Sarah awoke to a dim and shadowy dining saloon, thinking it was still nighttime until she caught a glimpse of the gray morning outside. She stretched and stood, wincing at the ache in her back and wondering at what age one becomes too old for sleeping on floors. She looked down and saw Pat curled up under a blanket, still sound asleep, and she felt glad. If anyone needed a good night's sleep it was him. She draped one of her blankets over him and folded the rest neatly on a nearby table. The older woman could help herself to them now.

As she stepped outside, careful to shut the door quietly, a gust of fresh air greeted her. It smelled wet and salty, like a coming storm. She momentarily thought of running in for her hat–she had found a safe place to keep it days earlier–but she didn't want to risk it in the rain. Instead, she sat on a bench and undid her hair. She combed her fingers through it, trying to undo the tangles and knots. Afterward, she braided it in a single braid and thought of how desperately she longed for a hot bath.

She saw Lowe approaching and felt a twinge of annoyance, but no more than a twinge. She had slept well for the first time and could feel the difference in her mood. So long as she avoided thinking of John or the Titanic or the question of what she was going to do once she reached New York, she was perfectly fine.

"Mrs. Clarke?" He said, sheepishly.

"Sarah," she corrected him.

"Sarah," he repeated.

Before he could say anything else, Sarah jumped right in. "I'm sorry for my behavior yesterday. It was entirely inappropriate. I hadn't slept and I was in a terrible mood and—"

Lowe held up his hand to stop her. "Stop. You don't need to apologize for anything." He sat on the bench next to her and took off his hat. "I really am sorry," he continued. "I wish I had gone back sooner."

"Why did you wait?" She asked. "And don't say it's because we would've been swamped. I saw the men pulled from the water. They could hardly move."

He glanced out to sea before meeting her eyes. "Have you ever watched a man drown?" He asked. "The man is no longer themselves. All he thinks about is survival and he will clutch at anything to keep above the water. Now multiply that one man by a thousand. It was too dangerous."

"None of those who froze to death were dangerous," Sarah said.

"I realize that now, but sometimes it's difficult to know what the right choice is in the moment. I was responsible for the lives of everyone in my boat. I couldn't risk them. I couldn't risk yours."

"I wish you would've risked mine."

"And the children in the boat? Would you have had me risk theirs?" He asked, his voice rising slightly.

Sarah thought of Mr. Hoffman's two curly-haired children, now orphaned. The memory of John flipping one of them upside down sent a pang of sadness through her. She looked down and let out a deep breath.

"I still wish things could've turned out differently," Lowe admitted, his voice softening. "I don't think I'm ever going to be able to get the…well, it's not going to be a night easily forgotten."

She shook her head. No, she doubted anyone would be able to forget it. The memories of the screams, the chaos, the cold, and the loss still haunted her. But then a bit of gossip she overheard earlier came to the forefront of her mind and she couldn't help but ask, "Is it true that you knew there was ice in our path but kept going regardless?"

There was a long pause before Lowe responded, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "We had received several ice warnings," he said, his voice low.

"I also heard that the lookouts rang down to the bridge several times about the iceberg in our path and no one was there to answer," she continued.

Lowe turned to her, his expression a mix of surprise and defensiveness. "I can assure you that that's not true at all. There's always an officer on the bridge," he said, firmly. "Where did you hear such a thing?"

"Other people."

"Well, other people have their information wrong."

"Not all of it, apparently," Sarah replied, her tone sharp as she ended their conversation.

Kate picked at her breakfast in silence, occasionally taking a bite that she hardly tasted. It wasn't that the food was bad, she was certain that in other circumstances, she would've found it quite good. There were just too many things on her mind to leave room for hunger.

The woman sitting across from her interrupted her thoughts. "Did you send your telegram?"

Kate looked up, startled. "Oh, that. I did… oh ." The realization of what she had written on the telegram struck her and her stomach churned. Pat was not dead. Their parents must have received a shock for nothing. She hoped it was lost in the pile and never sent.

"That's wonderful," the woman said. After a moment she pushed her plate aside. "Have you heard about the Carters?"

"Who are the Carters then?"

"First class family."

"And why would I have known of them?"

The woman ignored her question. "I heard that Mr. Carter put himself on a lifeboat before his own family."

"What do ye mean?"

"I mean that he stepped into a lifeboat and left his wife and children to fend for themselves." The woman was positively beside herself with glee. "I can't imagine any marriage surviving something like that, can you?"

Kate furrowed her brow. "They weren't lettin' any men on the boats, ye know."

"Look around, my dear," the woman gestured. "There's plenty of men here"

She looked around and there were, indeed, plenty of men sitting around them.

"And you know what else I heard," the woman continued.

"What?" Kate snapped. "And what else have ye heard?"

"I heard from my cousin who overheard a couple officers talking that not only did they receive multiple ice warnings, they actually sped up." The woman shook her head. "Perhaps they intended to just plow through the ice bergs."

Kate's eyes widened. "Surely, they couldn't have." So far as she knew, the crew were all experienced men. They couldn't have just ignored ice warnings like that.

"And," the woman continued, undeterred. "I also heard that Captain Smith shot himself in the final moments. Right through the temple. Isn't that just dreadful?"

"He couldn't have done," Kate replied. It was all too horrible to even think about.

The woman scoffed. "He could have. Everyone's talking about it."

Kate had heard enough. She moved her plate aside and stood up from the table, her hands shaking. "That's funny," she said, her voice trembling. "Yer the only one I'm hearin'."

Without waiting for a response, she pushed her way out of the dining room. She felt uneasy and anxious and wondered where her brother was. How could he have vanished again?

