Chapter 8
Nellie
Somewhere in the Atlantic
April 12, 1912
The sound of Isla's cries made Nellie nearly burst into tears herself. When she had returned to her room after her impromptu concert with Jock, she had found Isla crying in her bassinet and Leana looking deathly pale, moaning about seasickness. Isla had been getting her first tooth and the only thing that seemed to soothe her day and night was nursing. With Leana barely able to move, Isla had been on Nellie's breast nearly all night, meaning Nellie had hardly gotten any sleep. She had finally been able to put Isla down shortly before midnight, only for her to wake up less than an hour apart the rest of the night.
Nellie set up in bed, trying to keep her eyes open as she looked at the nearby clock. It was barely past seven o'clock and she could see light peeking through the slits in her room's curtains. Leana rolled over in her bed from the other side of the room, pushing her matted blonde hair from her eyes. Nellie picked up Isla and began nursing once more, sighing loudly as she rested against the bed's headboard.
"I'm so sorry for last night," Leana said weakly.
"How are you feeling?" Nellie asked, only able to keep one eye open. "You look much better."
"I feel much better," Leana agreed, throwing back her covers and stretching. It was true, Leana's color had returned and she no longer had a sickly green color to her face. "Why don't you let me take the baby and you get some rest?"
Despite how exhausted she was, Nellie shook her head. "To be honest, I need to get out of this room. I think I'll fancy a walk before breakfast. Just be sure to remind Callen I expect to see him in the dining saloon at eight o-clock."
"Yes'm," Leana said, taking Isla. Nellie kissed Isla's forehead before quickly getting dressed, smoothing back her frizzy hair from her long night and applying powder to her face to hide the dark circles under her eyes. She put on her new day dress and breathed a sigh of relief when she left the room. It was almost seven-thirty in the morning, but it seemed as if everyone was still asleep as she ascended to the second class promenade decks. She almost regretted the idea of a morning walk when she left the warmth of the ship and felt the morning wind rip through her. She went to the nearby railing, nearly blinded by the sight of the ocean glimmering in the morning sun. She gripped the railing, pulling her coat tighter around her. The sunlight felt so nice on her face, but the rest of her body was cast in the cold shadows of the ship. She glanced to her left down to the steerage decks. These were uncovered unlike the first and second class decks, but if she was going to make it through this morning walk without catching a cold, she needed to be out in the sun.
She paused when she reached the gate separating second and third class. There was hardly anyone awake at this early hour and she doubted any of the ruffians in steerage would be awake to stare at her, probably still in bed nursing a hangover from the celebrations she had heard downstairs the night before. The gate swung open and she descended the short flight of stairs down before ascending once more to the poop deck. She relished in the sunlight, her tweed coat suddenly feeling too warm. As she walked along the railing towards the stern, she began to understand why Jock enjoyed this lifestyle compared to playing in a stuffy concert hall. Now that she was warm and could smell the salt in the air, all the exhaustion she felt from her sleepless night melted away. There were a couple passengers like herself meandering along the deck, their heads down from the wind and hands stuffed in their pockets. They all did their best to greet one another despite the relentless wind. As she finally reached the stern, there was a man smoking by the flagpole who caught her eye. He was wearing a brown bowler hat and dressed in a simple shirt, vest, and pants despite the cold weather. He turned slightly as she approached and nodded, before turning back to the water. She continued on, before something in his eyes made her stop.
She did her best to glance at him discreetly over her shoulder. His back was towards her, his hat covering a mop of strawberry blonde curls and the back of his neck had a scab on it. She almost laughed aloud, having to cover her mouth before a sound escaped. Was this really the man she'd helped board yesterday after seeing him being bullied by a health inspector? Just as she was thinking this, the man turned suddenly, having the same recognition. His eyes locked with hers, the cigarette perched in his lips nearly falling out as they gaped at one another.
Nellie couldn't help but blush as she looked into his eyes. They were so green, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up so she could see his forearms. As if coming out of a trance, he crushed his cigarette under his boot before kicking it overboard. He stood up straight, wiping his hands on his pants before coming towards her.
"Is it really you? I wasn't sure if you were real from the way you disappeared so quickly yesterday!"
She offered him her hand. "Nellie Milroy," she said. "I'm glad to see it wasn't a rash after all!"
The man let out a booming laugh as he shook her hand. She could feel rough calluses where their skin touched. "Apparently so. I'm sure the health inspector would have kicked us both off this ship if he'd been right."
He looked down at their hands, which were still entwined but no longer shaking. He dropped his first before leaning on the nearby railing. "I'm Tommy Ryan."
"I hope your voyage has been pleasant now that you're on board," Nellie said, doing her best to look into his eyes and not the muscles in his arms which were more prominent now that they were basked in sunlight.
"It's a mighty big ship for someone like me," Tommy said. "I've never traveled so grand in me whole life!" His Irish accent became more pronounced the longer he talked to her.
