Chapter 6: Drawing a Solution
Over the next few days, Emma spends her time in the nursery with Sybil. Peter tries to entice her to explore the ship, but she refuses. There wasn't much the couple could do together except visit the library or the smoking room. Any luxuries that were on the ship like the baths, or gym or swimming pool were for first class only. Her nightmares also become worse and worse that she doesn't feel like going anywhere anyways. The other night, she dreamt that she was trapped in one of the fancy hallways and it was slowly filling with water as she tried to escape. It feels like a vicious circle and it is far too late to try and get off the ship. It will be a few more days until the ship reaches New York if it ever does. Emma continues to have extremely bad feelings that these dreams are foreshadowing a coming disaster. The problem is if she said anything, everyone would think she's crazy and never believe her. She does her best to distract herself
The third day of the voyage at sea, Emma is sitting at the beautifully carved wooden desk looking at the stacks of papers in front of her. Peter had taken Sybil on a tour of the ship to give her a change All of them are business issues and there have been a few wireless messages from her father's office in New York. She feels overwhelmed and stressed, such big decisions put on an eighteen-year-old girl who knows nothing about business or how to run such an organization. She mutters angrily about why her father left everything to her and asks God why he had to take her parents so soon. Her mother due to complications of her birth with Sybil, the assumed cause was eclampsia and her father, along with the grief which weakened him, contracted pneumonia after a business trip and was unable to get better. Emma lets a few small tears run down her face as she flips through a business proposal. All this stress was waiting for her back in the city; a part of her was happy to go back home and the other wanted the trip to last as long as possibly. So much was dumped on top of her along the slow recovery from the grief she felt for her parents.
Emma eventually grows tired of reading, shoves the papers aside and grabs her portfolio/sketchbook and coat. She walks out onto the deck and begins a search for something to draw. The wind is picking, up making her shiver and hold her portfolio close to her.
She finds a deck chair, a rug to keep her legs warm and sets herself up, she begins drawing two women having an afternoon stroll on the deck in their fancy hats and holding umbrellas even though there was not a single sign of rain. She's halfway through drawing when a gust of wind picks up and forces several of her pencils to roll onto the deck. She leans down to pick them up.
The wind suddenly catches one of her papers and begins blowing it down along the deck. Emma immediately gets and runs after it. Of all the drawings the wind had to take, it was the picture of her family, the last picture of her family. The page blows further and further until it goes over the rail, down to the lower decks of the third class passengers. Emma does not hesitate to climb over the rail to after her sketch. She does not care if anyone sees her, besides they can't arrest her for going into the lower class. She's becoming tired as she scrambles after the sheet of paper, but it is too precious to let it go.
A handsome man, about 20 or so catches the page in mid-air. Emma nearly runs into him, stopping so suddenly that her portfolio goes flying. Emma gets down on her knees and begins to gather the papers.
A set of hands come down and join her.
Emma looks up into his bright blue eyes. He has dirty blond hair and a youthful face that smiles up at her as he collects the papers. Emma can't help but blush at his dashing good looks. She smiles back.
The man looks at one of the drawings he's picked up and his eyebrows go up.
"This is really good," he says.
"Thank you," Emma smiles sitting on a nearby bench to sort through her papers. The man brings over his pile and sits next to her.
"Thank you for saving that sheet of paper," Emma says. "It's very important to me."
"I know what you mean," the man says. "I'm an artist myself."
"I'm not really a…"
"Hey," he interrupts her. "Anyone that can put something on paper or write some kind of tune or dance to their own beat is an artist in my book."
Emma finishes filing her papers and accepts the ones from the man.
"That's a good philosophy," Emma says. She folds her portfolio back up. "Mine is that 'love is something that can never be conquered and a testament to someone's heart.'"
"That's a good one too," the man smiles. He holds out his hand. "Jack Dawson."
Emma accepts it. "Emma Carson."
"So where are you from?" Jack asks.
"Canada originally until my father moved to New York and you?"
"I travel wherever the wind takes me. I've been staying Europe for awhile and decided to go back to the roots. I'm originally from Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin, ever hear of that?"
"I think so," Emma says. "In my geography class."
Emma opens her portfolio to and a new page and begins simply scribbling. Jack reaches over and takes out his own. Emma does her best not to pry at the man's sketches, but curiosity gets the better of her. Jack as well.
"May I?" Jack asks.
Emma hands over her own portfolio. "Sure. Want to trade?"
"I'm okay with that…" Jack nods and hands her his.
Emma begins flipping through Jack's pages and pages of art.
She admires his care and detail in each of his drawings. She can't help, but smile by the fact that most of his pictures are of naked women, typical at a young, single man's age. She admires the depth and care he's put into his sketches and she can tell it's his real passion in life. She really thinks he has talent.
"You like nudes huh?" Emma smirks.
"I like to capture the forms of the body. The human body is a fascinating thing, the lines and the curves that make up each individual is quite a challenge. A challenge I enjoy."
"Not because the fact that women are taking their clothes off in front of you?" she snickers.
"It's France, the rules of nudity are different," Jack says.
"They are very good," Emma says. "How did you find a one-legged prostitute?"
"Wasn't easy," Jack smiles.
"Your attention to detail is great, I could never be as good as you."