Pat woke up and was momentarily confused. He wasn't sure if the confusion was caused more by his unfamiliar surroundings or the fact that, for once, he couldn't remember having a single dream. He looked around the room and saw that it was filled with a mish-mash of people, some still sleeping while others ate breakfast. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to reorient himself and suddenly remembered Sarah. He looked to where he had last seen her but she was gone, her blankets folded tidily on a nearby table.

"Pat!"

He turned at the sound of his name and saw her weaving her way between the tables, a mug held in each hand. Her hair was in a tight braid draped over one shoulder.

She held one of the mugs out and he took it without thinking. "What's—"

"Coffee," she said. "Not very good coffee…or maybe it is. I wouldn't know. All coffee is terrible in my opinion." She took a small drink of her own and made a face. "How are you doing?"

"I haven't thrown meself overboard yet, so there's that."

"That's not funny."

"I wasn't tryin' to be funny." Pat remembered the woman who had accused him of cheating to survive and he suddenly felt worried that Sarah might think the same. He fidgeted with the handle of his mug. "I didn't take a seat on a lifeboat."

"I know you didn't. I was there, remember?"

"Oh." Pat wished he could remember more of the night, but at the same time, he was grateful that he couldn't. At the very least, he wished he remembered Sarah.

"What was it like?"

Pat's chest tightened at the question. He felt a sudden panicky feeling and lost the ability to speak. He shook his head.

"I just," she hesitated. "I just wonder what John must've gone through." She sat at one of the tables, suddenly looking downcast. "You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to. I know how everything…well, sounded from where I was. I can't imagine being in the middle of it."

Pat sat beside her and he set his untouched coffee on the table next to them. He took a deep breath. He was terrified to relive it, but suddenly he felt that needed to get it out.

"I was down below decks for most of it," he said, quietly. He stared at the floor in front of him. "I couldn't…" He shook his head. "I made it up to the top deck and…there were so many people. The water was comin' up like waves. I don't rightly know how it happened, but suddenly I was in the water and in this great mass of people." He clenched his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. "Everythin' I touched seemed to be women's hair. Children cryin', women screamin', and their hair in their face. God, there were so many children."

Sarah reached over and took one of his hands, gently coaxing his fingers apart, her grip firm as she held his hand in hers.

"Somehow I got away from all of it. And I grabbed hold of the edge of that boat that had turned over. When the funnel—" He thought of the way the funnel broke free, the snap of its cables sounding like gunshots. The way it narrowly missed him and landed, instead, on a great crowd of struggling people and he found he couldn't put it into words. "After the ship broke in two—"

"The ship broke?" Sarah interrupted him. "Sorry, go on ahead."

It took him a moment to continue. He closed his eyes as he spoke. "The stern rose up and I could see the people still on it…I thought it'd fall on me. But it didn't. It just slowly turned about as it..." He suddenly couldn't breathe. "The cries–" he managed to say.

Sarah's legs were crossed at the ankles, and her foot tapped anxiously against the floor as she listened. "I heard them," she spoke as quietly as he had. "I heard them clearly. I wanted to go back. I begged them to go back."

"Why did no one go back?"

She shook her head. "Everyone was afraid."

"Their lives over ours," he said, bitterly.

"That's unfair. My husband was one of those cries for help. I would've given anything to…" Her voice stopped. She gripped her coffee mug with a shaking hand, threatening to spill its contents and her foot continued to tap anxiously. Tap tap tap. "We had only been married for a week," she added, her voice catching in her throat. "Is that even long enough to count?"

Pat watched her as she sat there. He could see tears clinging to her eyelashes. He reached across and took her coffee from her and set it on the table next to his own. "Why wouldn't it be long enough, now?"

"I know it sounds absurd," Sarah replied, her hand moving to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall. "I had never left my home before. John was taking me to his…our home. I don't even know where it is. Is it…mine? It doesn't seem possible." Her voice trailed off and she looked at Pat with pleading eyes. "What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know."

"No one knows."

"Sarah," he began. "Ye just survived a sinkin' ship. Ye'll manage just fine."

"We'll see," she replied. She picked up her coffee again and took another drink, making another face. "What are you planning on doing when we reach New York?"

Pat hadn't thought about it much because there were too many other things occupying his mind. He knew that he and Kate had plans to meet with some distant cousins in Ohio but the more he considered it, the more he couldn't do it. "I just want to be goin' home."

"What about your sister?"

"What about her?"

"How is she doing?"

Pat didn't know how to answer.

"Pat?"

"She…she thinks I abandoned her on the ship," he admitted.

"Why would she think that?"

"Because I did."

Sarah let go of his hand. "What happened?"

Pat took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and shaky. "I was on deck when we hit. I saw the ice. So I went to fetch her because I knew how to go up…well, I knew how to get into second class anyways. I turned into a stairwell and…I thought she was right behind me. But I must've lost her somewhere. She could've fallen behind or taken a wrong turn or kept goin' straight and I never noticed. I passed me friend Tommy. I was goin' to go to the end of the corridor in case she had kept walkin' but he was headed the other way and I asked him to keep an eye out. And," His closed his eyes for a moment as he remembered the words he regretted so much. "I told him to wait for me in the general room." Why had he said that? He should've told them to find their way up…somehow.

"Go on."

"I was headin' back and there was this family. A woman and she had these wee children and a baby. She was askin' for help. I wanted to…I couldn't just leave them."

"Of course you couldn't."

"I led them up to the top deck and it took so long but I thought I'd have time to get back to Katie. And I should've but I must've went down the wrong stairs or somethin' but…"

"Dead end after dead end?"

"I couldn't get back," Pat said quietly.

"Have you told her this?" Sarah asked. "Because that's not abandoning her."

He shrugged. "It wouldn't matter. She blames me for…she was fond of Tommy, ye see. She thinks that if they weren't waitin' for me then he would've…"

"They're both adults who could've gone up at any time." Sarah said. "And I don't mean to come off callous, but I don't believe it wouldn't have made much difference anyway. John and I were on the boat deck, right next to the lifeboats for hours and he still…he didn't make it."

