Chapter Nineteen
Pia
It had been a good day, except for the beating poor Bart had received. Luckily, he wasn’t badly injured and he’d been up and about, back at his job, less than half an hour after he was knocked down. She had made him go to bed directly after tea, though, and had sat at his side, stroking his head until he finally fell asleep.
His last sleepy words still echoed in her mind. ‘We should take Marco. He’s a good guy…’
And Bart was right. From all she had seen of Marco, it did appear that he was a ‘good guy.’ However, that didn’t mean they could Target him. If they took every good person on the ship, there would be a noticeable discrepancy in the number of victims. And history said that there were hundreds of people still on the decks when the ship went down and many more in the icy waters. If they took everyone, then history would be noticeably changed. And that they couldn’t do.
So Marco was not a Target. And that thought started an ache in her chest she couldn’t explain. Why should she care? She didn’t know him. She’d barely exchanged more than a few words with him. They were ships passing in the night. That was all.
Even so, as time ticked on and she knew that it was drawing close to eleven o’clock, she felt drawn to meet him as he’d asked. After all, he had helped them at risk to himself. He deserved that much from her.
So when the others came in for the night with the word that there would be a meeting in the morning when they were allowed to return to their cabins, she donned her coat and scarf and headed out onto the deck.
Pia didn't see any crew as she made her way out the companionway onto the Well Deck and then took the short flight of steps to the Poop Deck. It was cold up there at this hour. She shivered and tightened her scarf around her head and neck. Then she scurried into the shelter Marco had told her about and crouched down to keep hidden.
What would happen to her if she was found on deck after curfew? She didn’t know. But she didn’t want to find out.
After what felt like hours, she heard footsteps approaching. She held her breath and hoped it was not a crew member discovering her hiding place. Luckily, when she looked up she saw it was Marco, his white grin lighting up the night. He dropped down to her side and sandwiched in beside her so that if anyone passed it would look as if he was there alone. He wrapped the blanket he was carrying around their shoulders and snuggled in.
It felt so different to be close to a warm, hard-bodied man. Except for the children, she could not remember a time in the hundreds of years of her life since the LGP that she’d been this close to another human being. She could smell his male scent, subtle but intoxicating. She had to fight the urge to sniff deeper and draw his scent into her lungs.
‘I did not think you would come,’ he said softly. ‘I am late. The last patron left right on eleven and we had to clear the table.’
‘I did not know what the time was. I have no watch.’
‘Why did you come?’ His voice seemed tentative. All his usual charm and confidence were missing.
‘You asked me to. And you helped us. We are grateful.’
‘You did not need to come out of gratitude. I said I would understand.’
‘I… wanted to come.’ She suddenly knew the truth of her words as she said them. She did want to come and spend time with him, even though they had no future, even though he was too handsome by far to be interested in someone like her. He’d asked her to come and she’d wanted to come.
‘I am glad. You are not scared of me now?’
‘I was not scared of you before!’ she said indignantly.
‘Yes you were. You were shy and scared like a little mouse.’ He was teasing her, and the laughter in his voice made her smile.
‘Does that make you the cat playing with his catch?’
The chocking sound was almost too loud. He hushed and didn’t speak again until he had himself under control. ‘Do you want me to play with you?’
She sighed heavily and rested her forehead on her drawn up knees. ‘I am not used to playing. I have never been played with. You are better off finding another mouse if you want to play.’
She felt his hand on her hair, stroking it gently.
‘I do not want another mouse. I think you see me as something I am not, Sweet Petra. I do not have trouble getting women that is true. They come easily, often when I do not want them. You are different. I have known that from the first moment we met. I do not want to play cat-and-mouse games with you. I want to know you… and I want you to know me.’
‘In the biblical sense?’
‘I do not understand…’ he said, the frown readily identifiable in his voice.
‘In the Bible, to know someone means to have sex with them.’
She could hear the surprised intake of breath and then the slow exhale. ‘No, not in the biblical sense. As people. I have not been friends with a woman… ever. I would be your friend.’
