—dress not fitting, unsightly Third Class nails, that sort of thing. “Don’t cha worry, Charlie. I’ll get her to you all spiffy and on time for the ball.”
He knew her words were meant only as a metaphor, but he couldn’t help think of the last time he was waiting for a girl at a ball—one that would never show. He pushed those thoughts aside. If Mary Margaret had attended the ball that night, he would have never met Meg.
“By the way, what’s this girl’s name anyhow?” Molly asked.
“Meg,” he replied, the dreamy expression back.
“Meg? Huh, another Margaret. My kinda gal,” she mumbled before taking a bite of roasted duck.
“What’s that?” Charlie asked, not quite sure he understood.
“Margaret—Meg is usually short for Margaret. Molly is short for Margaret. We have the same name,” she explained after a few moments of chewing.
“Right,” he replied. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it.”
“What’s her last name?”
There was that question again. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
Molly’s eyebrows arched. “You don’t know? How’s that? Never asked?”
“No, it’s not that. It just… it doesn’t matter. She’s just Meg. And that’s all she needs to be.”
“Well, alrighty then.”
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