Pat thought about her words but he couldn't bring himself to accept them. It felt wrong to blame Katie and Tommy for staying below when he had asked them to wait for him. And the thought that his sister wouldn't have even been on the ship in the first place if it weren't for him weighed heavily on his mind.

After a moment of hesitation, he finally confessed, "The trip was me idea in the first place."

Sarah reached out to touch his arm. "Pat, it's easy to find reasons to feel guilty. I know I've found plenty." She traced a pattern on his sleeve with her fingertips. "If John hadn't given me his coat, then perhaps he might've lived. But then, perhaps you wouldn't have."

"That would've been better for ye."

Sarah shook her head, her voice softening. "It's not for either of us to decide who should survive."

Despite her words, the guilt in Pat's stomach remained. He looked away from her, trying to blink back the tears that had started to form in his eyes.

She turned in her seat to face him. "I'm glad that you're alive," she said, her hand still on his arm.

Pat finally met her gaze. "I am sorry about yer husband."

Sarah tightened her grip momentarily and offered him a sad smile.

Fabrizio was relieved when Inger found a group of Norwegian passengers from the Carpathia . He thought she might've introduced him to them as they seemed very interested in him but without understanding the language, he couldn't be sure. At least he didn't believe that she was blaming him for her daughter's death.

After a while, and with great difficulty, he managed to extricate himself from the group and went outside, leaving Inger with her new friends. The weather was dreary, with a thick fog hanging over the water and heavy clouds that threatened rain. The consistent blaring of the fog whistle filled the air, making him feel uneasy.

He leaned against the railing and looked out at the sea, wondering how much longer they had until they reached New York. He had heard someone claim they would arrive before the end of the day, but he didn't believe it. It felt like they had been at sea for an eternity and he couldn't shake the feeling that they still had an eternity to go.

He heard a sneeze and turned to see Kate sitting by herself on a bench. She had a blanket pulled up over her head and looked completely miserable. He could tell that she had been crying.

"Kate," he said, coming over to join her. "Why you out here? It's warmer in there." He gestured to the door.

She shook her head. "Nah, there's too many people inside. I wanted a bit of space to breathe, ye know?"

"How are you—"

She cut him off. "Have ye seen Pat?"

"Not for while," he replied. He had only seen her brother once or twice since the sinking.

Kate stared ahead, seemingly not listening to anything he said. Her brow was furrowed and she pulled the blanket tighter. "Have ye heard some of the things that's been goin' around?" She asked. "Like the things that were happenin' when the ship was sinkin'?"

Fabrizio had heard several rumors, each one more preposterous than the last. "A man say that Captain Smith swam a baby to a boat then swam back to ship."

"There was a woman at breakfast who kept tellin' me all of these horrible things." She buried half of her face in the blanket.

"They're not true," Fabrizio replied. "People talk when there's nothing to do."

"She said that a woman's husband stepped into a boat," she said, her voice slightly muffled by the fabric. "Leavin' his family to fend for themselves."

Fabrizio suddenly realized what was on her mind. He reached over and pulled the blanket from her face. "Pat not do that to you."

"Why's he avoidin' me, then?" Her voice was thick with emotion.

Fabrizio put an arm around her, pulling her into a one-armed hug. He could feel the tension in her body as she leaned into him. "You sure you not one avoiding him?"

Kate shrugged but didn't respond.

"You be fine," Fabrizio said, as the sound of the fog whistle filled the air once again. "I promise."

Cal was in the smoking room sometime before lunch, thinking about his plans for when they reached New York. A train was supposed to meet him to whisk him away back home but now he was going to be a few days delayed. He hoped that his father had taken care of any necessary changes so that he wouldn't have to deal with any additional stress once he arrived in the city.

He looked up as a man slipped into the seat across from him.

"You must allow me to congratulate you on surviving such a tragedy."

Cal looked around the room, filled with men in various states of dress, then back at the man in front of him. He tilted his head to one side. "Same to you, I'm sure."

"I'm referring to your engagement to that woman."

Cal's face tightened and he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. "Where did you hear such a thing?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

"It's a small ship and news travels fast," the man replied, his smirk growing wider.

"I see," he said through gritted teeth. He didn't care for gossip and he especially didn't care for gossip that involved him. He had hoped, for Rose's sake, that the news of their broken engagement wouldn't become public knowledge until they had at least reached New York.

"Personally, I don't know how that woman managed to ensnare a rational man like yourself. Must've been some sort of hocus pocus spell because it certainly wasn't the lure of their money." He laughed at his own joke. "If only we didn't still burn witches, eh?"

Cal's eyes narrowed as he glared at the man. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Alfred von Drachstedt," the man replied, drawing out each word. "That'd be Baron von Drachstedt."

"I've never heard of you," he said curtly. "And I would prefer it if you didn't speak to me again."

The man looked put out, his smile fading. "I was only–"

Cal cut him off. "I don't care for idle chatter, Baron von Drachstedt. I suggest you find another seat."

Alfred stood up, a scowl etched on his face. He muttered something under his breath and stormed out of the room.

Cal watched him go, his irritation still simmering. He was relieved to be rid of him, but he couldn't shake off the distasteful feeling that the man's words had left behind.

The dining saloon remained full of people as the weather outside hadn't grown any better. Add the constant blaring of the fog whistle and few could remain outdoors for long.

Sarah had wrapped one of the blankets around her as it was chilly in the room despite being inside. Their forgotten cups of coffee grew cold on the table beside them.

"I wish the ship would stop moving so much," she said. The sea was certainly rougher than when they were on the Titanic which made keeping herself entirely distracted much more difficult. "John always thought…" Her voice trailed off. She thought of John's constant insistence that she must've been pregnant. It seemed silly now to have been so irritated with him over it.

