Hello everyone! God, this was hard to write. :'(
I do not own Thomas Andrews or anyone related to him.
I hope you enjoy, and please rate/review! =)
Chapter Twenty-Nine
April 19th 1912
"Helen, are you alright?" Nina was holding my hand, squeezing it in comfort. I was staring at Mr. Andrews, who had just read out the worst. He had received a telegram from a fellow friend in New York, where the 'survivors' of Titanic's sinking had arrived just 24 hours earlier. The telegram said;
"Interview Titanic's officers. All unanimous
Andrews heroic unto death, thinking only
safety of others. Extend heartfelt sympathy
to all."
Tommie was dead. I was in a state of shock, but Mr. and Mrs. Andrews seemed worse. Mrs. Andrews caught her breath, and Mr. Andrews nearly broke down crying. I didn't know what the right thing was to do; remain the same, or cry. John did the latter. He sobbed, and took himself off somewhere into the garden. William, James and Nina followed him out, obviously trying to stay dignified in the situation. I was left alone with Eliza and Thomas. I knew what the right thing was to do then. To distract myself for now, until I went home, was to comfort them, for their loss was significantly more than mine. It didn't feel like it, though. My world had ended, and I didn't want to go on. Not without Tommie. But Elizabeth needed me. I couldn't tell her now; her whole childhood would be spoiled. I would tell her when she was old enough to understand. I went over and at next to Eliza and Thomas, who were sitting together on the sofa. Eliza was weeping into Thomas, and Thomas was trying to comfort her, to no avail however. He looked as if he was going to cry himself. Eliza, noticing me sitting next to them, came off of Thomas and opened her arms to me. She wiped her eyes, and tried to smile. Thomas saw an opportunity to take himself away, and he vanished up the stairs. I was taken in by Eliza, who cradled me in her arms. She reminded me so much of Tommie there. Sad, yet trying to stay brave. The scenarios where Tommie was telling me of Mr. Ismay's disapprovals came rushing back to me, and I cried. He's gone. I was never going to see my Tommie again. He was gone; consumed by the icy waters. His body had not been discovered by the Mackay-Bennet so far, but for some reason, I knew that he wouldn't be found. He was too much of hero to have been standing at the stern, trying to make a try for it. Tommie would've taken himself off somewhere, where he knew he wouldn't be disturbed. What would he have been thinking about? Home? Me? Elizabeth? Family, or Harland and Wolff? No one would ever know. But, at least he was the man I knew he would be until the end – caring, loving, and only thinking of others.
Rest in Peace, My Dear Tommie.