That thought filled her with a fierce joy. He didn’t want her as another notch on his bed head. He wanted to know her as a person. How strange and wonderful was that concept?
‘Then tell me about yourself, Mr Cat. Tell me why you left home at fourteen to see the world.’
‘Ah, sweet Mousie, that is a sad story that you might not want to hear.’ She heard the sadness in his voice and the resistance to going there. And she wanted him to go there.
‘Tell me, if it is not too painful.’
For a long moment he was silent. Then, as if he’d made up his mind, he cleared his voice and started to talk. His deep, gentle baritone lulled her, as the words tore at her with their sadness.
‘My father was a good man who tried to do his best for his family. But, working in a factory in Milano was not the way to become rich and so our family struggled, often not having enough to eat. I joined him in the factory as soon as I was old enough, doing jobs that were dangerous… sometimes deadly. But I was lucky or quick. I do not know which. And I survived.
‘Then the men started to grow angry with their treatment and their wages, which were not enough to feed their families, and they went on a demonstration. I wanted to go, but I had to stay home and help my mother. If I had gone, I might have been able to save my papa. But instead, he died, shot by soldiers sent in by the government to break the demonstration up. I was thirteen, almost fourteen.
‘My mother married the factory foreman soon after. I was angry with her for so quickly getting over my father. And I was angry with the man who thought he could replace my father. I was angry with everyone back then – especially myself. The new husband tried to beat me into line, but it only made me worse. In the end, my mother sent me away. I have not seen her or my brothers and sisters since. I send money, though, to help out.’
‘You were so young to be on your own.’
‘Sí, but I was not the only one. Orphans crowded the streets like rats, and I became a very clever rat. Then, I decided to leave Milano and see the world. And rather than be a rat, I became a bell boy or a scullery hand. Eventually, I became a waiter, and because I pick up languages fast, I found I could go anywhere and find work. So I moved from one country to the next, never staying anywhere more than a year.’
‘It sounds lonely.’
‘Yes.’
‘I am sorry.’
She felt him shrug beside her. ‘Life is lonely, even when you are surrounded by people.’
Pia wanted to deny his words but their truth hung heavily between them. Did she feel lonely surrounded by people? Yes, yes she did. She had been lonely ever since she woke up alone in Stravenger after the LGP.
‘Tell me of your life, sweet mouse.’
‘I have no special story to tell. My family were all killed in a plague that swept through our town. I worked as a nurse and then with children, as I told you this morning. And now I am here.’
‘Where you are needed.’
‘Yes.’
‘It is good to be needed. But what are your needs? Who do you need?’
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‘No one. I have no needs. I am happy as I am. I need no one.’
‘Tut, tut, that is a lie. You do need people. We all do.’
‘I do not. I can get by on my own. I always have.’
‘Getting by. Surviving. It sounds… I was going to say sad, but then I realised it sounds like my life. I am not sure I see my life as sad.’
Pia felt tears sting her eyes and she hastily wiped at them with her gloved hand. ‘Life is just life. It is not sad or happy; it just is.’
‘Tell me the happiest memory you have.’
‘Rolling down a grassy hillside with my brother on a hot summer’s day,’ she answered immediately. ‘It was so hot we had gone swimming in the river, and it was icy because it carried the thaw from the Fiordlands. I think we fell and rolled at first by accident. Then we enjoyed it so much we kept going up to the top of the hill and rolling down it again. I was black and blue afterwards and my mother was furious with us. But it was such fun. If you try to say something when you are rolling like that it comes out all wobbly like this.’ She made her voice vibrate and wobble until Marco laughed.
‘I remember riding on my papa’s shoulders through a marketplace feeling like the king of the world,’ Marco said, after he stopped laughing. ‘My papa was a big man, tall like me, and so he was head and shoulders higher than most people. With me on his shoulders, I could almost touch the sky.’
For a moment, they sat enjoying their memories. ‘I remember the first child I helped. She was lost in the forest and my partner and I were looking for her. We thought we would reach her before she got too deeply into the forest but we were delayed. When we found her, she was so happy she threw herself into my arms and I swung her around and around until we were both dizzy. Then we brought her to… safety. Now she is much loved and very happy.’