"How did ye come to meet him?" Pat's eyes widened as a look of panic crossed his face. "I'm sorry, if ye don't want to be talkin'–"

"It's alright," she reassured him. "I don't mind speaking about him." Sarah knew that she should've had a hard time speaking of him…most of the other newly widowed couldn't speak without breaking down. But she felt like directly avoiding any mention of her husband was worse–why would she wish to pretend he never existed in the first place? "We grew up together and then he moved away five years ago to start a business and we lost touch. Last year, he sent me a letter out of nowhere." She smiled at the memory of the first letter she received, and how it led to a torrent of correspondence from a man who claimed to hate writing. "One thing led to another and he came to fetch me. We were married and…well, you know the rest."

"To where was he fetchin' ye?"

"Spokane."

"And where might that be, now?"

"Washington," she replied. "While we were waiting for…well, he told me all about his house…our house…my house?" She shook her head. It was too much to sort out. "You know, the whole night he kept insisting that it was a midnight lifeboat drill. Such an obvious lie."

"I'm sure he—"

"I know why he did it," Sarah was quick to reply. "And I love him for it.

Love him? Loved him? The past tense felt like a slap in the face. It was so hard to think about John in the past tense. It was so hard to know that he wasn't about to come walking through the door, a giant grin plastered on his face. It was so hard to know that she wouldn't ever hear his voice again. Or feel his touch. He was gone forever. She looked over and saw Pat watching her. She swallowed down her grief and gave him a smile.

"I keep waitin' for someone to be askin' me to leave," Pat said after a moment. "That's one thing that Katie kept sayin' to me... I needed to be stayin' in me own area or I'd be gettin' meself into trouble."

"And I keep telling you, no one is going to make you leave," Sarah said. "Look around you. Everyone's equally disheveled. Except the first class," she added after a moment. "I assume." Earlier she had caught sight of a woman still wearing a bright red evening gown. Even under the gray skies, she could see the light reflecting off of the tiny beads that embroidered it. "On our first day or was it second? John snuck into first class. Sort of. He made it three steps before being sent back. I was so jealous when he told me about it. I heard that first class was like nothing else."

"I've been in first class. And I've seen quite a bit of it, in fact."

"How?"

He suddenly looked uncomfortable.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she quickly said, realizing her mistake. But her curiosity got the best of her. "What did it look like?" The word slipped out before she could hold them back. "Was everything covered in gold?"

Pat struggled with himself for a moment, his eyes narrowing. Then he seemed to relax. "Ah now, I wasn't payin' much heed to it, sure, as I had other things on me mind. But there were plants growin' up the walls, and colored glass in the windows. And thick carpet, I recall there bein' carpet. And fancy ceilings."

"Fancy ceilings?"

"To me eyes, they looked right fancy."

Sarah tried to picture it all but she knew her imagination wouldn't be able to do such splendor justice. "I wish I was you. That'd be something to see."

"Do ye?" His voice was quiet.

She felt a flicker of alarm run through her. "Oh, no. I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" She took a deep breath. "Stop talking, Sarah," she muttered, berating herself for speaking without thinking.

"I knew what ye meant."

Awkward silence descended upon them once again, broken only by the sound of two small children running past. Sarah followed their fleeting figures with her eyes and wondered if they had lost their father and whether they knew yet. She couldn't imagine how difficult that conversation must've been. How could a child wrap their minds around what had happened? She hardly could herself.

"Sure, first class isn't all that grand, if ye ask me," Pat said, breaking the silence between them. "I wouldn't have cared to be in it, I don't think."

She sighed. "I always wondered what it would be like to be one of them…just for a day, mind you."

"Ye mean standin' around lookin' all high and mighty? Because I'm fairly certain that's all they be doin'."

Sarah gave him a light shove. "That is not all they do. They throw parties and go to dances and the theatre…do they go to the theatre?" She had never been to the theatre so she assumed it must've been a wealthier pastime.

"Sure, ye don't need to be first class to be doin' any of that. In fact, there was a mighty party down in me own area that last night, with music and plenty of dancin', and a good amount of drinkin', if I'm bein' truthful."

"There was not. Was there?"

"Are ye tellin' me that your class didn't do anythin' for fun?"

"Of course we did. We had a hymn sing." As she said it, she realized that a hymn sing was a far cry from a party with dancing.

"Really? A hymn sing?"

"Don't tease me," Sarah replied. "John and I also went for a walk before it turned too cold. Which I would like to do now. We've been sitting all morning and I won't be able to move soon if I don't stretch my legs." She stood and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

"Did ye catch sight of the stars?" Pat asked, standing as well. "Weren't they somethin'?"

"I had never seen anything like it. It was unreal."

They stepped outside into the cold gray day just as a stiff breeze blew over the deck. Thick, heavy clouds were piled up in the sky, a promise of terrible weather to come.

"Maybe a short walk," Sarah said, startling as the fog whistle went off yet again. "This is terrible."

As they walked toward the railing, Sarah noticed Lowe walking by. "Oh," she said, pointing toward him. "See that officer there? He was in my boat and right when everything was…well, you know. He suggested that we all take a nap. How absurd is that?"

"Did he truly be sayin' 'nap'? Because I'm thinkin' that when it's dark, it's rightly called sleep."

Sarah couldn't help but laugh, but quickly clapped a hand to her mouth, horrified. "It feels wrong to laugh," she whispered.

Suddenly, a young woman strode toward them on the deck, anger evident in her eyes as she focused on Pat. "Where have ye been all day?" She demanded. "I've been worryin' meself sick. Thought ye might've gone and taken a leap overboard."

"I was..it was just…" he stammered. He backed up to the railing.

