Waiting
Meg was sitting in a small waiting area near Charlie’s private hospital room, attempting to take deep breaths and calm herself when she heard multiple sets of urgent footsteps and looked up to see Jonathan leading an older, well-dressed couple, followed by a younger, equally as nicely outfitted couple, and a few servants down the hall. She knew this must be Charlie’s family, and her anxiety over Charlie not remembering her morphed into nervousness at the thought of meeting them. She had no idea if they even knew who she was.
As they drew closer, she realized the men had their arms around their wives, as if they wouldn’t believe Charlie was alive until they saw him for themselves, and she pushed her own selfish thoughts away. She was certain they had more important matters on their minds than who she was and why she was here.
“How is he?” Jonathan asked as he stopped a few feet away. “Is the doctor in?”
Meg stood, her legs a bit shaky. “Yes. Dr. Hunt is in with him now. He’s awake. He’s… fairly lucid, though his memory is about how it has been the last several times he’s awoken.”
Jonathan’s shoulders fell, an indication that he understood what she was saying. “It will be all right, Meg,” he assured her, and she wanted to believe he was right. He had been right the last few times, after all, but she didn’t know how much longer she could play this game. Charlie’s emotions ebbed from thinking he hated her to knowing he loved her, and it was growing quite exhausting. She only nodded and bit her lip against saying more.
“You must be Meg.” Charlie’s father, John Ashton, stepped forward and offered his hand. “It’s lovely to meet you. Jonathan told us how you and Charlie became friends aboard the ship.”
Meg took his hand, and looked to Jonathan, who simply shrugged. “It’s very nice to meet you, sir.”
“You must be completely drained,” Mrs. Ashton said as she took the same hand Mr. Ashton had just released. “Poor, poor dear.”
The differences between Charlie’s parents and Meg’s own mother left her dumbfounded for a moment. While she had always suspected they must be kinder, more caring, seeing them for the first time, so very concerned not only for their son but for her as well—a complete stranger so far as they knew—it made Meg’s heart ache just a bit. She was torn between envy of Charlie’s good fortune at having loving parents and pity that he was, nevertheless, the one lying in a hospital bed.
“This is our daughter, Grace Buckner, and her husband, Peter,” Mrs. Ashton said, gesturing in the direction of the younger couple.
From the moment Grace’s eyes met hers, Meg knew Charlie’s older sister was suspect of her some way or another. Though she took her hand and said, “It’s nice to meet you,” Meg could see that she didn’t mean it, and she wondered if Grace somehow knew who she was.
Peter, on the other hand, seemed charmed, “Lovely to meet you, Meg,” he said. “I just adore your accent.”
“Why, thank you,” Meg managed, though she wasn’t sure how he could adore her accent when she’d only spoken a few words.
Meg assumed the introductions would stop there, but Mrs. Ashton introduced her to the help as well. An older woman named Kathleen, a younger woman named Carrie, and a middle-aged man named Horace, each of whom, Mrs. Ashton explained, had been in their service for years and had come to help in any way possible. “In fact,” she continued, “Jonathan thought it might be a good idea for Carrie to accompany you to the hotel down the block for the evening. Our understanding is that you’ve had to borrow someone else’s… gown. Carrie can help you find something more suitable to wear in the morning, if you’d like, Miss West.”
So he had given them her fake name. Meg took a deep breath and glanced at the several faces staring at her. Now, clearly, didn’t seem like the time to explain herself, though she thought sooner rather than later was probably best. Before she could respond, Dr. Hunt opened the door to Charlie’s room, and all of the attention shifted in that direction.
“Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Ashton, you’ve arrived,” the doctor said as he stepped out into the hallway. He shook Mr. Ashton’s hand. “I’m Dr. Stephen Hunt. Pleasure to meet you. Charlie is doing quite well. Miraculously, the doctor aboard Carpathia was able to treat his frostbite, and he won’t need to lose any digits.”
“That’s wonderful to hear,” Mrs. Ashton exclaimed.
Meg took a step back toward the chair she’d been sitting in, toward the wall, toward the door at the end of the hallway.
“He is having a bit of trouble remembering everything, but that is to be expected. I’ve given him some medicine for his head, but it shouldn’t cause him to be sleepy or agitated.”
He glanced at Meg with that remark, as if he was letting her know Charlie would need no more sedatives for now, and yet she still took another step back as soon as his eyes returned to Charlie’s parents.
“While I expect he may have some trouble sleeping for the next few weeks, I think he will be back to his usual self in no time.”
“That’s such a relief to hear,” Mr. Ashton said, smiling at his wife.
Meg took another step toward the door.
“I would like to keep him here for at least tonight, possibly the next few days, just for observation. If you’d like for your family doctor to visit him here, as well, that can be arranged. For now, just try not to excite him too much. Don’t ask questions about what’s happened, though it’s fine to ask him how he’s feeling. I would like to limit it to no more than two guests at a time, however. We don’t want to overwhelm him.”
She took another step back. She was closer to the door now than she was to the family—the family huddled together concerned about their son, their brother, their pride and joy. The family she’d only just met who had been kind and considerate but to which she didn’t belong. The family that would likely toss her out as soon as they knew who she was, what she’d done. All the doubts and fears she’d thought she’d worked through while on Titanic, while in Charlie’s arms just before she boarded the lifeboat, all came rushing back to her, so Meg took another step back, her hand resting on the door.
Mr. and Mrs. Ashton stepped around the doctor into the hospital room and Peter directed his wife to the same chair Meg had been sitting in. There were other seats nearby. They’d fill them and begin to chat, ask Jonathan how he was feeling after his harrowing adventure. Eventually, he might look around and realize she was gone, but by then, she’d be wherever twenty dollars in cab fare could get you.
“Meg,” Jonathan said, stepping over toward her, “where are you going?”
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