Grace sat, watching the massive stern of the ship slowly but steadily rise into the air.
"Pull! And pull!" the officer in the lifeboat called to his subordinates.
Grace pulled her fur coat tighter around her, shivering. She felt her money secure in her pocket, and a necklace with a tiny pearl pendant around her neck.
"Pull faster, men, we need to row away from the suction!" the officer called.
Grace felt guilty for leaving her gentleman on the ship. But the ship's officer insisted. "Women and children only!" Had they knew she was only an escort they probably would have kept her on the ship to make room for the real ladies.
She closed her eyes, wanting to drown out the screams. Time passed and slowly, the distant noise faded into silence.
Amidst the tragedy that surrounded her, all she could think of was, "At least the newsies will have a good headline in the morning."
The newsies. She hadn't seen any of them in twelve years. She had only ever been in contact with Race. Spot never answered any of her letters.
Spot. Would she ever see him again? No ships had come to their rescue so far. How long would they be drifting at sea before another ship came along? Or had they drifted too far from the shipping lanes that no ship would find them?"
Hours later, a dot appeared on the horizon, steadily growing closer. It was the Carpathia, coming to their rescue – too little too late, but it was a ride home.
Another four days passed and one night, New York Harbor came into view.
She hadn't been to New York in years. She'd avoided it when she originally set sail for Europe. While most of the passengers stood watching the Statue of Liberty pass by, she was on the other side of the ship, scanning the horizon for the light of the Brooklyn Bridge.
Despite the cold and the rain and the late hour, tens of thousands of people were near the pier, waiting for the passengers. Grace didn't want the crowds. She just wanted to slip off the ship in private and find a real bed to sleep in. She looked out over the crowds, wondering how many, if any, of the people down there she knew. Was Race down there? Blaze? Jack or David? Spot?
What she hadn't known was the papers had printed the names of the Titanic survivors. And even former newsies still read the papers.
Grace stayed put until most of the passengers had disembarked. Much of the crowd had disappeared, but there were still a good couple thousand people.
"Time to go, miss," an officer said.
Grace stood up and walked toward the gangplank. She slowly walked down and onto Pier 54.
She just needed to find a room for the night. Somewhere to get some decent sleep, and she would worry about finding real clothes in the morning. She was still in her dress from the night of the sinking. Everything she owned had gone down with the ship.
She walked off the pier, trying to ignore the peering looks from bystanders; people trying to see if she belonged to them, if she was one of their loved ones who had survived. With all those people around, she had no idea how many of them were keeping an eye out for her.
It took her a while, but she reached the back of the crowd. She started to walk down 23rd, when she heard a voice that made her stop dead in her tracks.
"Welcome back, Gracie."
That voice. It was like coming home. All at once, Grace felt nostalgia, regret, happiness, sadness, and anger. She turned around.
"Thanks, Spot."
He had changed. Twelve years will do that to a person. He was taller. His jaw was more defined, his shoulders were broader, and he was more built than the last time she saw him. He was a man.
But those eyes and that smirk were still the same.
"Didn't expect to see you here," she said.
Spot pushed off the building corner he'd been leaning against and walked over to her.
"I saw your name in the papes," he said. "You didn't think I'd come to welcome you home?"
"I wasn't sure you were still around."
"You got a place to stay?" he asked.
Grace shook her head.
Spot held out his arm. "You do now."
Grace couldn't help but grin. "So genteel." She looped her arm through his.
"I'm always proper when escorting a lady," he grinned, as they walked through the streets.
Grace rolled over and stretched. For a moment when she opened her eyes, she panicked, not remembering the events of late last night. Slowly, it came back to her. She was in Spot's apartment. She was wearing Spot's shirt. Spot had slept on the couch in the other room. She fingered the collar of the shirt, and brought part of it up to her nose. It smelled like him. His was a comforting scent.
She smelled eggs and bacon coming from the kitchen. Her stomach growled in response. She stood up and walked out of the bedroom, his shirttails going down to her knees.
She walked out of the bedroom and saw Spot at the stove, pushing eggs around a skillet while bacon crackled beside it.
"Well that's a sight I never thought I'd see," she smirked.
Spot turned and looked at her. "Good morning," he grinned. "Hungry?"
"Starving."
She sat at his tiny dining table and he set a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her and one across the table for himself.
They ate in uncomfortable silence, neither knowing what to say to the other.
"You back in town for good this time?" he asked.
Grace hesitated. "I don't know." Spot looked down, eating his eggs. "I still own half the saloon and I have the farm out west."
"You still, uh…in the business?"
Grace looked up at him, but he kept his eyes on his plate. "No, I'm done with that life." Spot nodded, keeping his eyes down as he ate.
"Well, you're welcome to stay here as long as you need." He tried his best to make it sound casual and not at all that he was terrified of losing her again.
A few silent minutes passed before either of them spoke again.
"There's something about being on a sinking ship that makes you reevaluate your life," she said.
Spot looked up at her. He paused for a moment, twisting his fork nervously in his hand. He knew she had more to say, but in that moment, he didn't care. "Stay."
Grace snapped her head up, not expecting that.
Spot's usual confidence gone, as if he was nervous about her answer. "Stay with me."
"Spot…"
"Gracie, please. I…" he swallowed. Even after 12 years of hard learned lessons, humility still left a bad taste in his mouth. "I can't lose you again."
Grace's expression softened. "I still have the farm and saloon out in Reno…"
Spot shook his head. "Forget it. It was a dumb idea." He went back to eating.
Grace watched him. Even though she hadn't seen him in over a decade, he hadn't changed. Before she'd left, it had taken 12 years of friendship before he had opened up about how he really felt. She'd been gone for another 12 years. They were back at square one. She couldn't expect him to just open up after her being gone this long.
When she didn't say anything, Spot stood up and took his plate to the sink.
Grace followed him, carrying her plate to the sink. As soon as she set it down, Spot put his hands around her waist and pulled her to him, pressing his lips against hers.
Immediately, they both felt like it was twelve years ago. The familiar feel and taste of each other transported them back in time.
Grace leaned into him and slid her arms around his neck, threading her fingers up through his hair. He turned them so she was backed up against the counter, his entire body pressed up against hers.
No one ever kissed her like Spot Conlon. He could deny it and avoid saying it all he wanted, but from his kisses Grace knew that Spot loved her – he always had. That's how she knew. That's how she'd always known.
He picked her up and set her on the counter and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. He kissed down her cheek and neck.
Even holding her in his arms, he could hardly believe his luck. He could hardly believe she was back in his life, for however briefly. He had nothing to lose but her.
"Stay with me, Gracie," he mumbled against her skin. He looked at her. "I know you've got business out west, and I'm being a selfish bastard for begging you like this, but…I don't care. I can't let you leave again."
Grace had no intention of leaving – not New York, not his apartment, not his arms. She could conduct the sale of her farm and her portion of the saloon from the city.
A small smirk played on her lips. "If you say it, I'll stay."
Spot smirked. "You brat."
Grace giggled.
Spot put his hands on her cheeks so she was looking at him. "I love you, Gracie. I've always loved you, and I'll never stop loving you."
Grace smiled, tears springing to her eyes. "I love you too, Spot."
Spot leaned in and kissed her, feeling for the first time since the night the strike ended, that everything was going to be okay.