Sarah placed a reassuring hand on his arm and the woman's eyes flickered to her briefly before returning to Pat.

"First ye go and abandon me on the ship and now ye can't be bothered with me here. What ever did I do to ye?" Her voice was filled with emotion.

Pat stared at her for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Instead, he pushed past her and walked away.

The young woman stood in place for a moment, blinking rapidly, a look of utter devastation on her face.

"You must be Katie," Sarah said gently, reaching out to her.

But Kate simply shook her head, wiped a tear from her face, and walked away without a word.

Rose sat in the library, lost in thought, her eyes fixed on a book that she wasn't really reading. If only the ship hadn't struck the iceberg, she could've run away with Jack, deeply in love and already starting their life together. It seemed so unfair that such a future was taken away from her before it even had a chance to begin.

"Rose, dear," her mother called to her from across the room.

For a moment, Rose pretended she couldn't hear her mother's voice over the murmurs of other conversations going on in the room. But after her mother called a second time, louder than before, she knew that she had to go see what her mother wanted. She got up, reluctantly and slowly and made her way over to her mother who was standing with a man in a tweed suit and a large mustache

"Rose," her mother said. "I wished to introduce you to Mr. Algernon Barkworth."

"Hello," Rose said, trying to sound polite.

"Miss Dewitt-Bukater, it is my pleasure," the man said. "Your mother tells me you have a deep interest in infrastructure."

Rose raised an eyebrow. "I have a what?"

"Rose, don't be silly," her mother said. "Just the other day you were asking about the Vehicle Excise Duty."

"The vehicle excise duty?"

"That is a fascinating thing," Barkworth said. "Many people think it's based on the number of motorcars one owns, but, in fact, it's based entirely on the power of the car engine. And how do you find that out? Well, anyone who is motoring should be familiar enough with the power of their car's engine."

Rose looked to her mother, who had silently slunk away and was already across the room engaged in another conversation.

"I know some may think it's an overburden, but the tax is quite necessary for the maintenance of road infrastructure," Barkworth continued. "Best thing to come out of the creation of the Road Board, if you ask me. Miss Dewitt-Bukater?"

Rose forced her attention back to him. "Yes, the Road Board," she said with a nod.

"Of course, none of this would be possible without the unceasing efforts of the Roads Improvement Association."

"Are you a member, Mr. Barkworth?"

He blinked. "No."

"I'm surprised to hear that with your great interest in their activities."

"Someday, perhaps," he replied. "Now, you're familiar with the Cyclists' Touring Club, of course?"

Rose kept nodding at the appropriate times, her smile fixed in place as she struggled to keep up with Barkworth's rambling. She couldn't believe the nerve of her mother. Not even two days since she had escaped her engagement and her mother was already trying to push her towards someone else. She wished she could tell Barkworth to go away and leave her alone. But instead, she retreated into her own thoughts and imagined what it would have been like to be with Jack, to be free and happy.

Cal had been standing at a distance, watching as Rose was roped into a conversation with Barkworth by her mother–clearly Ruth was wasting no time in finding her daughter another match. At first he found it all too amusing. He recognized Rose's polite but fixed smile and he could see her eyes searching for an exit. But after a moment, he began to feel sorry for her.

He walked over to where they were standing and greeted the older man with a smile. "Mr. Barkworth, I thought I heard your voice," he said.

"Mr. Hockley, how are you?"

"Wonderful," he replied. "I was just in the smoking room and you would not believe who I just had the pleasure to run into? Richard Harney."

"Richard Harny?" He stroked his mustache as he thought.

"He's a member of the Roads Improvement Association," Cal added. "Surely, you're acquainted?"

"Oh, yes. Mr. Harney. I know him quite well. Indeed. I hadn't realized he was on this ship."

"Traveling on the Carpathia, I believe."

"Yes, well," Barkworth glanced toward the door then back at them. "Miss Dewitt-Bukater, Mr. Hockley, if you'll excuse me."

Rose nodded behind her polite smile again.

After Barkworth was out of earshot, Cal turned to her. "You're quite welcome."

"I didn't need your rescue," she replied, sharply but then her voice softened. "Who's Richard Harney?"

"I haven't the faintest idea. I made him up."

She hid a quiet laugh behind her hand. "Mother isn't wasting any time as you can see," she said.

Cal shrugged. "She may not be wasting her time but she's certainly wasting her efforts."

Rose looked at her mother then back at him, a confused look on her face.

"I meant Mr. Barkworth," Cal explained. "He's…how do I put this? Not of your persuasion."

"He's what?"

Cal raised an eyebrow.

"Oh." Her eyes widened. " Oh. "

He chuckled. "There you go."

Rose took a step closer to him. "Mother is worried for my future," she confided.

"You mean her future," he replied, taking a step away from her. "She shouldn't worry about yours. I think you'll do just fine wherever you end up." It was the one thing that he liked about her; she wouldn't let herself be confined by society's expectations. In many cases, that spirit would lead to disaster, he couldn't see that happening to Rose. She wouldn't let it happen.

"I think so as well," she replied.

He looked over and saw her mother watching them. The last thing he wanted was to give her any false hopes about the two of them. "Well, I should be going. Goodbye Rose," he said.

"Goodbye, Cal."

He nodded once and turned to leave.

"I think," Rose's voice called him back. "We're both going to be much happier for it."

"I hope so."

Confusion and upset churned inside Kate, making it hard to think about anything else. She longed for Tommy's reassuring presence, someone steady who she could lean on. But he was gone and she was left with Pat. Her own brother who had seemed so relieved to see her no longer seemed to care. And who was the woman with him?

Just as that question crossed her mind, she looked up to see the same young woman approaching her. She quickly looked away, hoping the woman would leave her alone, but she sat down beside her nonetheless.