"Are you traveling alone?" Nellie blushed again after the words escaped her mouth. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."
He gave a small smile. "You'll find it's hard to offend me. Yes, I'm off to start a new life in America."
Nellie couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at his words. "How exciting," she said, unable to stop from stepping closer to him. "But won't it be difficult doing it all on your own?"
"Ah, this is where you Scots lack and us Irish succeed," he said, clearly taking note of her distinct accent. "We're everywhere, not stuck in the mainland like you lot. There's a large Irish community in Boston as a matter o'fact. I plan on living there with my cousin until I get on my own two feet."
From the corner of her eye, Nellie could see the sun rising higher and higher and knew that she would be late to breakfast herself if she didn't get a move on. But there was a part of her that desperately wanted to stay. As they stared at one another, his shadow covering her skirts, she saw only gentleness in his eyes despite that he looked like he could bend the railing they were leaning against with his bare hands. They reminded her so much of her late husband, who had always been so kind and the peacemaker in their houseā¦
"Well, best of luck to you then," she said, nodding slightly while reluctantly turning to leave. Before she could take a step back towards the second class decks, a gangly figure collided with her, nearly sending her sprawling to the deck floor.
"Callen," she moaned, leaning against the railing and rubbing her arm that had collided with his shoulder. "What on earth are you doing? I told Leana to tell you to meet me in the dining saloon!"
"'M sorry," the boy said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uncle Jock and I already ate breakfast by the time Leana told me you were out here for a walk. She sent me to fetch you."
"You need to be more careful," she scolded, adjusting his coat which was askew from their collision. "There are other people on this ship besides yourself."
Callen glanced over Nellie's shoulder to the burly Irishman observing them, raising an eyebrow. Men were a sensitive topic with Callen. He had never entirely warmed to having a stepmother, but now that he was stuck with Nellie, he was extremely paranoid anytime Nellie talked to someone of the opposite sex other than her father or brothers. Nellie had been surprised he hadn't said anything to her after their conversation with Mr. Hockley on deck a few days ago.
"Callen," Nellie said meekly, "This is Mr. Ryan. Mr. Ryan, this is my son."
"Stepson," Callen corrected. His tone was biting but Nellie did her best to not show any emotion. She could tell from the way Callen was studying this Irishman that he also reminded him of his father with his solid build and gentle eyes.
"Nice to meet you," Tommy said, offering his hand. Callen shook it hesitantly, puffing out his chest as if trying to prove he was of equal strength.
Tommy's eyes twinkled at Callen's appearance. "If your stepma doesn't mind, how about you join me for a game of cards?" He pulled out a stack of playing cards from his vest's pocket. A flash of silver caught Nellie's eye, catching a glimpse of a simple pocket watch on a chain. It was unusual to see someone in steerage with such a valuable item in their possession, let alone tucked away where it couldn't be shown off. Even the most humblest of travelers in second class still brought out their family's jewels for dinners in the dining saloon every evening.
Callen turned to her with pleading eyes. With the death of his father, Callen was now at the mercy of being raised by women, with only Nellie and Leana to keep an eye on him as Jock was often away at sea. She couldn't help but remember Jock's comment just a few days before about her stepson being surrounded by so many womenfolk, desperate for male companionship.
"Don't stay too long," Nellie said at last. "Remember, we need to get you fitted into tails for tonight's dinner."
"He'll be fine with me," Tommy said, clapping a hand on Callen's shoulder. "A couple of my friends will be joining us. They're honest folk, I promise. We're not the type for making trouble." He turned and winked to Callen. "At least not in broad daylight." This emitted a rare smile from Callen.
Nellie nodded, watching Callen eagerly follow Tommy down the stairs of the poop deck to a steerage communal area. Should she really have agreed to send her stepson with a complete stranger to go play cards? As the image of the silver pocket watch came to mind, she wondered if he might be a thief.
She shook her head. At the very least, he was somewhat indebted to her for saving him from that dreadful health inspector. As the two found a bench to sit on, Nellie saw Tommy put an arm around Callen's shoulders. A lump formed in her throat and she looked to the glistening ocean, trying to subside the tears that suddenly wanted to come pouring out. The image of them together reminded her so much of just a few short months ago when her life had been stable, helping her husband run the largest hotel in Dumfries. With her husband gone and leaving her with two children and with the hotel looking to her for leadership, it seemed her whole future was a mystery, dependent on her own luck and the mercy of others.
Her stomach growled and she turned back to the deck, no longer able to see Callen and Tommy as they had tucked themselves further away in steerage. She began the trek back to second class, grateful she had Isla and Callen to keep her busy and unable to dwell on the thought of her late husband for too long.
A little more indepth look into Nellie's backstory (which is fictional btw. Dramatized to fit this FF!) More will be revealed later!
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