I remember I chose to sleep in on the morning of April 7th, 1912, mainly because it was the day of my eighteenth birthday and I felt I deserved it. It was nearing nine thirty when I heard my door squeak open and I felt a slight nudge on my legs. I stirred and stretched, messing up the knotted auburn waves of my hair even further. "Happy birthday, my dear Kat," I opened my eyes to see my father smiling down at me. In his hand was a small pastry with one lit candle stuck lazily into it. "Oh Daddy, you shouldn't have," I sat up and threw my arms around him, narrowly avoiding setting my nightgown on fire. I quickly blew the candle out, and resumed hugging my father.

He pulled away and waved his hand, dismissing my comment. "Oh hush, it's not every day my baby girl turns eighteen," and with this his eyes began to fill with tears. "It's funny, I don't remember you being this distressed when James turned eighteen." He rolled his eyes and placed the pastry on the nightstand next to my bed before turning to leave. "That's because I couldn't wait for your brother to leave and give me some peace after eighteen years of noise," he said with his back turned to me and closed the door quietly behind him.

I shook my head and giggled, taking a bite of the pastry. I almost choked on it in the next second when my father burst back into the room. "Of course, how could I have forgotten? I swear to you, I am losing my mind in my old age!" He reached into his shirt pocket and took out a small envelope, handing it to me excitedly. I furrowed my brow and placed the pastry back on the nightstand before taking the envelope from his hands. I opened it and realized that inside were two tickets; tickets for second class passage on the R.M.S Titanic, the grand ship that my father had spoken nonstop about for months. I held them in my hands, dumbfounded and unable to form a coherent sentence. "B-but…how…second class?"

Before my mother had died, my father made a modest living as a ship officer for the White Star Line, and would be out to sea for several weeks of the year. When she died in 1904, my father was forced to give up the job in order to take care of my brother and me. He was able to take a job with my Uncle Robert at a local bank but it paid less and I could tell that every day he missed working out on the sea.

"Well, remember my old friend, Charles?" When I gave him a blank stare in response, he continued. "Charles Lightoller? I worked with him for the White Star Line? Oh well, anyway, he was kind enough to pull a few strings, and along with money I have been saving for a few months now I was able to purchase the tickets. I figured now would be a perfect chance for you to get out of England and find yourself a husband in America." "A husband? That's what this is about? Who will stay here with you? I refuse to leave you all alone here!" "Who says I'll be alone? I've got your Uncle Robert and Aunt Anne, and James visits all the time!" I rolled my eyes at this. "Aunt Anne is an insufferable woman, you and I both know this. And James only ever visits during holidays, since he's too busy gallivanting with girls at school! Father, please, I don't want to go. I can find a husband here, in Bassett, when the time is right." He shook his head sternly, "I will have none of that Katharine Antoinette! I refuse to sit back and let you waste your life caring for me. I will be perfectly fine, I promise you that. Where's your sense of adventure? Remember the letters Aunt Margaret sent us about New York? You'd love it there, and she has agreed to let you live with her and Uncle Albert until you've found a suitable husband."

I felt tears stinging at my eyes, but quickly pushed them away. There was no use fighting with my father, especially now, when he looked so happy. It had just occurred to me that this would be the first time he would be on a ship since he left his job with the White Star Line, and I knew this must be as much a present to him as it was to me. "When do we leave?"

"The tenth of April. I know it's short notice, but you should have enough time to get your things together. Now, get dressed. I want to take my Kat out for a nice birthday brunch," he laughed and kissed me on my forehead before leaving the room. I sighed, finished my pastry, and crossed the room over to my wardrobe. There were many extravagant gowns that my Aunt Margaret had sent me for various occasions, and I loved each and every one. Aunt Maggie had always been my favorite of my mother's three sisters. Because she couldn't have children of her own, she spoiled me like a daughter. Her fiery spirit and sense of humor made her a wonderful person to be around, and I had been crushed when she moved to New York with Uncle Albert when I was fifteen.

I pulled a white dress with lace sleeves out of the wardrobe and changed, then pulled my hair back with a turquoise barrette of my mother's. After applying some makeup, I met my father in the parlor downstairs. He was dressed in a black overcoat and a black top hat. "You look beautiful sweetheart." He took my hand and I smiled at him.

When we returned later that afternoon, I returned to my room and began to gather my things, including all of the gowns from Aunt Maggie and a picture of my family before my mother died. I looked around my bedroom and sighed, wondering when I'd be able to see it again after the voyage.