Before the woman could say anything, Kate blurted out. "Who might ye be and how do ye know me brother?"

"Sarah and I don't," she replied. "Not real well, in any case. He's wearing my husband's coat at the moment."

Kate was taken aback. "He's what?"

"Wearing my husband's coat. I put it on him after he was pulled from the water," Sarah explained. "I think he would've frozen to death otherwise."

"I wasn't knowing any of that."

"He didn't tell you?"

Kate shook her head. "Sure, he won't be talking to me at all. Ye wouldn't happen to know the reason, would ye?"

"It's not for me to say anything." Sarah frowned, her foot tapping anxiously on the ground. "But if only you knew how desperately he tried to get back to you."

Kate was skeptical. "Mayhap he's just sayin' that because if he had put more effort into it, then..." She shut her mouth, her lips pressing into a tight line.

"Oh, Katie," Sarah said softly.

"Kate," she corrected her. Her voice was sharper than she had intended. "Pat is the only one who'd be callin' me Katie."

"Oh, Kate ." Sarah shook her head. "I know how hard it is to believe something when your heart is telling you otherwise," she said. "Be grateful you still have each other."

"That's easy for ye to be sayin' that," Kate shot back. She knew Sarah meant well, but she couldn't seem to move past her own pain.

"Is it?" Sarah replied. "I think I would've forgiven my husband anything if he could've survived. But he didn't and I can't change that. All I can do is believe that he tried his hardest to make it back to me."

She felt a sudden prick of guilt. "Ah, I'm sorry. I didn't be realizin'."

"It's alright." Sarah smiled sadly but kindly. "I don't think there's a person on this ship who hasn't lost someone."

Kate nodded, feeling a tightness in her throat. As much as she tried not to think of Tommy, he was always there in her mind, a heavy weight in her chest. She looked down at her feet, at the shoes that she hadn't taken off in days. She wanted so badly to walk around barefoot someplace warm. She was tired of being cold. She was tired of the rain and the gray sea and interminable crowds of people. She was tired of fighting with Pat. "Did ye truly save his life?" She asked, suddenly, turning to Sarah.

"All I did was put a coat around him," Sarah replied. She reached over to adjust Kate's slipping blanket. "He did the rest."

They reached New York at last as the sun had started to go down. The rain had increased to a cold downpour and the wind had picked up. Most people waited inside, where it was drier but a good number braved the rain to watch as the crew lowered the Titanic's lifeboats—all that remained of that great ship—to the constant powder flashes from the crowd of press that stood along the pier and filled the tugs that swarmed the side of their ship.

Cal watched for a time, silently willing them to move faster as he couldn't wait to set foot on dry land. As he turned to go back inside, he caught sight of Sarah watching from her own area.

He pushed his way through the crowd of people until he reached her side. "Mrs. Clarke," he said, trying to be heard over the rain.

"Sarah," she corrected. "I don't know about you but I'm glad this trip is finally over."

"Indeed," he replied. He looked at her with concern; a woman all alone in a country she's never been to before, having just lost her husband. "Where's your hat?"

"Gone," she said. "Well, given away in any case." She looked at him and smiled. "The hat was never important."

"The feather?"

"John really told you everything, didn't he?" She shook her head. "My feather is tucked into one of my layers. I'm trying to keep it from getting too wet."

"Good place for it," he said. After they had fallen into silence for some time, he spoke up again. "I've been told that they're going to be disembarking us by class."

"How else would they do it?" She asked, giving him a look.

"True." There was a shout from the pier, all words except 'Astor' lost beneath the sound of the downpour. Members of the press looking for their best story. "I wished to see if you needed anything," he said to her. "Before I left, I mean."

Sarah shook her head. "No, I'm quite fine. Thank you."

Cal looked at her. He couldn't imagine that a newly widowed young woman, entirely on her own, could be 'just fine' but he admired her assuredness all the same. Even if he thought that assurance was misplaced. "What are your plans then?" He asked her.

She shrugged. "I'll go home. What else can I do?"

"And where is home?"

Sarah took a moment before replying. "Spokane," she said, at last. "I know that much. But I'm afraid I can't narrow it down any farther." She turned to him and sighed. "I don't remember the address. But I'm hoping it won't be too difficult to find."

"Spokane is a fairly large city."

"Is it? Oh." Something in her eyes wavered and he could sense her uncertainty.

"But not nearly as large as New York though. I'm sure you'll be fine." He searched his pockets for a bit of paper. "But just in case you do need anything…" He paused as he wrote down an address. "That's my address."

"I won't be needing—"

He pushed the paper into her hands. "Then you'll have no need to reach out to me. But if something should arise…please don't hesitate. Your husband gave me some good advice," he added, before she could protest again. "This is the least I can do."

Sarah nodded and took the paper, tucking it into her pocket. "Thank you, Mr. Hockley."

"Cal," he corrected.

Kate and Pat seemed to have made an uneasy truce. At least Fabrizio assumed that they must have. At the very least, they were in the same place—the stairwell, under shelter but still within sight of everything happening on the pier—and no one was yelling at the other or storming off which was certainly a change from the last few days.

The downpour had grown in intensity as the hour grew late; settling itself into an unpleasant thunderstorm. Fabrizio thought it fit the overall mood quite well. Very few were talking as they waited for their own turn to leave. First class was still disembarking in small groups, lit up in flashes from the lightning and cameras. He sighed impatiently. It could be hours still.

"I've heard that anyone not bein' met gets themselves shuttled over to Ellis Island," Kate said, breaking the uneasy silence. "Seems rather unfair to me."

"How's that unfair?" Pat replied. "Sure, that's where we'd be headed if things hadn't…that's where we were supposed to be goin' anyway."

"Aye, but if we were meetin' someone then we wouldn't have to go," she insisted.

"But we're not meetin' anyone."

