Chapter 2
Mary
Dumfries
late-March, 1912

The smell of bacon wafted up the small house on Buccleuch Street. Mary Costin was lying in bed, doing her best to concentrate on breathing through her nose. When the scent of breakfast being cooked hit her, she wretched, grabbing her chamber pot beneath her bed and vomiting into it. Shr groaned, laying back on her mattress and deciding that breathing through her nose may not have been the best strategy after all.

There was a sharp knock on the door before her mother popped her head in, carrying a large plate of food.

"Mum," Mary groaned, doing her best to sit up. "Please, don't bring that in here. I can barely stand the smell!"

Her mother ignored her, setting the plate on top of her dresser before sitting at the foot of her bed. Her dark eyes looked over her daughter warily. "Mary, you need to see a doctor. You've been like this for nearly a week!"

Mary waved her mother's suggestion away, doing her best to fight another wave of nausea that was threatening to overwhelm her once more. "Jock will be home any day now," she replied. "I don't want him worrying."

"He will worry seeing you like this," her mother said, standing up to retrieve the plate of food. "If you don't eat, I'll leave this out for the milkman."

Mary shrugged. "I'm not hungry."

Her mother sighed. "You're going to the clinic this afternoon. I've already set the appointment up and Nellie said she would talk to Mr. Ayers at the mill to cover for you."

"Oh, Mum, don't bother Nellie," Mary croaked, her nausea suddenly disappearing. "The poor girl already has too much on her plate."

"She was more than willing to help," her mother said, taking a sausage from the plate and beginning to eat it. Mary had to look away, the nausea quickly returning. "Nellie looked like she needed to escape the hotel for a while. Why, with that baby and teenage boy, it's a wonder she's able to manage it all by herself."

Mary Costin's mother, Susan, was a strong-willed woman and whose personality Mary had inherited. She was never afraid to step up to the task at hand and whose heart always seemed to be in the right place, even if her abrasive behavior rubbed people the wrong way at times. Mary was just relieved that her mother had taken a shine to her fiancé, Jock, when they had met four years ago.

Mary and Jock were a perfect match, or at least that's what everyone told them. Nellie, Jock's older sister whom Mary worked with at the glove mill, introduced them to one another at the Rood Fair in 1908. From then on, there had only been Jock for Mary; all the other boys falling to the wayside.

Mary and Jock had been born and raised in Dumfries, but Jock was far from a homebody. Mary's family was complicated, but nothing like Jock's. While Mary had recently lost her father and a brother, she at least lived in a household where everyone got along. Up until last year, Jock had lived with his father, stepmother, three sisters, and younger brother. It was clear that everyone except Jock's father hated Jock's stepmother, alice. Mary was convinced this is what drove Jock to go to sea.

Jock's father, Andrew Hume, was a local celebrity in Dumfries. He was a talented musician, able to play more instruments that she could name. He built his own violins and taught music lessons both privately and at the local school. Jock had inherited his father's love of the violin, easily the best musician in the family. His musical abilities had allowed him to be one of the few able to break away from Dumfries and explore the world. Jock was employed as a bandmaster on some of the finest ocean liners in Britain, particularly The White Star Line. He was currently away on one of those massive liners, making the trek across the Atlantic to be back with Mary in just a few days.

Her mother had grown so fond of Jock (perhaps due to Jock's own celebrity status in Dumfries's circles), that when he stated his intention of moving out of his family's home, she had insisted he move into the Costin home and handfast with Mary. He had eagerly moved in and Mary had been thrilled having Jock with her whenever he wasn't on a ship somewhere out in the ocean. In Mary's eyes, and her mother's eyes, Jock and she were already married.

"I'm still surprised you turned down Jock's offer to sail with him on the Titanic," her mother scolded. "This is such an accomplishment for him, and I guarantee you'll never have the opportunity to sail the sea on one of the finest ships ever built again!"

Mary couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Mum, I've been sick for almost a week now. I can't imagine how I'd handle being like this on the rolling ocean. Besides, I thought it was nice of Jock to invite Nellie to come. I'm sure it's been years since they've had any alone time together."

Her mother scoffed at the comment, but at last left Mary's room, finally taking the repugnant smell of bacon with her. Mary rolled onto her side, gently tracing her fingers on the unoccupied side of her bed where Jock would sleep when he was home. She didn't have much to remember him by when he was away, except for a small picture of him by her bedside and the occasional postcard he would send from his many adventures at sea. On her dresser was a small postcard of a large, white hotel with palm trees surrounding it. Jock was most proud of this particular postcard from when he had traveled to Kingston, Jamaica and stayed during the holiday season to play at the Constant Spring Hotel.

Mary was jealous of Jock's grand adventures, but at the same time, she couldn't imagine leaving Dumfries. Life had been hard enough over the last couple of years with the loss of her father and favorite brother. The only reason Mary's mother had remained as strong as she was, was due to Mary and Jock's upcoming marriage. If Mary left, what would her mother do?

As she felt another wave of nausea, she brought her hand to her belly. If what she suspected was true, the last place she should do is go off to a life at sea with Jock.

She chewed on her lip for a moment before finally deciding to get out of bed. She would see the doctor before Jock's return, and if her suspicions were correct, she'd pray Titanic was as fast of a ship as it was grand.