Chapter 24: Welcome to New York
"Here's your crutch son," the doctor says.
"Thank you, sir," Peter murmurs as he sits on the cot in a cabin with Sybil.
"I've arranged for you to have a meeting at the hospital in New York for the next day. I want to give you a prescription of antibiotics for your leg. Now, do you have anyone meeting you when the boat docks?"
"Yes sir," Peter nods.
"Good because you will not be able to do very much for a while, especially care for this child."
"I'm aware," Peter nods. "I have my sister and her husband waiting for me in the harbour."
This was true. Peter had had a nurse send a wireless message to be transmitted to his sister that he had survived and was coming to New York with Sybil. He had left out the part that Emma had not survived because it was too much for him to think about right now. He also told his sister to notify his parents that he was okay.
His sister had been married several years to a handsome man named Carl, who worked in a steel factory. They had a young son, approximately three if he could remember correctly. They too had come to live in New York to get away from the country life in which his parents were still living. His parents lived in the countryside of Pennsylvania and Peter only ever saw them for Easter and Christmas, but he kept in touch. His parents were "over the moon" when they heard that he and Emma were engaged and were even willing to help pay for the wedding. They had even travelled out to Emma's parents' funeral. The last time Peter had spoken to them was the night before they left for England. They told him to be safe and write to them when they got back.
"Very good," the doctor says. "We will be docking in a few hours."
The doctor leaves to tend to other patients leaving Peter alone. Sybil in his lap, playing with a small toy, a wooden duck, that one of the nurses found for her. Peter kisses Sybil's forehead and rocks her gently. He envied Sybil being unable to comprehend what they had gone through, but even he noticed a change in her behaviour over the past few days. Sybil was less cheerful, she wasn't squealing as much as she used to, she ate less and was not sleeping as well, it was as if she could sense the sombre mood overhanging them. Peter could tell that Sybil knew that her sister was missing, and it made her sad. Peter had vowed to keep Emma's memory alive for Sybil, for his sake and hers. Emma died a hero. He still held out hope that she was alive somehow, but those hopes were dashed when he saw that her name was not on the survivor's list.
To distract himself, Peter brings Sybil out onto the deck with great difficulty. He's holding Sybil in one arm and the crutch under the other. It is raining a bit as the ship is pulling into the harbour, going past the Statue of Liberty. Sybil was looking up at the statue and smiling, curious about how tall it was, but Peter's mind was elsewhere.
Emma should be here… he thought. This was her world, her city, her life and now it's…
He begins to tear up again. He sniffles and kisses Sybil again as he gazes past the bow of the Carpathia. A massive crowd is gathering at the harbour, awaiting the ship's arrival. Peter is slightly surprised, but not much. The Titanic was such a massive ship, with all its famous passengers and the fact that it went down on its maiden voyage, would be big news anywhere. He can see the reporter boats sailing alongside the ship, attempting to catch the first glimpses of the survivors. Peter makes a decision right there to try and keep himself and Sybil out of the limelight as much as possible. He wanted no fame from this disaster, he wanted to mourn for his wife in peace.
…
Getting off the boat was harder than anyone expected. Peter, limping off the gangplank with his wife's sister in one hand and a crutch in the other, he is hit by a wave of noise and flashing cameras.
"Sir, good sir can you give us a scoop? Is it true the ship was sabotaged?" one shouts.
"Did it run into several icebergs?" asks another.
"Where was the captain during all this?"
"Is it true some of the officers shot themselves?"
"Was there really another ship in the distance?"
"How many survived?"
"Is it true that people were shot like dogs on the deck to keep them from swamping the lifeboats?!"
Peter can hardly believe these rumours and becomes instantly annoyed with them. He sees them all as predators, vultures swarming and hunting for a story, even if it means making one up. He does his best to keep his head down and ignore them. He has enough problems at it is. Sybil is staring wildly at the cameras and then turns into Peter's shoulder to prevent the lights from blinding herself. Peter can tell she's on the brink of crying, the loud noises and bright lights are scaring her.
He makes it onto the dock, feeling the first plot of solid ground in several days. He shoves through as many people as possible, who are offering him money and other things for his story.
He makes to the first street next to the docks and begins searching for his sister, whom he told to meet him at the docks.
