"A Thousand Points of Light"
Author: carmen_085
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters from James Cameron's Titanic, not any real people. I do not own Titanic or any characters from the movie. I do own all original characters.
Summary: Fifth Officer Harold Lowe and Titanic's Nurse Clara Barnett lives become intertwined on the ship's maiden voyage when a young drifter is brutally beaten.
Chapter Four
April 12, 1912
It was well past midnight when they got back to the infirmary. Moving toward an open bed they lifted his near lifeless body onto the mattress. Harry had insisted that she allow a steward to help him carry, but after none showed up she assured him that she was up to the task. A third class man who spoke no English at all grabbed a corner of the sheet silently as Harry nodded his thanks. He wasn't a heavy man, honestly he was more of a boy, and finally getting a look at his features Harry guessed that he wasn't older than twenty.
He couldn't begin to guess why this had happened, he'd been on watch since eight and hadn't gotten a single report of a disturbance onboard. Sometimes, especially when there were alcohol fueled parties in third class, fights would break out. They never amounted to more than a few thrown punches. There was no party in third class tonight and this man was no where near the general room anyway. A stairwell that led from the aft boat deck down to the lowers levels, it was relatively secluded as far as ships went.
The attack had been brutal and the man was beaten within an inch of life. Harry was more than a little annoyed that the Master of Arms had yet to arrive. Apparently he'd been summoned quite some time ago, and his absence was proof of the many rumors circulating regarding his prejudice toward steerage passengers. It was absolutely absurd. Even if he did have some kind of hatred toward the poor, he still had a job to do. In no uncertain terms the White Star Line had made it clear that the maiden voyage of Titanic needed to go off with a hitch. No problems and no bad press.
Harry wasn't stupid nor was he naive. He knew this would be swept under the rug and squelched like the nightmare that it was. A man with no money or power was as good as nothing in the grand scheme of things. Ismay and the others would brush a severe beating off as a minor disagreement. If this incident hadn't happened in the bowels of the ship they may have even tossed him overboard and disposed of the whole mess entirely.
"Hold this against the wound on his head." She tossed a stack of clean bandages at him. And then there was that- her. Someone he'd been thinking of non stop for the past couple days had simply appeared when he least expected it. Seeing her again, especially up close, had stolen the air from his lungs and turned him into a blubbering idiot. Despite only speaking a few words to one another, he was absolutely taken with her. She was beautiful in the most rugged, natural sort of way. Easily tougher than any woman he'd ever met before- and some men, she maneuvered around corners and down hallways with relative ease all the while carrying a man in a sheet. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything like it before, nearly all the women he'd ever met dainty and fragile. She didn't complain, not once, and now rushing around the infirmary he watched her completely ignoring him and totally consumed by her job. Which she was very good at he might add.
Her hands were quick and deft as she sheared off his shirt exposing heavy bruising to the ribs. Harry heard her gasp as she laid her hands tenderly on the man's side. Even half unconscious he moaned at her touch writhing a bit as Harry secured the bandage to his head with a tight knot. He'd never been medically trained but had picked up more than a bit of knowledge throughout his sailing career. A lot can happen when stuck on a vessel for months at a time, especially the square rigged ships of his youth. In open sea with no where to go; he quickly learned how stop bleeding, fix a dislocated shoulder, and minimize internal injuries. They didn't have much but you'd be surprised how valuable natural cures could be. It got more than a few injured men by until they arrived home. Anything serious of course could only be dealt with using basic means. When that wasn't enough burial at sea was often the next step. After seeing his first, a fear began bubble up inside him that he'd not considered before. Just as easily as it had been that man it could be him next.