Fabrizio was tired of their arguing and he pushed himself between them. "I think I stay in New York for little while," he said loudly in an attempt to change the subject. "And I help Inger find her family. She must have family here, I think." He didn't know if she was still planning on staying in the country or returning home but he knew that he couldn't leave her until she was settled one way or the other. He looked at Kate and Pat. "And you leave for Ohio, yes? It be nice to be far from the ocean."

Pat shrugged. "Sure, if we go on to Ohio."

Kate turned on him. "What do ye mean by if ?" She demanded. "That's our plan. That's always been our plan. That's the whole reason we're here in the first place. There's no if. "

"I just kind of be wantin' to go home," her brother admitted.

Pat watched as a woman raced across the deck, a blanket pulled up over her head to keep the rain off. As she stepped into the stairwell and pulled the blanket down, he saw that it was none other than Sarah.

"Oh, there you are," she said. A flash of lightning momentarily lit up her face. "My class is leaving so I only have but a moment. I wanted to say goodbye." She used a corner of the blanket to wipe water from her face. "At least this ordeal is over with."

"Not for us," Kate replied. Her arms were crossed in front of her and her voice was tight with anxiety. "Since we're not meetin' anyone, we're havin' to go through Ellis Island."

Pat shot his sister a look. "Katie, would ye stop?"

"I don't want to be goin'—"

"Katie," he said it louder, cutting her off.

Sarah looked from one to the other and concern settled on her face. "Just say you're meeting someone," she said. "How would they even know? Have you seen what it's like outside? There's too many people to keep track of and the storm's certainly not helping."

"But what if they—" Kate persisted.

"You can meet me then," Sarah interrupted her.

Pat watched her as she stood there, oblivious to the water dripping onto the deck at her feet. A strand of hair had fallen out of her braid. He could still see a sadness in her eyes but she hid her own grief well behind a façade of open kindness. It wasn't lost on him that she was handling everything that had happened better than any of them and he wondered what her husband must've been like.

"I never heard anyone say that you couldn't be met by a fellow passenger," Sarah continued.

Pat wanted to tuck the hair back into her braid. "Who're you meeting then?" he asked.

A silence fell over the group and Sarah fidgeted with the wedding ring on her finger.

He felt guilty for asking but before he could apologize, she smiled.

"All of you, of course," she said. She took a breath and let it out slowly. "Now, you wouldn't have an address, would you?"

Kate gestured to her brother. "Pat has it."

" Had it," he corrected.

Kate looked mildly alarmed. "What do ye mean by 'had it'?"

"Sure, I mean it was written down and now it's gone to wherever our train tickets went to. If ye like, ye can swim back and fetch it."

"It's alright," Sarah said. "I wanted to stay in touch but I'm afraid I don't know mine either." A sharp whistle went off from somewhere on the ship. "Well, we can sort it out later. I don't think I'll miss those whistles."

She gave them a smile and stepped back into the rain, pulling the blanket up over her head as she went.

Pat suddenly remembered her husband's coat and knew he couldn't let her leave without it. "Wait," he called to her as he went after her.

Sarah stopped and turned to face him.

"Yer coat." He slipped it off and held it out.

Instead of taking the coat, Sarah surprised him by pulling him into a tight hug, her blanket falling onto the wet was another flash of lightning followed immediately by a clap of thunder and he wished she wasn't leaving.

"What's your last name?" She asked as she let go of him. She stooped to pick up the blanket from the deck and attempted to shake the water from it.

"Murphy. Why?"

Sarah smiled and took the coat from him, handing him the blanket in its place. "I'll see you soon," she said, pulling the coat on over her own.

"Ye will?"

Sarah didn't reply but simply turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Pat standing there in the rain, holding onto her wet blanket.

Soon as her brother rejoined them in the stairwell, Kate rounded on him. "Now, what do ye mean by wantin' to go home?"

He looked out onto the deck, clearly lost in thought, and she had to touch his arm to get his attention. "I don't want to be here," he said as he looked at her. "I want to go home. That's what I mean."

"And wasn't it yer own idea in the first place?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing. He was the one who had first suggested the trip. He was the one who insisted they go. He was the one who had planned every little detail. And now he wanted to just give up on everything.

"I know it was."

"And now ye be wantin' to just turn around and go home like nothin' ever happened?"

He returned to staring outside and didn't respond.

"I don't want to be goin' home," she insisted.

He didn't reply again and Kate fought the urge to shove him.

"Yer goin' to abandon me again," she said louder, a tinge of worry in her voice. "Aren't ye?" She grabbed his arm.

Pat pulled free from her. "I never—"

But Kate cut him off. "How about ye stop thinkin' only about yerself for once?"

"Kate, no." Fabrizio said. He tried to step between them again but Kate pushed him aside.

"And when have I ever thought only of meself?" Pat's voice rose in protest.

"You two stop now," Fabrizio tried again.

Kate wanted to stop but she couldn't hold back her grief and anger once they had been let out. "How about when ye went ahead and saved yerself? Thank heavens Tommy was there. He was selfless enough to get me to a boat—the last one, mind ye—and gave up his own lifebelt even knowin' that…" The words caught in her throat. She couldn't say it. She couldn't think it. She could feel her eyes filling with tears. "Yer a terrible brother," she finished, her voice shaking with emotion.

The color drained from Pat's face and he gripped the blanket tighter.

For a moment, she was certain he was going to yell and the realization that she had never actually seen him angry before struck her. She took a step back.

But instead of growing angry, his shoulders slumped, and he looked away. "Sure, I thought only of meself," he said in a quiet voice. "Go on, keep believin' that if ye like."

Kate felt a pang of guilt as she watched the defeat wash over his face. "Pat—" She began.

But he shook his head and moved away from her before she could say anything else.