"Peter, Peter! Peter sweetheart!" a voice calls out to him. He turns to see his older sister rushing towards him. Tears are in her eyes as she pushes through the crowd to her brother.
His sister embraces him, squashing Sybil in between them.
"Oh Peter, I'm so glad you're okay!" she says.
"Thank you, Holly," Peter says, managing a small smile. It feels nice to be in the warm and comforting embrace of a family again.
Immediately, his sister goes off on a rant, with a myriad of questions, "What happened to your leg? Where's Emma? How is Sybil? I can't believe you're here! Mother and Father will be so happy…"
His sister's husband stands behind them nodding and trying to avoid being trampled by the throngs of people rushing forward to see who survived the disaster.
"Holly please, one thing at a time. Let's get these poor things out of the rain."
Peter appreciated his brother-in-law's calm and collected concern. His sister tended to babble uncontrollably when she was upset or scared.
Holly takes Sybil into her arms and Carl grabs Peter's free arm to guide him to their car. It's a crazy amount of people, shouting and crying. More reporters attempt to engage Peter, but Carl yells at them to leave them alone. He even has to swat a few out of their path. They were lucky he did not have to start shouting threats. Peter has never felt so grateful to his brother in law, whom when they had first met, Peter found slightly intimidating.
They reach their car parked in front of one of the many hotels in New York. Carl helps Peter into the back of the car and Holly holds onto Sybil.
Once in the car, Peter feels immediate relief from the chaos. These crowds were almost worse than the ones on Titanic. Carl begins weaving through the streets and rain on their way to his house in SoHo, New York.
The car ride is quiet for the most part except for Holly humming gently to Sybil to keep the little one calm. Peter can feel the worry of both individuals and they can feel the sadness of him.
They reach the house as it starts to get dark. Carl gets out and helps Peter out. The house is just like Peter remembers it, small, two storey house in a quiet neighbourhood with a small picket fence in the front and an ancient oak tree that leaned against the place slightly. It felt nice to be in familiar settings, but there was a huge damper on things without Emma there.
"Mommy! Daddy! Uncle Peeta!" his little rascal of a nephew, Thomas shouts as they come through the door.
The little boy's dark hair and eyes look up eagerly at his uncle. He is dressed head to toe in blue, with a shirt and overalls. His tiny blue shoes pound across the hardwood floors to greet his parents and uncle.
"Where's Aunt Emma?" he asks.
Thomas had gotten into the habit of seeing Emma as his aunt even though they were not married yet.
"Did you bring me anything? How big was the ship? Is that baby Sybil? I'm going to get a bike for my birthday. Want to play Gin and Rummy? Mrs. Wilcox taught me how!" The inquisitive three-year-old bombards Peter with questions, clearly unaware of how bad their situation was.
Peter manages a small smile, he is indeed pleased to see his nephew and see the lively smiles of the young boy, seeing happiness in such a dark time. Thomas is about to jump up and hug Peter, but his mother holds him back.
"Not now Thomas," Holly says sternly. "Uncle Peter is hurt and needs to sit down."
"What happened?" Thomas asks.
"That's none of our business right now sweetheart and mommy or daddy don't know what happened either. Uncle Peter will tell you on his own time."
"Okay," Thomas says, being surprisingly understanding, even at such a young age.
"Where's Mrs. Wilcox?" Holly asks.
"She's in the kitchen making tea," Thomas says. "Can I have some tea mommy please?"
"Just a little and then I want you to go to bed. It's been a very long day and Uncle Peter is very tired. You can see your uncle more in the morning. Little Sybil will be sharing a room with you okay?"
"Okay Mommy," Thomas says obediently and he runs into the kitchen.
Carl helps Peter into a chair in their small kitchen as Mrs. Wilcox brings a tray of steaming hot tea to the table. Mrs. Wilcox is a plump, middle-aged lady with dark, greying hair and a stern expression, who lives next door and often acts like the family's nanny whenever Holly and Carl needed to go out. She was a hardened woman, but with a soft spot for young Thomas. She acted as grandmother to him while the real ones lived in Pennsylvania. She simply nods at Peter and then goes about cleaning the kitchen, not prying at all. Peter can see the day's newspaper out with the front page being a picture of the Titanic.