The man in front of him most likely would have been slipped into the ocean after a few days of suffering; the rough men surrounding him with stoic agony wishing there was more to be done. This wasn't that, however, and the Titanic was equipped with the best of everything- including the nurse in front of him who was making it clear she was set on doing everything to save her patient. Officers needed to always look presentable and in control- a direct quote from the White Star Line's Officer's Manual. Harry was required to memorize the entire thing. He saw the benefit in what they were saying regarding appearances but not when it got in the way of the task at hand. Above all else he needed to get it done- whatever it was- every seaman, passenger, and crew member was looking at the six of them expecting nothing less. Right now this man's life needed saved and he doubted that anyone would care about his presentation. Discarding his hat on the shelf and his blazer over the rail of an adjacent bed, Harry rolled up the sleeves of his white uniform shirt staining it with blood in the process. Taking a deep breath he lifted the bandage he'd just made and saw blood still pouring out. Damn scalp wounds bled non stop.
Clara's mind was reeling as she raced around the infirmary gathering everything she needed. First the man in her care was in bad shape, and he needed a doctor. She'd sent for Dr. OLoughlin but he had yet to show up. The Master of Arms also hadn't shown up and neither had the steward who'd gone to fetch him nearly an hour ago. And then there was him- the officer- the one she'd been thinking about night and day since their fateful meeting that night in Southhampton. His sharp, dark features had softened considerably upon their second meeting giving her hint that perhaps she had been on his mind just as much. The thought alone made her insides quiver as she struggled to remain cool, collected, and entirely focused on her patient.
Her arms full of supplies she was hardly prepared when she rounded the corner and he was standing there in his white shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal tan muscular arms. His hat was off and his hair mussed slightly. Inhaling sharply she stumbled, just catching herself on the foot of the bed.
"Are you alright ?" He was at her side before she could look away, the blush exploding across her face. She was such an idiot. Righting herself she forced a crooked smile that he returned. This was so ridiculous, she was a grown woman and this man had quickly reduced her to a giggling teenager. He picked the bandages up brushing her hands in the process. Her heart stuttered, his hands were warm and very capable judging from the way they were covered in blood. Not flinching away from whatever she asked him to do, it was clear to her that this man had seen things in his life. Looking up hesitantly, slowly their eyes met as she inhaled. There it was again, those dark emotional eyes. She blinked suddenly wanting to be the one to understand everything behind them.
Clara could have stayed there for the rest of the night, losing all track of time and her mind as well. On the bed the man moaned, "Rose…" The only thing that could tear her away from his gaze was a patient that needed her. Pushing up she came to the man's side taking is hand and looking into his swollen face.
"What's your name ?" Harry came around the other side also interested to know anything the man could tell them. He watched as Clara brushed the hair back from his face gently. It reminded him of being sick as a child. His mother coming into his room to check on him, sitting on the edge of the bed, and stroking his hair back. He hadn't thought of his mother like that in so long. When she did come to his mind it was usually in a flurry of guilt that he'd not been there when she was so sick. That she passed and he never said good bye. And that once she was gone all he had left was his father.
The man tried to open his eyes although the one was nearly swollen shut. The other struggled to focus on Clara's face. "It's alright. You're in the infirmary, we're taking care of you."
He sighed deeply, wincing as his broken ribs expanded. "Jack…Jack Dawson." A smile came to Clara's face not because she now had this information but because despite the incessant beating he took he didn't seem to have a serious head injury. When she'd first laid eyes on him she was most worried about that, knowing that they had no way to help him if it was true. Bleeding and swelling in the brain were nearly always a death sentence; even back home there was little a doctor could do. Of course they always tried everything but eventually the increasing pressure in the head would cause the patient to slip into a coma and die.
"Jack, I'm Clara and this is…" She wasn't sure if she should introduce him as Fifth Officer Lowe or simply Harry. It didn't seem to matter and she doubted Jack would have cared a lick either way.
"Harry." He chimed in, leaving out the formality. There was no need for it, the man in the bed was no threat to the illusion of power he had to uphold. He couldn't even get up. Clara smiled as she nodded.
"I'm going to need to work on you for a bit is that alright ?" Jack could only nod, slipping back into unconsciousness as she set about doing her best to right the situation.
