Clara flipped to her side for what seemed like the hundredth time. She'd already turned her pillows to the cool side and counted sheep, but nothing was working. Sleep was either late or not coming at all. The heavy curtains blocked out every inch of moonlight, covering the room in darkness. Clara sighed, knowing there was no use in trying to sleep. Slipping out of the almost too-soft bed, she peeled the curtains back.

The moon looked magnificent against the dark sky with a mirror image shown in the sea below. She placed a hand on the window, feeling the cool glass. The middle of spring in the northern Atlantic meant that once the sun went down, so did the temperature. She returned to her bed, this time grabbing her journal and turning a lamp on.

Day One, she wrote. She paused, trying to remember every detail she observed of the day. She glanced at the window.

No use staying in here, she thought. Clara headed for the door, grabbing her robe and slippers on the way.

The hallway was silent but fully lit. Clara took pleasure in the privacy. She assumed it had to be well after midnight by now, and what notable first-class passenger would be up at such an ungodly hour? She turned corners and walked through various hallways, finding her way to the outdoor promenade.

The cold Atlantic air hit her immediately, causing her cheeks to flush. However, the air refreshed her from the stuffy rooms she'd been in all evening. Still traveling aimlessly, Clara was approaching two officers on night duty. They tipped their hats and she smiled politely.

"Miss?" one stopped her.

"Yes?"

"I reckon you get inside, miss. It's rather cold and the decks are slippery. One girl almost fell off the ship earlier."

Clara nodded. "Of course. Thank you, sirs. I'll head back now."

Satisfied, they continued on their path. Clara waited for them to turn the corner and continued on her own route. I doubt anyone's watching the lower decks, she thought devilishly and set out for the nearest stairs.

Just like her deck, this one was empty and had more of a chill being closer to the water. She pulled her robe closer to her chest; the silk was warm enough for indoors, but out here it practically did nothing. But Clara still found peace on a bench. She pulled her knees to her chest for a makeshift writing desk. She quickly became invested in musing of the day's events and whatever else came to mind.

"I don't reckon you have much light to write with."

Clara yelped at the sudden voice behind her. She turned to see Tommy Ryan smiling at her. He looked apologetic for surprising her. She replied smoothly, "The moon's bright enough. I know what I'm doing."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Smart woman you are then."

"Thank you, Mr. Ryan," she said, avoiding eye contact. She had been called smart before, but never in the appraising way he said it.

"Call me Tommy."

"Thank you, Tommy." She looked up and made eye contact. His brown eyes shined bright in the moonlight.

"So why are you out here at this time of night? Shouldn't you be getting your beauty rest?"

"You sure are forward."

"And truthful. You didn't answer my question."

Clara shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. I've never been able to fall asleep quickly in a new bed. What about you?"

"The room shakes with every snore of the other blokes there. Plus it smells like a goat's arse." He crinkled his nose nose to emphasize the smell, making her laugh.

"Well I've never had the pleasure of experiencing that firsthand, so I'll take your word for it."

Tommy smiled and Clara noticed heavy dimples set on either side of his mouth. "Thank you again for returning my bag," he said.

"What good would a man's suitcase do for me?" Clara asked.

"I'll have you know," Tommy winked, "that my personals are very popular among the ladies."

Clara blushed at the sudden intimacy. She patted the empty spot next to her, and Tommy gladly took the offer. "So why are you here?"

"Told you. The goat's arse."

"Not here, here," Clara said and spread her arms wide. "Here, the grand Titanic."

Tommy sighed, "Ireland served nothing for me. Family farm went broke and my parents both died not too long ago."

Clara felt motified, intruding on a practical stranger's personal life. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

He sensed her guilt and gave her arm a reaffirming squeeze. "No worries. I knew it would happen eventually. They were getting old and couldn't take care of the land much longer. My older sister moved away with her husband and I couldn't keep up with the work by myself."

Clara nodded slowly, sympathizing for his situation. She couldn't imagine what her family would do if her father's business ever failed. Clara had always been aware of her fortunate position and took comfort in it, but she'd never really understood the differences between her world and others.

Tommy couldn't help but stare. She was pretty, simply put. Her blonde hair fell down her back in long tangles, relaxing from being pinned up all day. Her blue eyes were lost in thought, but they had a brightness to them that drew Tommy in. He kept his eyes averted from the rest of her, but her lack of anything warmer than a silk robe concerned him. He shrugged out of his coat and held it out. When she tried to deny it, he shook his head. "I insist. Not letting you catch the flu out here."

"But your health-"

"I'm sturdy enough," he interrupted.

She draped it around her shoulders. "Thank you. This actually feels much better already."

"And why are you on the ship?" he asked.

"I'm heading home. Just finished school in England."

Tommy pressed for more information. "And what awaits you back home?"

Clara shrugged. "I have yet to find out."

As broad of an answer it was, Tommy knew she'd have mentioned a wedding or fiance if there was one in the picture. He noticed the journal on her lap. "What are you writing?"

She put a hand on it protectively. She wasn't afraid to let people know she liked to write, but it was the response to her career aspirations that worried her. "Nothing important. I just like to write about my days."

"Anything exciting happen recently?"

Clara laughed, looking at him. "To be honest, delivering your luggage has been the most exciting thing since boarding."

Tommy removed his hat and held it to his heart, feigning smugness. "Glad to be of service. Do you write every day?"

"Oh yes. I'd write every minute if I could. But it's hard to find privacy sometimes. Either I'll be pulled away or someone I know will interrupt."

Tommy thought for a second before venturing forward. "You could come down here and write. I'd take a good gamble and say that I'm the only one down here you know. No one would bother you."

"I might just have to take you up on that," Clara smiled at him. "And for the record, I wouldn't mind you sitting with me. It's nice to have a friend."

Tommy returned the smile. "Sounds like a plan."

Clara stifled a yawn. "I should probably go back inside. I think I might actually sleep this time."

Tommy nodded and stood up, offering her a hand to help her up. She took it and he walked her to the nearest gate. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

Clara nodded, "I'll try to get away as soon as I can. But I don't want you to feel like you must wait around for me."

"Chances are, lass, that I'd wait around for you even if you never came," he said. She blushed at his forwardness. It was nothing she hadn't experienced before, but here it was different. When men came onto her at school, they were usually of the same social order and no one would bat an eye. Here their backgrounds couldn't be further apart. Nevertheless, she didn't see any harm in shameless flirting.

Clara crossed to the other side of the gate and turned to face him. She leaned forward. "Then I better not keep you waiting too long."

Tommy winked. "G'night, Clara."

"Goodnight, Tommy," she said before walking away.

Tommy felt immensely better watching her leave this time rather than when they first met. She kept up with their conversation and seemed interested in him past shallow politeness. Plus, now he knew she didn't have another man waiting on her in first class.

Clara beamed the whole walk back to her stateroom. Tommy impressed her unlike any man she'd ever met. She found herself hoping he didn't have a wife or a woman of a similar nature. Only because then this thing would be inappropriate, she told herself. She knew she didn't totally believe that, but it was what she'd think for now.

She hung his coat up alongside her robe in her wardrobe, feeling sorry that she hadn't thought to give it back. Indulging in her simple curiosity, she leaned into the coat. Tobacco, she thought and remembered the cigarettes she'd seen him with earlier in the day. Usually she hated the smell, but this time it wasn't so bad.