Titanic Sunk, Great Loss of Life, it reads. Peter tries to ignore it and looks up as his sister serves him some tea. Little Thomas sits next to his uncle, drinking from a small teacup. He pushes around a small wooden car around making car noises in between sips.
"Are you okay Uncle Peter?" Thomas asks.
Peter turns over and forces himself to smile at his nephew.
"I could be better Thomas," he murmurs.
"Thomas when you are done your tea, how about Mrs. Wilcox reads you a bedtime story, any book you want?" Holly suggests.
"Okay," Thomas says. He drinks up the rest of his tea and leaves the table to go upstairs. Mrs. Wilcox soon follows.
"Getting big, isn't he?" Peter says softly.
Carl smiles before taking a sip of tea.
The room is quiet for a while, the only sounds that can be heard are Mrs. Wilcox's soft voice reading to Thomas. Neither of Peter's relatives wants to speak to him, not until he's ready. Holly distracts herself by cleaning the kitchen, getting a bottle out and feeding Sybil, who soon falls asleep.
"Carl," Holly says. "Can you please go get Thomas' cradle from the basement and put it in his room?"
"Yes honey," Carl gets up and does so.
Holly then gets up. "I'm going to find some of Thomas' old nightclothes for Sybil."
"All right," Peter says gently.
Holly leaves with Sybil in tow, to allow her brother in some time to reflect. He feels tears come to his eyes and he puts his teacup down because he's shaking so hard. He puts his hands on his face and sobs. He cries for Emma, his beloved wife, for the future they would never have, for the children they would never raise and for the house they would never buy. Everything that he and Emma had planned to do when they got married like running the business together and raising Sybil. Plans that seemed like a distant memory and very much impossible now, everything had gone down with that ship and there was nothing he could do about it. He'd lost the love of his life and nothing seems to make it better for him. The future looks bleak and he feels hopeless.
Holly comes back in and sees her brother crying. She rushes over to him and holds him. She holds like she used to do when he was little. Peter leans into his sister, not at all embarrassed to be crying in front of her. They had been close when they were young and that did not change now. He wants her warm embrace, though it did little to numb the pain, he is glad he had someone there for him. He feels a little less alone now, even though Emma is gone.
Holly holds her brother tightly, so glad that he had survived. She cannot imagine what her brother was put through on that boat and what kind of terror he must've felt watching the massive ship go down, most likely with his fiancée on it. She couldn't imagine herself in his position, it frightened her too much. She loved Carl and she did not want to think about a life without him. And yet, she wanted to know what had happened out on the Atlantic, the story that was shaking the world to its core. She was horrified when she woke up to find the paper on her stoop saying, Titanic Sunk. She spent days and sleepless nights worrying about her brother until the message came that her brother was alright. She had not told her parents about it, for fear that it may kill them, but she felt immense relief to call her parents to say not to worry. There was the concern that Peter had not mentioned Emma, she immediately assumed the worst. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw her brother without his fiancée. Her heart broke for him and she felt like weeping for Emma, a girl she had grown fond of through several of their meetings and enjoyed sharing stories about Peter's childhood with her. Emma was perfect for Peter and Holly were hoping for the best for them, clearly, now everything had changed.
Eventually, Peter composes himself enough to break free of his sister's embrace. He wipes his tears and re-adjusts his leg.
Holly pours him some more tea and then more for herself. Carl comes in cautiously, clearly, he had been waiting in the hall to allow Peter and Holly the privacy.
"More tea please Holly," he murmurs, and she pours him some.
They sit in silence for a long while. All of them stare at their teacups, wanting to avoid the elephant in the room. The door shuts as Mrs. Wilcox leaves and a lone dog in one of the backyards of the neighbourhood barks into the night. The kitchen becomes dark and Holly lights some candles. The big clock on the mantle ticks the hours by and the tea gets cold in front of them until Peter speaks up.
"I'm sure you're wondering what happened…" he says gently.
"Peter you don't have to share it now…" Holly says.
"The thing is…I want to," Peter says. "I think it might help me a little bit… and I know Mother and Father will want to know eventually. I know if Emma…"
He wipes a few tears, "If Emma were here, she'd want you to know the truth."
"There's no rush son…" Carl says.
Peter sighs and takes a deep breath.
"I guess the best place to start it at the beginning…"