It was nearly morning when she finally finished. Both of them sitting down on the bed across from Jack completely exhausted. Dr. OLoughlin made his appearance a few hours ago giving Clara a handful of orders and Harry more than enough dirty looks. A ship's officer in the infirmary helping the nurse was not exactly protocol. Still, he was in no position to challenge the situation and was clearly more than a little miffed that he needed to be on his best behavior. Clara feared if Harry hadn't been there, he would have ordered her to stop and return the man to his bunk. Let nature take its course, throw him overboard before dawn, bill him for every single supply he used. She shook her head grateful for the man sitting beside her. Not just for his help throughout the night but also because he stayed. He didn't have to, God knows that, securing a bandage was as about as far from the duties of a Ship's Officer as one could get. Still, he didn't complain, didn't blanch, and had done everything exactly as she told him to.
She could feel the heat radiating off his body, they were that close, and she wanted more than anything to rest her head against his shoulder and fall asleep. It was too forward though, even for a bawdy American like herself, and she might scare him away. Have him thinking that she was nuts which he may very well think already. Clara was very much aware of how she probably looked to him. Rough, unmannered, free spirited; it wasn't false and she wasn't ashamed of her upbringing nor the fact that she could work just as hard as a man. But to an Englishman she was sure it was all quite startling.
The room was filled with the smell of coffee as she went to the counter and poured two cups. She'd not asked him if he wanted any and in a way it was a bit of a test to see how much of a straight laced Brit he was. Clara dropped a sugar cube and a splash of cream into each mug before turning and offering Harry steaming liquid. He hesitated for just a moment before smiling and taking a sip. To his surprise it was quite good and he followed his initial tasting with a hearty gulp. She seemed relieved by it as her tense shoulders dropped and her face spread into a beautiful smile. Harry had to suppress a chuckle, apparently he'd just passed a test he didn't know he was taking. Coffee wasn't much of a thing in Wales, tea obviously reigning supreme, but he was well aware that the drink was practically religion amongst Americans.
She came to sit beside him again, the awkward tension dissolving away into exhaustion. Jack Dawson-Harry made a mental note of the name and intended to check the passenger lists once he was as back on duty. It didn't take much guessing to know that he was poor, an artist of some kind with a now blood stained sketch book among his only possessions. Clara had flipped through it once the man was stabilized and asleep. He was quite good, even Harry who has no inclination toward art could see it. Raw sketches of people mostly. Truly he wasn't nearly as interested in that as he was in her. While she flipped over the pages he stared at her.
Now that she was more just a mystery woman he'd met in the dark, he found his attraction to her to be even more intense. So much that he'd needed to stop himself several times from reaching out and touching her. God, he could only imagine how that would go over. She seemed much more approachable than most women of the day, but still he was sure that would place him squarely in the creep category. Besides, she was busy working and who was he to interrupt. He didn't want to interrupt because when she got down to business she was good. Very good actually. Her hands were swift and sure, moving up and down Jack's body systematically treating each injury and then coming back again to reassess his response. She'd given him pain medications, put his shoulder back into place- with Harry's help, and sewn his head back together. For the bruising on his ribs there wasn't much to be done. She'd iced the area, carefully palpating each rib and suspecting that at least three were broken. For the bruising and internal bleeding she placed steaming cabbage leaves against his skin securing them with a bandage. It was an old frontier remedy she explained.
Thinking of it all now with Jack resting comfortably in front of them, he shook his head an involuntary admission falling from his lips. "You're very good at what you do." He blushed immediately as she stopped mid sip. Looking down at her lap she didn't meet his eyes.
"Thank you." Meeting his eyes briefly, her face was earnest and open. "I appreciate your help. I couldn't have done it without you."
A wry laugh he couldn't stop. "I don't believe that. You've shown yourself to be more than capable."
Clara cocked her head to the side a twinkle coming to her eye. "Well I assumed you are also very good at what you do. The ship is still afloat." It took him a second to realize that she was busting his balls and when he did he let out an honest laugh. Years worth of tension rolling off of him with that single moment. Shaking his head he pointed a finger at her.