"I'm not so sure…" Jack says modestly.
He turns his attention to Emma's drawing.
"You're pretty good," Jack compliments her.
"Thank you," Emma says. "I mostly just draw for a hobby."
"I like your attention to capturing motion. You really want to capture the scene in the moment while I prefer to have someone pose for long periods of time. Not a lot of artists are capable of that."
Amongst Emma's drawings were her family portrait, the wind taking away a woman's hat, a church by the seashore which she had spread her parents' ashes, a herd of sheep they saw in Dublin, the picture of Peter cradling Sybil by the fireplace, the unfinished boy, and his father, and the Titanic's lifeboats. There are also some darker pictures in her pile including a cemetery, a crying child, a trickle of blood and coffin covered with a grey sheet.
"Not exactly a Cheerful Charlie are you?" Jack comments.
Emma turns red. "I went through a rather depressing stage, you see I just lost my father a month ago and my mother five months previous."
"Oh," Jack gasps. "I'm so sorry, I didn't…"
"It's alright, I'm still on the mend from it. At least, I'm not alone, I have a fiancé and my baby sister Sybil in this picture here." She points out the picture of Peter and Sybil in front of the fire.
"I wish I was that lucky. I lost my parents a few years ago to a fire that also took my family home." Jack says sadly.
"I'm sorry," Emma says.
"It's alright, I decided to not let life go to waste and left the place where it caused the most pain. I know you're not supposed to run away from your problems but what can you do when there's nothing left. Fortunately, I've my friend Fabrizio to help me through the tough spots. We've been through a lot he and me?"
"Wish it were that easy for me," Emma sighs. "I guess I went through a phase of just drawing darker things, what I was feeling at the time and what was on my mind. It's not like me at all, if you can believe it."
"It happens, but many artists' best works come out in times of stress or sadness, look at Van Gogh or Munch"
"I guess; I've tried to move onto happier things, but sometimes it just comes back to me, like a cloud that never leaves me."
"I felt like that too, but I think you've got some real talent here, don't waste it on sad things. It helped me move on."
"It sort of helps me too, but I've got a lot more to worry about than mourning. I have to go back to New York and raise my sister as well as run my father's business."
"Wow that must be tough," Jack says. He takes out a pack of cigarettes and lights one it up. "Want one?"
"No thank you, I don't smoke," Emma says. "So tell me more about yourself, Jack."
Emma and Jack spend the rest of the afternoon chatting with each other, talking about their lives and what they hope for in the future. Eventually, Jack's friend Tommy comes up the third class stairwell.
"Hey, Boyo stop flirtin' with the lass and come on. It's time to go eat, Fabri is waitin' on you and yer tickets"
"I'm coming," Jack calls. He turns to Emma. "I guess I'll see you later."
"It was nice to meet you, Jack," Emma says, shaking his hand.
"You too Emma, remember to try to sketch something nice, capture those moments you really want to remember."
"Thank you, Jack, I will and if you're ever in New York or in need of a job, look me up."
"I will," he says. Emma watches Jack disappear.
The young girl gets up and walks back up the stairs and goes through the dividing class gate. She's walking along the deck when she sees the sun beginning to set over the watery horizon.
"Capture the moments you really want to remember…"
Emma finds herself another deck chair and begins to sketch again. She stares up at the beautiful sunset every so often, doing her best to capture the moment before it goes down. She embraces the beauty and wishes Peter and Sybil were here to see it too. The mixture of gold, pink and blue streaking across the sky as the orb of light sinks lower and lower into the ocean. There are birds flying overhead and small waves lapping at the sun. She remembers her father telling her an old folk tale about the sun hissing as it hits the water, she smiles to herself as she watches the scene unfold in front of her. The memory makes her a little bit sad again, making the sunset less spectacular. She still wishes her parents were here with her to see this.
To distract herself she works quicker at her sketch, but still, misses a few of the remaining details. She decides to call it a night and go and find her fiancé and sister. She closes the book and goes back to the cabin
…
The next day Emma tries drawing some of the children in the nursery. She watches Patrick and Sybil play together as Mrs. Baxter chats away and compliments the young girl's skill. Eventually, she takes her sister back to the cabin. She forces herself to look at the paperwork again as Sybil plays on the floor.
Peter comes in with a big smile on his face.
"How was your day?" he asks, scooping up Sybil.
"Alright, Mrs. Baxter did most of the talking so all I really needed to do was listen."
Peter puts Sybil in the cradle and sits on the couch adjacent to the desk.
"What do you feel like doing tonight?" Peter asks.
"Nothing really," Emma admits. "Just stay in I guess."
Peter comes up and kisses her on the cheek. "How about we do something fun tonight?"
"Like what?"
"Like a dance…"
"Where is there dancing on the ship?" Emma asks.
"Third class. A man I met while playing cards told me that they have the best parties on the ship."
"But what about all this paperwork?" Emma says.
"Blow it off, for now, it will only be a few hours. Besides, when was the last time we did something just the two of us?"
Emma looks up at Peter and she can see the eagerness on his face. She had to admit they hadn't had a night out together in a long while, probably before Sybil was even born. She had mixed feelings about it, there was so much to worry about and yet she yearned for some form of distraction.
"Okay," she says. "I'll go."