Call

Meg was reposing on the sofa, in and out of sleep, letting the worries of the day wash over her, sometimes more than one at a time, when an alarming buzzing noise jarred her fully awake. She jerked upright, thankful that she wasn’t on the bottom bunk of the Third Class passenger accommodations any longer or else she would’ve surely knocked herself unconscious on the bunk above her.
She looked around the living room and realized the irritating noise was coming from the telephone. A glance at the grandfather clock across the room told her it was past two in the morning. She assumed that meant it must be Charlie calling, and she gathered her wits and crossed to pick up the receiver as Jonathan had demonstrated for her, hoping she reached the device in time.
Clearing her voice, she spoke into the piece protruding from the wall. “Yes?” she asked. An operator, she assumed, said something that sounded like, “One moment please,” and then she heard Charlie’s familiar voice on the other end of the cord. It was quite remarkable.
“Meg, I’m sorry to wake you,” he said, his voice hoarse and so quiet it was hard for her to make out his words. “You said to call. Perhaps you didn’t mean it, but, I have done so, nevertheless.”
She knew her face must be flush. Even the sound of his voice over the wire made her lightheaded. “I’m glad you did. How are you?”
He said nothing for a moment, which made her scrutinize the telephone, thinking perhaps somehow she’d managed to disconnect the call. At last, he said, “I couldn’t sleep. I thought… perhaps, you might want to meet me outside. By the pond. There’s a little bench there. We’d be out in the open, should anyone question our motivations.”
Meg wondered if anyone else was even awake, but she assumed there was little chance of Charlie getting out of the house without Jonathan knowing about it. Not that she cared. Her discretion was more for his mother’s benefit than anything else. “Yes, of course,” she replied without hesitation. “I know that bench well. I pass by there at least twice a day.” He knew that, obviously. She was chattering on for no reason.
“Very good. I’ll meet you there in five, ten minutes then?”
“Five minutes?” she repeated. “I’m not sure I can dress in that amount of time.”
“That’s all right. Just put on your coat. I promise to be respectable.”
She giggled. “All right then.” She replied before she even allowed herself to process what she was agreeing to. Meeting her fiancé in the back garden in the middle of the night wearing only her dressing gown and a coat? How scandalous! Unfortunately, it wasn’t the most outrageous behavior she’d participated in lately, but she pushed those thoughts aside.
“I’ll see you shortly, Meg,” he said, and she said goodbye before she attempted to hang the earpiece back on the wall. Her first try was not successful, as it clattered loudly off the hook, banging into the wall. She fumbled with it again, and this time, managed to make it stick.
“Miss Meg, is everything quite all right?” Carrie was standing in the doorway between the living room and dining room, wearing a robe, her hair in a nightcap, poking out every which way. Clearly, she had been in a deep sleep.
“Everything is just fine, Carrie,” Meg assured her, scurrying around to find her warmest slippers. “I’m going out for a bit, but I’ll be back shortly.”
“Out?” Carrie repeated, clearly awake now. “How’s that now, miss? Outside? In your nightdress?”
“Yes, but I’m only going just there,” Meg said, pointing to the little pond. “If you feel compelled to do so, you may spy on me from the window.”
“No, of course not, miss,” Carrie said, though even in the dim light, Meg could see that she was contemplating her options. “It’s a bit chilly out.”
“I know,” Meg nodded. Even though it was almost May, the nights were still cool. She grabbed her new black coat Carrie had picked out for her at the shop and slipped it on, Carrie smoothing the back and pulling out the collar. “I don’t think I’ll be long.”
“Is Mr. Ashton meeting you, then?” Carrie asked.
“I hope so,” Meg replied, “or else he’ll have quite a bit of explaining to do in the morning.” She stepped past her new friend toward the door.
Carrie yawned. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” she asked as Meg placed her hand on the doorknob.
She wished she had an answer. “We both find it quite difficult, dear,” she replied. “It’s not something I can readily describe.”
Carrie nodded, indicating there was no need to try. “Well, miss, if I may be so bold, make him work for it.”
“What’s that?” Meg asked, tugging the door open.
A sly grin slid across Carrie’s face. “He isn’t your husband yet. I know he will be soon, but don’t give him too much for free, or he’ll think he doesn’t have to pay for it later.”
Meg’s eyebrows arched. She wasn’t quite sure what Carrie was saying, but she thought she understood enough. “We will just be talking, I assure you.”
“Umm hmm.” Carrie winked at her, and Meg shook her head and stepped out onto the stairs that led to the ground wondering if Carrie was speaking from experience and deciding she probably was. No one was what they seemed.
She had made it about halfway around the pond when she saw Charlie step out from the shadows near the back door. As soon as he was close enough for her to actually see him clearly, she noticed he was dressed and she immediately wanted to smack him. Why hadn’t he given her a chance to put on a gown?
As soon as she saw his smile, all was forgiven. “You look lovely, as usual, Meg,” he said, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his long dark coat.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’d likely be lovelier in clothing, however.”
“I’ll assume you’re not implying I think you are loveliest with no clothing on?” He was teasing, and she was glad it was dark since she was certain her face was bright red. “Have a seat won’t you?”
She was glad he hadn’t given her the opportunity to respond. Thoughts of being undressed in front of a man flitted across her stream of consciousness, but they were soon captured and returned to the box. She sat down next to him, being sure to leave ample space between them since she was certain Carrie was watching if Jonathan wasn’t. Though he likely was, too.
“Did you sleep any at all?” she asked. Her coat was buttoned and she felt warm enough, but she took a cue from him and kept her hands in her pockets for safety’s sake.
“Not much,” he admitted. There was a slight breeze that stirred up his soft brown hair, and she wanted to run her hand through it. She dug her nails into her legs through the layers. “Perhaps for an hour or so.”
She cleared her throat, not sure what to say, but then she realized she was safe to say whatever she liked with him, so she asked, “Was it the screams again?”
“Yes,” he said readily, holding out the sound of the “s” a bit longer than necessary.
“Can you hear them now?”
He nodded, once.
“Are there times when they are louder than others?” She thought perhaps talking about it might help, but if he indicated he’d like to change the subject, she was willing to comply.
“When I am alone. When it’s quiet.”
Even though she knew it wasn’t wise, she drew her hand out of her pocket and pressed it against his arm. “I’m so sorry, Charlie.”
“Don’t be,” he replied quickly, turning to face her. “I don’t want you to be sorry for me. I just… didn’t want to be alone.”
“I know. I wish you didn’t have to be.”
They were quiet for a long time, and she started to withdraw her hand, but before she could take it away, he reached across and caught it in his, pulling her closer so that her hand was resting on his thigh, caught in his. “Did I wake you?” He wasn’t looking at her now; his eyes were fixed on something by the house, perhaps nothing by the house.
“I’m honestly not certain,” she admitted. “I was in and out of sleep.”
“Thoughts of Titanic?” He turned to face her now, and he was sitting more closely than she thought prudent.
“Sometimes,” she shrugged. “Most of my ghosts reside elsewhere.”
He closed his eyes and turned his head away. “I’m sorry, Meg.”
“I don’t need your sympathy either,” she reminded him, though her tone was just as innocent as his had been.
“I suppose not,” he admitted, turning back to face her. “But you have it just the same.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Had he been the one who had lived through such a tumultuous past, she assumed she’d feel the same. She’d want to take it all away and make it better, though obviously that wasn’t possible.