"Ah the lady's very sharp as well." She shrugged taking a sip of her coffee and returning a genuine smile. My God did he enjoy being with her. They barely knew one another but he felt like they were old friends almost immediately. Harry ran a hand through his hair, he didn't want this to end. Glancing at the clock, however, he knew that was impossible. He needed to be on watch in just about an hour; 0600- with Lightoller of all people. Harry would gladly forgo sleep but the lack of a shower and a shave would tip the prick off that he'd been up all night. "I hate to say this, but I have to go. I'm on watch in just about an hour."
Clara nodded, doing a good job of concealing her disappointment, she took their cups and placed them back on the counter. "Of course. I need to check his vitals again, make sure the bandages are holding, and I need to go down to G Deck and check on another passenger with a leg wound." Harry's eyebrow raised, no wonder this woman loved coffee so much.
"When do you sleep ? Surely you must have help." She smiled and laughed lightly, her gray eyes twinkling like snow flakes in the sun.
"Well the other nurse they had scheduled for the voyage backed out. Dr. OLoughlin is more concerned with socializing and I've yet to meet anyone else even remotely qualified." She looked to Jack nodding. "Once I've made sure they are all stable, I leave a steward to watch over them while I rest. He comes and gets me if anything changes."
Harry pulled his coat and hat back on straightening his uniform as his eyes flicked back to her. "I've been on a lot of ships, Clara, and I've never met a nurse like you." He buttoned his jacket giving her a serious glance. "You're very dedicated to your patients."
Blush exploded across her face as she looked away trying to find the words to explain herself. "I…I don't know any other way to be."
He paused, her honesty something that seared right through him. Before he knew what he was doing, Harry crossed the space between them laying a hand over hers. She didn't pull away, her grip on the metal bed rail loosening a bit and relaxing under his touch. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to get to know you better." Clara's heart surged in her chest. Was it ok ? Holy shit.
Turning her hand upward she pressed her palm against his giving his hand a squeeze, her entire body tingling at his touch. Was this what it felt like when you found the one ? Jesus was she getting ahead of herself, but she couldn't deny this man made her feel a way she'd never felt before. She felt a heat radiated from her face downward.
This was absurd, she was grown woman acting like a silly girl. "I would like that."
His face broke out into a smile of relief. "My last watch ends at 8."
"Eight it is then." They stayed like that for a moment Clara forgetting that she was holding onto his hand until his lips quirked up in a smirk.
"Might be a bit hard without my hand though…" Her hands immediately flew to her face covering it in embarrassment, a laugh escaping her lips.
"Oh my God! I'm sorry." Harry shook his head laughing in return as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Don't be, I'm not." And that was how he left her; heart pounding and head spinning. Eight o clock couldn't come soon enough.
The gray light of morning began to fill the veranda as she leaned her cheek against the rail. Cold wind blew her red hair around her face. Sighing she looked out over the ocean. So much had happened in the last twelve hours that she hadn't slept a second; going over it in her mind again and again.
Last night she'd been so ready to end if all. Fling herself off the back of the ship and be swallowed up by the dark sea. Of course she'd not actually thought it all the way through, her youth showing itself in the moment he'd told her that the water was freezing. He'd come out of no where showing up just as she thought she'd gathered the strength to let go. The fall would be enough, my God it was at least fifty feet to the water, once she hit everything would go black and this awful life would be over. He was interrupting her, distracting her, putting ideas in her head that it might not be that easy. Rose knew it was all a trick, a mind game to make her climb back over the rail. She just wanted him to go away, why couldn't he see that ?
When he unlaced his boots and took off his jacket nodding seriously that he would go right in after her she knew that he'd won. Not just because she couldn't risk his life for her foolishness but also because for the first time in her life someone actually cared. Someone was willing to put everything they had on the line for her. Turning around she needed to get a proper look at him, either he was crazy or stupid. But as her light green eyes met his she saw nothing but genuine concern. He was young, his skin was tan his hair streaked with blonde. His smile was boyish and his eyes twinkled with light. She had to squint at first not quit believing he was real. Nothing about him was polished or proper, he was just naturally what he was.