As Sarah walked down the gangway alone, a heavy feeling of loneliness hit her. The powder flashes from the photographers and the constant lightning made her feel as though she was on display, lit up to show the world that she was entirely alone. She thought of Pat and his sister and wished she could've stayed with them. Though she didn't know either of them well, being with strangers was preferable to walking into the crowded pier by herself, knowing that no one was waiting for her, no one looking for her.

Suddenly, a woman's hand reached out to grab her arm. "Is there someone waiting for you, dear?" she asked.

Sarah pulled her arm free, not even slowing her pace. "Yes, there is," she said firmly.

Taking refuge from the rain under an overhang, she reached into her pocket and felt John's ring sitting cold next to the letter. She pulled the envelope out and looked at her name under the electric light. She took a deep breath and opened it, pulling out two pieces of paper. And she began to read.

My darling Sarah,

You're sitting next to me right now with your head on your arms. I think you may even be asleep. I've borrowed a pen to write this and I know I needn't have bothered as I'm sure there is nothing to worry about. But, and you may say that I'm worrying too much as I always do, there's a feeling in the back of my mind that I can't seem to escape. So you must allow me to worry too much once again.

Sarah, my dear, I wish so much I had written to you years earlier. I wish I had sent for you or insisted you come with me the first time I left (I know what you're saying, your father would've never allowed it but whilst I'm wishing, let me pretend as well). Because then we could have had years There aren't enough years in existence to spend with you and I wish I had them all.

I have never known another woman like you. Kind, compassionate, stubborn as hell. I firmly believe that you could handle anything that should happen. If the worst should I cannot believe that I am lucky enough to call you my wife. It all seems like a wonderful dream but a dream I never wish to awake from. I could write good things about you until the end of time but there's not enough paper in the world and certainly not on this ship. Regardless of what may or may not happen, I wouldn't trade our time together for anything because a single day married to you is worth more than a lifetime without you.

I meant for this to be a surprise but I might as well write it here. I had intended on spending a few days in Fitchburg. I know it has been many years since you had last seen your brother. He is already expecting us. This little incident will likely delay us. I'm sure he won't mind us being a day late…he might draw the line at two but we'll sort it all out in the morning.

I see a steward now and I intend to find out what is happening, so I must stop writing. Perhaps I will show you this letter in the morning so you can have a good laugh over my worry.

Always my love,

John

P.s. The house address is 1301 Sherwood Street, Spokane, Washington. I know you've already forgotten it.

And then on the second page:

If the worst should happen and I do not make it, I leave everything to my dear wife, Sarah Elizabeth Clarke.

Signed,

John Henry Clarke

April 15, 1912

Sarah refolded the papers with shaking hands and slid them back into the envelope before returning it to her pocket. She wiped away the tears that had silently fallen down her cheeks and took a deep breath to steady herself.

She turned to a man standing nearby and asked. "Excuse me, sir. Where might I find some paper?"

He shrugged. "Try the Women's Relief Committee. I saw one of them over that way." Pointing in the direction, he added, "Good luck."

"Thank you,' Sarah replied. She pulled her coat tighter around her and set off into the rain in the direction he had pointed.

They had been sent below decks to the gangway door that they had all first arrived through as they waited for their turn. The corridor was packed with people, all tired but eager to leave the ship. Pat and Kate stood as far from each other as the crowd allowed. Pat had his face buried in the blanket in his arms. Kate's arms were crossed in front of her chest, her eyes fixed on the ground.

Fabrizio didn't understand their behavior. They were both alive; they had both survived something nearly impossible to survive. They should've been grateful, but instead, each blamed the other for things that no one had any control over one way or another. He looked at Kate, at the deep frown on her face, at the way she kept clenching and unclenching her hands, and made up his mind.

He pushed his way through the crowd until he reached her brother. Pat looked up at his arrival.

"You cannot go home," Fabrizio said firmly.

Pat looked at his sister then back at him but said nothing.

"You both here, alive," he continued. "You need to forget what happen and move on."

Pat shook his head."Katie's not goin' to be forgettin' a thing, ye know that well," he replied.

Fabrizio let out an exasperated sigh and ran his hand through his hair. "Kate forgive you for what she thought happen but she never forgive you if you leave now. Pat, you better than this."

Pat looked unconvinced but, at last, with another glance at his sister, he slowly nodded.

Everyone was strangely silent as they left the ship. The only noise being the storm and the occasional calls of someone looking for their loved ones. At once Fabrizio had disappeared into the crowd with Inger by his side, leaving them entirely on their own.

The rain, which had not let up one bit, came at them blown in every direction and icy cold. Pat was shivering again, despite the blanket that Sarah had given him—it was already too wet to do much good, but he was off the ship and for that he was grateful. It was dark on the pier but the constant flashes from cameras and the bursts of lightning made for a surreal and disorienting scene.

"Are you meeting anyone?"

Pat heard the question asked but couldn't tell if it was directed at them or someone else. He didn't bother to look. Instead, he kept a tight grip on Kate, despite her protestations, and pushed her in front of him to keep her within his line of sight. He was not going to lose her this time.

"Where are we goin?" Kate asked over the sound of the storm.

Pat had no answer for her. He had no idea where they were supposed to go, where they could go.

He looked around, peering through the multitude of people, blending into the darkness. Families were crying together, couples were reuniting, and survivors were being ushered into waiting cars. But there was no one there for them.

Then, through the chaos, Pat saw her. Sarah stood beneath an electric streetlight, holding a sign with their last name written on it, the ink smudged and running from the rain. Her eyes met his and she smiled.

Without hesitation, Pat pointed in her direction and said, "We're goin' that way. Over there. Thank God."

As the wind lashed at them, the rain beating down, they pushed their way through the crowd to where she waited. They might've been lost, but they weren't alone, and for that, he was grateful.