‘Your partner?’
‘We work in teams, for safety. Not usually the same person every time. That time it was my first rescue and I was with Ca… Hilda. You know Hilda. She is the pretty blonde with the very tall husband.’
‘Ah yes, as distinct from the very pretty red head with the English husband.’
‘Right. That’s Jane.’
‘You say that like Hilda and Jane are a different species from you. Or they belong to a club that excludes you.’
‘They are very pretty; beautiful, in fact. It is an exclusive club.’
‘You are pretty, too, my sweet mouse. Do not discount yourself so readily.’
‘I am pretty enough, but nothing special. Not very pretty like Jane or Hilda or even Eil... Mary.’
Marco shifted around to the side so he could look her in the eye. His gentle fingers lifted her chin so she could do nothing but meet his incisive gaze. ‘What you look like makes no difference. I should know that better than most. Your beauty shines out through your eyes and it makes you lovelier to me than either Hilda or Jane. ‘
‘I’m nothing special,’ she said softly.
‘You are to me. I can have almost any woman I want. But I want you, sweet mouse. Does that not make you special?’
‘You have tickets on yourself, as Jane would say, Mr Cat,’ she said indignantly, trying to pull away.
‘That saying means I am arrogant? Maybe, but I just speak the truth. It is not a sign of specialness that I can have any woman. I did nothing to get this face or body. I inherited… that is the word, is it not, inherited? I did not earn them. It is nothing to be good looking. It is more important to be sweet and kind and genuine.’
‘Nice,’ she said with a shudder.
‘Sí, nice. There is nothing wrong with nice. I am not nice and I wish I were.’
‘I think you are nice,’ she offered shyly.
‘With you, maybe I am. With you, I want to be nice. Can I kiss you, sweet Petra? Would that make me not nice?’
She drew back a little at the shock of the request. She wasn’t sure if this was part of the game he was playing or something else. But in this moment she didn’t care. More than anything she wanted to be kissed by this handsome Italian.
Something in her face must have given him the answer he was looking for because he moved slowly toward her, lifting her chin up just a little more so he could align his mouth with hers. Then he was kissing her deeply, and the thrill of it thrummed through her system like the vibration of a guitar-string being plucked. Her whole body vibrated and sang out its joy.
She pulled away with a start, terrified by what she was feeling. Terrified by what this man was starting to mean to her.
‘Too much?’ he asked shakily. She was pleased to note that he too was moved by what had happened between them.
‘Yes. Too much, too soon. I can’t… not with you… you cannot know… I… I am sorry; I have to go.’
She tried to climb to her feet, but his hand tightened on her arm and held her in place. ‘I am sorry; I will not do it again. Please stay. Do not leave me yet.’ His voice pleaded with her as her heart pleaded with her. And uneasily she gave in and relaxed back into her place. But now she kept as much space between them as she could.
‘Was that so bad?’ he asked, his obvious concern in every word.
‘Not bad. But I cannot.’
‘Do you belong to another?’
‘No, no of course not. It is not that. You… you and I will go our separate ways in a few days. We will never see each other again. I cannot start something now… when it will end so soon.’
‘But it does not have to end. I will stay in New York. I will court you formally. Then we will marry and I will take you to see the Wild West.’
Her shock was extreme. It tore all thoughts from her mind. All that remained were his intentions. He wanted to court her. He wanted to marry her. How cruel was such an idea when she knew his fate?
‘I cannot! Do not think such things. This is madness; I must go.’ This time he did not try to stop her when she climbed to her feet.
Then she was running across the cold deck, away from the first man she had ever wanted, away from the intensity of feeling she had lost the ability to withstand.
When had she felt like this before? In her Original? It was that long since she had felt these feelings. But even then, she could not remember ever feeling this needy, this desperate to be with someone, to kiss and hold and join with someone.
No, it couldn’t be. She had to finish her task and return to her world. And Marco would… die. What other choice was there?