A piece of her fell in love with him right there. Well maybe not him but the idea of him, that something so honest could actually exist. Introductions were made and reluctantly she allowed him to pull her over the rail. That's when everything went to shit.
The goddamn dress she'd tried so hard to get off caught under her foot, the beading causing her to slip off. A scream that tore through the night. Rose had ever exercised a day in her life and now she was holding her entire body weight up. She was done for and that terrified her. Strange, considering just seconds ago she was ready to fling herself into the water. He held onto her though, tight, his entire body flexing and going rigid. "I won't let you go." She believed him, believed every word he said forming a queer trust in a matter of minutes.
It took everything Rose had to haul herself up and over the rail. When she got far enough he put his arms around her and pulled her over and onto the boat deck, both of them collapsing with relief. Hearts pounding and chests heaving they stayed like that for a moment. How improper, to be half clothed and on top of another man, but it felt alright, comfortable even. She must have gone completely mad.
The footfalls were swift hearing her screams and coming to investigate immediately. Naturally they assumed the worst fetching the Master of Arms, telephoning the bridge, and lastly summoning Cal. Jack had immediately gone to his corner trying his best to convey that he was no threat, still they cuffed him and threw him roughly against the wall. They were in charge and he was third class scum, don't forget it.
She'd smelt the booze on Cal the moment he arrived, staggering and looking rather vengeful with Colonel Gracie in tow. She'd not missed the dark look he shot her before zeroing in on Jack getting into his face and berating him. It took her a moment to react getting between them and assuring the whole suspicious crowd that it was nothing more than accident. She'd wanted to see the propellers, that was it, and had slipped. Mr. Dawson had saved her life. Silence, doubt, and then a hearty laugh that it was nothing more serious. Cal cracked a smile for appearances but she could see this was far from over.
The cuffs were taken off Jack and they were all free to go. Before she could say a word Cal put a firm hand on the small of her back and pushed her back toward the room. She'd tried to calm him, urge him to lie down and rest but he'd not hear of it and after he'd deposited her in the room he retreated back to the smoking room. He was angry, taut, and most of all embarrassed. Humiliated that his fiancé had been found in the arms of another man- a penniless drifter no less. She prayed he wouldn't do anything ridiculous.
Two hours later the door slammed and although she hadn't been asleep she still jumped. In the adjoining room she heard laughing, a clatter, and then nothing. Against her better judgment, she opened the door finding him in one of the over stuffed arm chairs and broken glass on the floor. The warm lighting against the rich mahogany paneling made the shadows on his face even darker. Immediately she noticed his hair was mussed and his shirt was ripped. Flexing his fist blood dripped from his knuckles onto the floor. A light gasp escaped her lips as she quickly put the pieces together.
"What did you do?" It was low, almost a whisper and he ignored her rubbing his temple his hair hanging over his eyes. She stepped toward him suddenly needing this answer more than she's ever needed anything before. "I know you heard me. What did you do !?" This time it was louder, loud enough to wake her mother asleep in the suite next door.
Had she been able to see his face she would have seen the sneer of lips, the telltale sign that he was about to lose control. In a flash of black he was on top of her pushing her until her back hit the wall. Rose's scream died on her lips as he squeezed a hand around her throat.
"I saw the way you were looking at him…" The sour stench of alcohol filled her nose. "Adoration that you've never cared to show me." Tears came to her eyes as her body shook with fear. "I won't allow it. Not for a single second." His hot breath tickled her ear. Leaning more of his weight into her she felt her throat tighten. "I won't be made a fool of." She looked back at him with wide eyes coming to the conclusion then that if she stepped out of line again he'd kill her. Rose would like to pretend that it was the alcohol fueling this rage, making him act in a way he wouldn't normally. That just wasn't true, though, drunk or not Cal was absolutely heartless caring about nothing but himself. His hand loosened on her and then in an instant he stepped away, a cool rush of air replacing his stifling, angry heat. Her hand went up to her neck fingering the soft flesh. It was sore but she was sure he'd not squeezed hard enough to leave a mark, he never did. Shrugging his jacket off, his low laugh sent a chill up her spine. "Mr. Dawson won't be making anymore appearances anyway." His eyes met hers. "I took care of that."
Even now some six hours later, she shook when those words came to mind. A night spent spiraling eventually leading her to the conclusion that she was trapped and this was her life. Being married to this awful, cruel man and doing whatever he said. There would be no one coming to save her. Not anymore.
It was a few minutes before eight when she stepped out onto the boat deck. Looking side to side she saw that she was alone, the temperature too cold and the air too brisk for most. She had barely slept today too excited at the idea of seeing him again. Harold Lowe, she said it to herself, an answer to a question she thought just days ago might kill her. He was far more cheeky than she would have guessed from their first interaction. Poking fun at her just as easily as she did him, they fell into an easy rhythm almost immediately.
Going over to the railing she stared out at the ocean. Her dark hair, down and now free of the tight bun she wore all day, blew in her face. Technically she was off duty but as she explained this morning she was never really totally signed off. For that reason she still wore her navy blue dress and brown boots. Apron gone and cape secured she looked like a passenger, third class of course, but a passenger nonetheless. Clara exhaled closing her eyes for a moment and briefly wondering what she would do if he didn't come. That was the realist in her, always preparing herself for the worst.
Harry came around the corner and stopped. She was right where they agreed to meet but instead of her characteristic nurse appearance she looked relaxed and free. Hair blowing in the wind she leaned against the rail, her gray eyes staring out at the sea. His breath caught in his throat. My God how did he find this woman ? She was so unusual in the best kind of way.
"Good evening Clara." She'd heard his shoes clicking and couldn't pretend to be surprised although her excitement was hard to hide. She smiled at him, honestly she couldn't help it. She quickly noticed that he was wearing a plain black peacoat and a wool beanie. His usual White Star Line official issue attire mostly gone and in its place what she could only assume were his own clothes. Just as she, he looked much more relaxed and….ordinary. Like they were two regular people who'd met on a ship and nothing more.
"Harry…" Her voice was dry, stolen by unbridled emotion and harsh wind.
He looked out at the water before nodding toward the length of the boat deck. "I thought we might take a walk….If that's ok with you?"
She smiled, pushing her hair away from her face. "A walk sounds lovely."
He hoped the dim lights of the ship would mask the blush on his face as he offered her his arm. Not only did she take his arm, she leaned into him almost immediately grateful for not only the invitation but the warmth. A shudder ran down his spine, so this was how it felt when a woman got under your skin and stole your heart. Forcing a shaky smile he didn't trust his own voice right now. Thankfully she started to move and he simply followed her lead.
Two hours later they had gone around each deck at least twice talking endlessly about everything from their career to family and friends, the ship, and what they each wanted from their life. Harry didn't think he'd talked this much to another person in his whole life. Honestly he never wanted to. Never trusted anyone enough to tell them all this. Of course he'd left out quite a bit of his life, the unsavory parts at least. Purposefully he skipped over George's death sticking to his mother's illness and the terrible effect of that. She squeezed his arm tighter as he relayed some of the more tragic details listening intently. When he was through relating how she'd come down with cancer and died while he was away at sea; she reached down and took his hand in her own but didn't say a word. What was there to say ? Honestly Harry wondered why he'd gone into so much detail about it in the first place and eventually came to the conclusion that she reminded him of his mother. The gentle caring nature mixed with the tough take no shit attitude somehow conjured memories of Emma Lowe stronger than ever before. So his mouth moved before his brain could stop it.
Conversely she'd also shared some of the terrible memories of her own life. If Harry was honest, he was absolutely fascinated by the fact that she'd been born and grown up on the American frontier. He'd heard if it of course, but had never given the concept much thought. To most in Europe, America was an uncivilized cow town. A place completely devoid of culture and refinement. Harry had never put stock in any of it, knowing the only place for him was at sea. Now, though, with her telling him of the way her father settled his young wife at Fort Buford during the Indian Wars he was intrigued. After the natives had been forced onto reservations, small parcels of frontier land were given to soldiers who helped settle the area. Wild, untamed soil that had never been touched by another human in all of history. That was where she came from, where she grew up, why she was the way that she was. In some ways, it was similar to the sea- uncharted and vast- a sense that you were forging into a place that had never been seen before.
He found out that she could build a fire, hunt, and fish. She knew how to find water, she could tell him what plants could be used for medicine and which could kill you. Clara knew as much as any nurse and then she also knew nearly every native and natural remedy available. Her own mother had taught her to be kind and gentle but fierce and undaunted when she needed to be. It was a lesson she was forced to use much too soon when her mother passed in child birth with her youngest sister. The baby, sickly as well, didn't live more than a month. Clara, at twelve, was left to watch over her younger brother when their father was deployed with the army. Three years later he was also dead- shot in the head during an uprising on the Standing Rock Reservation. His unit was sent to set up additional housing and were ambushed when they arrived. A rider came to the house two days later; shortly after that Clara and her brother- Steven- were packed up and sent to live with her mother's sister in New York City.
Harry didn't want to placate her as he struggled to find a way to show his own measure of support. Reaching up he rested his hand against hers as they walked and she leaned against him. Eventually they came to a stop near a familiar place on the stern. A dark bench that Clara knew well, she sat down pulling him along with her. He was so comfortable to be around, she'd told him her entire life story in just a matter of hours. Now, with nothing left to say they fell into a comfortable silence staring out at the water.
"Oh I have something….I almost forgot." Digging into his pocket, Harry pulled out a small folded napkin. Inside were candies that he'd taken from the first class dining saloon earlier tonight. Something all the toffs liked to pinch between their teeth, he could only assume it tasted good. Why else would they be eating them ?
Clara, eager to see what he'd brought, leaned over him looking into his hand. Candies she'd never seen before in all sorts of shapes- very fancy looking. Taking one of the pink ones she put in in her mouth and chewed as Harry did the same.
It wasn't at all what she expected, in fact it was awful. She wondered if she could spit it out without offending him. Harry's own face twisted as he leaned over the rail and spit the offensive thing into the ocean. Clara laughing, doing the same as she wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. "Christ that was awful." He shook his head. She laughed coughing and spitting the last bit of it from her mouth. "I'm sorry Clara…really."
She put a hand on his arm. "Don't be ridiculous…." Reaching under her cape she dug around in the pocket of her dress before pulling something out. A Hershey Bar- chocolate- another thing that he'd heard Americans were obsessed over. Breaking off a piece for him and another for her, she popped it into her own in her mouth and he did the same.
"Much better.." He'd told her that he was actually Welsh which was British but not really. More like the bastard child of Britain he'd scoffed. She noticed when he wasn't paying attention his voice slipped into a different dialect- something sing song with the vowels drawn out. When he'd began with the White Star Line and was trying to advanced onto the more premiere steamers he'd been encouraged to loose the Welshie. It was too folksy; smooth it out. And he did, smoothing it out to a perfect British accent. But when he was relaxed he always slipped back into his native tongue.
"I love your voice…" Had there been more light he would have seen the blush stain her cheeks. It was true, though, and to an American it sounded so different- it was something that made him special. Harry looked down, not sure what to say. She shivered against the night air, her ears nearly frozen by this time. Noticing quickly, he reached up and removed the wool hat from his own head. His hair mussed he didn't care a bit how he looked as he gently brushed the hair away from her face and slid the hat over her freezing ears. Women of the time never-ever- wore hats for utility sake, just for decor. Her gray eyes stared back at him, piercing him, nailing him in place, asking him for something more.
Clara's heart was pounding as he leaned toward her, his face now so close she could feel the hot breath coming from his lips. She knew what he was about to do and she wanted it more than anything in the entire world. Resting a hand against his chest she smiled as his lips met hers and the entire world faded away.
TBC….
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